Get Wallace! (15 page)

‘And you are certain they were going to the
Electra
?’

‘Positive.’

‘The whole business is very strange,’ commented Sir Peter, ‘but I cannot think that Senostris can be mixed up with them. It is beyond credence. I thought that Michael was sailing the Mediterranean with a party of friends, but your information rather
suggests that the
Electra
is in England. If that is so, why don’t you pay a visit to her?’

‘That is exactly what I intend to do,’ Wallace assured him. ‘Goodbye, Sir Peter. I hope I haven’t caused you any inconvenience by a visit at this hour?’

‘Not at all,’ was the courteous reply. ‘I wish I could have been of some real assistance to you. By the way,’ he added, as Wallace was about to leave, ‘if you know that this scoundrel, who calls himself Stanislaus Ictinos, has committed a murder, why don’t you have him arrested?’

‘There is something I want from him, or from his partner, first,’ was the reply, spoken in a resolute voice.

‘I see,’ nodded Sir Peter. ‘You have my best wishes for your success.’

As his car threaded its way through the traffic on the way back to Whitehall, Wallace sat back in his seat, and pondered the fresh problem that confronted him. He felt sure it was not merely a coincidence that the names of Sir Peter’s friends and those of the man and woman he had so recently seen in the house on the Isle of Sheppey were identical. The fellow whom Cousins called the gorilla-man, and his daughter, must have adopted the names for some reason of their own. Various conjectures occurred to him, but were not suggestive of a very satisfactory solution. He was still thinking deeply, when the car drew up outside headquarters, and Johnson had been standing holding open the door for some seconds before he rose from his seat, and alighted.

He found that the examination of Farrell and the dwarf was still proceeding. Entering Major Brien’s room, he stood listening for some minutes, while his deputy and Cousins strove by every
means in their power to get the dwarf to talk. But where before he had screamed with rage and hurled maledictions at his captors, he now stood sullen and silent, hanging his head, and looking the picture of dejection. He answered not a word to the patient questions put to him, whether they were in English or Greek; it was as though he did not hear. Brien cast a despairing eye in the direction of Sir Leonard, and the latter thereupon took a hand in the proceedings, but it was fruitless.

‘Take him away,’ directed Wallace at last. ‘Farrell can stay. I’ll send him along to you,’ he added to Inspector Graham, ‘when I have finished with him, or at any rate let you know what I’ve done with him.’

‘The CID are anxious to have him, sir,’ the police officer informed him.

‘Well, they’ll have to wait,’ retorted Wallace. ‘He’s my prisoner, and they can’t prefer any charges against him until I’ve finished with him. Give them my compliments, and tell them that.’

Inspector Graham smiled.

‘Very well, sir. I’ll leave a couple of men outside in the corridor for him.’

‘You needn’t do that. I’ll see that he reaches you all right.’

The inspector saluted, and retired, taking with him his men and Paul the dwarf. Wallace studied the sheet of paper on which Brien had jotted down the answers Farrell had given to his and Cousins’ questions. There was little there that was not already known to him, certainly nothing of great interest.

‘Have you kept anything back?’ asked Sir Leonard, eyeing the crook sternly.

‘Nothing, sir,’ replied the latter earnestly. ‘I’ve told everything I know.’

‘You have never been on the
Electra
or met the partner Ictinos speaks about?’

‘Never, sir.’

‘Haven’t you even heard his name?’

‘No, sir. The guv’nor always kept that a dead secret from all of us. Even Hepburn didn’t know it, and he knows a great deal.’

‘H’m!’ Sir Leonard took the list of men serving the Greek from his pocket, and held it before the other’s eyes. ‘These apparently,’ he said, ‘are the names of men in the organisation. It’s in English, so you can read it. There are eighteen names there, but apart from yours and those of Hepburn, Danson, Moropos and Ibsen, I have not heard of them. Where are they?’

Farrell took the list, and studied it carefully. A scowl crossed his face as he noticed the details concerning the crimes, which were written after most of the names. A muttered oath escaped him.

‘These two,’ he pointed out, ‘are in Rome—’

‘Just a minute. Make a note of it, will you, Cousins?’ The little man drew up a sheet of paper, and commenced to write. ‘Go on, Farrell. Those are in Rome—’

‘These three are in Paris, these in Berlin, this one in Moscow, these two in Washington, I don’t know where this one is. Zinescu, the name without any crimes against it, is the dwarf, Paul. He was a sort of servant to the guv’nor. The other is in England.’

‘Where?’

‘He was at Southampton yesterday. He is the fellow who had orders to shoot you when you came off the boat.’

‘Ah!’ exclaimed Sir Leonard softly, ‘so his name was Villinoff, was it? I shall remember that. It sounds more like the name of a Russian than a Maltese, Bill,’ he added.

‘He certainly looked like a Maltese,’ grunted Brien.

‘He’s a Bulgarian, sir,’ Farrell told them.

‘So we’re both wrong,’ commented Wallace. He looked through the list Cousins had made. ‘Quite an espionage system apparently,’ he remarked. ‘Italians in Italy, Frenchmen in France, Germans in Berlin, etcetera – England alone has a cosmopolitan crowd, probably because the headquarters of Ictinos are, or were, here.’

‘Whenever the guv’nor wanted a job done,’ volunteered Farrell, ‘Hepburn used to be sent to the country where it was to take place. The blokes on the spot would give him the low-down on routine, details of the safe to be cracked, and that sort of thing. Then Hepburn would spend a long time studying the fellow he was going to impersonate, learning all about his habits, his walk, and getting near him to hear him speak. When he was sure he had studied all that was necessary, Danson would join him. Hepburn would make him up like some other official, and the job would be done.’

‘Very interesting,’ murmured Wallace. ‘I gathered Damson was the safe-breaker from the details of his crimes. He seems to be wanted for a lot, including the murder of a policeman who tried to arrest him. Hepburn must be a linguist to be able to carry out impersonations in so many countries.’

‘He speaks a hell of a lot of languages,’ was Farrell’s emphatic reply. ‘The guv’nor couldn’t do without him, and Hepburn knows it. That bloke seems to be able to do anything. Can’t think what he wanted to go and ruin his life for by croaking the husband of a girl he was sweet on.’

A slight smile appeared on Wallace’s face. He studied the ex-pugilist carefully for some minutes; then, apparently making up his mind, he leant forward.

‘Would you like to earn the King’s pardon, Farrell?’ he asked.

The man’s eyes opened wide, a look of hope began to dawn on his face.

‘Would I!’ he repeated. ‘Just give me the chance and see. I’d go straight for the rest of my life, and—’

‘Not so fast, my man; I’m not asking you for any promises regarding your future life. If you were pardoned, with the list of crimes against your name you have collected, and went wrong again, you’d be the biggest fool in Christendom, but that would be your pidgin, not mine. I’ll guarantee to obtain a pardon for you under certain conditions, and they won’t be easy. You’ll have to work jolly hard for it, and carry your life in your hands. What do you say?’

‘I’d do anything that gave me a chance to get clear,’ was the reply.

‘Well, tonight I want you to join your late companions on the
Electra
. I don’t care how you reach her; swim if you like. I’ll see that you are taken down to Rochester. Once on board, you can tell some tale about being captured with Paul and breaking away. Say you hid up all day today, and dare not get out to her until after dark. Of course you’ll be thoroughly pumped about Cousins and me, but I’ll put you wise about what you’re to say before you go. Once back with them, you will do your utmost to find out all their plans, discover where certain documents I badly want are, and keep me posted about all other developments. Do you agree?’

Farrell’s face had paled as Sir Leonard spoke.

‘You mean you want me to turn stool pigeon?’ he said slowly.

‘Exactly; but I don’t see what there is to hesitate about, if you’re honest in your statement that you want to wipe out the past. You’ve been a traitor to your country, apart from your other crimes, and it’s the only way you can eradicate that stain. And it
isn’t as though you are betraying your former comrades. We know who they are and enough about them already without wanting to make a collection of further charges to lay against them.’

Farrell looked him in the eyes.

‘I’ll do it, sir,’ he declared.

‘Good. But remember; you’ll be taking a tremendous risk. You know as well as I that if Ictinos catches you spying, or suspects you in any way, your number will be up.’

The ex-pugilist nodded.

‘Don’t I know it,’ he remarked grimly, ‘but I’ll chance that. You can be sure that I’ll be careful. And about that pardon, sir; you will get it for me, if I satisfy you?’

‘You can rely upon me,’ Wallace assured him. ‘I’ll see you again this evening, and give you all your instructions. Until then you’ll stay in this building; it will be safer than risking the possibility of being seen by somebody antagonistic to us. There is a room where we keep visitors like you, Farrell, but you’ll be given your meals, have papers to read, and generally be well looked after. You’ll find it much better than a cell at Scotland Yard. Take him down below, Cousins, will you?’

When the two had departed, Major Brien looked rather dubiously at his friend.

‘You’re taking a big risk, aren’t you?’ he queried.

Wallace shook his head.

‘No,’ he replied; ‘what harm will it do us if he does tell Ictinos that I’ve sent him. The fellow already knows we’re on his track, and Farrell cannot give him any information about us or our plans of any value.’

‘But between them they may set a trap.’

‘Then we’ll fall into it gracefully, Bill. Have you forgotten that
you and I were not born yesterday? As a matter of fact, I believe Farrell is genuine in his desire to reform. The only thing I’m anxious about is that Ictinos may ferret out that he’s working for us, and have him murdered.’

Stevenson, Wallace’s confidential clerk, knocked and entered the room.

‘A message for you, sir, from Rochester,’ he informed Sir Leonard. ‘The
Electra
sailed early this morning – destination unknown.’

Brien looked dismayed, but Wallace did not show any particular concern.

‘That’s a nuisance,’ was his only comment.

‘There’s also a report from Mr Cartright, sir,’ added the clerk. ‘He and his assistants have searched the house on the Island of Sheppey thoroughly, including the grounds and the underground passage, and have found nothing whatever of importance.’

‘I thought they wouldn’t. Recall them to London, Stevenson; the police will be taking possession today.’

The clerk departed noiselessly.

‘What are you going to do now?’ asked Brien.

‘You, my lad, will set to work to find out where the
Electra
is. That shouldn’t cause your locks to get any scantier. I am going to keep an appointment for Ictinos, which it is probable he will break.’

‘Keep an appointment for Ictinos! What the devil are you talking about?’

‘He was meeting the representative of the Russian government to discuss the purchase of the stolen plans today at three o’clock. As he no longer has those plans, and must realise that I have discovered the arrangement, the chances are he will not turn up.
On the other hand, he may alter the meeting for some other place, for he still has something left to offer. Whether he does or not, I will visit the Russian emissary. And in order that I may not miss them, I will make arrangements for the gentleman to be closely shadowed from now on. His name is Moskevin, and he is staying at the Savoy.’

‘What about Farrell? He won’t be able to get on the
Electra
now.’

‘He might; you never can tell.’

He left the room, and walked along the corridor to his own office.

‘I begin to see daylight,’ he murmured to himself. ‘It is quite possible, after all, that Ictinos will keep his appointment, though not in the same locality as was first arranged.’

Back in his own room, Sir Leonard was engaged very busily for a considerable period. Most of the little buttons under the ledge of his desk were pressed at one time or another during the course of the next hour, bringing to him men from various departments to whom he gave careful instructions. He spoke several times on private telephone lines, once at great length. Two or three reference hooks, taken from the large number packed on the shelves, were carried to his desk, where he opened them and studied certain pages. He became so engrossed that, when calls from the Air Ministry and War Office were put through, and he discovered that they were merely from high but enthusiastic officials, who desired to congratulate and thank him for his success in preserving the secrets of the Masterson monoplane and Wentworth gun, he was abrupt, almost sharp, in his replies. Even when the Foreign Secretary himself spoke on the private line running direct between his room and Sir Leonard’s office, he listened impatiently, and
rang off at the earliest possible moment. He had no desire to listen to a laudatory speech delivered by a statesman, who was noted for his command of the English language and little else. Ictinos and his organisation had been checkmated in the attempt to sell British military secrets and, as far as Wallace was concerned, that was the end of that part of the affair. But he had pledged his word to Monsieur Damien to do his utmost to save France from the outrageous threat of blackmail overshadowing her. He was also determined to break up the organisation which was proving a menace to so many countries, and had promised himself a private settlement with Ictinos. He had no time or desire, therefore, to spend the morning receiving compliments.

It was nearing one o’clock when he sent for the papers he had brought away from the house on the Isle of Sheppey. The copies of the plans of the Masterson monoplane and the Wentworth gun were placed in sealed packets, and sent by special messenger to be delivered into the hands respectively of the Air Marshal and Chief of Staff. From the remaining documents Wallace took several sheets of foolscap pinned neatly together, the remainder he sent back to be locked up. Rapidly he made copious notes from the pages before him in a small leather-bound book with a lock attached, putting it away in his own private safe when he had finished. The sheets of foolscap he folded, and placed in the inside pocket of his jacket. Brien entered the room as he was preparing to go.

‘I say, Leonard,’ he proclaimed, ‘there’s a deuced queer sequel to the sailing of the
Electra
.’

‘Oh, what’s that?’

‘She left Rochester without giving any destination, as you know. At nine she anchored off Gravesend, remaining there until
eleven, when she sailed. Since then not a sign of her has been seen. She’s just disappeared.’

Sir Leonard had been washing his hand. He came now from the little anteroom drying them, and whistling softly to himself.

‘That gives support to my suspicion,’ he observed.

‘What suspicion?’

‘Never mind now. It’s only very hazy at the moment.’

‘What can have become of the
Electra
? She can’t have sunk – report says that the storm has quite abated. And even if Ictinos and company had decided to scuttle her, something or somebody would have spotted her. You can’t sink ships in a busy place like the Thames without causing comment.’

Wallace laughed.

‘Why should they want to scuttle her?’ he asked. ‘It’s not reasonable to destroy something that is providing one with shelter.’

‘You don’t seem very perturbed about her disappearance.’

‘I’m not. It is fairly obvious that for some reason or other her identity has been altered.’

‘You mean that she has been disguised?’

‘Exactly.’

‘But could that be done without the transformation being observed?’

‘Yes; especially if there were already means on board for alterations to be made. She would probably slink into some quiet inlet, and in less than no time might have another funnel, an extra mast, different shaped stern or bows and, of course, a new name. They might even paint her another colour, but that would be a lengthy business, and there are few inlets along that coast where it could be done without someone observing the process sooner or later.’

Brien thoughtfully regarded his companion.

‘There is only one reason that occurs to me why she should be disguised,’ he decided, ‘and that is that, somehow or other, Ictinos suspects that we know all about the
Electra
.’

‘You’re very probably right,’ smiled Sir Leonard. ‘Help me on with my overcoat, please.’

Brien obliged.

‘It’s going to be a devil of a job to find her, if you’re right,’ he grunted. ‘Why, she might be disguised as anything – a tramp or—’

‘Or an Atlantic liner,’ Wallace finished for him.

‘Don’t be an ass! But you see what I mean?’

‘Yes, Billy, I see what you mean. You’re quite right; it will be a difficult job, if we have to organise a search for a boat when we have no idea what she looks like. But I trust that won’t be necessary. I am hoping that we shall be taken down to her without trouble.’

‘What’s the notion?’

‘I’m not sure yet, but I’ll tell you when I am. At any rate, I have a feeling that the final settlement between us and Ictinos and co. will take place on or near the
Electra
.’

He did not return to his office after lunch, but sat in his study at home writing letters, occasionally glancing at the clock on the desk before him. It was getting on towards three when the telephone bell rang. Taking off the receiver, he gave his name, listening with a slight smile to the information transmitted to him over the wire.

‘Splendid!’ he remarked at length. ‘A pastry cook’s shop close to the Camden Town station, you said? Right; I’ll soon be there.’

Two or three minutes later his car, with Johnson at the wheel, and Batty, his personal servant, sitting by the driver’s side, was on its way along Shaftesbury Avenue. It turned up Tottenham Court Road, was able to increase its speed along the Hampstead Road and
Mornington Crescent, eventually coming to a stop near Camden Town underground station. Sir Leonard quickly stepped out.

‘If I’m not back in a quarter of an hour,’ he said to Batty and Johnson, ‘come and find me.’

‘Aye, aye, sir,’ replied the ex-sailor, taking out an enormous watch, and fixing his eyes on it.

‘There’s a clock on the dashboard,’ Johnson reminded him.

‘I prefer me own,’ retorted Batty. ‘I’ve carried it aboard, man and boy, for thirty years, and it’s never gone adrift once.’

Sir Leonard had walked on towards a tiny confectioner’s establishment. He was a few yards from it, when a neatly dressed man, with a small, well-trimmed moustache, passed slowly by.

‘He’s in the room behind the shop, sir,’ he whispered.

Wallace nodded almost imperceptibly. Turning into the shop, he walked straight towards the door of the inner room.

‘Hi!’ cried a man, standing behind the counter. ‘Vere are you going?’

Sir Leonard ignored him, opened the door, stepped through, and closed it quickly behind him. Exclamations of astonishment greeted him from two men sitting opposite each other at a rickety table covered by a dirty cloth. They both looked out of place in that small dingy apartment. One, a sallow, thin-faced man, wearing pince-nez, was dressed in correct morning garb, his silk hat resting on the table by his side; the other, a bearded individual with tortoiseshell glasses, was clothed in a neat grey lounge suit, but there was no mistaking the great head and shoulders, the cold, slate-blue eyes and broad forehead. It was Stanislaus Ictinos. He sprang to his feet, his right hand going ominously to his coat pocket.

‘What is this?’ he demanded in a deep, threatening voice. ‘Who are you?’

Sir Leonard noted with a certain feeling of pleasure that his face had paled.

‘I have reason to believe that you know me by sight, Stanislaus Ictinos,’ he observed quietly. ‘Take your hand away from that pocket, and sit down. Before you could draw a revolver or a knife, or whatever it happens to be, your wrist would be shattered. I’m a fairly useful shot, as perhaps your daughter observed quite recently.’

Slowly the Greek sank back into his chair. Sir Leonard heard the door opening behind him; drew to one side in order that he could see the newcomer as well as keeping an eye on the men at the table. It was the shopkeeper.

‘He came in too quick for me to stop him,’ he told Ictinos in trembling tones. ‘Vill I throw him out?’

Sir Leonard smiled at the idea of the fellow attempting to throw him out. He was an undersized, rat-like individual who looked a thorough weakling.

‘Get out yourself, and stay out,’ commanded the Chief of the Secret Service; ‘and I warn you, if you try any tricks you’ll find yourself in difficulties. There are several men outside awaiting my return.’ The fellow slunk out and, still facing the others, Wallace locked the door behind him. ‘We do not want to be interrupted,’ he observed, walking across to another door on the opposite side of the room, and fastening that. ‘Now we can talk in peace.’

He sat down at the end of the table. The thin-faced man had not uttered a word since his initial cry of surprise at Wallace’s entrance. Now he leant on the table, and fixed his eyes on the intruder.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ he asked in excellent English. ‘Who are you, sir?’

‘I am the head of the British Intelligence Service,’ Sir Leonard
told him, ‘and I am here to warn you, Monsieur Moskevin, that you are running a grave risk in coming to England, and negotiating with this man for the purchase of certain confidential documents.’

At the announcement of Sir Leonard’s status, Moskevin gave a startled exclamation, his sallow face paled. He made one or two attempts to speak; then turned apprehensive eyes to Ictinos, as though leaving the responsibility to him. The latter sat clenching and unclenching his hands, a look of concentrated fury and hatred in his face. He said nothing, however, and the Russian was forced to speak.

‘How did you know my name and hear of this meeting?’ he asked weakly.

‘I am not here to answer questions,’ returned Wallace sharply, ‘but I have no objection to telling you that certain letters and other documents came into my possession. I discovered that you were meeting this man today at three in your suite at the Savoy Hotel. As he knew that I had found out about that meeting, it was obvious the place, and perhaps the time, would be altered. It was not a difficult matter to ascertain the new arrangement. You would not be altogether ignorant of methods adopted in such a case, since you were a little while ago Commissary of Police in Petrograd.’

‘You are well informed, sir.’

‘Very,’ replied Sir Leonard drily.

The Russian seemed to have recovered his composure to a great extent.

‘So you are the Sir Leonard Wallace I have heard so much about,’ he observed. ‘Your name is not popular in my country, sir.’

‘It is not popular anywhere,’ suddenly burst forth Ictinos. ‘This man is a devil.’

‘Perhaps he is,’ returned the Russian sharply, ‘but you, my
friend, have done badly to land me in a position of this nature. You should have taken precautions to guard against such a contretemps. What is your intention?’ he added, turning to Wallace,

‘First of all to show this fellow up,’ was the reply. ‘As he has dared to meet you, despite certain events that took place last night, let me inform you that he has nothing to sell to you. He is here to get money from you by false pretences if possible. The copies of the confidential plans which were offered to the highest bidder among certain governments, of which yours was one, were recovered by me last night. If he has told you he has them, he lies. Furthermore, Monsieur Moskevin, I have here full details of the proposed disposition of the Russian air force and armies corps in the event of mobilisation. They were offered by this man’s organisation to my government, but I obtained them from their hiding place with the others.’

‘So it
was
you,’ snarled Ictinos.

‘Have you only just gathered that? I remarked just now that your daughter recently had a demonstration of my skill with a revolver.’ He turned back to the Russian emissary, who was glowering at the Greek opposite him. ‘You see, monsieur – I suppose I really ought to call you Comrade – Moskevin, there is, or has been, a widespread conspiracy to steal confidential information from various nations and auction it – a pretty way of making money, you will agree, in which millions would be involved, and not only that, but powers rendered suspicious of and bitter towards each other. Behind it all is a mysterious figure, whom this man Ictinos calls his partner, a mysterious figure who is aiming, I think, to become dictator of Europe. In order that you may recognise Ictinos, if by some chance he escapes my net and goes to Russia, cast your eyes on him, and look well!’

Suddenly he leant forward, and tore off the Greek’s false beard,
displacing the glasses in the same movement. A great cry of rage broke from the big man. He sprang to his feet, but was checked by the revolver which had appeared with lightning-like swiftness in Sir Leonard’s hand.

‘Sit down, Ictinos,’ snapped the latter.

It looked for a moment as though the Greek would defy him but, before the steel-grey eyes of the Englishman, his own slate-blue ones fell, and presently, with an oath, he resumed his seat.

‘You see now,’ went on Wallace to the Russian, ‘Stanislaus Ictinos, conspirator and murderer, as he really is. Under the Official Secrets Act of this country, Monsieur Moskevin, I could have you arrested and tried with him, but I am not particularly anxious to see you sent to prison, while the time for my reckoning with him has not yet come, though it is approaching rapidly. You can go, therefore, and take this with you.’ He removed from his pocket the folded sheets of foolscap, and threw them on the table. ‘It will interest you, and probably not please you, to know that I have copied everything of importance.’

Moskevin picked up the package, opened it, and glanced through it. His face grew dark as thunder, and there was that in his eyes, as he shot a look at Ictinos, that boded ill for the Greek, if the latter ever fell into his power. Without a word he rose, and put on his overcoat. He walked to the door; then spoke.