CHAPTER VIII. THE ADVENTURES OF TOMMY
TAKEN aback though he was by the man’s words, Tommy did not hesitate.If audacity had successfully carried him so far, it was to be hopedit would carry him yet farther. He quietly passed into the house andmounted the ramshackle staircase. Everything in the house was filthybeyond words. The grimy paper, of a pattern now indistinguishable,hung in loose festoons from the wall. In every angle was a grey mass ofcobweb.
Tommy proceeded leisurely. By the time he reached the bend of thestaircase, he had heard the man below disappear into a back room.Clearly no suspicion attached to him as yet. To come to the house andask for “Mr. Brown” appeared indeed to be a reasonable and naturalproceeding.
At the top of the stairs Tommy halted to consider his next move. Infront of him ran a narrow passage, with doors opening on either side ofit. From the one nearest him on the left came a low murmur of voices.It was this room which he had been directed to enter. But what heldhis glance fascinated was a small recess immediately on his right,half concealed by a torn velvet curtain. It was directly opposite theleft-handed door and, owing to its angle, it also commanded a good viewof the upper part of the staircase. As a hiding-place for one or, at apinch, two men, it was ideal, being about two feet deep and three feetwide. It attracted Tommy mightily. He thought things over in his usualslow and steady way, deciding that the mention of “Mr. Brown” was not arequest for an individual, but in all probability a password used bythe gang. His lucky use of it had gained him admission. So far he hadaroused no suspicion. But he must decide quickly on his next step.
Suppose he were boldly to enter the room on the left of the passage.Would the mere fact of his having been admitted to the house besufficient? Perhaps a further password would be required, or, at anyrate, some proof of identity. The doorkeeper clearly did not know allthe members of the gang by sight, but it might be different upstairs.On the whole it seemed to him that luck had served him very well so far,but that there was such a thing as trusting it too far. To enterthat room was a colossal risk. He could not hope to sustain his partindefinitely; sooner or later he was almost bound to betray himself, andthen he would have thrown away a vital chance in mere foolhardiness.
A repetition of the signal knock sounded on the door below, and Tommy,his mind made up, slipped quickly into the recess, and cautiously drewthe curtain farther across so that it shielded him completely fromsight. There were several rents and slits in the ancient material whichafforded him a good view. He would watch events, and any time he chosecould, after all, join the assembly, modelling his behaviour on that ofthe new arrival.
The man who came up the staircase with a furtive, soft-footed tread wasquite unknown to Tommy. He was obviously of the very dregs of society.The low beetling brows, and the criminal jaw, the bestiality of thewhole countenance were new to the young man, though he was a type thatScotland Yard would have recognized at a glance.
The man passed the recess, breathing heavily as he went. He stopped atthe door opposite, and gave a repetition of the signal knock. A voiceinside called out something, and the man opened the door and passed in,affording Tommy a momentary glimpse of the room inside. He thought theremust be about four or five people seated round a long table that took upmost of the space, but his attention was caught and held by a tall manwith close-cropped hair and a short, pointed, naval-looking beard,who sat at the head of the table with papers in front of him. As thenew-comer entered he glanced up, and with a correct, but curiouslyprecise enunciation, which attracted Tommy’s notice, he asked:
“Your number, comrade?”
“Fourteen, gov’nor,” replied the other hoarsely.
“Correct.”
The door shut again.
“If that isn’t a Hun, I’m a Dutchman!” said Tommy to himself. “Andrunning the show darned systematically too--as they always do. Lucky Ididn’t roll in. I’d have given the wrong number, and there would havebeen the deuce to pay. No, this is the place for me. Hullo, here’sanother knock.”
This visitor proved to be of an entirely different type to the last.Tommy recognized in him an Irish Sinn Feiner. Certainly Mr. Brown’sorganization was a far-reaching concern. The common criminal, thewell-bred Irish gentleman, the pale Russian, and the efficient Germanmaster of the ceremonies! Truly a strange and sinister gathering! Whowas this man who held in his finger these curiously variegated links ofan unknown chain?
In this case, the procedure was exactly the same. The signal knock, thedemand for a number, and the reply “Correct.”
Two knocks followed in quick succession on the door below. The first manwas quite unknown to Tommy, who put him down as a city clerk. A quiet,intelligent-looking man, rather shabbily dressed. The second was of theworking classes, and his face was vaguely familiar to the young man.
Three minutes later came another, a man of commanding appearance,exquisitely dressed, and evidently well born. His face, again, was notunknown to the watcher, though he could not for the moment put a name toit.
After his arrival there was a long wait. In fact Tommy concluded thatthe gathering was now complete, and was just cautiously creeping outfrom his hiding-place, when another knock sent him scuttling back tocover.
This last-comer came up the stairs so quietly that he was almost abreastof Tommy before the young man had realized his presence.
He was a small man, very pale, with a gentle almost womanish air. Theangle of the cheek-bones hinted at his Slavonic ancestry, otherwisethere was nothing to indicate his nationality. As he passed the recess,he turned his head slowly. The strange light eyes seemed to burn throughthe curtain; Tommy could hardly believe that the man did not know he wasthere and in spite of himself he shivered. He was no more fanciful thanthe majority of young Englishmen, but he could not rid himself of theimpression that some unusually potent force emanated from the man. Thecreature reminded him of a venomous snake.
A moment later his impression was proved correct. The new-comer knockedon the door as all had done, but his reception was very different. Thebearded man rose to his feet, and all the others followed suit. TheGerman came forward and shook hands. His heels clicked together.
“We are honoured,” he said. “We are greatly honoured. I much feared thatit would be impossible.”
The other answered in a low voice that had a kind of hiss in it:
“There were difficulties. It will not be possible again, I fear. But onemeeting is essential--to define my policy. I can do nothing without--Mr.Brown. He is here?”
The change in the German’s voice was audible as he replied with slighthesitation:
“We have received a message. It is impossible for him to be presentin person.” He stopped, giving a curious impression of having left thesentence unfinished.
A very slow smile overspread the face of the other. He looked round at acircle of uneasy faces.
“Ah! I understand. I have read of his methods. He works in the dark andtrusts no one. But, all the same, it is possible that he is among usnow....” He looked round him again, and again that expression of fearswept over the group. Each man seemed eyeing his neighbour doubtfully.
The Russian tapped his cheek.
“So be it. Let us proceed.”
The German seemed to pull himself together. He indicated the place hehad been occupying at the head of the table. The Russian demurred, butthe other insisted.
“It is the only possible place,” he said, “for--Number One. PerhapsNumber Fourteen will shut the door?”
In another moment Tommy was once more confronting bare wooden panels,and the voices within had sunk once more to a mere undistinguishablemurmur. Tommy became restive. The conversation he had overheard hadstimulated his curiosity. He felt that, by hook or by crook, he musthear more.
There was no sound from below, and it did not seem likely that thedoorkeeper would come upstairs. After listening intently for a minute ortwo, he put his head round the curtain. The passage was deserted. Tommybent down and removed his shoes, then, l
eaving them behind the curtain,he walked gingerly out on his stockinged feet, and kneeling down bythe closed door he laid his ear cautiously to the crack. To his intenseannoyance he could distinguish little more; just a chance word here andthere if a voice was raised, which merely served to whet his curiositystill farther.
He eyed the handle of the door tentatively. Could he turn it by degreesso gently and imperceptibly that those in the room would notice nothing?He decided that with great care it could be done. Very slowly, afraction of an inch at a time, he moved it round, holding his breath inhis excessive care. A little more--a little more still--would it neverbe finished? Ah! at last it would turn no farther.
He stayed so for a minute or two, then drew a deep breath, and pressedit ever so slightly inward. The door did not budge. Tommy was annoyed.If he had to use too much force, it would almost certainly creak.He waited until the voices rose a little, then he tried again. Stillnothing happened. He increased the pressure. Had the beastly thingstuck? Finally, in desperation, he pushed with all his might. But thedoor remained firm, and at last the truth dawned upon him. It was lockedor bolted on the inside.
For a moment or two Tommy’s indignation got the better of him.
“Well, I’m damned!” he said. “What a dirty trick!”
As his indignation cooled, he prepared to face the situation. Clearlythe first thing to be done was to restore the handle to its originalposition. If he let it go suddenly, the men inside would be almostcertain to notice it, so, with the same infinite pains, he reversed hisformer tactics. All went well, and with a sigh of relief the young manrose to his feet. There was a certain bulldog tenacity about Tommy thatmade him slow to admit defeat. Checkmated for the moment, he was farfrom abandoning the conflict. He still intended to hear what was goingon in the locked room. As one plan had failed, he must hunt about foranother.
He looked round him. A little farther along the passage on the left wasa second door. He slipped silently along to it. He listened for a momentor two, then tried the handle. It yielded, and he slipped inside.
The room, which was untenanted, was furnished as a bedroom. Likeeverything else in the house, the furniture was falling to pieces, andthe dirt was, if anything, more abundant.
But what interested Tommy was the thing he had hoped to find, acommunicating door between the two rooms, up on the left by the window.Carefully closing the door into the passage behind him, he steppedacross to the other and examined it closely. The bolt was shot acrossit. It was very rusty, and had clearly not been used for some time. Bygently wriggling it to and fro, Tommy managed to draw it back withoutmaking too much noise. Then he repeated his former manœuvres with thehandle--this time with complete success. The door swung open--a crack,a mere fraction, but enough for Tommy to hear what went on. There was avelvet _portière_ on the inside of this door which prevented him fromseeing, but he was able to recognize the voices with a reasonable amountof accuracy.
The Sinn Feiner was speaking. His rich Irish voice was unmistakable:
“That’s all very well. But more money is essential. No money--noresults!”
Another voice which Tommy rather thought was that of Boris replied:
“Will you guarantee that there _are_ results?”
“In a month from now--sooner or later as you wish--I will guarantee yousuch a reign of terror in Ireland as shall shake the British Empire toits foundations.”
There was a pause, and then came the soft, sibilant accents of NumberOne:
“Good! You shall have the money. Boris, you will see to that.”
Boris asked a question:
“Via the Irish Americans, and Mr. Potter as usual?”
“I guess that’ll be all right!” said a new voice, with a transatlanticintonation, “though I’d like to point out, here and now, that thingsare getting a mite difficult. There’s not the sympathy there was, anda growing disposition to let the Irish settle their own affairs withoutinterference from America.”
Tommy felt that Boris had shrugged his shoulders as he answered:
“Does that matter, since the money only nominally comes from theStates?”
“The chief difficulty is the landing of the ammunition,” said the SinnFeiner. “The money is conveyed in easily enough--thanks to our colleaguehere.”
Another voice, which Tommy fancied was that of the tall,commanding-looking man whose face had seemed familiar to him, said:
“Think of the feelings of Belfast if they could hear you!”
“That is settled, then,” said the sibilant tones. “Now, in the matterof the loan to an English newspaper, you have arranged the detailssatisfactorily, Boris?”
“I think so.”
“That is good. An official denial from Moscow will be forthcoming ifnecessary.”
There was a pause, and then the clear voice of the German broke thesilence:
“I am directed by--Mr. Brown, to place the summaries of the reportsfrom the different unions before you. That of the miners is mostsatisfactory. We must hold back the railways. There may be trouble withthe A.S.E.”
For a long time there was a silence, broken only by the rustle of papersand an occasional word of explanation from the German. Then Tommy heardthe light tap-tap of fingers, drumming on the table.
“And--the date, my friend?” said Number One.
“The 29th.”
The Russian seemed to consider:
“That is rather soon.”
“I know. But it was settled by the principal Labour leaders, and wecannot seem to interfere too much. They must believe it to be entirelytheir own show.”
The Russian laughed softly, as though amused.
“Yes, yes,” he said. “That is true. They must have no inkling that weare using them for our own ends. They are honest men--and that is theirvalue to us. It is curious--but you cannot make a revolution withouthonest men. The instinct of the populace is infallible.” He paused, andthen repeated, as though the phrase pleased him: “Every revolution hashad its honest men. They are soon disposed of afterwards.”
There was a sinister note in his voice.
The German resumed:
“Clymes must go. He is too far-seeing. Number Fourteen will see tothat.”
There was a hoarse murmur.
“That’s all right, gov’nor.” And then after a moment or two: “SupposeI’m nabbed.”
“You will have the best legal talent to defend you,” replied theGerman quietly. “But in any case you will wear gloves fitted with thefinger-prints of a notorious housebreaker. You have little to fear.”
“Oh, I ain’t afraid, gov’nor. All for the good of the cause. The streetsis going to run with blood, so they say.” He spoke with a grim relish.“Dreams of it, sometimes, I does. And diamonds and pearls rolling aboutin the gutter for anyone to pick up!”
Tommy heard a chair shifted. Then Number One spoke:
“Then all is arranged. We are assured of success?”
“I--think so.” But the German spoke with less than his usual confidence.
Number One’s voice held suddenly a dangerous quality:
“What has gone wrong?”
“Nothing; but----”
“But what?”
“The Labour leaders. Without them, as you say, we can do nothing. Ifthey do not declare a general strike on the 29th----”
“Why should they not?”
“As you’ve said, they’re honest. And, in spite of everything we’vedone to discredit the Government in their eyes, I’m not sure that theyhaven’t got a sneaking faith and belief in it.”
“But----”
“I know. They abuse it unceasingly. But, on the whole, public opinionswings to the side of the Government. They will not go against it.”
Again the Russian’s fingers drummed on the table.
“To the point, my friend. I was given to understand that there was acertain document in existence which assured success.”
“That is so. If that document were placed before the leaders, t
he resultwould be immediate. They would publish it broadcast throughout England,and declare for the revolution without a moment’s hesitation. TheGovernment would be broken finally and completely.”
“Then what more do you want?”
“The document itself,” said the German bluntly.
“Ah! It is not in your possession? But you know where it is?”
“No.”
“Does anyone know where it is?”
“One person--perhaps. And we are not sure of that even.”
“Who is this person?”
“A girl.”
Tommy held his breath.
“A girl?” The Russian’s voice rose contemptuously. “And you have notmade her speak? In Russia we have ways of making a girl talk.”
“This case is different,” said the German sullenly.
“How--different?” He paused a moment, then went on: “Where is the girlnow?”
“The girl?”
“Yes.”
“She is----”
But Tommy heard no more. A crashing blow descended on his head, and allwas darkness.