Dennis Wheatley - Contraband

'That's what they were after then. Well, if you'd prefer that I should continue to act on my own I'm afraid there's no more to be said is there?'

'That's so, sir. Of course, if you tumble across any criminal activities during your investigations you're entitled to call upon the assistance of the police. In fact, it's your duty to do so, but it wouldn't do for us to mix ourselves up with Sir Pellinore's private concerns. If we once started doing that sort of thing we should never hear the end of it.'

'Right oh! Superintendent. Maybe you'll be hearing from me again later on.'

The Superintendent extended a large plump hand. 'That's it, sir. Much obliged to you I'm sure. I don't think there's any necessity to inform the French police that you concealed the lady for the night and I'm very grateful to you for having come to Wells's help so promptly when they were giving him a rough house. Good morning to you; and thank you.'

As the door closed behind Gregory the big Superintendent suddenly became amazingly active. He grabbed his desk telephone and, after a moment, bellowed down it.

'That you Wells? I've just had that bird here who helped you out at Trouville. Gregory Sallust's his name a clever devil if ever there was one he wanted to work in with us but, of course, I couldn't have that. Listen though, you're the lucky one. Lord Gavin Fortescue's in this. It'll be the biggest thing that's happened in years and it means promotion for you if you handle it right. Come up to me at once, but put some good men on to trail Sallust as he leaves the building. He's not to be lost sight of day or night. He's pinched that telegram, but he's going to lead us to something or my name's not Marrowfat.'

6

The Secret of Mont Couple

From Scotland Yard Gregory walked round the corner to Westminster Bridge and took the underground down to Gloucester Road, where he had rooms comprising the first floor of No. 272.

He could well have afforded better quarters but the building was the property of one, George Rudd, who had been his batman in the war and had ever since remained his devoted henchman.

Mr. Rudd eked out a precarious living by letting the upper floors of his house, generally to students at the London University, and doing odd jobs for the retail grocer who had the old-fashioned little shop on the ground floor.

When Gregory returned he found Rudd in his sitting room polishing some eighteenth century silver hilted rapiers. Rudd was a great polisher and always seemed to find some difficulty in disposing of his hands unless he had something to occupy them. He was a medium sized man with yellowish hair, close cropped and bristling at the top of his head, but allowed to grow into a lock in front, which he carefully trained in a well greased curve across his forehead. A small fair moustache graced his upper lip but, as he always kept it neatly trimmed, it failed to hide the fact that his teeth badly needed the attention of the dentist. His eyes were blue quick, humorous and. friendly.

'Like to come on a trip with me to France?' Gregory asked him.

'Not 'arf sir.' The ex-soldier removed the butt of a Goldflake that dangled from his lower lip. 'Is it gay Paree, or one of them places on the coast, where the girls from the Folley Berjares disports themselves in pocket handkerchiefs during the summer months?'

'No, this is business. I've got a private war on.' 'S'treuth! Who are we going to cosh this time?' 'That's the devil of it: I don't quite know.' 'Well it's all the same to me sir but I pity the poor devils if you've got it in for 'em. Shall we be taking the armaments?'

'May as well. We'll probably need them before we're through.'

Rudd replaced the rapiers above the mantelpiece and took two big automatics from a drawer in the writing table. They were greased and polished to a superb degree of oily efficiency and he fondled them with loving pride.

'A bag apiece is all we'll need,' Gregory went on. 'Just in. case we have to stay the night anywhere. By the bye, we shall be flying.'

'Must we go risking our necks that way as well, sir?' asked Rudd ruefully. 'No nasturtions on you as a pilot sir, but I always feel it's more homely like in a nice comfortable train me self.'

Gregory grinned. 'No, we've got to be birdmen this trip and it's probable we shall be flying backwards and forwards across the Channel until we're sick of the sight of the damn thing.'

'Very good, Mr. Gregory, just as you say,' agreed Rudd philosophically. 'But 1 hopes we has long enough on the other side between trips to knock off a bottle or two of that vin rooge in one of them estaminaies.'

'Do you ever remember me going hungry or thirsty in all' the years you've known me?'

'No sir, and pray God I never will. You've always been a rare one for your victuals; though a bit queer in your tastes, if I may say so.'

Gregory refilled his case with cigarettes then picked up his hat. 'I'm going to lunch now. Have everything packed by three o'clock and the car here ready to run us down to Heston.'

'Right you are sir, and if there's any time over I'll be rubbin' up me French.'

Rudd's French was mainly English, shouted very loudly and clearly with the addition of 'Kompronevous' at the end of every other sentence, so it was not greatly improved by the time Gregory returned and found him seated outside the grocer's in the car, with the bags strapped on behind.

The afternoon was the sort one always hopes for in early

August, but rarely gets; sunshine so brilliant that the passing people were walking perceptibly slower than usual; the women were in their lightest frocks and nearly all the men had abandoned their waistcoats. The ice-cream vendors, beside their tricycles, were doing a roaring business, and that lazy hush filled the air which made London seem temporarily a city of the tropics.

At Heston many people were taking advantage of the fine spell. Quite a crowd was gathered on the flying ground watching the planes come and go. Gregory presented his credentials at the office, while Rudd garaged the car, and a few moments later an official led them over to a hangar in which reposed a very up-to-date looking monoplane.

It was an enclosed two-seater Miles Hawk, cruising speed 180 m.p.h., but as it was fitted with a retractable undercarriage Gregory knew that would give it an extra 15 and by the use of the supercharger he could rev her up to a good bit over 200.

For twenty minutes he discussed its engine, speed, and capacity with one of the mechanics then he took it up for a trial flight. When he landed again Rudd knew from his expression that he was satisfied. Sir Pellinore had functioned with his usual reliability and provided a machine which met entirely with Gregory's requirements. At a quarter to five, with Rudd in the observer's seat, Gregory called 'contact'" and took the air.

He headed straight for Calais, but did not descend at the landing ground; instead, he turned eastwards and followed the coastline as far as Dunkirk, carefully scrutinising the ground beneath him. There, he turned on his track and flew south-westward until he reached Cape Gris Nez, then he turned once more and finally came down at the Calais airport a little before seven o'clock.

Having parked the plane, and refuelled it to capacity, he left instructions that he might be returning in it to England that night. Then, in a taxi, he drove to the Maine and inquired the whereabouts of the Cafe de la Cloche.

54

At first no one seemed to know it but, having penetrated at last to a musty little bureau, where an old woman sat writing a spidery hand in a well thumbed ledger, he learned that the place was a poor sort of estaminet a kilometre outside the town on the road to Boulogne.