The Return Of Bulldog Drummond (25 page)

He craved for a cigarette, but his case was in the pocket of his coat now wrapped round the bomb. There was no time to get it: even that solace was denied him. And suddenly, such can be the reactions of the human mind, he began to laugh. That the show which a little while before he had regarded as the most boring of his career should have turned out to be the one when he was to meet his death struck him as humorous. But the laughter soon died, and with another glance at his watch he lay down behind the heap of packages.

He waited tensely, muscles braced for the shock. Now that the end had come, he felt strangely calm: anyway, it would be quick. One second – two – three, and then from the corner opposite came a little pouf, followed by a strong smell of burning cloth.

Cautiously he raised his head: smoke was issuing from the pile surrounding the bomb. And at first his brain refused to function. What had happened? He stared at it foolishly, and then, with a sudden mad revulsion of feeling, he understood. The bomb had failed to explode.

With a shout of triumph he jumped up and dashed across the room. He hurled the packages away, and was just unwrapping his coat and trousers when roars of laughter came from behind him. He straightened up and swung round: Hardcastle and Slingsby were standing in the open doorway.

“Wal,” said Hardcastle, “if that don’t beat cockfighting! Natalie, darling,” he called over his shoulder, “I don’t think you can come in. Captain Drummond is hardly dressed to receive ladies.”

“So I see you believed it, my friend,” she said quietly, as she joined the others. “I think your last ten minutes has equalised our score a little.”

A cold, overmastering rage took hold of Drummond, though he said no word. Never in the course of his life had he found himself in such an utterly ignominious position. He realised it all now: the whole thing had been a leg-pull from beginning to end. There never had been a bomb – merely a box with a clock ticking inside it and some inflammable powder of sorts. And, to add insult to injury, the only things that had caught fire and were still smouldering were his trousers.

“A much-needed lesson, Drummond,” she continued, still in the same quiet voice. “But I must confess that in my wildest dreams I never anticipated seeing you look such a complete fool as you do at the present moment.”

She turned away, and he scrambled into his clothes. Damn the woman! She was right: never had he felt such a complete fool. But his voice as he answered her was quite normal.

“I quite admit you’ve scored this time,” he remarked. “But you seem to have overlooked one small point. What do you propose to do about these?”

He picked up one of the packages, and again the two men began to laugh.

“Say, Captain,” said Hardcastle, “you surely are the colour of the green, green grass. Why, you poor sap, you don’t suppose, do you, that if that was really dope we were going to lead you to it? Open it and see. It’s castor sugar: I guess the grocery department at Harrods thought we were starting a wholesale store. But we had to get something that would get you into the room and away from the door. Even you might have thought it funny at finding nothing but a gramophone and a bomb on the floor.”

The muscles of Drummond’s face tightened: fooled again. Fooled all along the line from the word “Go.”

“As I said before, you’re certainly one up on this evening’s entertainment,” he said quietly. “However, there will doubtless be other rounds in the game.”

Hardcastle’s expression grew ugly.

“Look here, young man,” he said, “we’ve had enough of you. If you give us any further trouble by butting in, you won’t get off so easily next time. You keep clear of us, or it will be the worse for you.”

Drummond smiled genially.

“I have an affection for you, Tom,” he remarked, “that borders on madness. And you may rest assured that whilst you honour our shores with your presence I shall never be far from your side. You see, I’ve got to get back the price of this pair of trousers somehow. By the way, is the door at the other end open? Because if so I will now leave you.”

“It’s open,” said Hardcastle. “And if you take my advice, Drummond, you’ll say goodbye and not
au revoir
. We’ve been kind to you this time, and let you off with making the most unholy fool of yourself. Next time, should you be so foolish as to let there be a next time, the bomb may be real.”

“A thousand thanks, Tom, for your remarks. But, as Irma knows, I’m one of those people who just can’t take advice.”

Filming was over when he got outside, and one of the first people he saw was Algy Longworth, who was hanging about near the door.

“Careful, Hugh,” he said warningly. “Sir Edward has gone back to London, so Hardcastle may be anywhere.”

“As you say, he may,” answered Drummond grimly. “You don’t happen to know where Mr Tredgold is, do you?”

“As a matter of fact I haven’t seen him for the last half-hour. Why?”

“I want a few words with Mr Tredgold. And when I do have a few words with him Mr Tredgold’s mother won’t know her baby boy for a week.”

“Good Lord! old man, what’s happened?”

“We’ve been stung, Algy: stung as we’ve never been stung before. And I’m sore as hell about it. The whole thing, my dear boy, was a plant from beginning to end. Irma was here the day you came, and it was because of her that you were engaged. Then, at her instigation, Tredgold fooled you with the sole object of getting me into the most ignominious position I’ve ever been in in my life. And, by Gad! they succeeded.”

They were strolling towards Drumrnond’s car, and he briefly told Algy what had occurred.

“Just think of it,” he concluded. “Me standing there in my shirt and pants, while they split their sides with laughter. Gosh! Algy, I could kick myself.”

“I’m awfully sorry, old boy,” said the other contritely. “It is more my fault than yours. But it never dawned on me that Tredgold was lying. I thought he was a foul little reptile, but I could have sworn he was speaking the truth.”

Drummond laughed shortly.

“Don’t worry: it doesn’t matter. But you may take it from me, old lad, that I have known a pleasanter quarter of an hour than the one I spent down in that damned room.”

He stopped suddenly and whistled under his breath.

“Great Scott!” he cried, “I hadn’t thought of that. This show has driven everything else out of my head.”

“What’s stung you?” said Algy.

“Marton – young Marton. We thought we’d got the reason why they killed him, and we haven’t.”

They stared at one another in silence: it was only too true. Since there never had been any question of drugs, and the whole thing had proved a ramp, obviously they would have to look elsewhere for the solution of that mystery. But the point was – where?

“Is your girl still here, Algy?” said Drummond.

“No, she’s taken the bus back to Town.”

“Then let’s get a move on in mine, and we’ll try and think things out on the way up. Because I’m damned if this bunch is going to get away with it as easily as this. Confound my trousers: there’s the dickens of a draught coming through the seat.”

He swung the car round, and headed for London. He drove slowly, engrossed in thought, and Algy Longworth, after a glance at his profile, was silent too.

“There are a lot of little points, Algy,” he said at length, “which, now that I look back in the light of this new development, seem to me to stand out.”

“Such as?” demanded his companion.

“To start with, I overheard Penton and the Comtessa talking at the studio this morning.”

“What’s that? How the devil did you overhear them?”

Drummond laughed.

“I forgot I hadn’t told you. Henry Johnson, at your service.”

“Well, I’m blowed!” cried the other. “You old devil!”

“In the course of their conversation a remark occurred which I now know applied to me: at the time I wasn’t sure. Penton said, ‘It’s risky: damned risky. Why bring him here at all?’ Now what was there risky in their performance of tonight?”

“They might have thought you’d give someone a thick ear.”

“Weak, old boy: very weak. Let’s go a bit further. The work here finishes tomorrow, doesn’t it? after which exteriors are going to be taken down at Glensham House. Now you have to act tomorrow; after that you’re not wanted. Well, it’s going to be a little awkward for them if you don’t turn up.”

“Granted. And I certainly shan’t.”

“That we’ll see about: let’s stick to the point. Why should they make it awkward for themselves unnecessarily? They could have soaked me tomorrow just as easily as tonight.”

“It was the fact that Sir Edward was here that made ’em choose this evening.”

“A perfectly sound reason if Tredgold had been speaking the truth. But he wasn’t: he was in the plot. And so it would have been just as simple for him to cough up some other yarn which would have made tomorrow night the most suitable one.”

“I don’t quite get what you’re driving at, Hugh.”

“Just this. Was the whole of this elaborate hoax perpetrated merely to give me ten minutes’ hell? If so, why choose tonight, when tomorrow would have been better?”

The other stared at him curiously: it seemed to him such an unimportant point. But he knew of old that Drummond did not harp on unimportant points.

“What else can it have been designed for?” he demanded.

“If I knew that I’d have solved the problem, Algy. Can it be that they wanted to be sure I should be out of the way tonight?”

“Why should they? Nothing happened of the smallest interest. We took a couple of scenes, which Sir Edward watched. Then apparently he felt chilly and went back to London with that secretary fellow. Travers did the lorry scene, and then came back, and that concluded the entertainment. Frankly, old boy, I think you’re making a mystery where no mystery exists. Don’t forget that Tredgold’s bluff all the way through has been very good, and his reason for choosing tonight was a very convincing one. He might not have been able to get anything like such a good excuse for tomorrow.”

“Perhaps you’re right, Algy,” said Drummond at length. “And yet every instinct I possess tells me you’re wrong.”

“Am I to go there tomorrow?”

“Certainly. And Henry Johnson will be there too. My debt to Mr Tredgold will have to wait.”

But if he thought he was going to discover anything more, he was doomed to disappointment. Once again the same scenes were re-enacted, with Travers playing the millionaire’s part, and since he had not seen them the previous day, he watched them for something better to do. Only Haxton was there: none of the Hardcastle gang put in an appearance. And after a while he again began to ask himself whether the whole thing wasn’t a mare’s nest.

For the film was a good one, especially this bit in the country house, where, having failed to move the financier to pity, the hero and a friend drug the glass of sherry which, according to invariable custom, he always drinks at half-past seven. He falls unconscious on the floor, and from behind the curtains the two men emerge. They bind him and gag him, and then, as they are on the point of removing him, steps are heard outside. There is just time to bundle the body into a large cupboard and dart back behind the curtains, when the door opens and his wife comes in. The room is empty: it is her chance to recover the letters.

He watched part of the walk through; then, wandering round behind one of the wings, he came on Travers, being freed from his bonds. Haxton’s approving remarks could be heard, but it struck him that the actor was nervous and irritable, and after chancing a facetious remark which was met with a snarl, he moved away.

“Once more, boys,” came Haxton’s voice, “and then we’ll shoot. Well done, old man,” as Travers appeared, “you were fine. It’s the last scene: we won’t bother about the lorry bit again. I’ve seen the run through, and last night’s was bully.”

He strolled across the studio to where Algy and the girl were sitting, and after a cautious look round he spoke in his natural voice.

“I believe you’re right, Algy,” he said. “We’re on a dud.”

“What a marvellous disguise, Captain Drummond!” cried the girl. “I wouldn’t believe Algy when he told me.”

“All wasted,” he grunted despondently. “I suppose he’s told you about last night’s little show.”

She nodded.

“It must have been a ghastly experience. I haven’t seen that little brute Tredgold here today.”

“Nor have I,” said Drummond grimly. “Something heavy would have connected with him if I had. Hullo! They’ve finished. I say, I’m awfully sorry that you two should have wasted your time like this.”

“Not a bit,” she cried. “The person I’m sorry for is you. But I really think Algy is right, and that this film is perfectly genuine. After all, Sir Edward is a multi-millionaire, and he can afford to pay for his hobbies.”

“That’s true,” agreed Drummond. “Well, so long: we’ll meet again in the old village. At any rate I propose to touch these blighters for my pay.”

With a grin, Henry Johnson moved off and joined a group of stage-hands.

“’Ullo, mate!” said one of them, “’ow’s yer toothache?”

“Orl right. ’Ad the perisher out.”

“Dodged a job o’ work yesterday, you did.”

“’Ow’s that?”

“’Is nib’s best girl come along. And may you hor I look at ’er? Ho no. So we ’as to rig hup a partition be’ind which ’er royal ’ighness may sit hunobserved. Not ’arf a peach she wasn’t: could ’ave done with a bit like ’er meself.”

For a moment or two Drummond stared at the speaker; then he remembered his role.

“Where did you put the partition?” he asked.

“Cross there. So as hevery time ’e went off ’e could walk right hinto ’er lovely harms. And when they bunged ’im hinto the cupboard, she could massage ’is bruises hunseen.”

“Wot did she look like?”

“Dark: furriner, I should say. Natalie – or some name like that – ’e called ’er.”

Drummond turned away. So Irma had been watching. There seemed no reason why she shouldn’t, but why the secrecy? Was it merely to prevent the risk of Algy seeing her? And with yet another unexplained riddle to puzzle him, Henry Johnson finished his work, drew his pay, and ceased to exist.