The Crime Club

  CHAPTER XXIV

  WESTERHAM'S WAY OUT

  Lord Penshurst was beside himself with grief, and clung to Westerhamas a child might, weeping passionately in his arms. Rookley, with amiserable face, had slipped out of the room.

  It was a quarter of an hour before Westerham succeeded in bringing LordPenshurst back to a coherent frame of mind. Then he helped him to hisroom, and left him dazed and piteous on his bed.

  Of the three men who had made the dread discovery Westerham was perhapsthe hardest hit, but he walked back to the little box and its horriblecontents with set lips and grim face.

  It was not, however, without a little shudder that he lifted the lidand looked inside again. He had anticipated that such an awful tokenwould not be sent unaccompanied by a message, and an examination of thebox proved his conjecture right.

  Tucked into the lid was a crumpled piece of paper. He smoothed it outcarefully, and was then able to read the following message:--

  "This should be a sign that we are in earnest. You will be given one more chance. Send to the steps of St. Paul's Cathedral at nine o'clock to-night. Man will meet you there, and things can be discussed. Understand clearly that this man must not be tampered with. His arrest will lead not only to worse befalling Lady Kathleen, but to your secret passing immediately to Germany. The same results will follow if any attempt is made to buy the man's assistance."

  Westerham read this message through three times, until at last he couldrepeat every word of it by heart. He folded it up, and placing it inhis waistcoat-pocket, shut the lid of the box and placed it in a drawerof the Premier's writing-table.

  Next he went back to Lord Penshurst's room, which he entered withoutknocking. The broken old man lay on the bed, his face buried in thepillows, so entirely wrapped up in his grief that he scarcely heededthe hand which Westerham placed on his shoulder.

  But presently Westerham persuaded him to look up, and then drawing achair to the bedside, he sat down.

  "I want you to forget, Lord Penshurst," he said, "what you saw justnow. It is unnecessary to remember it. It is a horrible thing, but theman who did such an awful deed shall suffer for it."

  He looked away with a set face, which boded no good for Melun when hefound him.

  "There is, however, one comfort to be extracted from our distress,"he continued. "At last we have a clue. The opportunity which I wascertain must come is in our hands now.

  "Before nine o'clock, however, there is much to be done. You arescarcely able to take charge of matters yourself, and you had betterleave them to me. I have already taken measures which ought to proveeffective, though we shall have to act very carefully and cautiously."

  Lord Penshurst dragged himself up into a sitting posture and turned hisblurred and scared old eyes to Westerham's resolute face.

  He clenched his fists and beat excitedly on the coverlet.

  "Don't let that fiend escape! Oh! if I had the strength I could killhim! I could kill him myself!"

  Westerham did his best to soothe him.

  "Have no fear," he said, "that I shall let him slip through my fingersthis time. And Heaven judge between us when I do meet him!"

  The Premier clutched at his hands in an appealing and childish way.

  "Don't spare him! Don't spare him!" he cried.

  "There's no fear of that," said Westerham, and he rose up to go.

  When he regained the Prime Minister's study he sent for a map ofLondon, and for some minutes studied it with close attention.

  He guessed that a man who was risking so much as the emissary appointedby Melun would take good care to provide himself with sure and certainmeans of escape. It was doubtful if he would trust to the swiftness ofhis feet, to the chance of catching a passing omnibus, or to losinghimself in the underground. In all likelihood, though he might walkto the actual place of appointment, he would probably drive to someneighbouring spot in a motor-car.

  It was upon this very reasonable assumption that Westerham based hisplans. The difficulty was, as he knew full well, that a score oflittle streets and alleys led into St. Paul's churchyard, and any andall of these would be open to Melun's ambassador.

  Westerham did his best to place himself in the position of the man whomMelun was sending to the cathedral steps. And arguing the matter outfrom this point of view, he came to the conclusion that he would driveto Queen Victoria Street or Newgate Street by car, and then proceed tothe meeting-place on foot.

  He ruled the junction of Newgate Street and Cheapside out of court, asnot offering sufficient opportunities of shelter. That the man wouldchoose the point at which Queen Victoria Street ran into Cannon Streetwas equally unlikely.

  That left only one other route of escape--namely, the open thoroughfareof Ludgate Hill.

  This also Westerham set aside as being unnecessary to consider. Thatany man should attempt to escape down that broad street at a time ofnight when it would be almost empty was too ridiculous to contemplate.

  He decided, therefore, that two motor-cars would be sufficient for hispurpose, and having ordered them, he sent for Lowther and Mendip, towhom he explained his plans.

  He himself, he said, intended to go to St. Paul's by omnibus, so as toreach the cathedral as nearly as possible on the stroke of nine.

  By that time Mendip was to be in waiting in Queen Victoria Street,almost opposite the headquarters of the Salvation Army.

  Lowther he instructed to wait at the corner of Angel Lane. For thoughthe man might choose one of the four alleys leading from the churchyardup to Newgate Street, he must reach the main thoroughfare either justto the east, or just to the west, of Angel Lane.

  Whether the man would be so bold as to adopt either of the courseswhich Westerham decided that he himself would choose was an openquestion. It was a risk, however, which had to be taken, be theconsequences what they might.

  Westerham saw that whatever line of country the man might take at theclose of the interview, the task of following his steps would devolveupon himself. He could trust no man on that mission, though he sawthat he would at the best make but a poor shadower. His bulk was muchagainst him.

  Sir Paul, however, had an alternative scheme in mind should it fall outthat the man discovered he was followed. But of this he said nothing tothe others.

  At a quarter past eight he set out eastwards, travelling slowly byhorse omnibus along the Strand, down Fleet Street, and up Ludgate Hill.

  He arrived at the appointed place a few minutes before time, and,entering the tobacconist's shop at the south-west corner of St. Paul'schurchyard, he purchased a cigar. This he lit slowly and carefully, andafterwards made a pretence of choosing a pipe. In this way he spentfive minutes.

  After five minutes he made his way out of the shop, and, keeping wellin the lee of the houses, he edged his way to the corner of Dean'sYard. There he drew back into the shadows, and while the clock strucknine he watched the cathedral steps closely.

  Three or four minutes passed before he observed a man cross the roadfrom the direction of Amen Court, and, passing the statue of QueenAnne, slowly mount the steps of St Paul's.

  As he stood upon the steps, the man looked first to the south andthen to the westward down Ludgate Hill. Finally he turned and closelyexamined the shadows about the doorways of the drapers' stores to thenorth.

  No sooner was the man's back turned towards him than Westerham shotout from the opening of Dean's Yard, made a slight detour, and walkedboldly up towards the steps as if he had just hurried up from LudgateHill.

  Though he was certain in his own mind that the man waiting on the stepswas the messenger whom he was eager to meet, he took the precaution ofshowing not the slightest sign of curiosity as he strolled towards him.

  But as he came abreast of the man he saw that this precaution waswholly unnecessary--for the man who waited was Patmore!

  Not by any means the Patmore whom he had seen at the club in Limehouseand had good reason to guess was one of Melun's close confederates. Buta different Patmore a
ltogether!

  His clothes were no longer rough and his hair no longer tumbled. He wasdressed in a frock-coat and top-hat, and his whole appearance was sleekand rather suggested the prosperous commercial traveller.

  "Well, Patmore?" said Westerham, quietly.

  Patmore started. "You've keen eyes, Sir Paul," he said.

  Westerham nodded. "I find it very necessary," he returned.

  Without another word, Patmore took him by the arm and led him higherup the steps. At the top of them he turned and walked into the shadowsthrown by the columns which support the north end of the facade.

  Then he took one quick look about him, and having satisfied himselfthat no one was within earshot, came direct to the point.

  "Do you agree?" he asked.

  For answer Westerham took out his pocket-book and counted out a pile ofnotes which Dunton had secured for him.

  "Here," he said in a conversational voice, "are twenty thousand pounds.They are yours if you can tell me where to find Lady Kathleen."

  Patmore laughed scornfully. "I am afraid, Sir Paul," he said, "that onthis occasion you have made a mistake. Fifty times that sum would be alittle nearer my figure."

  Westerham stroked his chin thoughtfully and fixed Patmore with his keeneyes.

  "Well," he said slowly, "even that might not be too much."

  The man shot a quick, keen glance at him, and gave another little laugh.

  "I daresay," he said, "but still I don't believe you."

  "That is rather foolish of you," said Westerham, "considering howlittle I ask. I don't want to embroil you; I ask for nothing betterthan to be told where I can find Lady Kathleen."

  For a few moments the man seemed to be considering the proposal. Butfinally he pushed the notes with an impatient gesture of his handtowards Westerham.

  "No," he said, "it's not worth the risk. The other way the money'scertain. You may be a mug, but not such a mug as to pay over a coolmillion for information of that sort. Besides, it can't be done. Thesum is too big, and what is more, as I said just now, I don't trustyou."

  Westerham gathered the notes up and replaced them in his pocket. "Verywell," he said, "what do you suggest?"

  "If you ask me," replied Patmore, "Melun's making a fool of himself. Heis crazy after the girl, and he is crazy after cutting a fine figurein society. He still insists upon having a quarter of a million anda marriage with Lady Kathleen. What's more, it's got to be settledto-night. You hand over the dibs in the morning, and we will tell youwhere the girl is in the afternoon. But no hank! I tell you franklyagain that I consider Melun is a fool. He is prepared to take your wordfor it that no questions shall be asked and that the business goes nofurther. The question is whether I am going to get your word?"

  Westerham knew well enough what his answer must be, but he stood forsome moments with his eyes cast on the ground, as though he wereweighing the matter carefully.

  At last he said: "It is impossible for me to agree unless I can settlethings personally with Melun. You see, as the thing stands, I have noguarantee at all that you have come from him."

  Patmore swore angrily. "You ought not to have much doubt after thisafternoon," he said coarsely.

  With the memory of Lady Kathleen's severed ear fresh upon him, a suddenand passionate desire to kill the man there and then, as he stoodlowering at him, arose in Westerham's heart. But he forced his angerdown, though his voice trembled with rage as he said: "I think you hadbetter be careful."

  Patmore drew back a step; he saw he had gone too far.

  There was a pause, and then Westerham said: "Very well. I suppose Ihave no option but to agree. Where shall I meet you to-morrow?"

  "You are hardly likely to kick up a fuss," Patmore answered, eyeinghim shrewdly, "so let's say the same place at noon. Mind you, you hadbetter understand clearly that if you try to play me false it will beall the worse for you and Lord Penshurst and Lady Kathleen. We havemade up our minds.

  "If you give me in charge, you cannot make me open my mouth, and whatis more you will finish the whole business. If you play me false youwill never see Lady Kathleen again, and your secret goes to Germany."

  Westerham made a sudden movement forward and looked into Patmore'sface. "What is the secret?" he cried eagerly.

  For a moment Patmore looked scared, and then he wagged his head wisely,and Westerham's heart gave a great throb of relief, for he feltcertain that the man did not know. Melun had kept the secret to himself.

  Westerham drew away again and made to pass down the steps. "Very well,"he said, "I will be here at noon."

  "With the money?"

  "With the money."

  But Patmore was not satisfied, and hurrying after him, plucked at hissleeve. "I have your word?" he asked.

  Westerham turned on him fiercely. "No," he said through his teeth,"certainly not; I would not take the word of a dog like you, and thereis no reason why I should give mine. You can take what I say or leaveit."

  For a few moments Patmore seemed doubtful. Then he nodded his head.

  "All right," he said sulkily.

  Westerham walked briskly away, and made across the street withoutturning his head. But as he walked he drew from his pocket a littlemirror, which he had hidden in his handkerchief, and by straining hiseyes considerably he was able to see that Patmore still stood in ahesitating way beneath the monument of Queen Anne.

  But as Westerham reached the pavement Patmore moved away, and Westerhamran round the heads of the horses of a waiting omnibus and there stoodstill, sheltered behind a lamp-post in the centre of the road.

  Patmore had reached the pavement opposite the Church House, and hadturned up a little court between the two drapers' shops.

  He disappeared from view, and Westerham, crossing the street, hid inthe doorway of the jeweller's at the corner. Craning his neck, he couldsee Patmore hurrying towards Amen Court.

  Then Westerham took a big risk. He dashed up Paternoster Row and turnedup to the left. He ran straight ahead until he reached Cheapsideand saw that Lowther's car was in waiting. It was a big car with alimousine body, and Westerham, plunging in, pulled down the window atLowther's back and spoke rapidly to him. "Go on for twenty yards," hesaid, "then turn, and just crawl down the street."

  Westerham had run as he had never run before, and was slightly out ofbreath; he knew he must have beaten Patmore by a good many yards, andas there was no car in sight he thought he might have to follow himwhen he marched into Newgate Street.

  But just as he had calculated he would, Patmore came hastily into themain thoroughfare and glanced up and down. He gave one quick look atthe motor as it moved slowly westward. Lowther, to excuse the slownessof his pace, was seemingly having great trouble with a clutch.

  A motor-omnibus rattled past them, and on this Patmore climbed.

  This complicated matters considerably. It would have been comparativelya simple matter to follow a motor-car, but to hang behind amotor-omnibus in such a way that they could, without being noticedthemselves, see if Patmore left it, was a more difficult piece of workaltogether.

  Their anxiety was considerably lessened when the motor-car drew up atthe further end of Holborn viaduct. They saw Patmore leave it and jumpinto a waiting taxicab.

  The taxicab shot straight ahead up Holborn, and from the fact thatPatmore had not troubled to look about him Westerham judged that he wasnot anticipating pursuit.

  The taxicab, which they kept well in view, ran quickly through OxfordCircus and on to Orchard Street; there it turned north, and theyfollowed it as closely as they dared past Baker Street to St. John'sWood Chapel.

  As it shot ahead up the Finchley Road, Westerham wondered whetherPatmore was making for Mme. Estelle's. He decided, however, that thiscould scarcely be, as he had taken the precaution of having the houseclosely watched throughout the day, and up to the time he left DowningStreet there had been no report as to the return of any of its wontedinmates.

  Soon, too, it became apparent that Laburnum Road was not the goal
. Thetaxicab rushed past Swiss Cottage and on to Finchley. Here it branchedoff to the north, and finally turned up a newly laid-out road.

  Westerham called to Lowther to pull up at the corner, as he knew theirdestination must now be in sight.

  So certain was Westerham that they were now nearing the goal that heleft the car and walked on foot to the corner of the road. Just as heimagined would be the case, the taxicab had drawn up outside a neat,brand-new, red-bricked villa.

  He dodged round the corner again, and hastily, lifted the car'sbonnet. He called on Lowther to get down, and together the two menbegan to examine a sparking plug with wholly fictitious energy. Thereturning taxicab passed them at a good pace, the driver paying no heedeither to them or to the car.

  Westerham took a deep breath and withdrew his head from the coveringbonnet.

  "Come along, Lowther," he said, "I fancy that the last act is about tobegin.

  "I wonder," he added more to himself than to his companion, "whetherLady Kathleen is here?"

  As he paused at the gate he clapped his hand to Lowther's hip-pocketand nodded with approval.

  "Loaded?" he asked.

  Lowther nodded.

  "All right," he said; "you may need it, but we will go quietly to startwith. I am going in first. If I don't appear in five minutes come inafter me, and don't stick at trifles. I may want you before then, andif I do I will give a sharp whistle, so----"

  He rehearsed the whistle under his breath.

  Lowther signified his understanding, and stepped back into the shade ofone of the brick pillars of the gate as Westerham swung into the gardenand ran quickly on silent feet up the steps.

  He fumbled for a few moments in the darkness till he found the electricbell. This he pushed, purposely giving the same number of rings whichhe had heard Melun give knocks on the door at Limehouse.

  There was a light in the dining-room window, and a few minutes laterthe door was quietly opened. Westerham put his foot against it andsqueezed inside. The hall was dimly lit, but there was sufficient lightto see Patmore's face go white as he realised that he had been fooled.

  In a moment Westerham had him pinned against the wall.

  "Don't cry out," he whispered, "or it will be the worse for you."

  With his great strength he pinned Patmore's flabby arms to his side andran him through the door on the right, which stood open.

  Still holding Patmore in his grip, he kicked the door to and thrust himdown into a chair.

  "Tell me where Lady Kathleen is?" he said in a low, fierce whisper.

  Patmore remained silent.

  "Tell me," said Westerham again, "and tell me quickly. Tell me at onceor you will regret it."

  Patmore gave a sudden wrench and twisted one of his arms free. Hereached out and grasped a heavy silver candlestick.

  But again Westerham was too quick for him. He dealt him a blow onthe muscles of his shoulder which half-paralysed Patmore's arm. Thecandlestick dropped with a clatter from his hand.

  Westerham gave his pent-up passion full play, and it was a miracle thathe did not kill his man. He dragged an antimacassar from a chair andused it as a gag. With one powerful hand he dragged Patmore by the neckto the window; with the other he threw up the casement and whistledsharply for Lowther.

  Lowther came running up the steps and through the open door.

  "We'll bind this cur," said Westerham through his teeth. And theyfastened his hands and his feet together.

  "Now then," said Westerham to Lowther, "heat that poker in the fire."

  For a second Lowther hesitated to obey.

  "Do as I tell you," whispered Westerham, and his face was the face of amadman.

  Lowther thrust the poker between the bars.

  * * * * *

  Lowther found a syphon of soda-water and brought Patmore to bysquirting his face; then Westerham lifted the man up as though he werea child and threw him into the car. Lowther climbed to the steeringwheel and headed south for Kent.

  Westerham knew where Lady Kathleen was held prisoner.