Dennis Wheatley - To The Devil A Daughter

Suddenly a horn sounded, the arcs thrown by headlights swept across the buildings on the far side of the wharf, and a car ran past moving in the direction of the town. John knew that it must be C. B. and his mother. They had done their job, and he was supposed by this time to be under cover; but he was not, and now the watchman was again free to keep a general look out.

It was the first time that John had ever done anything of this kind. He was not at all frightened, but felt terribly excited. His worst handicap was that, owing to lack of experience, he did not realise the importance of making swift decisions. While he was still hesitating whether to risk going forward towards the bridge, another horn sounded, lights flashed again on the quay, and a camion drew up opposite the gangway. Out of it piled seven or eight men, who came aboard laughing and joking.

Crouching behind the nearest skylight, John watched them vanish down the companionway in the middle of the bridge structure that he had hoped to use himself. He reckoned that the crew of such a yacht would number somewhere around a dozen. With one on the bridge and two in the galley, the newcomers nearly made up that complement.

As they had all disappeared, the long stretch of deck to the gangway was now clear again, but he no longer dare risk going below by the midships companionway, even if he could reach it unseen from the bridge. The arrival of the crew had left him no choice but to retreat down the after hatchway in the hope of finding a good hiding place somewhere in the stern of the vessel.

Cautiously, he made his way back to the hatch behind which he had first hidden. After listening for a moment, he tip toed down the stairs beneath its hood. The first flight brought him opposite a long passage, in which he knew that the galley and dining saloon were on the right and the saloon on the left; a second flight, immediately under the first, led down to a lower deck.

Feeling that the further he could get from the major activities on board the yacht the safer he would be, he crept down the second flight. Again he found himself faced by a long corridor, but in it there were double the number of doors. On each side there were six, and evidently they were those of the cabins for the passengers. Beyond them a bulkhead, with a door in it, presumably cut the after part of the ship off from the engine room and crews' quarters.

Advancing stealthily, John peered through the partly open door of one of the cabins. It was empty, and showed no sign of occupation; so he wondered if he dare doss down there for the night, but he decided against it as too risky. Moving on, he reached the bulkhead, cautiously opened the door in it and looked through.

As he did so the hum of engines struck his ears, and only then did he realise that they had been almost imperceptibly reverberating through the ship for several minutes past. Evidently she was very shortly about to put to sea.

For a moment he stood where he was, wondering whether to step through the door in the hope of finding a good hiding place further forward, or to return aft and look for a tubby hole right in the stern. He was still trying to decide which course offered the better possibilities when all chance of making a choice was suddenly snatched from him.

Without any sound of warning, a cabin door some ten feet beyond the bulkhead was pulled open. Through it stepped a big, ginger haired man. His uniform, and the single band of gold braid round its cuffs, showed that he was a junior officer. His glance instantly fell upon John. Surprise dawned in his blue eyes; then, striding towards him, he exclaimed

`Who are you? What do you want down here?'

10

`Once Aboard the Lugger ...?'

The unexpected encounter had taken John as much by surprise as it had the ginger haired officer. For a moment they stared at one another. John's first impulse was to turn and run, but he knew that would be fatal. This was obviously a case for bluff if he could only think of one. He wondered what line C. B. would have taken in these circumstances, but could not, for the life of him, imagine. The big man spoke again, more sharply

`What are you doing down here? Answer me!'

`I am looking for Count Jules,' John blurted, that being

the first plausible lie that had come into his head. `How did you get aboard?'

`By the gangway, of course.'

`And the watchman did not give you directions where to find Monsieur le Comte?'

`No, he was busy talking to someone else at the time.' `Why did you not wait and ask?'

`I was in a hurry, and I thought that in a small yacht like this I would have no difficulty in finding him.'

John's voice gained confidence as he developed his bluff, but his heavily built questioner continued to stare at him suspiciously, and muttered with a scowl, `You are a foreigner; are you not?'

There being no point in denying it, and his accent making it futile to do so, John nodded. Then, in an attempt to escape from this dangerous interrogation, he said, `I'm

sorry to have invaded the private quarters of the ship, but I

must have come down a deck too far by mistake. I'll go up again and ...'

Before he could finish his sentence and turn away, the man interrupted aggressively, `What do you want with Monsieur le Comte?'

`I am an old friend of his.'

`Is he expecting you?'

For a second John hesitated, and in that second he was lost. His `Yes' came too late to carry conviction. The blue eyes staring into his showed frank disbelief. In two strides the officer was upon him. Seizing John my the arm, he rapped out:

`Very well! I will take you to him.'

John's brain worked quickly enough now. He realised that if he once allowed himself to be taken up to Jules his goose would be cooked. He might have tackled Jules alone, had he followed his impulse of a few minutes back to take him by surprise in the saloon, but he could not hope to overcome both Jules and this strapping young man. It seemed certain now that he had let himself in for just the sort of thing C. B. had feared might happen to him if he took the law into his own hands by coming aboard the yacht. They would first beat him up, then hand him over to the police. Such a prospect was bad enough, but the thought which infuriated him beyond all else was that his attempt to protect Christina should be foiled almost before it had started. It was barely ten minutes since he had come on board, and he was now to be lugged before her as a captive. It was revolt at such a swift and ignominious end to his venture that spurred him to action.

The officer had him firmly by the left arm, but his right was free. Thrusting his hand under his coat, he whipped out the cosh, raised it, and struck sharply at his captor. He did not need to deliver a second blow. The leather covered egg shaped piece of lead came down on the man's uniform cap with hardly a sound; but his blue eyes suddenly bulged, his grip on John's arm relaxed, and he slumped in a heap on the deck.

For a second John held his breath; then he felt himself beginning to tremble. He had belatedly remembered what C. B. had said about using the cosh with caution. If he had killed the officer it would be a clear case of murder. Thrusting the weapon back into his trouser top, he stooped, and with frantic hands pulled the limp body towards him, so that he could thrust off the cap and examine the man's head.

The passage was lit only dimly by the small blue ceiling lights that are usually kept on permanently in ships' corridors. Anxiously John peered down at his victim's mat of short, ginger curls for signs of blood. He could see none, and, his searching fingers found only a little wetness. With intense relief he realised that the man's cap and the thickness of his hair must have saved him from serious injury. Even if his skull was slightly cracked the absence of any mushy depression or copious bleeding seemed clear indications that there was no risk of his dying.