Wallace of the Secret Service (Wallace of the Secret Service Series) Read online

  ‘What do you mean by saying, “if he was kidnapped”, signor?’ cried the secretary. ‘Surely you do not think that His Highness was murdered, and – and his body taken away?’

  ‘No, I don’t think that,’ replied Wallace to the young man’s evident relief. ‘I might have been disposed to think that he had gone away of his own accord, if the equerry and Cousins had not been with him.’

  ‘Why should he do that?’ demanded the secretary indignantly. ‘His Highness would not think of behaving in such a manner.’

  Sir Leonard smiled.

  ‘I don’t suppose he would,’ he admitted. ‘You must not be annoyed, if I ask you a question touching the private life of the Prince. Has he ever had any clandestine love affairs?’

  The young man shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘One or two, signor,’ he answered, ‘but they were a very long time ago. Since he has been married His Highness has proved himself a model husband.’

  ‘Were the ladies Italians?’

  ‘Yes, signor. At least those with whom I was acquainted were.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Wallace. ‘That will do, I think.’

  The secretary clasped his hands together imploringly.

  ‘For the love of the Virgin, signor, find him,’ he cried. ‘Italy will always be grateful to you, if you do.’

  ‘I will do my utmost,’ promised Sir Leonard.

  Alone with the Governor he showed little inclination to discuss the affair, but the famous soldier’s repeated questions drew from him the statement, which he had already made to Maddison, that he believed a nation, jealous of Italy, was behind the abduction.

  ‘But,’ protested his amazed companion, ‘surely no country would stoop to such a crime, especially on British territory?’

  ‘The country I have in mind would,’ retorted Sir Leonard. ‘She would be delighted if Italy and Great Britain quarrelled. Naturally she would not show her hand in the affair, but it is quite likely that her idea is to “discover” the Prince, hand him over to his people, and accept the thanks and, later on, certain concessions of a grateful Italy. Britain, in the meantime, having proved herself incapable of protecting her royal guests, receives the opprobrium and distrust of all good Italians.’

  ‘Good Heavens! You don’t really think that?’

  ‘I do. We’ve got to discover His Highness very quickly, or you will find he has been rescued, and returned to his own country by—’

  He stopped and smiled.

  ‘By?’ prompted the Governor eagerly.

  Sir Leonard shook his head.

  ‘Even the walls of Government House, Gibraltar may have ears,’ he observed quietly. ‘If I mention the name of the country I suspect, I may cause international complications.’

  ‘I cannot understand,’ remarked his Excellency after a silence lasting for some minutes, ‘how the Prince and his companions were taken away. The walls round the grounds are very high, and—’

  ‘You forget, sir,’ interrupted Wallace, ‘that probably at that time several of your guests were leaving. Nobody, therefore, on duty at the gates, would have taken much notice of a car or cars going out. It would not have been difficult to have concealed the three inside a large limousine. There may have been more than one.’

  ‘But, my dear fellow, nobody was permitted in the grounds that night without a card of invitation. If what you say is correct, then the car, or cars, used must have belonged to a guest.’

  ‘Quite so! It is obvious.’

  ‘I never thought of that. Would you like to see a list of the guests?’

  Wallace shook his head.

  ‘It wouldn’t help,’ he declared. ‘If my present theory is wrong, then I’ll go through the list, for it will mean recommencing the inquiry from a different angle.’

  A few minutes before lunch the superintendent of police arrived and was taken to a small room, where Sir Leonard was awaiting him.

  ‘Three dhows only sailed from Gibraltar on the night of the ball, sir,’ he announced, ‘and one from Algeciras. There was nothing suspicious about any of them.’

  ‘Their destination?’

  ‘All for Tangier.’

  ‘What was their trade?’

  Before the superintendent could reply, there came a knock on the door. A servant entered to inform the police officer that a sergeant wished to see him urgently.

  ‘Show him in here,’ directed Wallace.

  In a few minutes the man arrived and, from his face, it was easy to see that he had news of importance to impart.

  ‘What is it?’ asked the superintendent.

  ‘A dhow without any lights was seen to slip away about half past two on the morning of the ball, sir,’ was the quick reply. ‘My informant, a Spanish fisherman, told me he was working towards the east of the bay when he saw her coming out. She passed quite close, and there appeared to be an unusual number of men on her deck. He yelled at her about the absence of lights, but received no reply. Apparently that roused his suspicions, for he kept his eyes on her until she was out of sight. She seemed to be steering for Ceuta, he said.’

  ‘Ah! That sounds interesting. I’d like to see the fisherman.’

  ‘Shall I go and fetch him, sir?’

  ‘No; it would take too long. I’ll go to him, if you’ll show me the way.’

  Without bothering about lunch, Wallace set off immediately in one of the Governor’s cars. Half an hour later he was crossexamining the fisherman, and discovered that the dhow in question was painted white, had white sails, and was much larger and altogether cleaner than the usual Moorish craft.

  ‘It looked to me, señor, as though she were the property of a wealthy man,’ stated the Spaniard.

  ‘A kind of pleasure yacht?’ asked Wallace. Like most European languages he speaks Spanish well.

  The man nodded.

  ‘There was a large deckhouse astern,’ he said, ‘which is most unusual on a dhow. It looked to me as though it had been built there as a cabin or saloon for the owner.’

  ‘Have you ever seen the boat before?’

  ‘No, señor.’

  Two hours later, leaving the mystified Governor to puzzle out things as best he could, Wallace was on his way across the Straits in a large motor-launch, borrowed for the occasion, with a small skiff in tow. With him was Batty and a crew of three British sailors detailed from HMS Lapwing. He would have liked to have taken a couple of policemen as well, but mindful of the fact that he was about to enter foreign territory, and of the necessity of secrecy, he had decided to take Batty only.

  The launch was headed for Ceuta, but Wallace had no intention of entering that port. If the dhow had had on board the Prince, it is certain that he would not have been landed in a seaport belonging to Spain. In fact it was unlikely that he would have been taken to any town at all. It is impossible to land prisoners, even in a Moroccan port, without causing comment, and comment was the very last thing the captors would desire. It was Sir Leonard’s belief that the dhow would have entered one of the many inlets on the coast between Ceuta and Tangier where it would be possible to land its prisoners without fear of observation. His intention was, therefore, to search the coast between those two towns.

  He did not lose sight of the possibility that he was on a wild goose chase. Actually he had nothing to go on but the finding of a morocco-bound notebook and the suspicious behaviour of a white dhow, precious little to lead him to the whereabouts of a kidnapped prince. But he knew Cousins well, and felt sure he had read the message of the notebook aright. Certain, then, that the captives had been taken to Morocco, it did not require a great deal of intelligence to connect the dhow with the abduction, when she was known to have slipped away with such an evident desire for secrecy so soon after the Prince had disappeared. Another thought struck Wallace. The dhow was apparently privately owned, according to the fisherman. A man who kept a dhow for his own pleasure would probably live near the sea. It did not seem too much to expect, therefore, that once the dhow was found,
it would not be difficult to find the house. The question was: would the captives be kept there, or sent inland to some more inaccessible spot? Then again, the owner may have merely lent his boat; he may even have been unaware of the purpose for which it was borrowed. Wallace made a grimace as the numerous possibilities paraded one after another through his mind.

  When within two miles of Ceuta, he gave orders for the pair of powerful binoculars; he studied the coast as the boat moved gently along. There was hardly a ripple on the sea, and not a cloud in the sky, the powerful sun streaming down on the unprotected deck, and causing the perspiration to run down Wallace’s face. But he took no notice of the discomfort, examining every mile of the shore with meticulous thoroughness. Tiny little bays were disclosed to his view, sometimes with villages, gleaming white in the sunshine, above them. Several dhows were seen, but not one answering to the description of that for which they were searching. The thought occurred to Sir Leonard that by then it may have been painted another colour, but the owner surely had no reason to think that his boat would be sought. Still there was no telling, and the thought was not pleasant. The search would be rendered far more difficult if the colour of the dhow had been altered.

  It took nearly three hours, at their rate of progress, to traverse the thirty or so miles to Tangier, and the sun was setting as they came in sight of the city. With a keen sense of disappointment Wallace gave orders to turn. A little cove was chosen for their night’s harbourage, and running close inshore, the launch dropped her anchor. An ample supply of provisions had been brought, and Batty soon had a meal ready for them all. A watch was set, the exsailor taking his turn with the rest.

  Soon after dawn the following morning they breakfasted, and the sun had barely risen before the boat was again under way, running now towards Ceuta and closer to the shore. But once more Wallace had to face disappointment. None of the dhows they saw bore much resemblance to the one they were after. At ten o’clock they passed Ceuta, two miles out at sea, and turning in to within a mile of the shore, when that city was out of sight, continued on their way east. At noon the launch was anchored in a small bay, while Batty served lunch. By this time Wallace had almost given up hope of coming across the white dhow, but doggedly he ordered the boat’s nose to be kept east and, through the heat of the afternoon they ran, ever searching.

  It was half past four, and the launch was sixty miles from Ceuta, when Sir Leonard, through his glasses, caught sight of a narrow opening between two hills. Trees grew down nearly to the water’s edge on both sides, and the gap was almost hidden from view. If it went in far, it was an ideal spot in which to hide. It was certain that, if he had not been searching so carefully through binoculars, he would not have espied the entrance.

  Running in close to the shore, the engine was shut off, and the launch glided along quietly until about twenty yards from the gap, where she was anchored. Wallace and one of the sailors dropped into the skiff, and he was rowed to the land. There was no beach to speak of, but they found a spit of sand in between the rocks, and ran the small boat ashore there. Bidding his companion await his return, Sir Leonard set off to ascend the hill. It took him twenty minutes’ stiff climbing to reach the top, but his exertion was well repaid. Where he stood he could see perfectly down into the gap between the hill on which he was standing and the other. The narrow entrance continued as it was for about fifty yards, then opened into a basin large enough to hold half a dozen fairly large boats. A Moorish building stood close to the water, where a landing-stage had been built. But what interested Wallace most, and caused him to utter an exclamation of satisfaction, was the beautiful white dhow with sails furled that lay alongside the wharf. The search was ended.

  Unslinging his binoculars, he now gazed long and earnestly first at the boat, then at the house, but there was not a sign of movement from either. He felt fairly certain that, if the dhow had brought the Prince across from Gibraltar, he had been taken to some island retreat, and probably most of the men from the dhow had gone as an escort. But surely there would have been someone left. Yet both the boat and the house had a deserted appearance.

  For half an hour he stayed where he was, but, during that time, nobody appeared, and he had reached the conclusion that the place was indeed abandoned, when a man came through the gate from the courtyard carrying a small wicker table, which he placed on the lawn between the house and the landing-stage. He was followed by two others carrying chairs. The three returned, and a few minutes later brought out food, which was put on the table. Then, as though at some signal, an atmosphere of activity prevailed where before everything had looked so desolate. Several men appeared on the deck of the dhow, four tribesmen armed with rifles emerged from the narrow archway leading to the courtyard of the building. Then came a tall Moor wrapped in a spotless white burnous, accompanied by a young, slight man in European dress. Sir Leonard stiffened, and stared without movement through his glasses for quite five minutes. The Moor bowed ceremoniously to the other, who, with a shrug of his shoulders, took one of the chairs. He appeared to be speaking quickly, angrily, and the expression on his face was perfectly clear to Wallace. The unexpected had happened. It was the Prince.

  Sir Leonard did not wait to see anything more, but made his way down the hill to the spot where the skiff awaited him. Once aboard the launch, he instructed the coxswain in charge to find a place where she could lie hidden. To avoid the noise which the engine would have made, one of the other sailors got into the skiff and towed her. Before long they reached a great cave where the water was quite deep enough. A ledge of rock made an excellent landing stage, and to this the launch was tied up after some difficulty in finding a place capable of holding the rope.

  Whilst Batty prepared tea, his master lay down on the cushioned seat in the small cabin, which the night before had been his bed, and commenced to make his plans. The Prince’s whereabouts had been discovered, but not the least difficult part of the undertaking remained. The tall Moor, who was apparently His Highness’s captor, had twelve men with him – Wallace had counted that number – there were probably others. The house, like all Moorish buildings, was difficult of ingress, and Sir Leonard only had three men to help him; one would have to remain in charge of the launch. Three British sailors might well prove a match for twelve Moors, but the odds were too great to take such a risk when so much was at stake. Their only chance of rescuing the Prince and his companions seemed to be to attempt to enter the house by stealth, but even then, if they succeeded in getting in, how were they to find where the prisoners were kept? It was a pretty problem. Eventually Wallace determined to enter the house alone, keeping the three men in hiding close by ready to come to his aid if required. He chose midnight for the attempt, feeling certain that by then everybody would be asleep.

  It was almost as light as day, when the four men set off on their desperate enterprise, the moon making Sir Leonard’s flashlight unnecessary. Each of his followers carried a revolver, but had been instructed not to fire except in a case of emergency. They toiled up the hill cautiously for fear that a watch was being kept from the top, but, on reaching the summit, discovered that their apprehensions were baseless. Even so, their care was redoubled in descending the other side. Both the house and the dhow were in darkness, and not a sound disturbed the silence of the night. At last they stood on the margin of the open space before the house, and Wallace took a whistle from his pocket.

  ‘Keep in among the trees here,’ he instructed them, ‘and don’t make a sound. If you hear this whistle, come to my aid, but otherwise wait here until I come back.’

  The two sailors murmured their assent, but Batty was dissatisfied.

  ‘Seems to me, sir,’ he muttered, ‘that you want a consort in this ’ere cuttin’ out expedition. ’Adn’t I better come with you?’

  ‘You’ll stay here, Batty.’

  ‘Aye, aye, sir,’ returned that one-time mariner with a deep sigh.

  Wallace crossed the lawn almost like a shadow, or at least t
hat is what he appeared like to the three watchers. He reached the archway without raising the alarm, and stood for a moment in the shadows. Halfway along was a gate, which looked as though it would take a good deal of effort to open, but out came that bunch of steel instruments without which he never went on an expedition of that nature. Ten minutes’ hard but silent work followed, after which he gave a low grunt of satisfaction. The gate was unlocked. But when he pushed it gently it refused to budge. It was barred. For a second or two he stood staring at it, a frown on his forehead then, as silently as he had come, he returned to the three waiting men.

  ‘I shall want help after all,’ he whispered. ‘Perhaps it would be as well if you all came with me, but, for Heaven’s sake, don’t make a noise.’

  Batty and his companions gave vent to sounds expressive of their satisfaction, and followed him with cumbersome attempts at silence back to the gate. When under the archway:

  ‘I’m going to knock,’ he murmured. ‘I hope someone will come and open it. If not, I shall have to think of something else. At any rate, if it is opened, I want you to go for the fellow, and lay him out without a disturbance. Do you think you can manage it?’

  In hoarse whispers they assured him that they could. He knocked sharply and, soon afterwards, they heard footsteps coming towards them on the other side of the door. The man made a lot of noise removing the bars, but presently the gate swung open, and a tall Moor wrapped up in his burnous looked out. Immediately a brawny arm encircled his neck, the hand clapped hard against his mouth, two others clasped him round the middle and drew him forward, while Batty, scientifically wielding a heavy revolver, tapped the fellow into a state of unconsciousness. Wallace watched his three assistants place the body of the Moor gently on the ground, and smiled approvingly.

  ‘Give me his burnous,’ he whispered.

  ‘’Is wot, sir?’ queried Batty.

  Wallace indicated what he meant. There was some difficulty in removing the voluminous garment, but at last Batty handed it to his master.