Sergeant Verity and the Blood Royal (23 page)

'Don't they teach you nothing at Scotland Yard?' asked Crowe tolerantly.

Verity pulled himself up. The seat on which Dacre had been sitting was a burning ruin. The clothes were torn and blackened fragments, while the stick had vanished, probably as the object which had gone overhead and hit the river at some distance from them.

' 'e was sitting there!' said Verity indignantly. 'Smoking his cheroot!'

'Look!' said Crowe, stabbing with a bony forefinger. 'What was sitting there was the wire frame! And what was on it was his coat, hat, and a fair-haired wig with its block. Good enough for a rear view at thirty paces.'

'Mr Crowe, he was smoking a cigar!'

Crowe raised his eyes to heaven in supplication.

'Did it smell like a cigar to you?'

'Can't say it did, Mr Crowe. But then there was that ship smell everywhere, like what they use to get the moth out of clothes.'

'Naphtha,' said Crowe glumly. 'Goes up like the Fourth of July. Turns gunpowder into a bomb that might sink a cruiser. Takes a short fuse. That's what you saw smoking.'

'He might a-bloody killed me, Mr Crowe!'

'I guess that was the idea, old friend! It must figure somewhere in his scheme of things.'

Verity stared at the burning slats and the twisted section of the ship's rail, bent by the force of the explosion.

‘If you 'adn't been 'ere, Mr Crowe . . . knowing about trapping and traps as you do. . .' 'Save it,' said Crowe briefly.

‘I may save it, Mr Crowe, but I shan't forget easy.' They looked about them, peering over the ship's sides. 'He's gone,' said Crowe philosophically. 'Clean gone.' 'But
how,
Mr Crowe?'

'Simplest way in the world, Mr Verity. You and I come out here and see what looks like Lieutenant Dacre on the far seat. We shan't take our eyes off him, shall we? We daren't for fear he's waiting with his pistol cocked. Forward we go, just in time to reach the dummy as it goes up with a bang and takes us too. And all this time, Mr Dacre is back near the wall of the saloon, hiding under a seat or whatever. As soon as we're walking to glory with our backs to him, he tiptoes round the side of the saloon and slips into the crowd. For a certainty he's wearing a different suit of clothes and looking a new man by now!'

The force of the blast had temporarily stunned the occupants of the auction saloon, but now there were sounds of growing confusion. Two of the windows had been blown in and several of the traders nearby had been cut by the glass. It was evident that the
Fidele
was on fire, to a greater or lesser extent, and the doors were jammed by men trying to force their way out. The sight of drifting smoke and a ripple of flame redoubled the energy of the fugitives. Verity caught sounds of 'She's on fire! On fire!' and even 'Ship going down!' From high above them came a long, shrill blast on the ship's whistle.

In the pandemonium, he saw Captain Oliphant and the two plain-suited Marine privates emerge on the after-deck. Crowe spoke to his commander and Verity heard Oliphant's mild voice rise in a petulant wail.

'Gone? What do you mean, sir? What the devil do you mean? How can he have gone?'

The ship was steering for the quay again. In the panic, men were scrambling for the lower deck, ready to throw themselves ashore, or into the water if necessary, before the
Fidele
should blow up and sink. From somewhere deep down in the ship there was a booming sound, repeated no more than thirty seconds later. In the fight to get ashore. Captain Oliphant's dozen guards would be overwhelmed and the chances of catching Dacre at this stage were almost nil. Verity, finding the saloon doors blocked, kicked out the remaining fragments of glass from one of the shattered windows, and stepped cautiously through it.

The room was half empty but there was still a good deal of confusion. He shouldered his way to the platform where Vignie still stood, imperturbable among the chaos. He had brought the second girl, Nabyla. on to the dais. As the bill promised, she was a young Arab woman with dark, expressive eyes, her gloss of black hair waved to her shoulders. Her soft figure was carefully revealed in another red singlet and dark blue tights.

'Sir,' said Vignie reasonably, seizing the opportunity of Verity's approach, 'there's a prize for you! Beauty of the harem. The well-kept thighs, the proud Arabian features, and a rump like a young duchess. . .'

Verity glared at him.

'I ain't time for that, my man!' he said briskly. 'Miss Jolly! Where is she! Sharp's the word and quick's the motion! Let's have her back in safe-keeping!'

Vignie resigned himself to leaving Nabyla unsold.

'Safe enough,' he said wearily. 'Mrs Lily and Mr Verity took her away five minutes ago, when the noise began.'

'I'm Verity!' said Verity indignantly. 'And that's Mrs Lily over there!'

'No you're not,' said Vignie confidently. 'Not unless you're a pair of quick-change artists. Miss Jolly was signed for nice and regular. And a warrant-card was shown.'

'That's a warrant-card!' said Verity, flourishing it angrily.

'To be sure it might be. Or a passable imitation of one.' Verity thought for a moment.

'What might these two persons have looked like? Fair and tall either of them ?'

'Fair but short, both of 'em.'

'Not Dacre then. And Miss Jolly went, thinking she was with me?'

'Ah,' said Vignie. 'She went not knowing nor caring. I guess she overheard 'em say that the men who was to kill her were fighting their way in and she must be got out for her life. And you may ask anyone, sir, as to my instructions. In the event of such attack, I was to give her into the safekeeping of the officers as soon as possible.'

There was no more to be done. Verity pushed his way back to the deck, where Sergeant Crowe was standing expectantly with his hat in his hand.

'How's the outlook?' he inquired.

'Blue as old stilton,' said Verity with fury, and strode toward Captain Oliphant.

15

'He's caught sure enough,' said Sergeant Crowe confidentially. "There's a search on every road. No one gets on a train or a steamboat without being seen down to the drawers. Every Street and every building is turned over. There'll be more of Oliphant's men in St Louis by morning than bugs in a plumtree.'

'He's out already, Mr Crowe, 'im and the rest of his villains, and Miss Jolly, and the other two young persons in his power.'

The two men stared out across the twilit river from the long quay. Parties of blue-uniformed guardsmen were moving from one steamboat to another in turn, searching the empty vessels.

'How?' asked Crowe reasonably. "I guess I shall have the greatest respect for your Lieutenant Dacre before this caper is clone. But even a mouse that can't show its identity couldn't get out of St Louis tonight.'

'Roads,' said Verity, 'carriages and carts.'

'Blocked,' said Crowe. 'Public requested not to travel except in cases of necessity. Kidnappers and killers await them. Hardly a market-cart passed through, and those that did were almost laid in pieces by the militia.'

'Railways, Mr Crowe.'

'Likewise, Mr Verity. No trains since Miss Jolly's abduction, but the depots and tracks are guarded. The first train that leaves in the morning is likely to be picked clean as a pin.'

'That leaves the river, Mr Crowe.'

'Well,' said Crowe patiently, 'no steamboats in either direction until tomorrow. Again, when the passengers come to board, there'll be an inspection of them and their bags which will make Judgment Day look like Aunt Dinah's barn dance.'

'There must be other boats, Mr Crowe.'

'Yes, Mr Verity. However, it ain't easy to get a dozen men with three struggling prisoners into a row boat, and just push off down a thousand miles of the Mississippi.'

'Private yachts, Mr Crowe? Pleasure steamers?'

'Yes, Mr Verity. A dinky little ship, the
Anna,
went downstream under private charter from the hiring yard beyond the quay.'

'That's 'im, Mr Crowe! Don't I know it! How the mischief else should he get a dozen villains, three unfortunates, and all his baggage out of here!'

'Thing is, Mr Verity, the
Anna
sailed at one o'clock and only stopped at one landing between here and Cairo. You and me saw Lieutenant Dacre and Miss Jolly still on the
Fidele
after two o' clock. So unless he swam downstream at twenty miles an hour, towing her in his wake, he's not on the
Anna.'

But Verity's eyes were bright.

'Hello,' he said. 'This got a ripe aroma about it! What instructions were telegraphed to Cairo and them other towns about stopping ships from St Louis?'

'To stop and search any ship which had left St Louis after two o'clock. The ones that had left before were notified.' 'Including the
Anna!’

'Yes,' said Crowe impatiently, 'but they can't be on the
Anna.
She'd cleared the landing twenty miles downstream by the time your Mr Dacre could have got Miss Jolly off the
Fidele,
and the trap was already in place, on the roads and the railroad.'

' 'ow many of these little charter paddlers might there be, Mr Crowe?'

'Several,' said Crowe defensively, 'but the only other one to leave the yard today came upstream to the quay, on charter, to load supplies for tomorrow, and hasn't been anywhere since!'

'Her name, Mr Crowe?'

'The
Rosa.'

'Sort of a sister ship, Mr Crowe?'

'If you say so, Mr Verity. But she did no more than leave the yard about three o'clock and come upstream a mile or so to the quay. She was coming towards the
Fidele
not away from her! What use is that to your clever lieutenant?'

Verity sighed with a deep contentment.

'Mr Crowe. This afternoon, I was stoopid and nearly got blown to smithereens. You saved me and, in due course, I mean to show my gratefulness. There ain't a man I've ever met that was cleverer than you in such matters as traps and snares. But there's one trick that I might teach you yet. Now, we shall need two horses, I think, and a reply to all them telegraphs saying where the
Anna
might have passed.'

'Why?' asked Crowe simply.

'You show me the
Rosa
and I'll show you why, Mr Crowe.'

They found the paddle-yacht with its tall trim funnel, its white-painted sides and its paddle-boxes bearing the name
Rosa
in bold black capitals.

'Well?'

'Lovely paintwork, ain't it, Mr Crowe? Over the deck, if you please, and we'll lower ourselves down on the paddle-sponson on the far side.'

Crowe followed him, (he two men clambering over the rails on (he far side and letting themselves clown on to the little platform by the paddle-box, the dark river-water sucking and lapping just below them.

Just lean out, Mr Crowe, while I hold you steady, and read what it says on that paddle-box."

Crowe embraced the sides of the box and leaned out over the water.

'Rosa,''
he said presently. 'What else should it say?' Verity thought about this for a moment. 'Half a minute, Mr Crowe, 'old on while I have a real stretch.'

Verity edged outward, relying on Crowe's weight to balance him against toppling into the muddy water. He reached out with his hand and patted the flank of the vessel affectionately.

'Oh, my!' he said softly. 'Oh, my eye! Ain't this a prime caper, though ?'

He edged himself back gingerly on to the paddle-sponson, his face set with a plump smugness which displayed his total self-satisfaction. He confronted the gaunt, sceptical figure of Sergeant Crowe.

'Mr Crowe, 'ow far across might you think this river was? You being a hunting and guiding man. Haifa mile?'

'Yes,' said Crowe. 'Not less.'

'And getting wider as it goes down towards the sea, Mr Crowe ? Same as all rivers do ?'

'Yes, Mr Verity. What in damnation are you on about?' Verity glowed with gratification.

'What I'm on about, Mr Crowe is what I was on about before. Lieutenant Dacre, and his villains, and his gold, and the young persons what's to be foully abused and then beastly murdered, is through your guards and miles away by this time.'

Crowe's suspicion deepened.

'Who says so ?'

'You do, Mr Crowe, telling me about the river. And my fingers do, too. Just look at 'em!'

'They got dirt on.'

'Paint, Mr Crowe, black paint from the name on the side. Still sticky.'

'Boats get painted, Mr Verity. Keeps 'em smart.'

Verity nodded, as though all this were perfectly reasonable.

'Yes, Mr Crowe. There ain't no reason why someone shouldn't paint
Rosa
and leave all the letters wet. But, Mr Crowe, the last one ain't wet. Just
Ros.
Now a man that wanted to change
Rosa
to
Anna,
or back again, wouldn't need to concern himself with the last letter of the name, would he? Whereas a chap who was smartening up the vessel would paint all the letters.'

'He might break off till the next day.'

'Mr Crowe! There ain't even an undercoat on it!'

'All right,' said Crowe, conceding the point. 'Give us the story.'

'Thank you, Mr Crowe. Now, at one o'clock, there was two vessels moored under the bank outside the hiring yard. The
Rosa
goes downstream with her name painted as
Anna
on the side facing this bank. Don't matter about the other side. They could hang a tarpaulin over it, and in any case, it's too far for a man on the opposite bank to see. What everyone on this side thinks they see is
Anna,
on her way downstream long before Lieutenant Dacre and Miss Jolly. After an hour or so, she turns, in a part of the river that's out of sight, and what everyone sees coming back is the
Rosa,
which is what it says on her other side. On the far side, where no one can see, there's a cove with black paint changing her to the
Rosa
on that side too. She comes right up to the quay here and moors, ready for tomorrow. No reason for anyone here to think she hasn't come upstream from the yard. After all, the
Rosa
ain't going anywhere. Lieutenant Dacre can't escape on her, so no one asks questions about her, all right?'