The Mystery of Tunnel 51 (Wallace of the Secret Service Series) Read online

  This conversation took place just before the aeroplane glided to the earth and as Wallace finished speaking they touched the ground, and running along in the midst of the spectators came to rest gently and calmly like some great bird. Leonard waved his hand round in an eloquent gesture.

  ‘India, the land of sahibs and snobs,’ he said.

  As they emerged from the saloon they were immediately taken possession of by the congratulating crowd, who behaved as though the flight had been undertaken for their especial benefit. Invitations poured in from all sides, and they were hard put to it to refuse them. Entire strangers took turns in shaking their hands and introducing themselves, and everybody appeared to be speaking at once with the result that they only caught such phrases as: ‘I’m Willows of the General Staff and I met you in France, Sir Leonard, if you remember—’; ‘Do give us the pleasure of dining with us—’; ‘My wife and I would be delighted if you would stay the night—’; ‘What a wonderful journey yours must have been—’; ‘I have a car waiting here for you—’; and so on ad infinitum.

  Thoroughly fed up, but answering with a smile here, a nod there, Leonard felt inclined to beat a hasty retreat back to the aeroplane, when a tall figure with a military air made its way through the crowd.

  ‘I’m the Deputy Commissioner, Sir Leonard,’ he said smiling. ‘I had information from Delhi that you were on your way, but I did not expect you quite so soon.’

  ‘Well, I’m jolly glad to see you,’ said Wallace. ‘Come into the saloon – we shall be alone there – I hope.’

  The other smiled.

  ‘You were not expecting such a reception?’

  ‘No, I was not, I assure you, and – I’m afraid it is very rude of me to say so – I did not want it!’

  ‘I can quite understand that.’ He entered the narrow doorway at Leonard’s behest and the latter was about to follow him, when he noticed a big burly man with a fair, well-trimmed beard, standing on the verge of the crowd, and, from the expression on his face, watching proceedings with the utmost contempt. The smile of sardonic amusement had no attempt at disguise about it, and it immediately occurred to Leonard that this man appeared to view things entirely differently from the rest of the crowd.

  ‘I wonder!’ he muttered to himself. ‘I’ll take the chance anyway! Billy,’ he said, as that worthy came up, ‘do you see that big fellow with the beard? Don’t stare, just glance – over there—’

  Billy nodded.

  ‘Well, get hold of Batty quietly, and tell him to follow that chap wherever he goes, in a taxi or a gharri, or whatever the other uses, and to come back and let us know the address!’

  ‘What’s the game?’ asked Billy.

  ‘Tiddley-winks,’ replied Wallace, and disappeared into the interior of the plane.

  ‘No,’ he repeated, as he sat in a small easy chair and invited the Commissioner to take another. ‘The last thing I wanted was publicity. I am out here on a secret mission and want as much privacy as I can get.’

  ‘So I gathered,’ replied the other, ‘though I know nothing about it. They’re a canny lot at Delhi.’

  Wallace ignored the implied invitation to talk about his mission.

  ‘What I cannot understand,’ he said, ‘is how these people knew anything about it.’

  ‘There was an article in the Indiaman this morning, saying that you were flying out to India on special service, and that you were travelling at such speed that it was quite likely you would arrive here today.’

  ‘Good Lord! Isn’t it amazing!’ said Leonard. ‘Now how on earth did they get to know that?’

  The Commissioner shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘All the same I wish you would find out, Commissioner. The Indiaman is a Karachi paper, is it not?’

  ‘Yes! I’ll ring up the editor and make enquiries and let you know.’

  ‘Thanks!’

  A cheerful-looking, middle-aged man looked into the saloon.

  ‘Excuse me, Sir Leonard,’ he said, ‘but I should like a few words for my paper, if you can spare me the time.’

  ‘Paper!’ ejaculated Leonard. ‘What’s your paper?’

  ‘He’s the editor of the Indiaman, Sir Leonard,’ said the Commissioner. ‘Come in, Reynolds, you’re just the very man we want.’

  Taking it for granted that this meant news, the man stepped inside with alacrity.

  ‘Sit down,’ said Wallace. ‘I’ve a very big grouse against your paper,’ he went on, as the other seated himself.

  ‘Oh, indeed, Sir Leonard,’ said Reynolds. ‘I’m very sorry to hear you say that.’

  ‘I came out to India hoping to avoid publicity! Will you tell me where you got the information you printed this morning about my arrival?’

  The other hesitated, and then looked questioningly at the Commissioner.

  ‘Well, you know,’ he said at last, ‘we get information from all manner of sources.’

  ‘And you print it irrespective of where it comes from?’

  ‘No, certainly not. It must be from someone whom we know to be reliable.’

  ‘Then you heard about my coming from a reliable person?’

  ‘Of course!’ Again he glanced at the Commissioner, a suggestion of surprise in his look.

  ‘Well, who was it?’ asked the Chief of Police.

  The editor laughed.

  ‘Really, Major Watkins,’ he said, ‘that’s rather an extraordinary question from you, is it not?’

  ‘By no means!’ replied the other. ‘I naturally desire to help Sir Leonard Wallace to find out.’

  ‘But—’ The newspaper man stopped, and stared at him.

  ‘Mr Reynolds,’ said Wallace. ‘I don’t understand why you are making all this mystery. Surely you do not object to giving us this information?’

  ‘Certainly not!’

  ‘Then who was it?’

  ‘Why, the Commissioner, of course. I don’t understand—’

  ‘What!’ cried Major Watkins, jumping to his feet. ‘I gave it to you?’

  ‘Of course you did!’

  ‘When?’ gasped the Major.

  ‘Why, last night! Do you not remember ringing me up and telling me?’

  ‘No, I’m hanged if I do!’ said the other with emphasis. ‘You’re talking nonsense.’

  ‘There is naturally some mistake,’ interposed Leonard.

  ‘But I recognised the Commissioner’s voice,’ said Reynolds, a very puzzled expression on his face.

  ‘My dear man,’ said Watkins wrathfully, ‘you’re dreaming!’

  There was silence for a moment. The Deputy Commissioner glared at the editor, who looked a badly surprised man, while Wallace glanced from one to the other of them with an amused expression on his face.

  ‘Obviously, Commissioner,’ he said at last, ‘somebody rang up Mr Reynolds, and imitated your voice.’

  ‘That must be it!’ said Watkins. ‘I’d like to get hold of him!’ he added with emphasis.

  Reynolds looked relieved.

  ‘To tell you the truth,’ he remarked, ‘I was rather surprised when you – the voice rather – said, “The Deputy Commissioner speaking”, because when you ring me up you invariably say, “Watkins speaking”, but I took very little notice of that, the voice seemed so obviously yours.’

  ‘I am going to find out who it was somehow or other,’ said the Commissioner.

  ‘I’m afraid you’ll find it rather a job,’ smiled Wallace.

  ‘Then am I to understand, gentlemen,’ asked the editor, ‘that the information should not have appeared in the paper?’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ replied Leonard. ‘And please see that nothing else appears; not that it matters very much now. You cannot very well contradict your report because I have arrived, but if you get any further information about me over the telephone, or otherwise, will you do your best to find out where it came from, and then tell the Commissioner?’

  ‘I will, Sir Leonard. You may rely upon me! I am very sorry this has happened.’
<
br />   ‘You are not to blame. I certainly would like to interview the individual who rang you up, though.’

  ‘And so would I!’ growled the Commissioner.

  Reynolds took his leave soon afterwards, and Major Watkins rose to his feet.

  ‘Now, Sir Leonard, you and your colleagues will give me the pleasure of your company at dinner and stay the night, I hope?’

  ‘We’ll come to dinner, thanks very much, but we won’t stay the night if you’ll excuse me. I have a lot of work I want to do and so we’ll sleep here.’

  ‘Just as you please, of course, but if you should change your mind, my bungalow is at your disposal.’

  ‘Thanks!’

  Five minutes later, Wallace and Brien, with the two pilots were on their way in the Commissioner’s car to Karachi. The latter proved a very entertaining host and the evening passed quickly and pleasantly. At eleven o’clock they were driven back to the aeroplane and found Batty awaiting them. He grinned when he saw them and Leonard gathered at once that he had been successful in his mission.

  ‘Come inside, Batty,’ he said, and the ex-sailor followed him and Billy into the saloon.

  Batty had been in the Navy for many years, and Wallace, on the recommendation of a naval friend, had engaged him as a personal servant on his retirement, and had never regretted it. He had found the sailor a thoroughly reliable and very useful man, and had come to regard him as a very confidential servant. Batty was not polished, but what he lacked in that quarter was more than counterbalanced by his many attributes.

  ‘First of all, Batty,’ said Leonard, ‘have you had anything to eat?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied Batty, and he smiled reminiscently. ‘Me and the a.m.’s ’ad all sorts o’ food brought to us by the audience, sir, an’ we ’ad a pretty good tuck in.’

  For the guidance of the reader it must be explained that a.m. means air mechanic. Batty had a fondness for abbreviations, probably culled from his long naval service.

  ‘I’m glad to hear that,’ smiled Wallace. ‘Now tell me about your adventures.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know as I ’ad any adventures, sir. I’d a good look at the bloke – beggin’ your pardon, man, sir, what the Major said I was to foller an’ when ’e crossed to the road, I ups anchor and sets sail arter ’im. He boarded one of them shaky-looking craft they calls gharris, so I did ditto, sir, and told the Injun wot sat on the box to keep the other craft in sight. Well, sir, to cut a long story short like, ’e didn’t seem to understand wot I wanted ’im to do. I tried ’im in a bit of French, sir, and then a bit o’ Chinese, wot I learnt when I was stationed on the Tamar in ’Ong Kong. But it all weren’t no use, so, as the other feller was drawing away fast, I just took the reins o’ the old gee meself an’ went full speed ahead.’

  ‘What became of the driver?’ asked Brien.

  ‘Well, you see, sir, we started so sudden that ’e fell overboard and I went on without him, or thought I did. ’Owsoever when I stopped, I found ’im ’anging on the stern an’ saying ’is prayers, sir.’

  His hearers laughed.

  ‘Well, and what happened?’ asked Leonard.

  ‘Oh, I gives ’im a shilling, sir, an’ ’e seemed quite ’appy about it.’

  ‘No, I mean what became of the man you followed?’

  ‘When I was a-chasin’ of ’im, sir, my ’orse went so fast that I got too near ’im like, so I ’ad to ’old the gee in. Any’ow the other craft stopped outside an ’ouse, and the bloke – man, sir – got out, and went in. ’E opened the door with a key, so I presoomed ’e lived there, an’ arter I ’ad taken the name – there weren’t no number – I came back ’ere.’

  ‘I see. And where is this house?’

  Batty searched in his pockets, and, at last, produced a soiled scrap of paper on which was laboriously scrawled, ‘Waller and Redmond, General Merchants, Bunda Road’.

  ‘By Jove! Billy,’ exclaimed Wallace. ‘I believe we are on the track. Have you got that list of addresses Caxton gave us?’

  Brien nodded, and taking a pocket-book from an inside pocket opened it and produced the list. The first address was the same that Batty had written on his scrap of paper.

  Leonard and Billy looked at each other, and the former laughed.

  ‘A long shot that came off!’ he said.

  ‘You’re a cute old blighter,’ said Billy. ‘What on earth made you suspect that fellow?’

  ‘His smile!’ replied the other. ‘Thanks, Batty, you’ve done a good night’s work. Help yourself to a whisky and soda!’

  ‘Well, sir, beggin’ your pardon, sir,’ said Batty regretfully, ‘but them people wot gave us the grub, weren’t nowise be’ind with the liquor, an’ I’ve taken a lot aboard, sir. Besides,’ he added naively, ‘there’s about a dozen bottles left, includin’ two or three o’ rum, sir.’

  The others laughed, and Batty disappeared – probably to find the mechanics and the rum.

  ‘Billy, I’m going to have a look at this place,’ announced Wallace. ‘That is why I did not stop at the Commissioner’s bungalow for the night – Are you coming?’

  ‘Of course I’m coming!’

  The two of them strolled across the road, but owing to the lateness of the hour there were no conveyances to be obtained there, so they walked on towards Karachi, and were lucky enough to meet a belated taxi-cab which took them to the Bunda Road. On the way Wallace told his companion about the report in the paper, and how somebody had imitated the Commissioner’s voice and given the information.

  ‘By Jove!’ said Brien. ‘I wonder who it was!’

  ‘Probably the very man Batty tracked tonight, or someone connected with him.’

  ‘But what object could they have?’

  ‘Well, I suppose the paper is distributed throughout India or the greater part of it and that was a quick and safe way of warning their colleagues in other places that we had arrived or rather were arriving.’

  ‘I believe you’re right, but I’d like to know how they got their information.’

  ‘Billy, I’m surprised at you! A member of the Intelligence Department and you ask that! How do we get our information about things?’

  ‘H’m! Of course!’

  ‘There’s one thing we can be pretty sure of at last. It is that Russian Bolshevik spies are in possession of those plans, because the fellow Batty followed would not have come to see our arrival, and the news would not have been in the paper, if they were not very interested in us. What a bit of luck that Caxton gave us the information about this firm of Waller and Redmond!’

  Billy nodded. The cab began to slacken speed, so Wallace leant out and ordered the driver to go on. He stopped the man about a hundred yards farther along, and he and his companion alighted. Ordering the chauffeur to drive on for three or four hundred yards and then wait for them, the two retraced their steps, and had presently arrived opposite the establishment belonging to Messrs. Waller and Redmond. It was a large double-storied building, and the ground floor had the appearance of a warehouse. At one side of it was a narrow lane which apparently led to the back of the premises, and from a window halfway down a light shone out into the darkness.

  Wallace looked up and down the road to see if there were any people about, but it was entirely deserted, except for the taxi-cab which could be dimly seen in the distance, and he and Brien quietly crossed to the other side and made their way down the lane until they were opposite the window. There were no curtains and no efforts were apparently made to hide what was happening within, and certainly the scene looked innocent enough. There were three men sitting in what appeared to be an ordinary commercial office, while another, standing at the desk, was talking earnestly to them. Each man had a drink in his hand, or by his side, and they were all smoking cigars. It seemed as though the merchant was merely having a convivial evening with some acquaintances. Certainly an office was hardly the place for that sort of thing, but there was nothing very odd about it.

  ‘Do you recognise the man stan
ding?’ asked Leonard.

  ‘Yes, the fellow whom Batty tracked, isn’t he?’

  ‘M’m! By Jove, Billy, I’d give a good deal to hear what he is saying.’

  He stole across the lane, and standing close beside the window, put his ear to the wall, but only a subdued murmur could be heard.

  ‘No good,’ he said, rejoining the other. ‘We can only stand here and watch proceedings.’

  For half an hour they remained almost without moving, and still the conversation went on within, the burly man doing the bulk of the talking, and, at times, gesturing as though driving some point home.

  ‘Oh, hang it!’ said Billy, at last. ‘This is getting monotonous!’

  ‘We’ve certainly had time to study their faces well. I’d give anything for a pipe, but it would be too risky.’

  ‘That taxi-driver will soon be thinking we’ve run off without paying him and come to investigate.’

  ‘Yes, I thought of that just now! Look here, Billy, go along to the car and have a smoke, and then, when you have finished, come back and relieve me, and I’ll go.’

  ‘That’s not a bad notion. But don’t do anything risky without me—’

  ‘No, of course not!’

  Billy crept quietly away, and Leonard was left alone. Still the conversation went on, the only interlude being the production of a small revolver by a man, sitting in a corner, who handed the weapon round. It had a curious-looking affair attached to the muzzle and Wallace was puzzled as to what it could be. The burly man took it and examined it minutely, then handed it back to the owner, who was about to put it into his pocket, when Brien came softly back.

  ‘Billy, what is the attachment on that revolver?’ asked Leonard gripping him by the arm. The other just caught a glimpse as the man put it away.

  ‘By Jove!’ he said. ‘It’s one of those newfangled silencers. What have they been doing?’

  ‘Nothing much. He has simply been handing the weapon round for the others to admire.’

  ‘H’m! I don’t like that silencer; an honest man wouldn’t have it!’