Red In The Morning (23 page)

“I can’t better that,” I said. “I’d like to see John in England: but the Lowland’s numbers are French and it’s better that he should do as he had arranged to do.”

“Nothing will happen,” said Bagot. “And if it did – well, I spent the crucial hours at The Fountain at Blois.”

“And the Lowland?” said Mansel.

“Was at Vendôme. If some unauthorized person took her out…”

“You’ll do,” said I, and laughed. “Give Audrey my love.”

And then we discussed the last scene, which soon shall speak for itself.

So we passed the time, until, at ten minutes to six, Brevet came out of the château and left in a black Delage.

Little more than four hours later, I saw the Delage again.

As it turned into the lane, I rose and moved behind it, while Bagot, who had been with me, ran down the road towards Tours. Bagot was gone to tell Mansel that the rat had entered the trap.

There was room to turn by the barn, and I thought that Brevet would use it: but, though he got out and examined the space there was, I suppose he decided to wait for the others to guide him, for, when he returned to his car, it was only to switch off her engine and put out her lights.

Then he shut her door and lighted a cigarette.

In my left hand I had my torch, and, as he threw down his match, I put the light on his face.

“Don’t move, Brevet,” I said.

The cigarette fell from his lips, but the man did not start. He stayed as the light had caught him, with his right hand a little extended and the matchbox fast in his left. And so he still was standing, as though he was bound by some spell, when Bell, who was just behind him, took hold of his wrists.

He made no resistance at all, but only stared straight at the light, with a frozen look on his face.

I put up the torch and bound his arms behind him, using a scarf. Then Bell released his wrists and laid hold of the scarf, instead.

Brevet gave a light laugh.

“I fear,” he said, “I was foolish to visit The Beau Sejour. I take it you…”

“I know the hotel,” I said.

“Quite,” said Brevet. “The moment I entered the house I felt that you did. Of such is instinct – that lovely messenger. And so, as you know, I withdrew – to dine at a humbler board. But, of course, the damage was done. But I must felicitate you – you follow with great discretion. I had my chin on my shoulder all the way.”

I saw no reason for shattering Brevet’s belief, but, in fact, I had not seen him since six o’clock.

“I told you I’d get you,” I said.

“Quite,” said Brevet. “Twice. On the second occasion, I felt you were optimistic. But you were right, Mr Chandos, and I was wrong.” He threw a glance round. “Is this to be the scaffold?”

“Yes.”

“Indeed. A dramatic setting.
Scene 4
: A Ruined Barn. And now let me tell you something. You lighted upon me by chance. I’m sure you’ve tried very hard and you must be sick of the sight of Châteaudun. But it was the purest fluke that you and I should have clicked at The Beau Sejour. Now I’m not going to try and make terms, because I am perfectly sure that you’d turn them down: but I’m going to tell you something which you will be glad to know. We two have little in common, but one emotion we share. And that is a hearty dislike of Daniel Gedge.

“In a very few minutes from now Daniel Gedge will be here. And he will expect to find me, but he won’t expect to find you. If, then, with my hat on your head, you walk up to his car… You’re bigger, of course, but all cats are grey in the dark. And our friend will be unready. And in case I should lift up my voice, I’m quite prepared to be gagged.

“Think it over, Mr Chandos. And if, when Gedge is no more, in spite of the service I’ve done you, you still feel that I should die – well, I shall be at your disposal, as I am now.”

There was a little silence. Then –

“Treachery, too,” I said. “How low can you sink?”

Brevet shrugged his shoulders.

“My values,” he said, “are dictated by instincts other than yours. Pray take it from me that the portion of Ishmael tends to blur, so to speak, the finer shades of good form.”

“Gedge won’t be alone,” I said.

“No, no,” cried Brevet. “Punter and Rust will be there. But they ‘are spirits of another sort’. Your man can look after them. Once Gedge is out, they’ll give no trouble at all. They’re typical jackals, you know. But Daniel Gedge… You know, you’ll be doing Mansel a very good turn. Gedge means to get him, Mr Chandos. And, frankly, it’s fifty fifty. I know Captain Mansel’s brilliant. But so, in his way, is Gedge. And I think that, if I were you, I should accept this chance of assuring the life of your friend. And now, if you’re going to gag me…”

“I’m not going to gag you,” I said.

Brevet bowed.

“It’s very pleasant,” he said, “to deal with a gentleman.” I felt rather sick. “Forgive me, but Time’s getting on. And our vulgar friend may be early. And since I must not appear, may I suggest that I should re-enter my car? I – can’t very well emerge, if my hands are tied.”

Now whilst we had been talking, more than one car had gone by on the main highway: but as Brevet made his suggestion, I heard the sigh of the Rolls. An instant later she had swept into the lane.

“Here he is,” hissed Brevet, and started aside.

But Bell held him fast.

“You fool,” cried Brevet, struggling. “I mustn’t be seen.”

“Not Daniel, but Mansel,” I said.

Brevet stood still as death.

The Rolls stole on towards us. Then she came to a standstill, and Mansel got out.

“I see,” said Brevet, slowly. “And Gedge?”

“Is not coming,” said I.

“Quite. A – previous engagement?”

“Yes.”

Brevet laughed – rather shakily.

“My, er, premises seem to have been faulty. ‘Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.’ Pope had a knack, you know. But the heroic couplet is a medium for which I cannot care. If ever Shakespeare employs it, he almost always nods.”

He never heard the Lowland approach from the other side.

“No trouble?” said Mansel, shortly

“None,” said I, and, with that, I drew my torch and threw its light on the ground.

Brevet’s voice was trembling.

“Before you do this,” he cried, “I beg that you will reflect. I have no quarrel with you. From first to last, my hand has been forced by Gedge. It has gone against the grain to–”

“There’s nothing doing, Brevet,” I said. “We don’t like ‘losing patients’, but–”

“
What
?”

I put the light on his face. This was distorted with hatred. The mask was off.

“Is the euphemism familiar?”

And, as I spoke the words, Mansel flicked him under the chin.

His head went back, but Bell held his body up.

“Quick,” said Mansel. “He won’t be out very long.”

Now we had early decided that, when Brevet’s body was found, the police must be led to believe that he had taken his life. To that end, we had laid our plans.

In the Rolls we always carried a length of hose, so that, wherever we were, so long as there was a tap, she could be easily washed. From this hose twelve feet had been cut – and carefully sponged with petrol, because there were fingerprints there. What was left of the hose was now at the foot of a village well.

Wearing gloves, Carson took the tube and a morsel of cotton waste…

Two minutes later, the Delage’s engine was running and carbon monoxide was stealing into the car.

Mansel put in his head.

“Good enough,” he said, and switched on the ceiling light. “Get him inside.”

Whilst Bagot held Brevet up, Bell undid the scarf. Then Bagot and I, between us, lifted him into the car.

Then Bagot and I stood back, and Carson shut the door.

“Watch him, Carson,” said Mansel. “The other two turn the cars.”

Whilst this was being done, we strolled down the lane in silence – Mansel, John Bagot and I, as we had so often strolled about this time.

“End of a reptile,” said Mansel. “Upon my soul, I think he was worse than Gedge.”

I told them of Brevet’s betrayal – of how he had sought my favour by teaching me how to kill Gedge.

“I’m not surprised,” said Mansel. “But that is something that Gedge would never have done.”

“Gedge was animal,” said Bagot.

“Yes,” said Mansel, “he was. A ruthless, dangerous beast. But what was Brevet?”

But to that we could find no answer, and after a little we let the question go.

And then we turned and made our way back to the cars.

“He’s never moved, sir,” said Carson.

“Good,” said Mansel. “Give me the scarf and gloves.”

With the gloves on his hands and the scarf about his face, he opened the door of the Delage and put out the ceiling light. Then he shut the door again and put off the scarf and gloves.

We shook hands with John Bagot and Rowley.

“You two get going,” said Mansel. “I want to watch your withdrawal. And then we’ll go.”

“See you in Town,” said John Bagot, and Rowley touched his hat.

Three minutes later, perhaps, Bell signalled that all was clear, and the Rolls stole out of the lane and turned to the right for Tours.

At six on the following evening, we entered Madrid.

We had bathed and changed and were drinking some excellent sherry before we sat down to dine, when a man climbed down from a stool and stepped to our side.

“Well, Jonah,” he said.

It was Captain Toby Rage.

“Sit down and drink,” said Mansel. “What are you doing here?”

“You do well to ask,” said Rage. “It’s all your fault. I ought to be at Biarritz – fleetin’ the days as they did in the golden world.”

“How is it my fault, Toby?”

“You left me holding the infant, last time we met.”

Mansel raised his eyebrows.

“I remember the occasion. Murder had just been done. And I told you–”

“Quite so,” said Toby. “You told me what action to take and then you – withdrew.”

Mansel smiled.

“I begin to see daylight,” he said.

“Do you indeed?” said Toby, bitterly. “Well, I wish you’d let me see some on that Arabian night.”

“I said that the ways of the police were bad for my heart.”

“You didn’t say that they would corrode the soul.” A waiter appeared. “A double sherry, please. The finest you have. At this grandee’s expense. And now, where was I? Oh, yes. The ways of the police. You didn’t say they’d conduce to leprosy. You didn’t say that their stench would offend high heaven and poison the very cesspools under the earth.”

Both Mansel and I were laughing. Toby regarded us gravely and then drank my sherry up.

“Let’s have it, Toby,” said Mansel.

Captain Rage took a deep breath.

“You baited the trap,” he said, “and I walked slap in. You gave me information which was above all price. You said that the robber-chief – and, no doubt, first murderer – had parked the swag in that half-built house next door. And you showed me the obvious truth that he would return to claim it, before the workmen arrived to pursue their honest toil. Well, I’m not very bright, as you know: but even I could perceive that an ambush or ambuscade would almost certainly bring forth refreshing fruit.

“Now in view of the fact that the robber-chief was impulsive, but I myself was unarmed, discretion suggested that I should seek assistance and not lie in wait alone. My boon companions, however, inspired no confidence. Now that the coast was quite clear, their valour blinded the eye: but they’d hidden it under a bushel, until I declared the fact that the rogues were gone. And so I thought it was best to wait for the police.” He raised his eyes to heaven. “So the congenital idiot awaits the pretty carriage that is going to carry him off to the mental home.

“Well, the police arrived in three cars.

“The first thing those experts did was to surround the villa – not the half-built house, the villa in which the crime had been done. When that stratagem had been accomplished, the guests were herded into two separate rooms: men in one, women in the other – a needless precaution, I felt, for dalliance had been discouraged by what had occurred. What next they did, I don’t know, because, of course, I was confined. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that they turned the water off. But I fairly fell upon the
agent
who was standing beside our door.

“I demanded to see the head wallah without delay, as having most vital information about the crime. I might as well have demanded to watch some Mother Superior having a bath. When I became insistent, I was desired to have patience and calm myself. Nerves and tranquillity were mentioned: repose was recommended…

“Subduing a thirst for blood, I started all over again. If you’ll do as I say,’ I said, ‘you will not only recover the stolen jewels, but you will take alive the principal thief.’

“The
agent
lifted a hand.

“‘All in good time, Monsieur.’

“‘And that’s where you’re wrong,’ I said. ‘You haven’t a moment to lose.’

“‘We are losing no time, Monsieur. Be sure of that. The fingerprint experts are coming.’

“‘The thieves were gloved,’ I said.

“‘Ah, so you think.’

“‘Think?’ I cried. ‘I saw them.’”

He gave me a professional smile.

“‘The photographer also,’ he said, ‘will soon be here.’

“I felt rather faint.

“And then I had a brainwave. At least, that was how I saw it. I little knew that it was in fact inspired by the malignant tenant to whom you had let my soul.

“‘D’you want to lose your pension?’ I said.

“The sinister suggestion shook him. Within two minutes I was speaking to a plain clothes man. I gave him your information, chapter and verse. And he replied – I’ll give you his very words.

“‘Monsieur is ingenious. But the police will deal with the crime. It is very right and proper that Monsieur should wish to help. But we have no need of assistance. Where others suspect, we know. You see, unhappily we are familiar with crime. And so we always know what the criminal does – and will do. That is how we bring him to justice – by looking into his mind. Now, in the first place, Monsieur, no robber would ever park such very valuable booty so close to the scene of his crime.’