Dennis Wheatley - They Found Atlantis

'I see,' said the Count silkily. 'So you became desperate Doctor, when you learned that Farquason had failed you. Are you quite certain that you did not receive that information and become desperate, before you left Paris!'

'You impute—what?' the Doctor bluffed angrily, getting to his feet.

In Count Axel's view 'Oxford Kate' was so obviously the dominant personality in the whole affair and his campaign had been worked out in such careful detail that both Slinger and Captain Ardow must have received their instructions from him long before the ship arrived at Madeira. It seemed to follow therefore that the Doctor must also have had at least some suspicion, if not guilty knowledge of their intentions.

'I impute nothing,' he said bowing slightly. 'I was only thinking that had my surmise been correct, and had you chanced to run into our friend Slinger, who must also have been in Paris at the time—it would explain quite a lot of things.'

Little beads of perspiration broke out on the Doctor's forehead. He was not a good liar and he had never anticipated being placed in his present awkward situation. Slinger had led him to suppose that once they reached the Azores Camilla's party would be removed from the ship and he would be allowed to proceed untroubled, except for some slight pangs of conscience, upon his expedition. Now he found himself not only tricked but left suspended with a foot in either camp and, all his inclinations being towards the present company rather than the crooks, he was desperately anxious that his criminal complaisance should not be discovered.

He stuttered awkwardly for a moment under the battery of eyes rivetted upon his face then, like a flash of light, he saw that this latest misfortune to his ill-fated enterprise could at least be utilised to counter Axel's shrewd innuendoes.

'The Herr Count imputes that I, for bringing you here, am in some way responsible,' he blurted. 'But I haf no interest except in my life work to find Atlantis. Explain please Herr Count how I shall accomplish that if I am to be taken with you as a prisoner to the distant Falkland Islands?'

Count Axel's suspicions of the Doctor's complicity were not entirely set at rest by this potent argument, but he had no answer to it so he replied even more suavely, 'My dear Doctor, as I have said, I impute nothing. I voiced only an ingenious theory and as a practising scientist you will know how often theories are entirely wrong.'

'Danke schon Herr Count.' The Doctor thought it best to accept this half apology with as good a grace as he could put upon it, and sat down.

'Where are these Falkland Islands anyway?' Nicky enquired.

'In the South Atlantic off the coast of Patagonia,' volunteered the McKay.

'The hell they are!' said Nicky.

'Yes. It either snows or rains there ten months in every year, and only the two large ones are inhabited.' At the sight of Nicky's face, the McKay could not resist adding, with a chuckle: 'The rest, on one of which they mean to land us, are nothing but barren rocks sticking up out of the sea to the north-west of the group.'

'I see nothing to laugh at,' Camilla cut in sharply.

'Neither do I really,' he apologised.

'Do you think they'll let us take the servants?'

'What, your maid and Nicky's man? Yes, certain to. "Kate" wouldn't allow them to get back to civilisation before us, in case they blow the gaff.'

'Well that is some comfort.'

'Perhaps. I hope you've both treated them decently for your own sakes. Otherwise they may not choose to continue as servants, without pay, once they find themselves on those barren rocks.'

'Oh stop it,' Sally abruptly stubbed out a half smoked cigarette. 'Aren't we in a bad enough mess without your trying to depress us further.'

'Sorry m'dear,' the McKay apologised again, 'but when I'm in a nasty hole I always try and face up to the blackest aspect of the case. Things may not turn out so badly but it would be silly to start off by deluding ourselves.'

'God we're in a hole all right!' Nicky hit the table viciously. 'I wish to hell I'd never heard of this damn place Atlantis!'

The others ignored his outburst and the McKay went on: 'What happened to the servants last night—by the way?'

'My fellow Bimber was locked in his cabin,' Nicky muttered.

'Oscar—my telephonist also,' volunteered the Doctor.

Camilla nodded. 'My maid was locked in too. Oh, this is awful!'

'Yes, you're hit worst in this,' Nicky said with sudden sympathy. 'It's going to be hell's own trip for all of us as far as I can see, and I just hate to think how long we may be parked on that filthy rock before we can get back to land, but when we do hit New York again you'll have lost every cent of your fortune. God! Just to think of that great fair-haired brute getting away with all that money!'

'There is just a chance the lawyers may not act on that faked will,' said Sally.

'Why?' shot out the McKay.

'Oh, I don't know. I've just a hunch that way—that's all.'

'The whole scheme seemed pretty watertight to me.'

'Perhaps, but Camilla feels the same as I do. Don't you, Camilla?'

Camilla nodded. 'Yes, I was talking to Sally about it in my cabin before lunch and we both feel that there may be a

slip in it somewhere. You see old Simon John, our lawyer, has known us since we were children and that letter I was made to write was very clever but it wasn't quite in my usual style, so he may refuse to act until he gets some confirmation.'

'Besides,' Sally added, 'the bulk of the estate was to go to the Hart Institute. That's for pensions, and libraries, and sanatoriums, for the workpeople in the factories from which the family made all their money. This sudden cutting out of that to leave it to a Bible Society instead is such a drastic sort of change that it is almost certain to make someone suspect that something queer's been going on.'

The McKay shrugged. 'Granted all that m'dear I hardly see how Camilla's lawyer could get a stay of execution of the will—even if he does suspect that there's been dirty work afoot. You see the publicity which will be given to the announcement of her death will be so enormous that no one will dream of questioning it. That's what's so monstrous clever. Her relatives, however remote they are, will be certain to call for the immediate production of her will in the hope of receiving large legacies. The executors will be bound to publish its contents and the representative of this fake Bible Society will arrive to claim the dough. The lawyers and the Hart Institute people, who'll naturally be mad as hatters, may enter a caveat against its execution but, immediately it comes into court, what proof have they got that it's not genuine. Camilla signed the bally thing and what's more she wrote the letter that accompanied it in her own fair hand. Whatever he may feel about it personally her lawyer would never dare to suppress such a vital piece of evidence. All the relatives and other beneficiaries will be backing the Bible Society of course to get their whack, and as far as the judge is concerned Camilla will be dead and that document the last expression of her wishes. What possible grounds will he have for refusing to let the share out take place. Get me?'

Count Axel nodded. 'I think Captain you have given us an admirable forecast of just what is likely to happen. That very able rogue who has engineered this conspiracy is doubtless expecting some difficulty with the Duchess's lawyers and particularly with the trustees of the Hart Institute, who would be certain to contest the will even if it were genuine, providing they thought that there was the faintest chance of upsetting it and retaining such a tremendous benefaction as would be theirs under the earlier document. It is for this reason, doubtless, that all the old legacies have been allowed to stand and our charming Sally allotted the sum of one hundred thousand dollars. All dust for the Judge's eyes when the validity of the will is questioned. He will have to uphold it—there is no serious reason why he should do otherwise—but surely, instead of speculating as to whether he will or no, which is almost a foregone conclusion, would it not be better if we employed ourselves by endeavouring to devise some means of upsetting the enemy's apple cart before the will ever comes before a judge at all.'