Chronicles of the Secret Service (15 page)

‘Come on,’ he whispered urgently. ‘Not lingering in the hope of being invited to a game of Noughts and Crosses, are you?’

Anstruther felt grateful to him for his kindly humour and non-reproachful manner, and hurried after Sonia down the remaining stairs. Unfortunately, however, the damage had been done. They heard a hasty and heavy step in the corridor above. Cousins guessed, from the nature of the sound, that it was the hunchback on the prowl. He was right. A flood of light suddenly illumined the staircase as they reached the bottom and sped for the darkness of the hall, but Karen had caught a glimpse of them. A cry of fury broke from his lips. It was animal-like in its timbre, and Sonia shivered involuntarily. Cousins caught her by the arm, hurried her into a room, and pointed to an open window.

‘No time to fool about with a door,’ he muttered. ‘I forced the catch of that window; left it open in case. Out you go, and follow instructions. Put your shoes on in the garden.’ He bundled her out of the window. ‘Now, back we go,’ he shot at Anstruther. ‘I want to help them in this house – must bag the lot.’

He raced back into the hall, which was now blazing with light, followed by Tony. Shouts and cries of alarm were resounding throughout the house. Karen was coming down the stairs in his lop-sided manner, but extraordinarily swiftly; behind him crowded Turgenev and Gortschakoff. All were in various stages of undress. They pulled up suddenly in rank amazement as they recognised the little tramp. For one stupefied moment the hunchback stared unbelievingly at him; then from between his lips came the most fiendish cry Cousins or Anstruther had ever heard. It contained fury, hatred, the very essence of satanic viciousness and yet, at the same time, the Secret Service man thought to recognise in it the plaintive note that might be inspired by disappointment, as though some part of Karen was regretting the discovery that the man who had given him such pleasure at his beloved game was an enemy. But that note was not recognisable in his subsequent invective. Foaming at the mouth, his eyes gleaming with the utmost evil, he poured forth filthy obscenities at the two men below in a mixture of Russian and English. Anstruther wondered why he and his followers did not attack, but Cousins guessed the reason. They were not armed, while he was. Karen was not madman enough to throw himself forward in face of the automatic held so steadily pointed at him. Panting furiously the hunchback paused for
breath. Cousins was about to speak, when from above sounded Vogel’s voice. Apparently he had been sent to the attic in which the prisoners had been confined.

‘They have gone.’ The Russian words tumbled over themselves in the man’s alarm. ‘Voronoff was there, gagged and bound – in their place. He was just recovering consciousness – I have released him.’

Vogel came into view; was as dumbfounded as the others had been by sight of the tramp below. His repulsive face was the picture of utter and blank – not to mention dismayed – astonishment. Cousins gave them a further shock by addressing Karen in perfect Russian.

‘The game is up,’ he stated calmly. ‘I know exactly why you and those others are in this country. You blundered badly by conceiving the idea of kidnapping Mr Anstruther and Miss Hardinge, Nicholas Karen; you blundered more badly by being taken in by a tramp who played Noughts and Crosses. The best thing all of you can do is to surrender quietly.’

‘Who are you?’ screamed the hunchback. ‘What have you done with the girl?’

‘She is safe, you vile murderer. By now—’

He never finished the sentence. There was the crack of a revolver, a bullet imbedded itself in the door behind him. At the turning in the staircase, he caught sight of two men, both armed. They were obviously Voronoff’s servants. A glimpse was enough for Cousins. Like lightning he fired. There was a sharp cry. One of the fellows pitched forward, slid down a few steps, and lay still. The other disappeared. Vogel, Turgenev and Gortschakoff followed his example, turning, and running up
the stairs like startled rabbits. Karen alone held his ground. He stood where he was, snarling like an animal at bay. Repeated cries from above failed to influence him, until something was said which Cousins did not catch. Even then there was no haste about his movements. He turned and walked up the stairs in the most leisurely manner.

‘It is useless you retreating like that,’ called out the Englishman. ‘You may as well surrender at once. I have examined the house, and know exactly what possibilities it offers of escape from above. By now it is surrounded.’

The latter was sheer bluff. He certainly was confident that men of the Secret Service and Special Branch had arrived by then at the gates but, even if Sonia had reached them, there had been no time for them to arrive at the house. His words had an effect that he hardly expected. A fusillade of shots rang out from the turning on the stairs. All the Russians were now apparently armed, and they were bent on killing him and Anstruther, and perhaps fighting their way out. However, in their anxiety to avoid exposing themselves too much to his undoubted skill as a marksman, their aim was badly directed, and their bullets hummed harmlessly by.

‘Get out through the window and see if the others are coming,’ ordered Cousins in a whisper to Anstruther. ‘Bring half in the same way. Tell the other half to watch the windows above.’

‘Hadn’t I better stay with you?’ began Tony. ‘You will be—’

‘Do what you’re told,’ snapped the little man. ‘I’m in charge here. What do you expect to do? Charge them with your bare fists?’

Anstruther went without another word. Cousins drew up a heavy chair with a tall, solid back, and crouched behind it. Another fusillade came, the bullets a good deal nearer this time. Cousins caught a glimpse of a pair of fish-like eyes; again his deadly automatic barked, and the long, gaunt body of Vogel came sliding sickeningly down the stairs to land with a crash at the bottom. It lay grotesquely still, and the Secret Service man regarded it grimly.

‘“There’s a divinity shapes our ends, rough-hew them as we will,”’ he murmured.

A chorus of execrations from above told him how the other Russians had taken the death of their comrade, for there was no doubt he was dead. It is impossible merely to wound a man who shows only his eyes. With a sense of relief, Cousins heard the coming of several men, and knew his friends were at hand.

‘How goes it, Jerry?’ asked the voice of Cartright.

‘I’ve got two out of seven, another’s locked up. Don’t stick that lantern jaw of yours in the way. They’re shooting prettily.’

‘You leave my face alone.’

‘My dear chap, I wouldn’t touch it. Have you got men watching those upper windows?’

‘Yes; eight of ’em – another six are behind me. By the way, who are the cubs?’

‘Tell you about them later on. What do you think this is – a conversazione? I think we’ll mop up. Bring your men—’

He stopped. From above came a confused medley of cries. It sounded as though the Russians were quarrelling, though it was impossible to distinguish anything that was being said. Suddenly Karen appeared, walking down the stairs in the most
nonchalant manner. He was unarmed. Cousins rose to his feet, ranged himself by the side of the long and lanky Cartright, and watched. The men behind, all with revolvers aimed, stared with curiosity. The hunchback’s eyes gleamed madly, his sallow face was ghastly. Reaching the bottom he stood, for a few moments, surveying the group of Englishmen. The voices above had become suddenly hushed, except for a sound that suggested someone up there was sobbing. Cousins’ wrinkled face creased in perplexity. There was something very sinister about this move of Karen’s, of that he felt sure, but could not fathom it.

‘So, my frien’,’ remarked the hunchback in English, ‘you are of the police – yes? Well, I am ver’ glad to welcome these gentlemen. They will have mooch amusement.’

With amazing speed, he suddenly darted for a door at the right of the hall. As he pulled it open, Cousins fired. Karen gave a sharp cry, stumbled through. He was hit, but obviously not killed. The door slammed behind him. Cartright and the other men heard the key turn in the lock as they dashed forward. At the same time, with a shriek of mortal terror, the rotund form of Voronoff, his face white as death, came into view running headlong down the stairs.

‘He have to the cellar gone,’ he cried. ‘He mus’ be stop. It is—’

Two revolvers barked viciously from above. Voronoff screamed hideously, swayed and pitched forward on his face. With a flash of horrified enlightenment, Cousins knew what Karen had gone to do.

‘Out of the house, all of you,’ he yelled. ‘Jump out, fall out, anything, but get out, and as far away as you can.’

Cartright and his men did not stop to ask why. They had been trained in a school where rigid discipline holds complete mastery. Rapidly they retreated the way they had come. Cousins brought up the rear and, as he scrambled through the window, shouted:

‘Every man among the bushes, and throw yourselves flat.’

Those who had been watching outside obeyed the order as promptly as the others. Cousins caught sight of Anstruther standing in the drive, the picture of astonishment. Without ceremony, he grabbed him by the arm; pulled him on to the lawn, and forced him down flat on his face. He threw himself by his side. They were only just in time.

A tremendous sheet of flame seemed to shoot through the very centre of the building. There came a devastating roar and concussion that shook the earth and was heard miles away. The house appeared to rise giddily into the air; then burst assunder in a cataclysm of pyrotechnic ferocity. For several minutes after this ravaging upheaval a rain of masonry, glass, lead piping; fragments of furniture fittings, and other more horrifying remnants. What had once been an attractive country house had been utterly demolished; the remains of it blazed furiously.

Cousins and Cartright escaped uninjured; were the first on their feet; went among their men anxiously to ascertain if there were any casualties. Several had been hit by flying splinters, but none very badly. There was not a soul there, however, who was not shaken.

‘Well, that’s that,’ commented Cousins to his colleague. ‘Having recognised that they had failed in the object that had brought them to England, Karen tried to blow us sky-high as well
as his own party. Can’t help thinking there was something heroic in those fellows waiting upstairs for their shocking end, knowing what he was going to do. Only Voronoff funked it. And thank the Lord he did. I doubt if I should have guessed his intentions in time otherwise.’ He eyed the flames, and quoted: ‘“Fierce Phlegethon, whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage.”’

‘Great Scott!’ ejaculated Cartright disgustedly; ‘must you break out at such a time.’

‘Peace!’ ordered Cousins. ‘And for God’s sake give me a cigarette.’

He was greatly relieved to hear that Sonia Hardinge had been left with the men in charge of the car at the gates. Anstruther was sent to keep her company, a duty which he was not slow to carry out. He was trembling like a leaf with shock. The fire brigades from Loughton and Epping arrived and quickly extinguished the conflagration, after which the men of the Secret Service and Special Branch searched carefully among the ruins. They found little worth salving, however. Karen’s body was discovered intact, though burnt almost to a cinder. Only gruesome fragments here and there were found of the others. The whole official party eventually drove to the Loughton Police Station taking Sonia and Anstruther along. Ivan Keremsky was told of the destruction of his comrades and, under stern interrogation, collapsed, giving away the names of the two men at Deptford, who had been selected by Karen for a hideous deed that would have horrified the world. They were apprehended later in the day.

At the express invitation of Anstruther and Sonia Hardinge, Cousins travelled back to town in the Bentley, much to the
disgust of Cartright, who had anticipated hearing all details of his colleague’s adventures on the way up. He was told to wait until later.

‘There are a few words of fatherly counsel,’ Cousins informed him, ‘I feel it my duty to impart to the young people you so inelegantly described as cubs.’

The three sat together on the front seat of the Bentley, Cousins between Sonia and Tony. The curious sight of a young man and a pretty girl in evening dress – very much the worse for wear it is true – consorting with an incredibly tattered and grimy tramp, must have greatly intrigued the people who saw the ill-matched trio.

In the light of a glorious June morning, Sonia was able to regard the events of the night as nothing more than a hideous and fantastic dream. It seemed impossible then that she and Tony could have passed through an ordeal so terrifying and terrible. They were both exceedingly inquisitive regarding their companion.

‘Of course,’ confided Anstruther, ‘I know now you are a prominent member of the Secret Service, sir, and that your name is Cousins.’

‘Ah, you’ve been asking questions.
Ergo propter hoc
, I’d better satisfy that curiosity of yours. A branch of a particularly virulent gang of anarchists,’ he related, ‘was suspected of operating in London. Detectives of the Special Branch and men of my own department searched for weeks for a clue to its whereabouts, without results. Then our agent in a certain country abroad got hold of a useful item of information; namely, that the leader in England was a hunchback called Karen with a childish passion
for the game of Noughts and Crosses. It was believed he was domiciled somewhere in Soho, and was planning something big. The general search went on with renewed zest, but I became a tramp with no fixed abode, haunting Soho, and possessing a harmless love for Noughts and Crosses. In addition, I became known for my violent diatribes against law and order, royalty, aristocracy, and so on. I called you two “dir’y aris’crats”, if you remember.’

He grinned, and Sonia who, despite her terrible experience, had recovered marvellously all her spirits, gurgled with delight to see his face wrinkle into myriads of little laughing creases.

‘I played that wretched game,’ went on Cousins, ‘until I was sick, sad, and sorry of it. I played it for weeks in almost every street in Soho – on the pavements, on shop windows, on doors, on carts, on cars, every conceivable place I could think of, in fact. Several times I was arrested, but was released, of course, with apologies, when the police knew who I was. Last night I selected your car, Anstruther, for my operations. You both know the result. Is there anything more you’d like to be told?’