The three men were talking earnestly and, although they must have been aware that by no possibility could they be overheard, their voices, as if from force of habit, were pitched in low tones.
“And with all their hypocritical diplomatic correctness,” scowled5 one of them who, from his bearing, appeared to be in authority, “they are allowing their press to become more and more insulting to us every day. Were we not referred to last week as a gang of blackmailers with the morality of a pack of thieves?”
“That is so, Your Excellency,” nodded the suave6, good-looking man, seated opposite to him, “and it was said, too, that most of us ought to be behind asylum7 bars.”
“But that’s mild compared with a letter which appeared in the ‘Daily Messenger’,” boomed the third man, big and stout8, with dark, piercing eyes under very bushy brows. “The writer said Your Excellency was an unbalanced mental degenerate9 and that you had degraded our race to the level of a band of thugs. He said you were teaching the people that wholesale10 murder and pillage11 should be their national ideals and he went on ——”
The face of the one they had addressed as Your Excellency reddened in anger; and he interrupted sharply. “And there are two members of their Cabinet, particularly, who are responsible for allowing all this. Lord Michael and Sir Howard Wake. They have repeatedly defended this venomous, so-called freedom of the press.” He turned frowningly to the good-looking man. “You have made representations about it many times, von Ravenheim?”
“I have, Your Excellency,” was the reply, “but it has not done the slightest good. As for these two men, in every way they continue to be our greatest stumbling block. They are ——”
“I know, I know,” exclaimed His Excellency testily12. “Their influence in that cursed country of theirs is continually thwarting13 our plans. More than anyone, it is they who are keeping Britain in her present state of preparedness.”
The stout man spoke14 again. “Since Lord Michael has been at the War Office,” he commented, “they never sleep, and Sir Howard is a man of untiring energy and of great vision, too.” He nodded. “Yes, as Your Excellency says, at the present moment they are more to be feared than anyone.”
His Excellency spoke scornfully. “Then is it in accord with our general policy to let these two men stand in our way any longer? We should have no scruples15 at all how we deal with them, for we are as much in a state of war with England now, as if we were nightly bombing her cities into dust.” His eyes flashed. “The whole world knows our open hostility16 is only a question of our choosing our own time, when we can catch them unawares.”
A short silence followed and then von Ravenheim said slowly. “For many months now we have been searching for some means of discrediting17 these two men, and have, accordingly, gone most minutely into their private lives. But we can find no scandal anywhere, and ——”
“Find no scandal!” scoffed18 the other contemptuously. “That’s not what you must do! Have them shot! Pay someone to put a bullet in them! That’s the only way of settling things; for at all costs we must prevent Lord Michael from going to New York next month. We can’t have those muddle-minded Americans stirred up again.”
Von Ravenheim looked uncomfortable. “But the risks would be terrible, Your Excellency. Their deaths by violent means would shock the whole world, and if there is the slightest suspicion against us, we ——”
“But there mustn’t be the slightest suspicion,” was the angry interruption, “and there is no reason there should be. Why, only last week I read that that precious member of Parliament of theirs, Sir Derek Sandy was processioning with thousands of other fools to protest against the moneys which were being spent upon defence and, in the speeches which followed, it was insisted that Lord Michael and Sir Howard, more than any other members of the Cabinet, were responsible. Well then, why shouldn’t it be thought that some of this peace-loving horde19 had shot them to save greater bloodshed?”
“It will be most difficult to arrange, sir,” said von Ravenheim reluctantly. “They are always so well-guarded, wherever they go.”
The other looked amused. “Pooh, by two or three fat policemen in private clothes. I saw their kind twenty years ago when the then Prince of Wales was visiting Cannes. They looked like superannuated20 butlers, full of English beef and beer, amiable21 unsuspicious creatures with no imagination. No, go to that man in Great Tower street we are having dealings with. Pay him well — give him ￡10,000 — and there should be no difficulty. Give him part of the money down. He seems reliable and has always delivered the goods up to now.”
“Very well, Your Excellency,” said von Ravenheim. “I’ll approach him myself.”
“Good!” said his superior. He turned to the third man. “Don’t you think this the best way of dealing22 with the matter, General?”
“Certainly, sir,” replied the stout man, “and if they do suspect we’ve had a hand in it, their Government will never dare to say so.” He guffawed23 hoarsely24 “They may have stiffened25 their backs a bit lately but they still think they can buy us off by being polite. They bleat26 like the lamb in the presence of the wolf.”
A short silence followed and then the man who had been so peremptorily27 issuing his orders leaned back in his chair and laughed softly. “And now I’m going to surprise you, gentlemen. I’m going to give you a great shock.” He paused a moment to enjoy the puzzled expressions upon the faces of his audience, and then rapped out, “I’m going over to England myself! I’m going to see this wonderful London of theirs, incognito28.”
A deep hush29 filled the room. Von Ravenheim screwed up his eyes and turned his head sideways, as if he were rather deaf and had not caught the words aright, while the general’s lips parted and he stared hard and incredulously.
“Yes,” went on His Excellency quietly, “I have never seen this country which is now so occupying all our thought, and it has been long in my mind that I would like to go there.” His voice rose passionately30. “I want to visit their London before it is destroyed. I want to see their beautiful old buildings before they are in ruins, and I want to mix among their crowds and get their mentality31 first-hand before they are a conquered people.” He pointed32 to a row of books upon a shelf. “So with that idea in my mind. I have been at work upon their dreadful language for more than six months, I have had three English tutors here, and can now talk quite quickly with this last one, and understand everything that he says.” He laughed lightly. “Well, what do you think of it, my friends?”
Von Ravenheim shook his head emphatically. “It is impossible, sir.”
“Impossible! But I intend to do it!”
“It would stagger the world!”
“But the world will know nothing about it. I shall go straight to London as a private individual, and no one but you two will be aware that I have left our country. As you know, I speak French fluently, so I shall pass as a Swiss. I shall be absent for only a few weeks, and it will be given out I am still on holiday here. You, von Ravenheim, will find me a quiet hotel in London, and I shall keep in touch with you all the time, in case anything should happen which I must deal with at once.”
“But your face, sir!” protested von Ravenheim. “It is one of the best known in the world. You will be recognised at once.”
His Excellency shook his head. “No, that is not likely, for I intend to shave off my moustache; and, in civilian33 clothes, I shall appear just like any ordinary citizen of our country. If anyone does happen to remark upon the resemblance between the sight-seeing Herr I shall then be, and the person I really am — they will only regard it as a joke. They will know it is impossible we can be one and the same person.”
“But what about those tutors who have been teaching you English?” asked von Ravenheim uneasily. “Can you trust them?”
“I don’t,” laughed the other, very amused, “and have accordingly taken all the necessary precautions. Numbers 1 and 2 have gone upon a long journey, and No. 3 will soon join them.” He spoke carelessly. “What do three lives count in times like these?”
General Meinz cleared his throat. “I don’t approve your going, sir,” he began, “and I——”
“Then I must do without your approval,” was the smiling comment, “for I am determined34 to go.” He rose to his feet to cut short the interview. “So both of you will return here on Sunday. Then I will make known my final arrangements;” and, with a wave of his arm, he dismissed the two men who clicked their heels, and after a solemn salute35 left the room.
Now there would seem to be no possible connection between the great autocrat36 of that lonely building upon the mountainside and an insignificant37 looking little convict in a prison in far off England. Yet, at that very moment Fate, like a malignant38 spider, was starting to weave a web whose threads were destined39 ultimately to entangle40 them both.
Gilbert Larose, the one-time international detective, and now the husband of the wealthy widow of Sir Charles Ardane was holding a brief conversation in the foyer of a big London restaurant with Brigadier–General Haines the governor of one of England’s largest penal41 settlements.
“And you are the very man I wanted to meet, Mr. Larose,” exclaimed the Brigadier genially42, “for, as a former associate of the criminal classes, you can now, perhaps, do one of their order a good turn!”
“Oh,” smiled Larose. “What’s the idea? Do you want me to arrange the escape of some poor devil who’s suffering under your tender mercies?”
“No, there’s happily no need for that,” laughed the Brigadier, “as the man comes out on ticket of leave next week. He’s been my guest for just over six years and now has to face the world again, with not a friend or a relative to look after him I want you to get him a job.”
“Who is he and what’s he in for?” asked Larose. “The crowd at your place are generally a tough lot, and I draw the line at gentlemen who have been scotched43 for crimes of violence.”
“Well, he’s by name of Bracegirdle, and he got ten years for shooting a gamekeeper. He was caught red-handed in Lord Jevington’s preserves, and put up a fight to escape arrest. In the struggle his gun went off and the gamekeeper was killed. Of course, Bracegirdle says it was accidental; and the jury were obviously inclined to believe him, as they added a strong recommendation to mercy. From what I’ve seen of him, I, too, believe he was speaking the truth, as he’s not vicious by nature. He was just a man bursting with energy; and his poaching was only an adventure.”
“What was his occupation before it happened?”
“He was a motor mechanic, and, at the trial, his employers came forward and gave him an excellent character.”
“Hum!” remarked Larose. “I happen to know a relative of my wife is looking for a good man for his motor launch. Well, when could I see this chap?”
“Why not run down tomorrow? It would only take you a couple of hours, and if you show interest in the man it may be the salvation44 of him. He’s just in that state of mind when he might easily drift into a life of crime, and I want to prevent that. He’s very bitter against everyone, and says he did not have a fair trial. He is sure it was Lord Jevington’s influence that got him convicted on the major charge. Yes, you come down to lunch tomorrow and I’ll give you some Barsac that will be well worth the journey. Can you manage it?” and Larose, moving off to greet two ladies who had just entered the foyer, nodded an affirmative reply.
Between the mouths of the rivers Crouch45 and Blackwater lies the loneliest part of the Essex coast. Even in these days of the ubiquitous motor car, it is unsought after on account of its inaccessibility46 and because, when reached, there is nothing to interest the average person there. At low water the sea recedes47 many miles from its shore, which is flanked by many thousands of acres of low-lying land, much of it swamp and marsh48, reclaimed49 from the sea by the narrow seawall which runs the greater part of its length.
It is at all times a scene of desolation, given over to the wastes of muddied sands and the screeching50 gulls51; and when the winds are risen, the sea roars across the foreshore to the stolen marshes52, like some wolf-mother calling to her cubs53.
And yet, at some time in the mid-Victorian years, someone had built a house there — at its loneliest part — a good, substantial stone house of two stories, just behind the seawall and within a hundred yards of the margin54 of the waves at high tide.
At the back of the house stretched a wide expanse of the dreary55 Denbigh marshes. No road led there, only a narrow, winding track across the marshes, always sodden56 and precarious57 in the winter rains.
Marle House it was called, but beyond the memory of the oldest inhabitant of the scattered58 outlying little villages it had been known as Marle’s Folly59.
For many years it had been unoccupied; and the sea spray had crumbled60 the mortar61 between its stones and rotted away the woodwork, so that its doors and windows had fallen in. It had stood like a great grey ghost derelect and forgotten by the world.
But quite recently, much to the interest of everybody in the neighborhood, it had come into the possession of new owners, three friends, and they had restored it to some degree of comfort.
At first, everyone for miles around had been intensely curious about the newcomers, but, it becoming known that they were business men from London and connected with the Stock Exchange, undue62 curiosity and interest in them soon died down. It was understood they were making Marle House their home in order to obtain a little peace and quietness at weekends, in happy contrast to the feverish63 worries or their calling.
The three men at Marle House were always in residence on Saturdays and Sundays; but often during the week, late at night or in the early mornings, their big black car was seen speeding along the London road beyond Southminster or Burnham.
The car never passed through either of these little towns, either going to or coming from London, but picked up the main road from another track leading off the marshes, so that just where the tenants64 of Marle House were at any time was never actually certain.
They were assumed to be well off, for soon after they came to Marle House a piece of land, about two miles away, at the very mouth of the River Crouch, opposite to Foulness65 Island, was acquired; and there they built a big, roomy boat-house, soon to be occupied by quite a good-sized motor launch. In fine weather they often went fishing far out to sea, and it was said that at times they crossed right over to the Kentish coast.
Keeping as they did, entirely66 to themselves, it was never known if they entertained any visitors or or not.
The Southminster grocer, however, who called at Marle House every Wednesday, learned, besides their occupation, a lot of other things about them from the elderly housekeeper67, who described them as ‘perfect gentlemen.’ She told him that their names were Pellew, Royne, and Rising, and that they were well connected, and had a luxurious68 flat in the West End, where they stayed when they did not come home during the week.
She spoke there in all sincerity69, and to the best of her belief, but, for all that, she was furnishing most inaccurate70 information.
Their real names were nothing like those she had given and, had the truth been known, the world generally would hardly have agreed to her statement that they fell within the category of perfect gentlemen.
As a matter of fact, the so-called Pellew was a one-time member of the legal profession who had been struck off the rolls and received five years’ imprisonment71 for appropriating trust money. Royne was an expaymaster of the Royal Navy, who had been dismissed for embezzlement72, and had escaped prosecution73 only because of the influence of a distinguished74 relative high up in the service, while Rising was a properly qualified75 medical man who had, some years before, to flee the country because of his connection with a dope gang which had been uncovered by the police.
As for their real occupations, certainly the Stock Exchange did not know them. To those who had dealings with them in London, they were known to carry on the business known as the Malaga Wine and Spirit Company, specialising in the importing of Spanish wines.
The premises76 of the company were situated77 in an old warehouse78 in Curtain Lane, a short, unfrequented street near the East End of the City, and comprised the ground floor and basement of a narrow building wedged in between two much higher ones.
The two upper floors were unoccupied, which circumstance was explained by the fact that the lease of the whole building was falling due in less than a year’s time, when everything would come into the hands of the housebreakers.
The company was an old-established one, but for many years it had been anything but a paying concern. However, about eighteen months previously79, it had been bought very cheaply by its present proprietors80, and was now registered in the name of Anton Pellew.
The manner in which the company conducted its business would certainly have seemed peculiar82 to anyone who knew anything about the tenants of Marle House, for the three men, when up in the City and making their living by the activities of this decaying wine firm, were, apparently83, upon a very different footing from that shared by the three friends when at home in their lonely residence upon the Essex coast.
In Curtain Lane, Pellew posed as the sole proprietor81 of the business. Rising was the one solitary84 clerk, and Royne acted as porter, and had charge of the large cellar in the basement where the cases of wine were stored.
When the car brought the three up to the City in the morning it was left for the day in a garage in the main street in Aldgate, but from there the three men never proceeded in company to Curtain Lane.
Royne invariably went first, and opened the warehouse, then, a few minutes later Rising followed and, finally, Pellew bustled85 in, as if business were very brisk and the day’s work must be got on with as quickly as possible.
But business was never brisk with this company, for they had very few customers and, except that they were agents for a brand of cheap but quite passable sherry, they might have had almost no customers at all. Still, slackness of trade never seemed to worry them and they never appeared to be short of money.
When they were all together in the building Royne, as the porter, invariably brought in three good lunches from a nearby public house. These they ate in company in a back room behind the private office; and, as an appetiser, they often shared a quart bottle of champagne86, of a much better vintage than was ever to be found in their own cellar.
But they were not always all together, for both Pellew and Rising were often away, Pellew particularly, but never both at the same time. Sometimes, one of these two would be away for days at a time, and then when he returned there would be a long and earnest conversation in the back room, with a switch on the front door slipped down, so that no one could enter the premises without sounding a bell which tinkled87 in the room where they were.
Occasionally, but less often than the others, Royne went away too, and then he would leave in an attire88 very different from that he customarily adopted. He looked like a seafaring man at those times, with his face darkened to an almost mahogany hue89. Also, his hands were tarred and grimy; and he appeared to have had no acquaintance with soap and water for some days.
Then, again, their dealings with certain of their customers were strange, for, not once or twice, but several times when some prospective90 customer had been shown into the head office, upon a secret signal given by Pellew, Royne would make a quick change in his appearance and go out to the end of the lane and there wait for this customer to reappear. Then he would follow him and see where he went.
Once, too, he had rushed off immediately and, picking up a taxi, had been driven right away to the West End. There he had waited for hours, keeping discreet91 watch not far away from a big house occupied by the ambassador of a certain foreign Power.
Another time he was driven off in the same way, but it was to Whitehall he went upon this occasion, and night had fallen before he returned. Yet a third time, after showing a visitor in to Pellew, he had hurried off to New Scotland Yard, and not only that day but for the two days ensuing, had kept as close a watch as possible upon all who entered there.
Sometimes all three men slept in the back room behind the office in Curtain Lane; but sometimes only two of them, or Pellew rented two rooms upon the fourth floor of a house in Wardour Street. There, speaking three languages fluently, he passed as a Continental92 journalist corresponding with several foreign papers, and one whose work accounted for his spasmodic occupancy of the rooms. He occasionally had visitors who from their appearance were not always of the poorer classes.
Then, at other times enjoying life as a well-to-do man about town, he would stay at some first-class West End hotel, frequenting expensive night clubs and posing as one of the idle rich.
Altogether, the proprietor and the two employees of the Malaga Wine and Spirit Company were a very mysterious trio.
One day towards the end of May, about eleven o’clock in the morning, Pellew and Royne, in the private office, were frowningly conning93 the pages of an instruction book dealing with the Barling internal combustion94 engine.
“It’s a hellish pity we don’t know enough about engines to do the job ourselves,” scowled Pellew. “Still, there’s no help for it, and we’ll have to get a mechanic in. The devil of it is one or other of us will have to be watching him the whole time. We can’t let him get any opportunity of nosing about, or he may become suspicious about a lot of things.”
“Yes,” agreed Royne gloomily, “and there’s always the chance he may become curious that the engine is so powerful, and start talking about it to outsiders.”
Pellew looked thoughtful. “Now if I could pick up a chap who has good reasons for wanting to keep out of the limelight for a while, it would fit in well. We really always need a handy man about the place to do odd jobs, besides looking after the motor boat and the car. There’s that ceiling wants attending to and those leaks in the roof. I think I’ll ——” but they suddenly heard voices outside and a few moments later the obsequious95 Rising knocked respectfully upon the door and entered.
“A gentleman to see you, sir,” he announced in his ordinary tones, and then he mouthed the words, “Von Ravenheim!”
Pellew elevated his eyebrows96 and grinned. “Show him in, John,” and Rising at once proceeded to usher97 in the visitor.
“Ah, good morning, Herr Menns,” exclaimed Pellew with an affectation of great affability, as the door was being closed behind the visitor. “Now I hope you liked that last lot of sherry you had?”
“No, I didn’t like it at all,” replied von Ravenheim crossly. “It’s only fit for pigs. It burns the skin off your tongue, it’s so fiery98.” He lowered his voice sharply. “Doesn’t that man of yours pretend to remember my name?”
“It is no pretence99, mein Herr,” said Pellew smilingly and in an equally low tone. “He never does remember names. He’s very stupid; and that is why I keep him here.” He laughed lightly. “I am the only clever person in this business; and that is how it should be.”
Von Ravenheim frowned. “But you’re not so clever as you think; and that’s what’s brought me here now.” He eyed him sternly. “My Government paid you ￡2,000 for the plans of that R8 super-submarine; and they now inform me they are incomplete. All the particulars are not there regarding the inner ballast tanks amidships. The exact measurements are not given.”
Pellew looked very serious. “Are they quite sure? I have always been able to rely upon the party who obtained them for me and, besides, as I showed you, the photos bore the secret marks of the Admiralty, as having been passed ‘correct.’ I pointed out to you the dot under the last M and above the last S in the specifications100.”
“Well, my people tell me the plans are incomplete,” said von Ravenheim sharply, “and I want to know what you are going to do about it. You must get in touch again at once with your agent.”
Pellew appeared to consider. “I may not be able to do it for a few days,” he said slowly, “for I shall have to go about things very cautiously.” He nodded. “But I’ll get at the facts as quickly as I can and then you shall know immediately.”
Von Ravenheim nodded back. “And we shan’t fall out about another hundred or so if you are put to more expense. That’s a small thing if we get what we want.” A puzzled expression crossed over his face; and he looked round at the bare furnishings of the office. “But I say, does this wine business of yours really pay? I have been here four times and have never seen any customers about.”
Pellew smiled. “Oh, yes, it pays me quite well. We certainly mayn’t get many customers, but some days good orders come in, and we sell quite a lot of that sherry which doesn’t suit your palate.”
Von Ravenheim regarded him interestedly, and then, after a moment’s hesitation101, pulled his chair up close to the desk-table which separated them. “Well, now another thing.” He lowered his voice to the merest whisper. “Have you by any chance some precious stones you want to sell, an emerald necklace or a diamond tiara, for example?”
Pellew started, as if he had received an electric shock, and his eyes seemed to be almost bulging102 from his head. His mouth opened and, with all his habitual103 self-possession, he knew that he was breathing heavily and that his face had paled. But he recovered himself quickly, except that now he had flushed to a dusky red.
“What do you mean?” he asked slowly. “What have I to do with any jewels?”
“That’s what I want to know,” laughed von Ravenheim softly. “That’s what made me ask you the question.” His voice hardened grimly. “But I am struck with some very peculiar coincidences. Six weeks ago, my friend, I saw you at the Rialto the night Lady Bowery’s tiara was stolen from her room. That is so, is it not?”
“But what about it?” countered Pellew woodenly. “You were there as well.”
Von Ravenheim ignored his question and went on. “Then, a hundred and more miles away, a fortnight ago last Tuesday, you bought some cigarettes in Clavering village about two hours before Clavering Court was burgled and Mrs. Hone’s emerald necklace taken while the family were downstairs at dinner.” He shook his head disapprovingly104. “Oh, it was very foolish of you to have gone into the village at all. One of those stupid, petty mistakes which the most clever lawbreakers do sometimes make. No, no, it is no good your denying it, as I happened to see you myself.” He tapped impressively with his fingers upon the table. “Now for a third coincidence. Last night at ten minutes past eleven you came out of number nine Beak105 Street”— he paused significantly —“where a man by the name of Hans Schelling lives!”
“Never heard of him!” said Pellew boldly, although his face had now taken on an ugly expression. “There are a dozen and more people with rooms and offices in that building, and the party I was calling on has certainly no name like that.”
“Of course not,” nodded von Ravenheim sarcastically106. “I don’t for a moment expect that he has. Still ——” he spoke smoothly107 and most politely —“I would just mention to you that this Schelling is known personally to me as a gentleman with a shocking record in his own country, and”— he paused again —“as a skilful108 setter and unsetter of precious stones.”
A long silence followed, while von Ravenheim took out and lighted a cigarette. Pellew had set his face to that of an impenetrable mask.
Von Ravenheim went on. “But we won’t refer to those little matters any more, for, of course, they are nothing to do with me, and I’m not intending to interfere109 in any way.” He smiled dryly. “I only mentioned them because if you know things about me it is, perhaps, just as well that you should realise I, also, know things about you.” He laughed good-naturedly. “So we are quits! We are each of us quite aware the other is a bird of black feathers!”
Pellew looked more at ease now, and with a grin, which was, however, a rather sheepish one, took a cigarette from the case which von Ravenheim held out to him.
A short silence followed, and then von Ravenheim lowered his voice to a whisper again. “Now I have another commission for you, and I suggest it with no apologies, for I am sure you are a perfectly110 unscrupulous man. No, no, don’t look offended, for it is a compliment I pay you. I have no scruples myself, and I judge your temperament111 to be not very unlike my own.”
“Well, what is it?” asked Pellew, for von Ravenheim had stopped speaking.
“I want you — I want you,” said von Ravenheim very slowly, “to get rid of two men.”
“Get rid of two men!” ejaculated Pellew. “What do you mean — kidnap them for you?”
Von Ravenheim laughed. “No, nothing so clumsy or so difficult as that! Much simpler!” he spoke carelessly. “I want you to shoot them, stab them or strangle them, shooting them preferred, as that form of decease will arouse less resentment112.”
“Certainly,” smiled Pellew, with equal carelessness. “Who are they and what is the fee?”
“The fee,” said von Ravenheim, “will be ￡10,000, but who the parties are you will not be told until the last moment, it may not be for a few weeks or so.” He eyed Pellew very intently. “All I want to know now is whether you are agreeable to accept the commission.”
Pellew regarded him very doubtfully. “But I’ve never taken on anything like that before. Getting hold of official secrets risks punishment enough, but shooting a man means murder; and I should be hanged if I was caught.”
“Who said you were necessarily to do it yourself?” asked von Ravenheim sharply. “You didn’t steal that plan of the submarine! You bribed113 someone else to get it and made your profit above what you paid him. Well, bribe114 someone again! You must know the right party for the job! Remember, to get those fuses for us, a man had to be killed! That sentry115 was stabbed, either by you or the man you hired. Come, come now, you needn’t pretend to be squeamish. It’s only the risk which frightens you!”
“Yes! the risk frightens me,” admitted Pellew readily. “It is a big one.” He considered. “In what class of life are these men? Are they private characters, or public men?”
Von Ravenheim laughed scornfully. “Do you think I should be offering you ￡10,000 to get rid of a private individual? Why, a couple of hundred pounds or so would be all that it was worth! No, of course they’re public men, and very important ones, too.”
Pellew looked astonished. “And you want them shot publicly.”
Von Ravenheim laughed again. “No, you big ninny, it would be done when they were quite alone. It’d be a country house job. They’d be caught both together one evening in a lonely part of the grounds, and if you took it on, personally, you could fire from behind some bushes. Two quick shots, which no one would hear, and you’d earn ￡10,000. Just think of it.”
“But if they’re public men,” said Pellew, “they’re certain to be guarded!”
“I don’t think so.” said von Ravenheim. “At any rate, it would only be by a plain-clothes man; and it’d be your business to dodge116 him. If you did it at night, too, he’d probably be in the kitchen having his supper.”
“When’s it to be done?” asked Pellew.
“I don’t know myself, yet,” replied von Ravenheim, “but one week-end when I find out they’re together at this country house I have in my mind. At any rate, there are special reasons why it must be done before the middle of next month, somewhere about the twelfth.”
A long silence followed, and then Pellew asked. “And what security have I that you would keep your promise about the money?”
“I will give you ￡3,000 down, directly I see you mean business,” said von Ravenheim, “and the balance directly the men are dead. The ￡3,000 to remain yours whether you are successful or not.”
Pellew laughed. “And you can trust me with that ￡3,000?” he asked.
Von Ravenheim considered for a few moments and then nodded his head. “I believe I can, for I don’t think you would relish117 an anonymous118 communication being made about you to Scotland Yard. You certainly don’t want interest awakened119 there.”
He became confidential120. “You see, Mr. Pellew, in dangerous work like mine, I have to be something of a judge of character, and it was because of a certain reputation in that direction that I was commissioned to deal with you when you first approached us, alleging121 that you were in a position to sell valuable information. I formed a certain opinion of you then, and that opinion has been strengthened since.”
“Oh, you summed me up, did you?” asked Pellew trying to appear very amused.
“Yes,” nodded von Ravenheim, “and I considered you at once to be as you say you are, quite clever. Indeed, I thought that at some time or other in your life, you had perhaps been too clever and had to suffer for it, because you struck me as a man with a past. No, no, you needn’t laugh. I am a judge of such matters.”
“You think you are,” smiled Pellew.
“Well, I ought to be,” smiled back von Ravenheim, “for I’ve passed a third of my life behind prison walls.” He laughed merrily. “Ah, I thought that would make you stare! But you’ll be disappointed when I explain that it was only because my father happened to be governor of one of our prisons.” He held Pellews eyes with his own. “And my experiences there incline me to think that you’ve been in prison, too, because when you are talking quietly, as you have been, for instance, just now you have the trick of speaking without moving your lips, just as prisoners do when they are together, but forbidden to talk to one another.”
“Anything else?” asked Pellew with a dry mouth and an amusement which was obviously forced.
“Well, one thing more,” said von Ravenheim very quietly, “just to make you realise it will pay you best to go straight with me. When you handed me the receipt for that awful sherry last week, you had just poured me out a glass of port, and on the back of the receipt you left a very clear imprint122 of your thumb and finger. So both these prints could be included in that anonymous letter to Scotland Yard and perhaps —— No, no, leave that drawer alone. I’ve got two friends waiting outside for me in a car, and if I don’t go back to them almost at once now they’ll be coming in to see what’s happened. Besides, I’ve got a little toy myself in my pocket and it’s pointing direct at you. Ah, that’s better! Sit back and have another cigarette. Now we’ll continue this little business talk of ours.”
Some ten minutes later, when Pellew walked out of the warehouse door with his visitor, he looked up and down the lane for the car.
But there was no car of any description to be seen in the street, and noting the puzzled expression upon his face, von Ravenheim chuckled123 in amusement.
“They must have got tired of waiting,” he smiled. He sobered down instantly. “No, my friend, I bring neither car nor companions when I come to see you, for the more unnoticed I am the better. I use the tube both ways.” He waved his hand carelessly. “Good-bye. Mr.”— he stressed the name slightly —“Pellew.”
“Good-bye. Herr”— Pellew also stressed the word ever so little —“Menns,” and they parted with mutual124 grins, as if each quite understood the other.
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1
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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3
binoculars
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| n.双筒望远镜 | |
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4
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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suave
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| adj.温和的；柔和的；文雅的 | |
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asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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degenerate
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| v.退步，堕落；adj.退步的，堕落的；n.堕落者 | |
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wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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11
pillage
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| v.抢劫；掠夺；n.抢劫，掠夺；掠夺物 | |
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testily
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| adv. 易怒地, 暴躁地 | |
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thwarting
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| 阻挠( thwart的现在分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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15
scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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17
discrediting
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| 使不相信( discredit的现在分词 )； 使怀疑； 败坏…的名声； 拒绝相信 | |
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18
scoffed
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| 嘲笑，嘲弄( scoff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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horde
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| n.群众，一大群 | |
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superannuated
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| adj.老朽的，退休的；v.因落后于时代而废除，勒令退学 | |
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21
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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22
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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23
guffawed
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| v.大笑，狂笑( guffaw的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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25
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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26
bleat
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| v.咩咩叫，(讲)废话，哭诉；n.咩咩叫，废话，哭诉 | |
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peremptorily
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| adv.紧急地，不容分说地，专横地 | |
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incognito
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| adv.匿名地；n.隐姓埋名；adj.化装的，用假名的，隐匿姓名身份的 | |
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29
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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30
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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31
mentality
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| n.心理，思想，脑力 | |
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32
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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33
civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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35
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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36
autocrat
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| n.独裁者；专横的人 | |
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37
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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38
malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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39
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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40
entangle
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| vt.缠住，套住；卷入，连累 | |
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41
penal
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| adj.刑罚的；刑法上的 | |
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42
genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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43
scotched
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| v.阻止( scotch的过去式和过去分词 )；制止（车轮）转动；弄伤；镇压 | |
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44
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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45
crouch
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| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
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46
inaccessibility
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| n. 难接近, 难达到, 难达成 | |
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47
recedes
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的第三人称单数 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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48
marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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49
reclaimed
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| adj.再生的；翻造的；收复的；回收的v.开拓( reclaim的过去式和过去分词 )；要求收回；从废料中回收（有用的材料）；挽救 | |
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50
screeching
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| v.发出尖叫声( screech的现在分词 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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51
gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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52
marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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53
cubs
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| n.幼小的兽，不懂规矩的年轻人( cub的名词复数 ) | |
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54
margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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55
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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56
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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57
precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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58
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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59
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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60
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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61
mortar
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| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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62
undue
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| adj.过分的；不适当的；未到期的 | |
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63
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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64
tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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65
foulness
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| n. 纠缠, 卑鄙 | |
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66
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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67
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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68
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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69
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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70
inaccurate
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| adj.错误的，不正确的，不准确的 | |
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71
imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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72
embezzlement
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| n.盗用，贪污 | |
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73
prosecution
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| n.起诉，告发，检举，执行，经营 | |
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74
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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75
qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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76
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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77
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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78
warehouse
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| n.仓库；vt.存入仓库 | |
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79
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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proprietors
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| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
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81
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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82
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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83
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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84
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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85
bustled
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| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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86
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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87
tinkled
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| （使）发出丁当声，（使）发铃铃声( tinkle的过去式和过去分词 )； 叮当响着发出，铃铃响着报出 | |
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88
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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89
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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90
prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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91
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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93
conning
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| v.诈骗，哄骗( con的现在分词 )；指挥操舵( conn的现在分词 ) | |
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94
combustion
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| n.燃烧；氧化；骚动 | |
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95
obsequious
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| adj.谄媚的，奉承的，顺从的 | |
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96
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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97
usher
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| n.带位员，招待员；vt.引导，护送；vi.做招待，担任引座员 | |
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98
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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99
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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100
specifications
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| n.规格；载明；详述；（产品等的）说明书；说明书( specification的名词复数 )；详细的计划书；载明；详述 | |
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101
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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102
bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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103
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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104
disapprovingly
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| adv.不以为然地，不赞成地，非难地 | |
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105
beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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106
sarcastically
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| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
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107
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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108
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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109
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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110
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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111
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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112
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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113
bribed
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| v.贿赂( bribe的过去式和过去分词 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂 | |
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114
bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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115
sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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116
dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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117
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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118
anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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119
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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120
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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121
alleging
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| 断言，宣称，辩解( allege的现在分词 ) | |
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122
imprint
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| n.印痕，痕迹；深刻的印象；vt.压印，牢记 | |
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123
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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