The Mystery of Tunnel 51 (Wallace of the Secret Service Series) Page 12

  Lord Oundle nodded and smiled.

  ‘You are a mysterious fellow, Wallace,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll give you one little item which may be news to you,’ said Leonard. ‘This country is overrun with Russian spies, who are doing their best to undermine British authority. An article appeared in the Indiaman about our arrival on a special mission in India, and I am firmly convinced that it was put in by a Russian agent, as the Bolsheviks are intensely interested in our trip.’

  The Viceroy looked thunderstruck.

  ‘I did not see the article,’ he said, ‘and how dare the editor publish it without authority?’

  ‘He thought he had authority, for the man who rang him up and gave him the news said he was the Deputy Commissioner of Karachi, and imitated the Commissioner’s voice!’

  Lord Oundle and Sir Henry Muir looked at him in wonder.

  ‘Furthermore,’ went on Wallace, ‘the man you have so kindly locked up for me in this building, Muir, is a Russian Bolshevik spy, who was sent to murder Brien and me at Karachi. I want him kept here till I have asked him a few questions!’

  The Viceroy walked to the door as one in a dream, and held it open for Wallace.

  ‘After you, Your Excellency!’ said Leonard politely, and followed Lord Oundle out of the room.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Batty Changes His Tactics

  Lady Oundle and her daughter Doreen were unaffectedly glad to see Sir Leonard Wallace, and, in a slightly lesser degree, Major Brien. They had been friends for many years and, apart from that, the two ladies felt as though they had, in some intangible way, been brought closer to their own country by the arrival of Wallace and his companion, who had actually been in London only four days before.

  The Vicereine had travelled to many parts of the world with her husband, but she was essentially a home-loving woman and England to her was home. She often longed for the time when they could return for good. India as a country she admired very much, and she liked the majority of Indians with whom she came into contact, but all the same it was a species of exile, even though she was in India as the Vicereine and she counted the days to the momentous occasion when she would step on English soil, never to leave it again.

  Lady Doreen Spencer was like her mother in a great many ways, but she was still very young, and India to her was a glorious adventure. She had come out half expecting that she was coming to a semi-civilised country; that she would be thrown amongst all kinds of strange and fearsome people, and meet with exciting and hairbreadth adventures. If the truth were told, the real India had come more as a shock than as a revelation. The culture, the refinement and the courtesy of the average people she met had surprised her, and it took her some time to readjust the views she had formed during her schooldays. But she found the country a very beautiful one, and she was never tired of expatiating on the delights which she discovered every day, and although she had been out a very short time, she spoke Hindustani almost fluently. She was a pretty girl, full of life, but quite unsophisticated, and Lady Oundle never made any attempt to curb her naturally high spirits. She knew that on occasions her daughter could be most dignified, and she lavished all her affection on this sole-surviving child.

  As Wallace and Brien entered the drawing room where the two ladies awaited them, Doreen rose from her chair with a cry of delight. She hardly gave Leonard time to bow over her ladyship’s hand before she had put her arm through his, and begun to ask him eagerly about his journey. After a while he raised his arms in mock surrender.

  ‘My dear Doreen,’ he said, ‘your questions are laying me out flat. Before I have time to answer one you have asked me half a dozen more. Now will you take them one by one in regular order, and I will endeavour to reply to them!’

  ‘Please don’t bring your officialdom into this room!’ she said. ‘I’ll ask them as I want to! Anyhow, I am not really interested to know how you got here, or what you did on the way. What I wish to know is: first, how’s the Earl?’

  ‘Topping! At least he was the last time I saw him!’

  ‘Splendid! He’s a dear old man, and I’m very fond of him. What I can’t understand,’ she added, ‘is how on earth he ever got a son like you!’

  Lord and Lady Oundle laughed, and Leonard made a wry face. Billy grinned at his friend in amusement.

  ‘If you say things like that to Leonard,’ said Lady Oundle, ‘I’ll tell him what you confided to me when you heard he was coming—’

  ‘Oh, you dare not!’ exclaimed the girl with a sudden vivid blush.

  ‘Do tell me, Lady Oundle!’ said Wallace. ‘She deserves it, whatever it is!’

  ‘Oh, I’ll spare her this time.’

  ‘I don’t care if you do tell him!’ said Doreen obviously inviting her mother to speak.

  ‘There you are,’ said Leonard. ‘She wants me to know!’

  ‘Well, she said that if you had not been married to Molly, she would love to have you for her husband!’

  ‘My sentiments exactly!’ returned Wallace. ‘But we’ve known this for a long time, haven’t we, Doreen? Do you remember the day we made love to each other, and Molly would not get jealous?’

  ‘Don’t tell tales! What will Daddy think of me if you reveal my dreadful past like this! And that brings me to a very burning question – How is Molly?’

  Leonard went into an enthusiastic discourse on Lady Wallace which was terminated by his companion withdrawing her arm from his and pouting.

  ‘Did you ever hear anything like that?’ she said. ‘The deceitfulness of man! One moment he is making love to me and the next going into rhapsodies over his wife.’

  There was a general laugh, in the midst of which she turned to him again.

  ‘I do think it is mean of you not to have brought her with you.’

  ‘She’s coming!’ replied Leonard. ‘In fact, she must be well on her way by now.’

  ‘How perfectly ripping!’ exclaimed the girl with dancing eyes, and both Lady Oundle and the Viceroy voiced their pleasure. ‘When will she arrive?’

  ‘I’m not quite sure! I half expected to find a cable awaiting me here. She and Phyllis are coming out on the yacht!’

  ‘Phyllis too! I’m so glad! I hope all the babies are coming as well, Major Brien?’

  ‘They are,’ replied Billy with a blush, ‘but don’t talk as though there is an army of them!’

  ‘Well, there almost is!’ she returned, and amidst the laughter of the others Billy blushed again. ‘What about Adrian?’ She turned to Leonard. ‘He is coming too, I hope?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Wallace indignantly; ‘He couldn’t be left behind!’

  For some time the coming of Molly and Phyllis was discussed, and many plans for their entertainment spoken of by Lady Oundle and Doreen. At length the gong summoned them to their various rooms to dress for dinner, and Wallace and Brien walked along to their apartments together.

  To his surprise, the former found that Batty had apparently changed his tactics. As he dressed, Leonard discovered that he had two bearers waiting on him, while Batty stood by with serious mien, and directed them. He smiled quizzically at his man-servant.

  ‘What is the idea, Batty?’ he asked.

  ‘Idea, sir?’

  ‘Yes! I thought you would not allow these “black heathens” to look after me?’

  ‘Well, sir – beggin’ yer pardon, sir,’ replied Batty apologetically, ‘I found that if they didn’t do nothin’ for you, they’d be ’angin’ round lazy like, and it don’t do no one no good no’ow to be lazy, so I thought I’d better let ’em work, and just watch that they did it all right, sir – ’ang round in the offing, so to speak, sir.’

  ‘I see!’

  ‘’Ave I your approval, sir?’

  ‘Oh, quite!’

  Batty looked mysterious, and then a grin gradually spread over his face.

  ‘Wot do yer think, sir?’ he asked with a half suppressed chuckle. ‘If it ain’t the whole bloomin’ – beg pardon, sir – if i
t ain’t a bit of a joke like!’

  ‘Well, what is it?’

  ‘They’ve been and given me one o’ these ’ere black angels to look arter me!’

  ‘You’ve got a bearer, have you?’

  ‘Yes, sir! Take me oath on it, sir! I wish I ’ad a wife now,’ he added.

  ‘What on earth for?’

  ‘Well, sir, ’er an’ me could laugh at me ’aving a servant for many a long day, sir.’

  Leonard chuckled.

  ‘What are you going to do with him?’

  ‘I’m blest if I know. I’ve took me boots off four times and made ’im clean ’em, and I’ve brushed me ’air six times, so as ’e could ’and me the brushes every time. Swab me decks – beggin’ yer pardon, sir – I’ve never been so tickled to death in me life!’

  Wallace was still laughing to himself as he went down to dinner.

  Forsyth and Hallows had arrived, but there were no other guests, with the result that an informal note was struck, and dinner, in consequence, was quite a bright function. The Viceroy became almost jovial and Lady Oundle confided to Wallace that she had not seen him looking so happy for a very long time. Doreen sat between the two airmen, and by the end of dinner, it looked as though one, at least, had fallen a victim to her charms. The gaiety was further heightened by the arrival of a cablegram for Leonard during the meal which informed them that Molly and Phyllis had embarked at Marseilles that day, and were sailing at once.

  When the ladies had left the room, and the men had drawn their chairs closer together, the Viceroy thanked Forsyth and Hallows for their expert airmanship, which had enabled Sir Leonard Wallace and Major Brien to reach Delhi in such a remarkably short space of time. He invited them to stay at Viceregal Lodge for a few days before returning, and informed them that both Sir Henry Muir and he would do their best to entertain them. The airmen expressed their appreciation of his kindness, and told him that they had received instructions to hold themselves under Sir Leonard Wallace’s orders in India as long as he required them, and not to return to England until he ordered them to do so.

  ‘By Jove!’ exclaimed Wallace, on hearing this. ‘The Air Ministry have been very good. Why didn’t you tell me that before, Forsyth? I was thinking of taking a touching farewell of you tonight!’

  Forsyth laughed.

  ‘I thought you knew, Sir Leonard!’

  ‘This gives me furiously to think,’ murmured the other, and immediately lapsed into thought. Presently he looked at Muir. ‘Would it be possible for an aeroplane to land in Simla?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Muir. ‘There is a fine open space between the hills where football matches are played, called Annandale.’

  ‘That seems very nice; what do you say, Forsyth?’

  ‘It sounds ideal, sir.’

  ‘Good! Then we won’t want the car, Lord Oundle, after all. We’ll fly there tomorrow morning. Perhaps Muir will furnish Forsyth with a map of Simla, and anything else he wants?’

  Sir Henry eagerly expressed his willingness to do everything in his power to help.

  ‘I am very grateful to the Air Ministry,’ said Wallace with satisfaction. ‘They have made our job a good deal easier. There is just one thing more I should like to ask you to do, Muir, before we join the ladies: will you send a wire to the Deputy Commissioner to tell him of our arrival, and ask him to meet us at Annandale … By the way, how far is it from here to Simla?’

  ‘About two hundred miles,’ replied Lord Oundle. ‘Then we’ll be in Simla at nine-thirty tomorrow morning! That all right, Forsyth?’

  The airman smiled.

  ‘Quite, Sir Leonard!’

  ‘Good! Then I’ll leave the rest to you, Muir!’

  At eleven o’clock that night Sir Henry, Brien and Wallace were seated in the latter’s sitting room discussing events.

  ‘When did the murder take place exactly, Muir?’ asked Leonard, puffing a cloud of smoke from his pipe.

  ‘At about seven o’clock on Monday last!’

  ‘And this is Saturday. That is, the plans have been in the hands of these people for five days! In that time they could have been taken across the frontier, but the frontier was closed. Tell me!’ he added suddenly. ‘How long would it take to get from Barog to Karachi?’

  ‘Well, the usual way would be via Lahore, though a slightly quicker route might be by way of Bhatinda. In any case it would take about two days.’

  ‘I see! That means to say that a man leaving Simla or Barog, with the plans on Monday night, would not reach Karachi until Wednesday night?’

  Muir’s eyes opened wide.

  ‘Then you think that—?’

  ‘I think that obviously the plans will have to go to Russia by Karachi and the Persian Gulf, as they cannot cross the frontier.’

  Sir Henry rose to his feet in a state of great excitement.

  ‘I never thought of that,’ he groaned. ‘And I might have done something to stop them. They have probably gone by now.’

  ‘They had not gone this morning!’ announced Wallace.

  ‘How on earth do you know?’

  ‘By an aptitude for watching faces, and asking leading questions! Still I don’t like taking chances! There is only one thing I am worried about – When do the boats leave Karachi for Busra?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Muir. ‘Just a minute and I’ll find out for you.’ And he hurried out of the room.

  Wallace walked up and down with his hands behind his back, and his teeth clenched over his pipe.

  ‘There’s a chance that we may have been beaten after all, Billy,’ he said. ‘A boat might have left today and then—! That fellow showed me pretty clearly by his face that the plans were still in India this morning, but he might have been hiding the fact that they were going today!’

  ‘I see what you are driving at,’ said Brien. ‘But they might have been posted to Russia.’

  ‘By Jove! That’s another notion! I wish Muir would hurry up – it will be damnable if we have been just a bit too clever!’

  Sir Henry came back into the room as though he had been running.

  ‘Well?’ said Wallace, quite eagerly for him.

  ‘The ordinary boat leaves on Wednesday; the mail on Friday!’

  Leonard stood deep in thought for a moment, then he smiled.

  ‘Good!’ he said. ‘I think we’ve still got a chance!’

  ‘But,’ said Sir Henry in agitation, ‘if the plans were taken by boat from Karachi, they might have gone either on Wednesday, or yesterday!’

  ‘Not on Wednesday certainly – there would not have been time; and I feel pretty certain that there would not have been time to catch yesterday’s boat either.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘My dear Muir, I am only working on a theory, and I am not going to say any more until I’ve been to Simla. Apart from that I tell you that my prisoner gave away the fact to me, quite unintentionally, that the plans are still in India. Now we must make certain that they do not go by next week’s boats!’

  ‘Do you want me to do anything about that?’

  ‘No; Billy and I will see to it. There is only one possibility now by which we may have been beaten, and that is, as Billy suggests, the post. But I don’t think they would dare send them that way, and there again my captive’s accidental confirmation of my remark that they are still in India precludes that worry. However, Muir, it may come to the post next week, and, if so, I shall have to get you to see that every blessed letter, or package, going up the Persian Gulf is examined before it goes.’

  Sir Henry nodded.

  ‘But,’ said Billy, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, ‘they might post the plans to a confederate anywhere in the world – Europe Africa, Australia or America – and the recipient could take, or send them on! What then?’

  Wallace looked at him grimly for a moment, and then a smile gradually came over his face.

  ‘Have a heart, Billy!’ he said. ‘And now I’m going to have a few words with the spy. Give me
the key, Muir!’

  Sir Henry handed it over.

  ‘Shall I come along?’ he asked.

  ‘No, if you don’t mind. I do not expect to get much out of him, but he is more likely to talk if there are only two of us!’

  They left the disappointed Muir standing at the door, and walked along to the room in which the Russian was imprisoned.

  ‘Now,’ said Wallace, when he and Brien had locked themselves in with the captive, and the former had seated himself on one of the two chairs, ‘I told you the conditions on which I would drop the attempted murder charge, so perhaps you will give me a little information!’

  ‘There isn’t much you don’t know already,’ the fellow answered sullenly.

  ‘No, not much, it is true! I want to hear how much you know about the stolen plans.’

  ‘Nothing!’

  ‘Come, that tone won’t do! If you are going to be foolish, Major Brien and I will not waste any more time over you, and you’ll be handed over to the police at once.’

  ‘What if I am? It won’t make any difference to me whether I am charged with trying to murder you, or as a spy!’

  ‘Oh, yes it will – very much difference! If you are merely found guilty of being a spy, your sentence will be quite a small one, especially if I mention that you were only a tool. On the other hand, a conviction for attempted murder as well as espionage will mean years of imprisonment!’

  The man looked from one to the other.

  ‘I did not want to kill you,’ he said; ‘they forced me to go!’

  ‘Pshaw!’ exclaimed Billy in disgust. ‘It’s no use your cringing, it will not help you!’

  Wallace raised his hand.

  ‘Just a minute!’ he said to Brien, and then turned to the spy. ‘We are not really interested in your feelings. If you are going to answer do so, if not we’ll leave you!’

  ‘I’ll answer if I can!’ replied the man. ‘But I dare not mention names.’

  ‘First of all, then, the plans were stolen on Monday night! When are they to be taken to Karachi?’

  The fellow hesitated, then,

  ‘They are expected there on Tuesday night!’