The Annam Jewel (25 page)

CHAPTER XXX

Peter had only a momentary impression of the hall as a large, square emptiness made visible by the small flicker of a candle-end that guttered and went out in the draught of the closing door. There was no wind, but the hall door had slammed. Peter took a quick stride away from it. The door had not shut of itself; and, with every sense alert, he was aware that someone had come in after him and was there, close to him in the dark. He could hear the sound of breathing, the sound of stealthy movement.

He called aloud, “Sylvia, where are you?” and at once changed his position. There was no answer, no sound but the echo of his own voice coming back to him from empty spaces. And then, with swift unexpectedness, two things happened. Right in front of him a door opened inwards upon a lighted room; and at the same moment someone rushed him from behind and impelled him violently forward.

Taken unawares, he broke into a stumbling run, and so came into the lighted room, and heard the door fall to behind him. Hendebakker's voice rang sharply in his ears:

“Hands up, Waring. Hands up, or I fire!”

Peter got his balance, and, falling back a pace, put up his hands.

The room was large, some thirty feet by forty. It was entirely unfurnished, and its parquet floor stood thick with dust. There were wooden shutters. The walls were panelled, and the paint, which had once been white, was stained and discoloured. On one end of the white marble mantelpiece was a portable electric lamp. Against the other end leaned Virgil Hendebakker, his dark coat smeared with dust and an automatic pistol in his hand. The pistol was pointed at Peter.

“Good evening, Waring,” he said cheerfully. “I'm real sorry to bring you so far, but business is business.”

Peter measured the distance between them, and decided that a rush was not good enough. In a smaller room he would have tried it; but thirty feet gave Hendebakker too many chances. He went back another pace, leaned against the wall, and said:

“Where's Lady Moreland?”

Hendebakker smiled.

“I guess you needn't worry about Lady Moreland,” he said. “It's real nice of you, but you're wasting your time doing it. Lady Moreland's got as good a notion of looking after herself as any young woman I ever met. It's Sylvia Moreland first, and the rest nowhere.”

“I suppose,” said Peter, “that you didn't bring me here to discuss Lady Moreland—did you?”

“I did not. I wanted to talk business with you. I don't have to tell you what the business is either, I reckon.”

Peter said nothing. After a moment Hendebakker went on:

“I'm free to confess that you and Dale were one up on me at Sunnings. Now, Waring, you take notice of what I say. No one stays one up on me for very long—and why? Because I make it my business to get square. I'm a pretty efficient man of business, and when I set out to do a thing I do it.”

“You're a pretty good hand at blowing your own trumpet, aren't you?” said Peter.

“Fair,” said Hendebakker. “Fair. Only a fool thinks he can do without advertising nowadays. Now, Waring, where's the Jewel?”

Peter was silent.

“Waring,” said Hendebakker, “you make me tired. I'm not bluffing; I've got facts to go on. Dale sent me a message to say he was leaving the Jewel behind him. Well, you may think it strange that I'd take his word for it; but that's because you don't know Dale as well as I do. I suppose it's the same with all of us; there are things we'll do, and there are things we won't do. Why, there's a thing or two I wouldn't do myself. So that's where it is. Dale wouldn't lie about the Jewel. I knew that; so, as soon as I got his message, I knew for sure that he hadn't taken it with him, and I knew for sure that he hadn't passed it on to his daughter. She'd have been ready enough to do a deal with me if she'd had anything to bargain with.” He laughed rather grimly, and added, “It's up to you. What about it?”

“Do you generally talk business like this?” said Peter. “Because I don't. Put down that damned revolver of yours if you want me to talk.”

“It's an automatic,” said Hendebakker, “and I rather think I'll keep it where it is. It feels handy. But, if you'll pass me your word that you're not armed, you can put your hands down. I've had mine up for half an hour or so before now and it's mighty uncomfortable. Are you armed?”

“No, I'm not.”

“Well, then, put them down. And now, to resume—what about it?”

“As far as I'm concerned, nothing,” said Peter, putting his hands in his pockets.

“That,” said Hendebakker, “is unwise. Come, Waring, what's the good of the Jewel to you? You can't sell it; you can't wear it; you can't hide it. I tell you I mean to have it.”

“Very well, then, get it, Henders,” said Peter. “I can't stop you, can I? I can't sell it; or wear it; or hide it, as you say. Go on and get it, and be damned to you.”

“Now what's the good of losing your temper over a business conversation?” said Hendebakker. “It's right down foolish. Come now, Waring, I said you couldn't sell the Jewel, but that's where I was wrong. You
can
sell it to me. I'll give you five thousand for it—not dollars, pounds—five thousand pounds.”

“No, thanks, Henders.”

“Ten,” said Hendebakker. “I never thought you'd take five, but ten—say, Waring, figure it out to yourself—ten thousand pounds at five per cent or more against a Jewel that'll never be anything but trouble for you, and bad trouble at that. You're not such a blame' fool as to hesitate?”

“Nothing doing, Henders,” said Peter quite cheerfully.

“Fifteen thousand pounds,” said Hendebakker, stretching out his left hand, palm upwards, as if it held the money. “It's a fancy price, but, if I choose to pay for my fancy, it's nobody's business but my own.”

Peter laughed suddenly.

“Go it, Henders,” he said. “Why stop at fifteen thousand?”

Henders' outstretched hand dropped to his side. Peter, watching, saw it clench till the knuckles whitened. He wondered at the man's self-control, for, if his hand betrayed him, his face did not; nor did his voice as he said:

“Well, what's your price?”

“Haven't got one,” said Peter. “There's nothing doing, Henders, and you'll save us both a lot of trouble if you'll take that as final.”

“That so?”

“That's so.”

Their eyes met in a long, hard stare. Then, with great suddenness, Hendebakker pulled out a whistle and blew it twice. The door opened instantly and two men came in, the taxi-driver and another.

“Tie him up,” said Hendebakker; and there ensued what Peter afterwards described as a scrum.

The moment Hendebakker spoke, Peter swung round upon the nearer of the two men, aiming a blow at his jaw. As he swung, his foot slipped on a splash of candle-grease, and he came down, grabbing at the man and bringing him with him. Before he could recover, the taxi-driver was on him, wrenching his right arm backwards; and quick upon that Hendebakker came up at a run, and the muzzle of his pistol was jammed against Peter's ear. The first man scrambled up, produced a rope, and secured Peter's arms behind his back.

“Now, get up and march,” said Hendebakker, and gave him a push with his foot. Peter stumbled to his feet.

The taxi-driver fetched the lamp, and they came through the hall to a dark and steep stairway which led to the basement. Peter was furiously angry, but he had his wits about him. He made no further struggle, because, as long as his legs were free, there was just a chance of something turning up; also he felt that he would prefer walking to being carried down that steep stair.

They arrived in an echoing basement; a huge, deserted kitchen with a rusting range; large, dim passages; a stone-flagged hall; and a door opening upon another stair, steeper still, with narrow steps which hardly gave room for a man's foot.

“I reckon it isn't every house has got such mighty convenient cellars,” said Hendebakker.

He looked round approvingly as he spoke, motioning to Robinson to hold up the lamp. There was an open space at the foot of the stairs. To the right a long stone passage faded into gloom.

“Right along there,” said Hendebakker, “and the second door on the left. It isn't locked—yet.”

The door opened outwards, and, the man Robinson going in first with the light, Peter came into a small, close cellar some ten feet by seven or eight.

“Now tie his legs,” said Hendebakker. He did not speak again until Peter, with his legs roped together, had been deposited in a sitting position with his back against the cellar wall. Then, the men having gone out and shut the door, he said reprovingly:

“You're a mighty foolish young man, and you're giving me a lot of trouble. There's no reason in this foolishness, and the sooner you quit and come to terms, the better for us all.”

The electric lamp stood on the floor. Its searching light illumined the little square room, with its walls of whitewashed brick and floor of heavy flagstones. Across the narrow space Peter glared at Hendebakker.

“You will answer for this, Henders,” he said at last.

“Now, what's the use of that sort of talk? I guess you're soothing yourself with the thought of me in the dock, and you in the witness-box, and one of your judges giving me a seven years' stretch. Well, that's just dope—you take it from me, it's just dope. Why, if there's one feature of this Jewel business that stands out more than another, it's the plain fact that none of the parties in the case have ever been in a position to go to the courts about it. There was Dale and me. He robbed me, for sure—took the Jewel and went at a time when he knew I was having trouble and couldn't come after him. Do you suppose I wouldn't have had the law on him if I could? Why, of course I would; but I just wasn't in the position where the law was worth a dime to me, and Dale knew it. You may say that's neither here nor there, but take your own case. I'm free to admit that you've a better legal case than either Dale or I have, and a better record too. But just you think a moment. We'll say you're sore about Lady Moreland; you've a right to be, but how'd you like it if it were she that was in the dock? You can't touch me without you touch her—you can't do it. If you ever move hand or finger against me over this business I'll take mighty good care that she gets half of whatever's coming to me.”

“What a damned swab you are, Henders!” said Peter.

“Now, you go easy, and listen to me. Your friend Lady More-land's in this game up to her very neck—right up to her neck she's in it. Who got the keys of this house from the agents? Lady Moreland. Who brought you here? Lady Moreland. Who let me know you were going to Sunnings? Who told me for sure that you had the Jewel? Lady Moreland.”

The realization that Henders was speaking the truth rushed in upon Peter in a bitter flood. Sylvia had gone back on him, had given him away at every turn. She was Hendebakker's tool, in it up to her neck, as he had said.

“Courts of law aren't the only place where one can settle up,” he said grimly.

“That's so,” said Hendebakker. “That's why we're here. Now, let me put the case quite plainly to you for a moment. This is an isolated house, standing—well, I dare say you noticed how far it stands back from the road. It's been empty, I understand, for something like seven years; and I'm told it has a real lively reputation for being haunted. These cellars are way down underground, as you know. Just taking these facts into consideration, how long do you suppose you might stay here before someone happened in upon your bones? Quite a time, I should judge; but I'll be interested to have your opinion.”

“Are you proposing to murder me?” said Peter. “I should think twice about it, if I were you. Murder is risky work in this country.”

Hendebakker laughed.

“Murder you, Waring? Not I—I'm not such a fool. This is a plain business deal. All I want is to come to terms. This highfalutin talk about murder makes me tired. It's all very well on the movies, but in a plain business matter it makes me tired.” He paused, and then added, “Mind you, Waring, I'm not saying that you mightn't get me so that it was a question whether you got damaged or me. If such was the case, you could make a pretty safe bet as to who would get hurt—it wouldn't be me. Now taking these facts into consideration, don't you think you had better come to terms?”

“What's the programme if I don't?” said Peter.

“You'll get an interval for reflection,” said Hendebakker. “You can do some real good reflecting down here; nothing to disturb you; nothing to eat; nothing to drink; nothing to do, except to fix up your pride so as it'll let you take a mighty good offer.”

Peter said nothing.

“There's one thing I'd like you to get your mind clear about,” said Hendebakker. “There's just three people beside myself know where you are, and I don't want you to lay up disappointment for yourself by thinking that any of them are going to be a mite of help to you—they're not. Lady Moreland won't go back on me, because she daren't; and I'll tell you why. She took some loose diamonds that Anita had lying about, and she tried to sell them—I can put my hand on the man she tried to sell them to—and she knows just what'll happen to her if I ever have the least grounds for thinking she's not square with me. Then there are my two men. Perhaps you're relying on them. Maybe you think they won't go to extremities, or that you can bribe them. Well, you can't. You can count them out for the same reason that you can count Lady Moreland out. I don't employ any man I'm not sure of; and I'm sure of those two, because I could get 'em fourteen years tomorrow. See? And now I'll be going. Sure you haven't thought better of it?”

Peter remained silent.

“Well, well,” said Hendebakker, “you do some thinking.”