Dennis Wheatley - Contraband

At last he found a spot suitable for his purpose; a small uncurtained window through which he could see a sink. The place appeared to be a scullery and a corner of the window frame was broken. Getting his fingers into the aperture he wrenched with all his might. There was a sharp crack of splintering wood as the catch was torn from its socket and one half of the window swung out towards him. Reaching inside he undid the bolt which held the other half and drew the casement wide open.

Gripping the sill with both hands, he put his head inside, and was just about to lever himself up when he caught the sound of a stealthy, footfall on the gravel close behind him.

8

A Night of Surprises

Gregory jerked his head out of the window and spun round to confront a tall man who had just emerged from the shadows of the shrubbery half a dozen yards away.

The man was alone and did not appear to be armed. A caretaker or keeper perhaps, thought Gregory. He swung his torch meditatively in his right hand. It was long and thicker than a policeman's baton. The big automatic was in his pocket but he had no intention of using it in England, or anywhere else for that matter, unless he found himself trapped and his life in actual danger.

'Come here said the man, 'and no monkey tricks or you'll regret it.'

Gregory came three slow steps forward. He meant to hit the man, and hit him very hard indeed, so that there should be no necessity to hit him a second time. The side of the neck was the place; just in line with the jaw bone. A good crack there, over the jugular vein, with the torch would out the fellow before he had time to shout for help and bring any friends he might have about the place on to the scene of action.

Gregory's empty left fist lifted in a feint, but dropped again almost as quickly, when the man took a swift step backwards and snapped: 'Stop that. I've got a gun here.'

It was only then Gregory realised a thing that he had failed to notice before owing to the difficult light. The man's right hand was thrust into his jacket pocket, which bulged ominously.

For a moment Gregory hesitated; wondering whether to risk an attack. To have to surrender tamely to one of Lord Gavin's men would not only be infuriating but definitely dangerous. He would probably be thrown into some cellar and guarded closely until Lord Gavin visited the place again, and, knowing how utterly unscrupulous the crooked financier was, he did not fancy that prospect at all. He knew that if Lord Gavin made up his mind that he had been spying upon his secret operations he was capable of having him murdered. The interests he had to conceal were so vital and far-reaching that he certainly would not hesitate at taking human life in order to protect them.

On the other hand, this tall fellow who had caught him just as he was about to break into the house seemed a cool customer; not at all the sort to be trifled with. Here, in the silent depths of this great park, a mile or more from the main road or any other habitation no one would hear the shot if the fellow used his gun; and it was highly probable that Lord Gavin had given instructions that if a spy were found about the place this fellow was to take no chances, but shoot rather than risk an unauthorised visitor getting away with any information he might have secured.

Discretion seemed the better part of valour. Gregory had just made up his mind to accept the situation, in the hope that an opportunity would occur for him to turn the tables later, when he caught the sound of gravel crunching underfoot again.

The other man heard it too and half turned his head. Next second a voice yelled: 'Jump, sir!' and a dark figure leapt from the shrubbery on to the man's back.

As Gregory sprang sideways, to avoid the bullet if the man's gun went off, the other two crashed to the ground together.

They rolled over once, then Gregory stepped in, bringing his heavy leather covered torch down with a dull thud upon his late captor's head. The man went limp and Rudd, wriggling free of him, staggered to his feet.

'Gawd! You bashed him proper an' no mistake. Ain't killed him 'ave you?'

'I don't think so,' Gregory muttered. 'I was careful to avoid his temple and caught him on the top of the skull. Show a light, will you. The bulb in my torch has bust.

Rudd pulled a torch from his pocket and shone it on the prostrate man's face. He was a nice looking, freckle faced, sandy haired fellow of about thirty, with a trim little upturned moustache, and not the type at all that Gregory would have expected to find among Lord Gavin's gunmen.

'He's all right,' said Gregory, after rolling back one of the man's eyelids. 'He'll be coming round in a few minutes I don't doubt, so we'd better truss him up. How did you happen to come on to the scene so opportunely?'

'Well, it was this way sir. You'd 'ardly 'opped it into the lane before another plane comes sailing down and makes a landing in the next field to ours. Hello! I ses to myself, what's all this abart? So I goes over to investigate. I was just in time to see this bloke here beating it across the field at the double towards the park so I follows cautious like. When I reach the lane he was shining a torch about, looking for footmarks in the long grass I reckon, where you had trampled it down as you went along. He comes to a tree stump and hikes himself over the hedge into the park, so naturally I gives him a minute and then 'ops over too. I lorst him for a bit among the trees dark as 'ell it was, and I barked me knuckles on one of the tree trunks something cruel but I picked up our Albert again as he was crossing a field be'ind 'ere, and tagged him round the 'ouse. Then when I crep up close enough I found 'e'd got the goods on youin a manner of speaking.'

'Darned lucky for me you did,' said Gregory. 'It was a good thing his gun didn't go off though when you jumped him.'

'That were the only thing I was scared of, but I 'ad to take a chance, and I know you're pretty nippy on your tootsies.

'He probably had the safety catch still down, but in any case with your weight on his neck the bullet would have gone into the gravel.' As Gregory spoke he was lashing the man's feet securely together with the belt of his raincoat. Their prisoner was now groaning a little and breathing stertorously.

Rudd pulled off his belt for Gregory to tie the man's hands and then shone his torch again. As the light streamed on to the limp unconscious head Gregory suddenly let out a sharp low whistle.

'Hang on a minute! I thought I'd seen this chap's face somewhere before when we looked at him just now, and by jove I have, although it was only for a minute.'

'Is he one of the bunch you made hay of a few days ago in Trouville, sir?'

'No,' sighed Gregory. 'I wish to God he were. This is the young policeman whom I rescued.'

'Blimey! Here's a fine how dedo. We've been and coshed a copper.'

'Never mind. As it's the chap I helped out before perhaps he won't run us in this time. Undo his feet again and I'll try and bring him round.'

They were both kneeling beside the policeman's body when a door creaked in their rear and a light suddenly illuminated the bushes. They swung round to see a woman silhouetted against a brightly lit doorway a few yards from the scullery window. She was a broad bosomed middle-aged female. Her tousled grey hair, thick dressing gown, and bare feet thrust into old slippers, showed that she had been roused from her bed by the recent scuffle. In her hand she held a large Mark V service revolver. She held it very steadily and it was pointing at them.

'Stand up you two,' she said, 'and put your hands above your heads. Then you'd better tell me what you're up to.'

Taken completely off their guard, the two men obeyed.

'What's your friend doing on the ground?' asked the woman sharply.