Dennis Wheatley: Sixty Days to Live

'That's true. But I've done nothing that my competitors, who do understand such things, would not willingly have done, and for that reason I am not the least ashamed of our dealings. Big business, plus politics, plus finance, has its own code of laws and I've never gone outside them; but this is different, because it affects the happiness of the whole nation.'

'We all see that, Sam,' Gervaise reasoned mildly. 'But if Mr. Fink-Drummond is determined to do this thing, surely it's better for you to go into it with him than to permit somebody else to take it on who might prove—well, shall we say, much less scrupulous. Anyhow, here's your health once again!'

Sam looked at his father-in-law in surprise. It came as quite a shock to him that anyone so upright as Gervaise Stapleton should countenance his agreeing to Fink-Drummond's suggestion on any terms whatsoever; but he lifted his glass with the rest and they all drank the proposed toast.

'I don't like it,' Hemmingway Hughes exclaimed suddenly. 'I'm damned if I do! High finance may have its own code, as Sam says, but this is different. Why, even the armament racketeers don't go to the length of fermenting trouble which may cause bloodshed among their own people. Honestly, Sam, I wouldn't touch this thing with a barge-pole.'

'I've never had the least intention of doing so,' Sam said firmly.

'Perhaps you're right.' Gervaise set down his glass on a nearby table. 'It's difficult for me to express an opinion because I entirely lack experience in such matters, but I've always understood that some very queer things occur behind the scenes in politics.'

'They do,' Sam agreed, 'but there's a limit, and I should have thought anyone could see the misery that would be caused to countless innocent people if Fink-Drummond goes through with his scheme to unseat the Government.'

'I should be able to form a better judgment on that if Mr. Fink-Drummond would be kind enough to explain his plans to me in some detail.'

'By all means.' Fink-Drummond took another drink from his glass, straightened himself up and began to outline his proposed campaign. Rumours must be set going at once, he explained. Ten days should be sufficient for him to get his following in the House together. They would then launch a huge Press attack on the Government for having concealed the approaching danger.

Having got so far, Fink-Drummond passed a hand over his forehead as though to collect his thoughts. He then went on to speak of various measures that would get the public behind him and of special lines which his principal supporters would be instructed to follow. By that time he had gone deadly white and Sam noticed that he was slurring his words a little.

For another moment Fink-Drummond continued to speak but his words came with difficulty and it was clear that something was wrong with him. He broke off abruptly, exclaimed 'Sorry, I—I'm feeling ill,' and began to mop his face with his handkerchief.

Suddenly his eyes bulged, he sagged a little, rocked from side to side, choked and collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Believing that he was suffering from a fit, Sam ran to him and, kneeling down, undid his collar. Hemmingway Hughes moved forward, too, but towards the desk against which Fink-Drummond had been leaning. He picked up the ex-Cabinet Minister's half-empty glass and sniffed it.

Gervaise Stapleton's voice rang out like the crack of a whip. 'Put that glass down!'

Hemmingway turned to stare at him, and exclaimed : 'Good God! I thought as much.'

Fink-Drummond was now lying stiff and still upon the carpet. With a look of horror on his face, Sam glanced first at Hemmingway and then at his father-in-law. 'Heavens, man!' he cried. 'You'll swing for this. You've poisoned him!'

A Plot to Save the Nation

'Yes,' Gervaise admitted quietly, 'I poisoned him.' There was a look of cairn satisfaction on his aristocratic features and with one hand he smoothed back his fine crop of white, slightly wavy hair.

Sam jumped up from beside Fink-Drummond's still body. 'But hang it, man! You don't seem to realise what you've done. We can't conceal this thing—we'll have to call in the police.'

Hemmingway Hughes stepped towards the door. 'We must get a doctor—a stomach pump. There may be a chance of saving him yet.'

'That's it,' cried Sam, 'hurry! In the meantime, we'll try and think up some story to get my father-in-law out of this. If we keep our heads, we may be able to persuade them it was suicide.'

Gervaise barred Hemmingway's passage to the door. 'Thanks,' he said. 'It's good of you to be so concerned for me, but we don't require either a doctor or the police.'

'Don't be a fool,' Sam snapped. 'Of course I appreciate your motives. You were kidding us just now when you appeared to be persuading me to listen to his rotten scheme; just giving the poison time to work. You made up your mind from the beginning that the only way to stop the swine sabotaging the whole country was to kill him, didn't you? But that's no reason why you should sacrifice your own neck, if we can save it.'

'You're right about my motive, Sam,' Gervaise smiled, 'but I've no intention whatever of sacrificing myself.'

'If we can't get a doctor to pull him round, or fix a suicide story, you'll have to stand your trial for murder.'

'Not at all. It's true that I poisoned him but he's not going to die.'

Sam frowned. 'Then, why the devil didn't you say. so?'

'You didn't give me much chance.' Extending his left hand, Gervaise pointed to the little finger upon which there was a large, old-fashioned ring. 'You see that? I bought it in Florence many years ago. There was still one man living then, a descendant of the old alchemists, who possessed the secret of some of the Medici poisons. The ring is hollow and he sold it to me with four little pills in it. The pills consist of a poison that is tasteless and odourless when served in wine. Two pills will cause death, while one will bring about a state of catalepsy within five minutes. I only put one pill in this rogue's champagne.'

'Thank God for that! But what do we do now? When he comes round there'll be hell to pay. And I don't see that having put him out for a bit is going to prevent him carrying through his Government-wrecking programme.'

'He won't come round for twenty-four hours at least, and by that time he will find himself a prisoner in the old nursery of this house. It's on the third floor, looks down on the empty stables where no one ever goes these days and has barred windows.'

'By Jove! You are a stout fellow.' Sam grinned at his father-in-law with sudden admiration. 'I take it you mean to keep him a prisoner here until the trouble is over?'

'Until then, or, if my brother is right, until the world comes to an end on June 24th.'

'That's all very well,' remarked Hemmingway. 'It's a grand scheme as far as it goes; but there'll be a terrific hue and cry after he's been missing for a day or two. Ex-Cabinet Ministers aren't given to disappearing without leaving any trace of their whereabouts.'

'I can't help that,' Gervaise declared firmly. 'This man is a danger to the State. It is our duty to protect our fellow-citizens from such people at whatever risk to ourselves. I am prepared to take the whole matter upon my own shoulders if you wish but, if you're willing to co-operate, I shall be grateful for any help you can give me to cover his tracks.'

'Of course,' Sam agreed at once. 'Somehow or other we must think up a plausible reason to account for his sudden disappearance.'

'Could we use his wife in any way?' Hemmingway suggested.

'She sailed yesterday for the States. How about his going off in a private plane to overtake the ship and join her?'

'That's a grand idea,' Sam nodded. 'Then the plane disappears. His wife will radio that she knew nothing of his intentions, but we'll spread a story that he left for urgent private reasons. It will be assumed that something went wrong with the plane and that he was drowned at sea.'