By a great effort of will I remained exactly as I was. I had to decide what to do, and I had to decide in a hurry, but it was obviously one of those situations in which one could not afford to make the least mistake. If I called out, the answer, for all I knew, might take the shape of a Mills bomb. On the other hand, if I kept silent, how could I discover the identity of my visitor?
Tap, tap, tap.
Once again came the mysterious summons—this time more imperative than before.
As the last knock died away, an idea flashed into my mind. Rising to my feet, I moved stealthily across the hall, and, creeping up the staircase like a cat, I turned into my own bedroom, which looked out on the front of the house. The window was still open, and, advancing towards it with infinite care, I was just preparing to make a cautious reconnaissance when I suddenly heard a shuffling movement down below. I paused, and, almost at the same second the loud jangling peal of the front door bell echoed up from the kitchen.
Somehow or other, the sound acted on me like a tonic. Without hesitating any longer, I thrust my head out over the sill, and there, right underneath me, I saw the ragged, curly-haired figure of my little friend, Jimmy.
"Hullo, James," I called out, "what are you doing here?"
He took a step back, and looked up.
"I gotter letter for you guv'nor—a letter from the young laidy."
"The devil you have!" I exclaimed eagerly. "You hang on there, my son. I'll be with you in half a tick."
Thrusting the revolver into my pocket, I hurried downstairs again, and with feverish haste unchained and opened the front door. Jimmy wiped his boots noisily on the mat, and with a cheerful grin advanced into the hall.
"I seed the light through the shutters," he explained, "and I guessed you was inside. That's why I knocked at the winder."
"Quite right, Jimmy," I said. "Where's the note?"
He dived into his pocket, and produced a crumpled and dirty-looking envelope, which he handed to me.
"When did you get this?" I demanded, refastening the door.
"On'y just now, guv'nor. It was give me by the old Frenchwoman wot lives at 'The Laurels.'"
I crossed to the lamp, and, tearing open the flap, pulled out the enclosure. It consisted of half a sheet of notepaper closely covered in Christine's small writing.
"DEAREST,—I am giving this note to Marie, who has promised to deliver it to Jimmy. I believe she is to be trusted, but I dare not say more for fear that it should fall into the wrong hands. At the present moment I am a prisoner in my own bedroom. I expect to be free again, with Marie's help, at half-past eight this evening. If all goes well I shall come across to the island immediately. Will you be on the landing-stage at twenty minutes to nine? Come straight down across the garden and through the iron gate, but on no account leave the house a moment before it's necessary. I will explain everything when I see you. With all my love,
"CHRISTINE."
I read it through to the end, and then turned back to Jimmy, who was still standing where I had left him.
"Did the old woman say anything when she gave you this note?" I asked.
"On'y as I was to let 'er know whether you'd got it," was the answer. "She's going to wait for me at the corner o' Butcher's Lane."
"Well, you can tell her it will be all right," I said, thrusting the letter into my pocket. "I suppose you haven't heard whether Mr. de Roda is back at the house—the young lady's uncle, you know?"
Jimmy nodded. "'E's there all right. 'E come up in a motor-boat about mid-day. She's lying out in the tideway round the point."
"How do you know it was Mr. de Roda?" I asked.
"Why, George Ellis, the boatman, seed 'im and Craill rowin' ashore. I 'eard George tellin' my dad. She's a fine boat, too, guv'nor—the old Seagull, wot used to belong to Captain Stainer of 'Arwich. George reckons 'e must 'ave bought 'er while 'e was away."
"Big enough to go to sea in?" I asked.
He nodded his head. "That's a fact," he answered in the usual Essex idiom. "The Capt'n run across to France in 'er once, and George says she done the trip in a reg'lar treat."
I pulled out my pocket-book and extracted a ten shilling note.
"Here you are, Jimmy," I said, "you cut back and give the old lady my message. Just say that I've received the letter, and that I'll do exactly what Miss de Roda wishes."
I conducted him to the door, stammering his thanks, and assuring me that my errand should be faithfully discharged, and having watched him hurry across the lawn and disappear into the shrubbery, I once more turned the key and shot home the bolts.
I felt that if ever I had cast my bread successfully upon the waters, it was in picking out Jimmy as a trustworthy confederate. Except for him, Christine would have had no chance of sending her letter across to the island, while the news he had brought with regard to de Roda was perhaps of even greater significance than anything she had dared to write.
There was only one explanation which would account for this sudden purchase of a sea-going motor-boat. Manning and de Roda must have made up their minds that the time had arrived for their final effort. Believing that I should be alone in the house that night, they had evidently decided to seize the diamonds by force and to make a bolt for the continent, where their plans were no doubt already arranged. Having become suspicious of Christine, they had apparently taken the simple course of locking her in her own room, so that she should have no possible opportunity of communicating their designs to me.
The one weak point in their otherwise excellent scheme had been the old French servant. Her affection for Christine had manifestly over-ridden her fear of the others; and, while pretending to carry out their orders, she had secretly consented to assist her young mistress.
If only the suggested plan worked successfully, nothing would fit in better with my own arrangements. To get Christine and de Roda into our hands was, as Campbell had said, the first and most essential step in our future proceedings. By eight-thirty, or soon after, he and Bobby ought to be back from Martlesea, and matters would be enormously simplified if they were to find half of the opening task already accomplished.
I was under no delusion, however, with regard to the dangerous nature of the undertaking. Should Christine's attempt fail, she would be in greater peril than ever, while even if she succeeded it was more than probable that her escape would be immediately discovered. In that event the house might be attacked before Campbell and Bobby returned. It was impossible to foretell to an exact certainty what time they would arrive, and, with everything at stake, Manning was not the sort of gentleman to allow the grass to grow under his feet.
I took out my revolver, and, having emptied the contents, carefully tested its mechanism. There was a comforting efficiency about the ensuing click, click, click, which left nothing to be desired, and, picking up the cartridges one by one, I reloaded it in every chamber. After all, if it came to a fight, the odds would be in my favour. I am a pretty safe shot, and, unless they blew the whole place to pieces, I ought to be able to hold the house against half a dozen assailants. No one could force an entrance without exposing himself to a bullet, and I was cheerfully prepared to shoot both Craill and Manning at the very first opportunity that presented itself.
A glance at the clock showed me that it was close on half-past six. There were still two hours to spin out before the appointed time—a prospect which certainly demanded all the patience that I possessed. I took the precaution of going upstairs again and fastening my bedroom window, and then, having filled a fresh pipe, I settled down grimly to my long vigil.
With exasperating slowness the minute hand crept up to seven, and began to drag round again on its interminable circle. By the time it had reached eight the strain of sitting there and doing nothing had become unbearable—so much so, indeed, that if it had not been for the very emphatic warning contained in Christine's letter I could hardly have resisted the temptation of starting out for the landing-stage. Her instructions had been too definite, however, to admit of any doubt as to their importance, and I felt that it would be madness to run the risk of endangering the whole plan for the lack of a little extra self-control.
At last the half hour struck, and with a sigh of relief I got up from my seat. Being careful to avoid any unnecessary noise, I unlocked the front door, and for a moment I stood on the step, revolver in hand, taking a rapid survey of the garden. Viewed from there in the gathering dusk, it presented a singularly peaceful and deserted appearance. A faint rustic in the tree-tops was the only sound which disturbed the silence, and, closing the door quietly behind me, I set off across the lawn in the direction of the iron gate.
On reaching that point I came to a temporary halt. The path beyond—always a sombre and depressing place even in broad daylight—was now so dark as to be hardly distinguishable from the rest of the shrubbery.
I peered ahead into the blackness, listening intently, but except for the occasional creak of a branch everything was as still as the grave. It was about as uninviting a route as one could very well imagine, but there was no other method of getting to the boat-house unless I disobeyed Christine's instructions, and I had been along it too often to be in much fear of losing my way.
Opening the gate, I passed through. For another second I again paused to listen; then with my revolver ready for immediate use I stepped boldly forward into the gloom.
As I did so my foot struck against a piece of wire, which was stretched across the path a few inches above the ground. So sudden was the shock that I had no chance of recovering my balance. The revolver escaped from my hand, and almost before I realised what had happened I had pitched forward full length on the point of my shoulder.
At the same instant there was a crash amongst the bushes and two men hurled themselves on top of me. One of them fell across my legs, clutching me by the knees; the other landed with his full weight right in the middle of my back.
Half dazed, and almost entirely winded, I still had strength to make one desperate effort. Twisting myself sideways, I jabbed back my elbow into the face of the man above me, and a smothered oath told me that the blow had gone home. Before I could repeat it, however, his fingers sank into my throat, and I felt a cold ring of steel pressed against my forehead:
"If you move again, I'll blow your brains out."
It was Manning's voice, and, low as the whisper was, there was no mistaking its savage sincerity.
I ceased struggling, for beneath that suffocating hold it was impossible to do otherwise.
"Hurry up, de Roda," came the sharp command. "Tie his arms and legs and be quick about it, we've no time to spare."
I felt my ankles being lashed together, and then a thrill of pain darted through my shoulder, as somebody jerked my arms roughly behind my back. A minute later I was as helpless as a trussed fowl.
Manning let go my throat and rose to his feet
"The first sound you make," he observed softly, "I'll shoot you like a dog."
"Better knock 'im in the 'ead," suggested a hoarse voice, "it'll save a lot of trouble."
I heard Manning laugh, as though he found the suggestion amusing.
"I have a better plan for dealing with Mr. Dryden, Craill," he remarked. "Do you think you can carry him to the house?"
The other made no answer, but, stooping down and gripping me round the waist, hoisted me over his shoulder as though I had been a sack of flour. Considering that I turn the scale at fourteen stone, the fellow's strength must have been prodigious.
Manning opened the gate for us, and we passed out on to the lawn.
Every step Craill took gave me a fresh thrill of pain, but the physical suffering I felt was nothing to the agony of rage and mortification that was tearing at my heart. The devilish ingenuity by which I had been trapped only added to my torture, for since the contents of Christine's letter were known to my captors, it was only too probable that her position was as dangerous as my own.
As we reached the verandah Manning's voice once more broke the silence.
"You had better put our friend down for a moment," he said. "We shall have to borrow his key to get into the house."
With a heave of his back Craill let me fall heavily on the stonework, and moving up to where I was lying Manning ran his hand quickly through my pockets.
"I've got it," he announced. Then, turning towards the silent figure on his right, he added almost mockingly, "Quite a dramatic moment, isn't it, de Roda?"
I heard the sharp click of the lock, and almost simultaneously a flood of light streamed out through the doorway.
With a strange gasping sob de Roda thrust his companion aside, and, trampling on my foot as he passed, stumbled blindly ahead of us into the hall.
Manning shrugged his shoulders. "You must make allowances for the old gentleman, Dryden," he said. "He has been very hardly treated, and I'm afraid it's affected his manners."
He stepped forward, laughing quietly to himself, and, without waiting for further orders, Craill dragged me roughly in after him and closed the door behind us.
"I think that end of the room will be a good place for our host," observed Manning, pointing towards the staircase. "You can tie him up comfortably there, and then he will be able to get a nice uninterrupted view of our researches."
Powerless to resist; I was hauled to my feet and lashed securely with my back to the banisters—a proceeding which gave me such pain in my injured shoulder that I had all my work cut out to remain silent.
With a cruel smile upon his lips Manning stood watching the operation. One side of his face was still bruised and swelled almost out of recognition, and even in the midst of my own suffering the sight filled me with fierce and exulting pleasure.
"You are not looking quite at your best, Manning," I remarked, "I am afraid you must have had another sleepless night."
"Shall I give 'im a wipe across the mouth?" growled Craill. "That'll stop his jaw."
Manning silenced him with a gesture.
"I don't think I shall be very much in your debt by the time I have finished with you, Dryden," he replied pleasantly.
A queer exclamation from de Roda, who was crouching in front of the fireplace, broke in suddenly upon our conversation.
"You were right," he cried hoarsely, "you were right, doctor! It is here! I see it myself."
He pointed with trembling fingers towards a small ornamental knob in the centre of the grate, which I had noticed on several occasions bore a rough resemblance to a bull-dog's head.
Manning glanced round unconcernedly, and then turned back to me.
"You must excuse me for a moment," he said. "Mr. de Roda is naturally impatient."
He walked across to the hearth, and the gaunt, huddled figure of the other moved aside to make room for him.
"Now we shall see," he remarked. "It will be very disappointing if I am wrong after all."
He caught the knob in both hands, and, bending forwards, gave it a sharp wrench. Instantly, and without the least noise, the whole front of one of the side pillars swung open like a door, exposing a high narrow cavity lined with brick.
In a second de Roda had flung himself on his knees and was groping in the aperture.
"They are here!" he screamed wildly. "My God, they are here!"
Sobbing with excitement, he began to drag out handful after handful of rough uncut stones, which rolled about the floor as he dropped them in his frantic haste.
Manning stood looking down on him as though he were regarding the antics of a child.
"Don't get too excited," he said soothingly. "You will only make yourself ill if you do." He beckoned to Craill. With staring eyes fixed upon the treasure, the latter shambled across the room. "Go into the kitchen," he added, "and see if you can find something to put them in. There's pretty sure to be a bag or basket about, and I don't suppose Mr. Dryden will object to giving us the loan of it."
Craill turned obediently towards the baize door, but he was checked by another gesture.
"I shall also want some paraffin oil," continued Manning in the same dispassionate tone. "Let me have all you can find, and if you come across any old newspapers bring them as well."
He glanced once more at de Roda, who was gloating over the diamonds and babbling to himself, then with his hands in his side pockets he strolled back to where I was pinioned.
"And now, Mr. John Dryden," he said, "I have time to attend to you."
For a moment we stood face to face, his china blue eyes fixed upon mine with a kind of pitiless satisfaction. I felt sure that I was very close to death. Even though Bobby and Campbell arrived in the course of the next few minutes, it would make no difference to my own fate. Manning would certainly kill me if it were his last act on earth, and in the absolute conviction that whatever happened I was a doomed man, a curious and almost detached calm seemed to find its way into my heart.
I looked back at him with a smile on my lips.
"For an expert, Manning," I said, "you take a long time about committing a murder."
He laughed easily. "I am sorry to keep you waiting," he replied. "It won't be very long—I can assure you of that—but there are just one or two little bits of information which I should like to give you first." He came a step closer. "I don't often take people into my confidence, but, you see, in your case I can afford to make an exception. Dead men are notoriously reticent."
I realised that every moment he indulged in the luxury of trying to torment me the more slender became his chances of escape.
"Go ahead, doctor," I said cheerfully. "Your conversation is always stimulating."
Provoking as my attitude must have been, he managed to control himself admirably.
"In the first place," he began, "it may amuse you to learn that the letter which brought you blundering out of the house in that singularly convenient fashion was written by myself."
Incredible as his statement seemed, something told me that he was speaking the truth.
"I congratulate you," I said coolly. "I knew you were a murderer and a thief, but I had no idea that you were an accomplished forger as well."
"You flatter me," he replied. "As a matter of fact it was a very hurried and rather clumsy piece of work. Any intelligent person would probably have seen through it at once." He pulled out an envelope from his pocket and held it up mockingly in front of me. "This is the touching and affectionate original," he added. "It was given to Marie by Christine, and, like a good servant, the old lady promptly handed it on to me. Very trustworthy domestics the French, Dryden."
For a moment I made no answer. The sight of Christine's letter in that brute's hands sent such a fresh wave of anger surging through me that I was afraid I should be unable to control my voice.
"I won't read it to you," he continued. "You might find it upsetting, and I should like your last moments to be really peaceful and happy." He paused. "Besides, you would probably be more interested to hear about my own future arrangements, especially as, to a rather important extent, they involve those of Miss de Roda."
He put the letter back into his pocket, and once more surveyed me with the same Satanic enjoyment.
"I have been fortunate enough to get hold of a really nice little ocean-going steam yacht, Dryden. At the present moment she is lying in the harbour at Rotterdam, and by to-morrow night we hope to be well on our way to the South Seas."
He glanced round again carelessly at de Roda, who was still scrabbling amongst the treasure, apparently blind and deaf to our presence.
"For Christine and myself," he continued softly, "the voyage will be full of romance. It will be our honeymoon, Dryden; a rather unwilling one on her part, perhaps, but none the less enjoyable for that."
I bit my lip until I could feel the blood trickling into my mouth.
"A pleasant family party at first," he went on, in a still lower voice; "but between ourselves, I don't think we shall be troubled with the old gentleman's company for very long. It would be sad, of course, if anything were to happen, but I shall do my best to console Christine. I fancy she has one of those rare natures which will respond to affectionate treatment."
God knows how much more of this I could have stood, but at that instant the baize door opened and Craill re-entered the hall. He had a bundle of newspapers under his arm, and was carrying a large tin of paraffin and a canvas bag.
Manning relieved him of the latter, and held it up to the light.
"That will do, Craill," he observed, handing it back. "You can put down the other things and help Mr. de Roda pack away the stones. We shall be leaving very shortly."
He turned towards me again, brushing off a patch of mud which he had apparently just noticed on his sleeve.
"By the way, Dryden," he added, "in the excitement of the moment I have clean forgotten to thank you for telling me where to look for the diamonds. It was the one point in which I was utterly at a loss. Your late lamented uncle was always babbling about a dog's head, but somehow or other I never connected it with the hiding-place. I always thought he was talking about that brute Satan. It was only when you confided to me that he had had the fireplace specially put in that I happened to notice that ingenious little bit of carving in the centre of the grate. Curious that I should have been so stupid, but the best of us make mistakes at times. Non semper arcum tendit Apollo, as our delightful friend Horace used to say."
He looked deliberately round the room, as though in search of something, and then walked across to the writing-table, where there were a couple of candle-sticks with stumps of candles in each.
He took out one of them, and, strolling back, picked up the bundle of newspapers which Craill had deposited on the floor.
"I have devoted considerable thought towards providing you with a fitting exit, Dryden," he remarked. "One or two very attractive ideas have occurred to me, but I think on the whole that the best plan will be to burn down the house. I trust that in the throes of courtship you have not overlooked the precaution of insuring against fire?"
His fiendish purpose had been obvious ever since he had sent Craill for the paraffin, and if he hoped for any sign of weakness from me he must have been singularly disappointed.
"I am afraid there will be no premium this time," I said. "You can't expect all your murders to be equally productive."
In spite of his wonderful self-control the shot went home. I saw the fingers of his left hand tighten sharply, while a sudden look of surprise flashed across his face.
"So you have been making enquiries into my past history?" he observed almost caressingly.
"Just a few," I admitted. "It was an unsavory business, but I have managed to dig up one or two quite interesting facts. At the present moment they are in the hands of the police."
He laughed gently. "I was doing Christine an injustice," he replied. "You seem to have occasional gleams of intelligence after all."
We were interrupted by Craill, who, leaving de Roda and the diamonds, lurched menacingly across the room.
"You 'eard wot 'e said, boss! Shove 'im through it, quick, and let's be off. We got to fetch the girl an'——"
"Don't upset yourself, Craill," came the imperturbable answer. "We shall have plenty of time to carry out our original programme."
He took another leisurely inspection of the room, and then, walking across to the opposite corner, dropped the newspapers in a tumbled heap alongside the grandfather clock.
"You can pull up those two tables," he added, "and empty out the log basket against the wall. I don't think we shall have much trouble in starting a really satisfactory bonfire. That's the best of these old panelled houses: they burn beautifully when they once catch alight."
With an evil grin upon his face, Craill set about the business, while de Roda, clutching the bag of diamonds in his trembling hands, stared vacantly at all three of us.
As soon as his instructions had been obeyed Manning picked up the paraffin. Taking out the cork, he poured half the contents of the can on to the wood, and splashed the remainder over the two tables and the wall. Then, bending forward, he placed the stump of candle in the middle of the pile of newspapers.
"You see the idea, Dryden?" he remarked, turning to me. "Something after the principle of a delayed fuse. Bar accidents, it will take the candle about ten minutes to burn down. That will afford you a nice comfortable opportunity to say your prayers. It will also give us plenty of time to call for Christine and be well on our way down the estuary before anyone has grasped the important fact that you are in need of assistance."
He struck a match, and, having carefully ignited the wick, stepped back to contemplate the result.
"For Gawd's sake 'urry up, boss," repeated Craill, more insistently than ever. "There ain't no sense in messin' abaht 'ere—not now we've got the stuff."
"You two can start now," replied Manning, "I shall catch you up before you reach the landing-stage."
Craill made a movement as if to take the diamonds from de Roda, but with a snarl, almost like that of a wild animal, the latter started away.
Manning laughed again. "Mr. de Roda will carry the stones, Craill," he said. "They will be quite safe in his charge."
Still hugging the bag fiercely in his arms, de Roda followed his companion to the hall door, and without any further remark from either of them the two men passed out into the darkness.
Directly they had gone Manning sauntered up to me. "I think we had better gag you, Dryden," he said thoughtfully. "I want to leave the window open so as to ensure a good draught, and it's just possible that somebody might hear you squealing."
Twisting his handkerchief into the shape of a bandage, he stepped up on to the staircase behind me, and, drawing the broad part tightly across my mouth, knotted the ends together at the back of my head. Then, coming round in front of me again, he took a last smiling survey of his handiwork.
"Good-bye, my friend," he drawled slowly. "I am afraid you are in for a rather uncomfortable time, but you must try to regard your suffering as a kind of disguised blessing. If there is any truth in what the church teaches us, you will probably find it an excellent preparation for the next world."
He made me a low mocking bow, and then with a final glance at the candle walked quickly across to the doorway and strode out into the garden after his two companions.