CHAPTER XVII. ANNETTE
THE troubles of the future, however, soon faded before the troubles ofthe present. And of these, the most immediate and pressing was that ofhunger. Tommy had a healthy and vigorous appetite. The steak andchips partaken of for lunch seemed now to belong to another decade. Heregretfully recognized the fact that he would not make a success of ahunger strike.
He prowled aimlessly about his prison. Once or twice he discardeddignity, and pounded on the door. But nobody answered the summons.
“Hang it all!” said Tommy indignantly. “They can’t mean to starve meto death.” A new-born fear passed through his mind that this might,perhaps, be one of those “pretty ways” of making a prisoner speak, whichhad been attributed to Boris. But on reflection he dismissed the idea.
“It’s that sour-faced brute Conrad,” he decided. “That’s a fellow Ishall enjoy getting even with one of these days. This is just a bit ofspite on his part. I’m certain of it.”
Further meditations induced in him the feeling that it would beextremely pleasant to bring something down with a whack on Conrad’segg-shaped head. Tommy stroked his own head tenderly, and gave himselfup to the pleasures of imagination. Finally a bright idea flashedacross his brain. Why not convert imagination into reality? Conradwas undoubtedly the tenant of the house. The others, with the possibleexception of the bearded German, merely used it as a rendezvous.Therefore, why not wait in ambush for Conrad behind the door, and whenhe entered bring down a chair, or one of the decrepit pictures, smartlyon to his head. One would, of course, be careful not to hit too hard.And then--and then, simply walk out! If he met anyone on the way down,well---- Tommy brightened at the thought of an encounter with his fists.Such an affair was infinitely more in his line than the verbal encounterof this afternoon. Intoxicated by his plan, Tommy gently unhooked thepicture of the Devil and Faust, and settled himself in position. Hishopes were high. The plan seemed to him simple but excellent.
Time went on, but Conrad did not appear. Night and day were the samein this prison room, but Tommy’s wrist-watch, which enjoyed a certaindegree of accuracy, informed him that it was nine o’clock in theevening. Tommy reflected gloomily that if supper did not arrive soonit would be a question of waiting for breakfast. At ten o’clock hopedeserted him, and he flung himself on the bed to seek consolation insleep. In five minutes his woes were forgotten.
The sound of the key turning in the lock awoke him from his slumbers.Not belonging to the type of hero who is famous for awaking in fullpossession of his faculties, Tommy merely blinked at the ceiling andwondered vaguely where he was. Then he remembered, and looked at hiswatch. It was eight o’clock.
“It’s either early morning tea or breakfast,” deduced the young man,“and pray God it’s the latter!”
The door swung open. Too late, Tommy remembered his scheme ofobliterating the unprepossessing Conrad. A moment later he was glad thathe had, for it was not Conrad who entered, but a girl. She carried atray which she set down on the table.
In the feeble light of the gas burner Tommy blinked at her. He decidedat once that she was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen.Her hair was a full rich brown, with sudden glints of gold in it asthough there were imprisoned sunbeams struggling in its depths. Therewas a wild-rose quality about her face. Her eyes, set wide apart, werehazel, a golden hazel that again recalled a memory of sunbeams.
A delirious thought shot through Tommy’s mind.
“Are you Jane Finn?” he asked breathlessly.
The girl shook her head wonderingly.
“My name is Annette, monsieur.”
She spoke in a soft, broken English.
“Oh!” said Tommy, rather taken aback. _“Française?”_ he hazarded.
“Oui, monsieur. Monsieur parle français?”
“Not for any length of time,” said Tommy. “What’s that? Breakfast?”
The girl nodded. Tommy dropped off the bed and came and inspected thecontents of the tray. It consisted of a loaf, some margarine, and a jugof coffee.
“The living is not equal to the _Ritz_,” he observed with a sigh. “Butfor what we are at last about to receive the Lord has made me trulythankful. Amen.”
He drew up a chair, and the girl turned away to the door.
“Wait a sec,” cried Tommy. “There are lots of things I want to ask you,Annette. What are you doing in this house? Don’t tell me you’re Conrad’sniece, or daughter, or anything, because I can’t believe it.”
“I do the _service_, monsieur. I am not related to anybody.”
“I see,” said Tommy. “You know what I asked you just now. Have you everheard that name?”
“I have heard people speak of Jane Finn, I think.”
“You don’t know where she is?”
Annette shook her head.
“She’s not in this house, for instance?”
“Oh no, monsieur. I must go now--they will be waiting for me.”
She hurried out. The key turned in the lock.
“I wonder who ‘they’ are,” mused Tommy, as he continued to make inroadson the loaf. “With a bit of luck, that girl might help me to get out ofhere. She doesn’t look like one of the gang.”
At one o’clock Annette reappeared with another tray, but this timeConrad accompanied her.
“Good morning,” said Tommy amiably. “You have _not_ used Pear’s soap, Isee.”
Conrad growled threateningly.
“No light repartee, have you, old bean? There, there, we can’t alwayshave brains as well as beauty. What have we for lunch? Stew? How did Iknow? Elementary, my dear Watson--the smell of onions is unmistakable.”
“Talk away,” grunted the man. “It’s little enough time you’ll have totalk in, maybe.”
The remark was unpleasant in its suggestion, but Tommy ignored it. Hesat down at the table.
“Retire, varlet,” he said, with a wave of his hand. “Prate not to thybetters.”
That evening Tommy sat on the bed, and cogitated deeply. Would Conradagain accompany the girl? If he did not, should he risk trying to makean ally of her? He decided that he must leave no stone unturned. Hisposition was desperate.
At eight o’clock the familiar sound of the key turning made him springto his feet. The girl was alone.
“Shut the door,” he commanded. “I want to speak to you.” She obeyed.
“Look here, Annette, I want you to help me get out of this.” She shookher head.
“Impossible. There are three of them on the floor below.”
“Oh!” Tommy was secretly grateful for the information. “But you wouldhelp me if you could?”
“No, monsieur.”
“Why not?”
The girl hesitated.
“I think--they are my own people. You have spied upon them. They arequite right to keep you here.”
“They’re a bad lot, Annette. If you’ll help me, I’ll take you away fromthe lot of them. And you’d probably get a good whack of money.”
But the girl merely shook her head.
“I dare not, monsieur; I am afraid of them.”
She turned away.
“Wouldn’t you do anything to help another girl?” cried Tommy. “She’sabout your age too. Won’t you save her from their clutches?”
“You mean Jane Finn?”
“Yes.”
“It is her you came here to look for? Yes?”
“That’s it.”
The girl looked at him, then passed her hand across her forehead.
“Jane Finn. Always I hear that name. It is familiar.”
Tommy came forward eagerly.
“You must know _something_ about her?”
But the girl turned away abruptly.
“I know nothing--only the name.” She walked towards the door. Suddenlyshe uttered a cry. Tommy stared. She had caught sight of the picturehe had laid against the wall the night before. For a moment he caught alook of terror in her eyes. As inexplicably it changed to relief. Thenabruptly
she went out of the room. Tommy could make nothing of it. Didshe fancy that he had meant to attack her with it? Surely not. He rehungthe picture on the wall thoughtfully.
Three more days went by in dreary inaction. Tommy felt the straintelling on his nerves. He saw no one but Conrad and Annette, and thegirl had become dumb. She spoke only in monosyllables. A kind of darksuspicion smouldered in her eyes. Tommy felt that if this solitaryconfinement went on much longer he would go mad. He gathered from Conradthat they were waiting for orders from “Mr. Brown.” Perhaps, thoughtTommy, he was abroad or away, and they were obliged to wait for hisreturn.
But the evening of the third day brought a rude awakening.
It was barely seven o’clock when he heard the tramp of footsteps outsidein the passage. In another minute the door was flung open. Conradentered. With him was the evil-looking Number 14. Tommy’s heart sank atthe sight of them.
“Evenin’, gov’nor,” said the man with a leer. “Got those ropes, mate?”
The silent Conrad produced a length of fine cord. The next minute Number14’s hands, horribly dexterous, were winding the cord round his limbs,while Conrad held him down.
“What the devil----?” began Tommy.
But the slow, speechless grin of the silent Conrad froze the words onhis lips.
Number 14 proceeded deftly with his task. In another minute Tommy was amere helpless bundle. Then at last Conrad spoke:
“Thought you’d bluffed us, did you? With what you knew, and what youdidn’t know. Bargained with us! And all the time it was bluff! Bluff!You know less than a kitten. But your number’s up now all right, youb---- swine.”
Tommy lay silent. There was nothing to say. He had failed. Somehowor other the omnipotent Mr. Brown had seen through his pretensions.Suddenly a thought occurred to him.
“A very good speech, Conrad,” he said approvingly. “But wherefore thebonds and fetters? Why not let this kind gentleman here cut my throatwithout delay?”
“Garn,” said Number 14 unexpectedly. “Think we’re as green as to do youin here, and have the police nosing round? Not ‘alf! We’ve ordered thecarriage for your lordship to-morrow mornin’, but in the meantime we’renot taking any chances, see!”
“Nothing,” said Tommy, “could be plainer than your words--unless it wasyour face.”
“Stow it,” said Number 14.
“With pleasure,” replied Tommy. “You’re making a sad mistake--but yourswill be the loss.”
“You don’t kid us that way again,” said Number 14. “Talking as thoughyou were still at the blooming _Ritz_, aren’t you?”
Tommy made no reply. He was engaged in wondering how Mr. Brown haddiscovered his identity. He decided that Tuppence, in the throes ofanxiety, had gone to the police, and that his disappearance having beenmade public the gang had not been slow to put two and two together.
The two men departed and the door slammed. Tommy was left to hismeditations. They were not pleasant ones. Already his limbs felt crampedand stiff. He was utterly helpless, and he could see no hope anywhere.
About an hour had passed when he heard the key softly turned, and thedoor opened. It was Annette. Tommy’s heart beat a little faster. He hadforgotten the girl. Was it possible that she had come to his help?
Suddenly he heard Conrad’s voice:
“Come out of it, Annette. He doesn’t want any supper to-night.”
“Oui, oui, je sais bien. But I must take the other tray. We need thethings on it.”
“Well, hurry up,” growled Conrad.
Without looking at Tommy the girl went over to the table, and picked upthe tray. She raised a hand and turned out the light.
“Curse you”--Conrad had come to the door--“why did you do that?”
“I always turn it out. You should have told me. Shall I relight it,Monsieur Conrad?”
“No, come on out of it.”
“Le beau petit monsieur,” cried Annette, pausing by the bed in thedarkness. “You have tied him up well, _hein?_ He is like a trussedchicken!” The frank amusement in her tone jarred on the boy; but atthat moment, to his amazement, he felt her hand running lightly overhis bonds, and something small and cold was pressed into the palm of hishand.
“Come on, Annette.”
“Mais me voilà.”
The door shut. Tommy heard Conrad say:
“Lock it and give me the key.”
The footsteps died away. Tommy lay petrified with amazement. The objectAnnette had thrust into his hand was a small penknife, the blade open.From the way she had studiously avoided looking at him, and her actionwith the light, he came to the conclusion that the room was overlooked.There must be a peep-hole somewhere in the walls. Remembering howguarded she had always been in her manner, he saw that he had probablybeen under observation all the time. Had he said anything to givehimself away? Hardly. He had revealed a wish to escape and a desireto find Jane Finn, but nothing that could have given a clue to hisown identity. True, his question to Annette had proved that he waspersonally unacquainted with Jane Finn, but he had never pretendedotherwise. The question now was, did Annette really know more? Were herdenials intended primarily for the listeners? On that point he couldcome to no conclusion.
But there was a more vital question that drove out all others. Could he,bound as he was, manage to cut his bonds? He essayed cautiously torub the open blade up and down on the cord that bound his two wriststogether. It was an awkward business, and drew a smothered “Ow” of painfrom him as the knife cut into his wrist. But slowly and doggedly hewent on sawing to and fro. He cut the flesh badly, but at last he feltthe cord slacken. With his hands free, the rest was easy. Five minuteslater he stood upright with some difficulty, owing to the cramp in hislimbs. His first care was to bind up his bleeding wrist. Then he sat onthe edge of the bed to think. Conrad had taken the key of the door, sohe could expect little more assistance from Annette. The only outletfrom the room was the door, consequently he would perforce have to waituntil the two men returned to fetch him. But when they did.... Tommysmiled! Moving with infinite caution in the dark room, he found andunhooked the famous picture. He felt an economical pleasure that hisfirst plan would not be wasted. There was now nothing to do but to wait.He waited.
The night passed slowly. Tommy lived through an eternity of hours, butat last he heard footsteps. He stood upright, drew a deep breath, andclutched the picture firmly.
The door opened. A faint light streamed in from outside. Conrad wentstraight towards the gas to light it. Tommy deeply regretted that it washe who had entered first. It would have been pleasant to get even withConrad. Number 14 followed. As he stepped across the threshold, Tommybrought the picture down with terrific force on his head. Number 14 wentdown amidst a stupendous crash of broken glass. In a minute Tommy hadslipped out and pulled to the door. The key was in the lock. He turnedit and withdrew it just as Conrad hurled himself against the door fromthe inside with a volley of curses.
For a moment Tommy hesitated. There was the sound of some one stirringon the floor below. Then the German’s voice came up the stairs.
“Gott im Himmel! Conrad, what is it?”
Tommy felt a small hand thrust into his. Beside him stood Annette. Shepointed up a rickety ladder that apparently led to some attics.
“Quick--up here!” She dragged him after her up the ladder. In anothermoment they were standing in a dusty garret littered with lumber. Tommylooked round.
“This won’t do. It’s a regular trap. There’s no way out.”
“Hush! Wait.” The girl put her finger to her lips. She crept to the topof the ladder and listened.
The banging and beating on the door was terrific. The German and anotherwere trying to force the door in. Annette explained in a whisper:
“They will think you are still inside. They cannot hear what Conradsays. The door is too thick.”
“I thought you could hear what went on in the room?”
“There is a peep-hole into the next room. It was clever of you to
guess.But they will not think of that--they are only anxious to get in.”
“Yes--but look here----”
“Leave it to me.” She bent down. To his amazement, Tommy saw that shewas fastening the end of a long piece of string to the handle of a bigcracked jug. She arranged it carefully, then turned to Tommy.
“Have you the key of the door?”
“Yes.”
“Give it to me.”
He handed it to her.
“I am going down. Do you think you can go halfway, and then swingyourself down _behind_ the ladder, so that they will not see you?”
Tommy nodded.
“There’s a big cupboard in the shadow of the landing. Stand behind it.Take the end of this string in your hand. When I’ve let the others out--_pull! _”
Before he had time to ask her anything more, she had flitted lightlydown the ladder and was in the midst of the group with a loud cry:
“Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Qu’est-ce qu’il y a?”
The German turned on her with an oath.
“Get out of this. Go to your room!”
Very cautiously Tommy swung himself down the back of the ladder. Solong as they did not turn round ... all was well. He crouched behind thecupboard. They were still between him and the stairs.
“Ah!” Annette appeared to stumble over something. She stooped. “MonDieu, voilà la clef!”
The German snatched it from her. He unlocked the door. Conrad stumbledout, swearing.
“Where is he? Have you got him?”
“We have seen no one,” said the German sharply. His face paled. “Who doyou mean?”
Conrad gave vent to another oath.
“He’s got away.”
“Impossible. He would have passed us.”
At that moment, with an ecstatic smile Tommy pulled the string. A crashof crockery came from the attic above. In a trice the men were pushingeach other up the rickety ladder and had disappeared into the darknessabove.
Quick as a flash Tommy leapt from his hiding-place and dashed down thestairs, pulling the girl with him. There was no one in the hall. Hefumbled over the bolts and chain. At last they yielded, the door swungopen. He turned. Annette had disappeared.
Tommy stood spell-bound. Had she run upstairs again? What madnesspossessed her! He fumed with impatience, but he stood his ground. Hewould not go without her.
And suddenly there was an outcry overhead, an exclamation from theGerman, and then Annette’s voice, clear and high:
“Ma foi, he has escaped! And quickly! Who would have thought it?”
Tommy still stood rooted to the ground. Was that a command to him to go?He fancied it was.
And then, louder still, the words floated down to him:
“This is a terrible house. I want to go back to Marguerite. ToMarguerite. _To Marguerite!_”
Tommy had run back to the stairs. She wanted him to go and leave her.But why? At all costs he must try and get her away with him. Then hisheart sank. Conrad was leaping down the stairs, uttering a savage cry atthe sight of him. After him came the others.
Tommy stopped Conrad’s rush with a straight blow with his fist. Itcaught the other on the point of the jaw and he fell like a log. Thesecond man tripped over his body and fell. From higher up the staircasethere was a flash, and a bullet grazed Tommy’s ear. He realized thatit would be good for his health to get out of this house as soon aspossible. As regards Annette he could do nothing. He had got even withConrad, which was one satisfaction. The blow had been a good one.
He leapt for the door, slamming it behind him. The square was deserted.In front of the house was a baker’s van. Evidently he was to have beentaken out of London in that, and his body found many miles from thehouse in Soho. The driver jumped to the pavement and tried to barTommy’s way. Again Tommy’s fist shot out, and the driver sprawled on thepavement.
Tommy took to his heels and ran--none too soon. The front door openedand a hail of bullets followed him. Fortunately none of them hit him. Heturned the corner of the square.
“There’s one thing,” he thought to himself, “they can’t go on shooting.They’ll have the police after them if they do. I wonder they dared tothere.”
He heard the footsteps of his pursuers behind him, and redoubled his ownpace. Once he got out of these by-ways he would be safe. There would bea policeman about somewhere--not that he really wanted to invoke the aidof the police if he could possibly do without it. It meant explanations,and general awkwardness. In another moment he had reason to bless hisluck. He stumbled over a prostrate figure, which started up with a yellof alarm and dashed off down the street. Tommy drew back into a doorway.In a minute he had the pleasure of seeing his two pursuers, of whom theGerman was one, industriously tracking down the red herring!
Tommy sat down quietly on the doorstep and allowed a few moments toelapse while he recovered his breath. Then he strolled gently in theopposite direction. He glanced at his watch. It was a little afterhalf-past five. It was rapidly growing light. At the next corner hepassed a policeman. The policeman cast a suspicious eye on him. Tommyfelt slightly offended. Then, passing his hand over his face, helaughed. He had not shaved or washed for three days! What a guy he mustlook.
He betook himself without more ado to a Turkish Bath establishment whichhe knew to be open all night. He emerged into the busy daylight feelinghimself once more, and able to make plans.
First of all, he must have a square meal. He had eaten nothing sincemidday yesterday. He turned into an A.B.C. shop and ordered eggs andbacon and coffee. Whilst he ate, he read a morning paper propped upin front of him. Suddenly he stiffened. There was a long article onKramenin, who was described as the “man behind Bolshevism” in Russia,and who had just arrived in London--some thought as an unofficial envoy.His career was sketched lightly, and it was firmly asserted that he,and not the figurehead leaders, had been the author of the RussianRevolution.
In the centre of the page was his portrait.
“So that’s who Number 1 is,” said Tommy with his mouth full of eggs andbacon. “Not a doubt about it, I must push on.”
He paid for his breakfast, and betook himself to Whitehall. There hesent up his name, and the message that it was urgent. A few minuteslater he was in the presence of the man who did not here go by the nameof “Mr. Carter.” There was a frown on his face.
“Look here, you’ve no business to come asking for me in this way. Ithought that was distinctly understood?”
“It was, sir. But I judged it important to lose no time.”
And as briefly and succinctly as possible he detailed the experiences ofthe last few days.
Half-way through, Mr. Carter interrupted him to give a few crypticorders through the telephone. All traces of displeasure had now left hisface. He nodded energetically when Tommy had finished.
“Quite right. Every moment’s of value. Fear we shall be too late anyway.They wouldn’t wait. Would clear out at once. Still, they may have leftsomething behind them that will be a clue. You say you’ve recognizedNumber 1 to be Kramenin? That’s important. We want something against himbadly to prevent the Cabinet falling on his neck too freely. What aboutthe others? You say two faces were familiar to you? One’s a Labour man,you think? Just look through these photos, and see if you can spot him.”
A minute later, Tommy held one up. Mr. Carter exhibited some surprise.
“Ah, Westway! Shouldn’t have thought it. Poses as being moderate. As forthe other fellow, I think I can give a good guess.” He handed anotherphotograph to Tommy, and smiled at the other’s exclamation. “I’m right,then. Who is he? Irishman. Prominent Unionist M.P. All a blind, ofcourse. We’ve suspected it--but couldn’t get any proof. Yes, you’ve donevery well, young man. The 29th, you say, is the date. That gives us verylittle time--very little time indeed.”
“But----” Tommy hesitated.
Mr. Carter read his thoughts.
“We can deal with the General Strike menace, I think. It’s atoss-up--but we’ve got a sport
ing chance! But if that draft treaty turnsup--we’re done. England will be plunged in anarchy. Ah, what’s that?The car? Come on, Beresford, we’ll go and have a look at this house ofyours.”
Two constables were on duty in front of the house in Soho. An inspectorreported to Mr. Carter in a low voice. The latter turned to Tommy.
“The birds have flown--as we thought. We might as well go over it.”
Going over the deserted house seemed to Tommy to partake of thecharacter of a dream. Everything was just as it had been. The prisonroom with the crooked pictures, the broken jug in the attic, the meetingroom with its long table. But nowhere was there a trace of papers.Everything of that kind had either been destroyed or taken away. Andthere was no sign of Annette.
“What you tell me about the girl puzzled me,” said Mr. Carter. “Youbelieve that she deliberately went back?”
“It would seem so, sir. She ran upstairs while I was getting the dooropen.”
“H’m, she must belong to the gang, then; but, being a woman, didn’t feellike standing by to see a personable young man killed. But evidentlyshe’s in with them, or she wouldn’t have gone back.”
“I can’t believe she’s really one of them, sir. She--seemed sodifferent----”
“Good-looking, I suppose?” said Mr. Carter with a smile that made Tommyflush to the roots of his hair. He admitted Annette’s beauty rathershamefacedly.
“By the way,” observed Mr. Carter, “have you shown yourself to MissTuppence yet? She’s been bombarding me with letters about you.”
“Tuppence? I was afraid she might get a bit rattled. Did she go to thepolice?”
Mr. Carter shook his head.
“Then I wonder how they twigged me.”
Mr. Carter looked inquiringly at him, and Tommy explained. The othernodded thoughtfully.
“True, that’s rather a curious point. Unless the mention of the _Ritz_was an accidental remark?”
“It might have been, sir. But they must have found out about me suddenlyin some way.”
“Well,” said Mr. Carter, looking round him, “there’s nothing more to bedone here. What about some lunch with me?”
“Thanks awfully, sir. But I think I’d better get back and rout outTuppence.”
“Of course. Give her my kind regards and tell her not to believe you’rekilled too readily next time.”
Tommy grinned.
“I take a lot of killing, sir.”
“So I perceive,” said Mr. Carter dryly. “Well, good-bye. Remember you’rea marked man now, and take reasonable care of yourself.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Hailing a taxi briskly Tommy stepped in, and was swiftly borne to the_Ritz_, dwelling the while on the pleasurable anticipation of startlingTuppence.
“Wonder what she’s been up to. Dogging ‘Rita’ most likely. By the way,I suppose that’s who Annette meant by Marguerite. I didn’t get it at thetime.” The thought saddened him a little, for it seemed to prove thatMrs. Vandemeyer and the girl were on intimate terms.
The taxi drew up at the _Ritz_. Tommy burst into its sacred portalseagerly, but his enthusiasm received a check. He was informed that MissCowley had gone out a quarter of an hour ago.