CHAPTER XXV
THE SQUIRE
Such of the folk of the "Angel" hotel--a night porter, a waiter, achamber-maid--as were up and about that grey morning, wondered why thetwo old gentlemen who had arrived from London the day before should risefrom their beds to hold a secret and mysterious conference with thethree young ones who, with a charming if tired-looking young lady, droveup before the city clocks had struck six. But Sir Cresswell Oliver andMr. Petherton knew that there was no time to be lost, and as soon asAudrey had been restored to and carried off by her mother to Mrs.Greyle's room, they summoned Vickers and Copplestone to a privateparlour and demanded their latest news. Sir Cresswell listened eagerly,and in silence, until Copplestone described the return of the _Pike_; atthat he broke his silence.
"That's precisely what I feared!" he exclaimed. "Of course, if she's beenhurriedly repainted and renamed, she stands a fair chance of gettingaway. Our instructions to the patrol boats up there are to look for acertain vessel, the _Pike_--naturally they won't look for anything else.We must get the wireless to work at once."
"But there's this," said Copplestone. "They certainly fetched oldChatfield to make him hand over the gold! They won't go away withoutthat! And he said that he'd hidden the gold somewhere near Scarhaven.Therefore, they'll have to come down this coast to get it."
"Not necessarily," replied Sir Cresswell, with a knowing shake of thehead. "You may be sure they're alive to all the exigencies of thesituation. They could do several things once they'd got Chatfield onboard again. Some of them could land with him at some convenient port andmake him take them to where he's hidden the money; they could recapturethat and go off to some other port, to which the yacht had meanwhile beenbrought round. If we only knew where Chatfield had planted thatmoney--"
"He said near Scarhaven, unmistakably," remarked Vickers.
"Near Scarhaven!" repeated Sir Cresswell, laughing dismally. "That's awide term--a very wide one. Behind Scarhaven, as you all know, are hillsand moors and valleys and ravines in which one could hide a Dreadnought!Well, that's all I can think of--getting into communication with patrolboats and coastguard stations all along the coast between here and Wick.And that mayn't be the least good. Somebody may have escorted Chatfieldashore after they left you yesterday, brought him hereabouts by rail ormotor-car, and the yacht may have made a wide detour round the Shetlandsand be now well on her way to the North Atlantic."
"But in that case--the money?" asked Copplestone.
"They would get hold of the money, take it clean away, and ship it fromLiverpool, or Glasgow, or--anywhere," replied Sir Cresswell. "You may besure they've plenty of resources at command, and that they'll worksecretly. Of course, we must keep a look out round about here for anysign or reappearance of Chatfield, but, as I say, this country is so wildthat he and his companions can easily elude observation, especially asthey're sure to come by night. Still, we must do what we can, and atonce. But first, there are one or two things I want to ask you youngmen--you said, Mr. Vickers, that Chatfield solemnly insisted to you thathe did not know that the man who had posed as Marston Greyle was notMarston Greyle?"
"He did," replied Vickers, "and though Chatfield is an unmitigated oldscoundrel, I believe him."
"You do!" exclaimed Gilling, who was listening eagerly. "Oh, come!"
"I do--as a professional man," answered Vickers, stoutly, and with anappealing glance at his brother solicitor. "Mr. Petherton will tell youthat we lawyers have a curious gift of intuition. With all Chatfield'sbadness, I do really believe that the old fellow does not know whetherthe man we'll call the Squire is Marston Greyle or not! He'sdoubtful--he's puzzled--but he doesn't know."
"Odd!" murmured Sir Cresswell, after a minute's silence. "Odd! Very, veryodd! That shows that there's still some extraordinary mystery about thiswhich we haven't even guessed at. Well, now, another question--you gotthe idea that some one else was aboard the yacht?"
"Some one other than Andrius--in authority--yes!" answered Vickers. "Wecertainly thought that."
"Did you think it was the man we know as the Squire?" asked SirCresswell.
"We had a notion that he might be there," replied Vickers, with a glanceat Copplestone. "Especially after what happened to Chatfield. Of course,we never saw him, or heard his voice, or saw a sign of him. Still, wefancied--"
Sir Cresswell rose from his chair and motioned to Petherton.
"Well," he said, "I think you and I, Petherton, had better complete ourtoilets, and then give a look in at the authorities here and find out ifanything has been received by wireless or from the coastguard stationsabout the yacht. In the meantime," he added, turning to Vickers andCopplestone, "Gilling can tell you what's been going on in yourabsence--you'll learn from it that our impression is that the Squire, aswe call him, was on the _Pike_ with you."
The two elder men went away, and Copplestone turned to Gilling.
"What have you got?" he asked eagerly. "Live news!"
"Might have been livelier and more satisfactory," answered Gilling, "ifit hadn't been for the factor which none of us can help--luck! We trackedthe Squire."
"You did?" exclaimed Copplestone. "Where?"
"When I said we I should have said Swallow," continued Gilling. "Youremember that afternoon of our return from Bristol, Copplestone? It seemsages away now, though as a matter of time it's only four days ago!--Well,that afternoon Swallow, who had had two or three more keeping a sharplook out for the Squire, got a telephone message from one of 'em sayingthat he'd tracked his man to the Fragonard Club. I'd gone home to mychambers, to rest a bit after our adventures at Bristol and Falmouth, soSwallow had to act on his own initiative. He set off for the FragonardClub, and outside it met his man. This particular man had been keeping awatch for days on that tobacconist's shop in Wardour Street. Thatafternoon he suddenly saw the Squire leave it, by a side door. Hefollowed him to the Fragonard Club, watched him enter; then he himselfturned into a neighbouring bar and telephoned to Swallow. The Squire wasstill in the Fragonard when Swallow got there: from that time he kept awatch. The Squire remained in the Club for an hour--"
"Which proves," interrupted Copplestone, "that he's a member, and that Iought to have followed up my attempt to get in there."
"Well, anyway," continued Gilling, "there he was, and thence heeventually emerged, with a kit-bag. He got into a taxi, and Swallow heardhim order its driver to go to King's Cross. Now Swallow was therealone--and he had just before that met his man scooting round to see ifthere was a rear exit from the Fragonard, and he hadn't returned.Swallow, of course, couldn't wait--every minute was precious. Hefollowed the Squire to King's Cross, and heard him book forNorthborough."
"Northborough!" exclaimed Copplestone, in surprise. "Not Norcaster? Ah,well, Northborough's a port, too, isn't it?"
"Northborough is as near to Scarhaven as Norcaster is, you know," saidGilling. "To Northborough he booked, anyhow. So did Swallow, who, nowthat he'd got him, was going to follow him to the North Pole, if need be.The train was just starting--Swallow had no time to communicate with me.Also, the train didn't stop until it reached Grantham. There he sent me awire, saying he was on the track of his man. Well, they went on toNorthborough, where they arrived late in the evening. There--what is it,Copplestone," he broke off, seeing signs of a desire to speak onCopplestone's part.
"You're talking of the very same afternoon and evening that I camedown--four evenings ago," said Copplestone. "My train was the fouro'clock--I got to Norcaster at ten--surely they didn't come on thesame train!"
"I feel sure they did, but anyhow, these trains to the North are usuallyvery long ones, and you were probably in a different part," repliedGilling. "Anyway, they got to Northborough soon after nine. Swallowfollowed his man on to the platform, out to some taxi-cabs, and heard himcommission one of the chauffeurs to take him to Scarhaven. When they'dgone Swallow got hold of another taxi, and told its driver to take himto Scarhaven, too. Off they went--in a pitch-black night, I'm told--"
"We k
now that!" said Vickers with a glance at Copplestone. "We motoredfrom Norcaster--just about the same time."
"Well," continued Gilling, "it was at any rate so dark that Swallow'sdriver, who appears to have been a very nervous chap, made very poorprogress. Also he took one or two wrong turnings. Finally he ran his carinto a guide post which stood where two roads forked--and there Swallowwas landed, scarcely halfway to Scarhaven. They couldn't get the car tomove, and it was some time before Swallow could persuade the landlord atthe nearest inn to hire out a horse and trap to him. Altogether, it wasnear or just past midnight when he reached Scarhaven, and when he did getthere, it was to see the lights of a steamer going out of the bay."
"The _Pike_, of course," muttered Copplestone.
"Of course--and some men on the quay told him," continued Gilling. "Well,that put Swallow in a fix. He was dead certain, of course, that his manwas on that yacht. However, he didn't want to rouse suspicion, so hedidn't ask any of those quayside men if they'd seen the Squire. Instead,remembering what I'd told him about Mrs. Greyle he asked for her houseand was directed to it. He found Mrs. Greyle in a state of great anxiety.Her daughter had gone with you two to the yacht and had never returned;Mrs. Greyle, watching from her windows, had seen the yacht go out tosea. Swallow found her, of course, seriously alarmed as to what hadhappened. Of course, he told her what he had come down for and theyconsulted. Next morning--"
"Stop a bit," interrupted Vickers. "Didn't Mrs. Greyle get any messagefrom the yacht about her daughter--Andrius said he'd sent one, anyway."
"A lie!" replied Gilling. "She got no message. The only consolation shehad was that you and Copplestone were with Miss Greyle. Well, first thingnext morning Swallow and Mrs. Greyle set every possible means to work.They went to the police--they wired to places up the coast and down thecoast to keep a look out--and Swallow also wired full particulars to SirCresswell Oliver, with the result that Sir Cresswell went to the navalauthorities and got them to set their craft up north to work. Having doneall this, and finding that he could be of no more service at Scarhaven,Swallow returned to town to see me and to consult. Now, of course, wewere in a position by then to approach that Fragonard Club--"
"Ah!" exclaimed Copplestone. "Just so!"
"The man, whoever he is, had been there an hour on the day Swallow andhis man tracked him," continued Gilling. "Therefore, something must beknown of him. Swallow and I, armed with certain credentials, went there.And--we could find out next to nothing. The hall porter there said hedimly remembered such a gentleman coming in and going upstairs, but hehimself was new to his job, didn't know all the members--there arehundreds of 'em--and he took this man for a regular habitue. A waiteralso had some sort of recollection of the man, and seeing him inconversation with another man whom he, the waiter, knew better, though hedidn't know his name. Swallow is now moving everything to find thatman--to find anybody who knows our man--and something will come of it, inthe end--must do. In the meantime I came down here with Sir Cresswell andMr. Petherton, to be on the spot. And, from your information, things willhappen here! That hidden gold is the thing--they'll not leave thatwithout an effort to get it. If we could only find out where that is andwatch it--then our present object would be achieved."
"What is the present object?" asked Copplestone.
"Why," replied Gilling, "we've got warrants out against both Chatfieldand the Squire for the murder of Bassett Oliver!--the police here havethem in hand. Petherton's seen to that. And if they can only be laidhands on--What is it?" he asked turning to a sleepy-eyed waiter who,after a gentle tap at the door, put a shock head into the room."Somebody want me?"
"That there man, sir--you know," said the waiter. "Here again,sir--stable-yard, sir."
Gilling jumped up and gave Copplestone a look.
"That's Spurge!" he muttered. "He said he'd be back at day-break. Waithere--I'll fetch him."