“BROCKLEBANK’S ADVENTURE”

Wairarapa Times-Age, 3 August 1940, Page 10

“BROCKLEBANK’S ADVENTURE”

COPYRIGHT. PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

By

R. A. J. WALLING

(Author of “The Man With the Squeaky Voice,” etc.)

CHAPTER X.

(Continued). “The London taxi-driver," said Tolefree, “is one of the world's wonders —only second to the London taxi. In no other country would you find a taxi old enough to carry tyre levers. Nowhere else would you pick up the first man off a rank and find that he knew every street in a crowded region seven miles away.” "Ladywell Park, sir,” said the driver, putting his head round to the window. “Drive in, will you? Find No. 467. Go past it a little. Then stop. We shall want you to wait, but not there. Better drive round slowly, and look out for a signal from us every time you pass.” No. 467 was almost out of hearing of the traffic from the road. A belt of shrubs in front concealed everything but a projecting bay which came nearly to the footpath. Brocklebank and Tolefree stood among the shrubs in complete darkness as the taxi rolled on. The assumption of their plan of campaign was that within its walls Harrison and Pamela were held by force, and that she had I thrown that message out into the road —probably from the upper window of the bay. If so, they were guarded by one or more of Henry’s thugs. Tolefree | thought Henry and Stubbs were prob- | ably not there. If the commander-in-chief cf the opposing army was at Gravesend, the Battle of Ladywell Park, as Tolefree whimsically called it, would be an affair of outposts only. How should they deal with the underlings? They could take one of two ways:

Wake the house and soo what happened; perhaps stage a hold-up. Or try to get in unseen and unheard. Tolefree elected for the second plan, and Brocklebank agreed. They did not want any noisy work, and neither of them trusted the Norrie and Rovigo type of warrior to observe the unwritten laws of this private war. But how to get in? Everything was dark and silent. Rounding the corner of an outhouse, they drew quickly back: a square of light appeared on the paving stones of a yard. Cautiously spying, they say that the light came through a curtainless square window. Dodging the patch of illumination, they stole up one on each side of the window. and. from the shadow, looked through.

A kitchen: on the table a bottle and a glass. But their chief interest was the figure of Mr Norrie, seated by the table in a high-backed chair, his head thrown back against the rails, his- eyes closed his mouth wide open. Mr Norrie slumbered. Listening closely, they could hear him snoring. Inching back towards the window, they found that in the darkness they had failed to observe a door giving on to a passage to the kitchen. That door was wide open.

Tolefree had to restrain Brocklebank from rushing in. The open door, he whispered, meant not that Mr Norrie had been careless, but that he was not alcne. Either some one else had gone out that way and would return, or Mr Norrie expected some ohter person to arrive and had left the door open for him. Let them dispose of Mr Norrie first —quickly, but with the utmost stealth. Mr Norrie slept on. He was not conscious of the three thuds of Brocklebank’s rubber shoes as he stepped to the back of the chair. And after that he could have seen nothing, however wide awake he had been, for one great hand descended on his face and another twisted his collar and hauled him out of the chair, and in an instant, Mr Norrie was face downward on the floor.

While Tolefree tied his legs together, Brocklebank sat on his back, twisting the collar, while Tolefree got a gag between his teeth and hauled it tight. Whereupon Brocklebank rose and Mr Norrie's hands were fastened behind his back.

Tolefree switched on his torch, and they went rapidly through the house. A commonplace suburban house —partly furnished. Of human beings, no trace. No Harrison. No Pamela.

Brocklebank frowned and gloomed as he followed Tolefree’s neat and speedy movements. , They returned to the kitchen. When the light came on Mr Norrie squirmed a bit. but could not even turn over on his back. Suddenly they heard the engine of a car in the- road outside. Their own patient taxi in one of its rounds of the Park? Tolefree listened with eyebrows raised. The car stopped. “Quick!” said he, under his breath. “Get hold of this and dump it somewhere out of the way!” Brocklebank got hold of its shoulders and Tolefree of its feet. They frogmarched it out into the paved yard, down a dimly seen garden path, and unceremoniously dropped, it on the grass.

"Now," said Tolefree. “back before he gets in." They were standing breathless in the darkness of the scullery, with a view of the illuminated kitchen. Brocklebank had a jolt when he heard words as well at footsteps as two men instead of one passed into the kitchen. “Hupmh!” said a well-remembered voice. “No one here? Go and find Norrie. He's been swilling—the sot! Gone to sleep somewhere! Get him, d’you hear—right away!" A nondeserpit little .squirt left the kitchen, switched up a light in the passage, and moved off towards the front of the house. They heard him coming back, heard him say. as he passed into the room—- “ Norrie ain't in the house."

"What! You're all a set of dam' rogues! Or fools! —which is worse. Take me to him yourself." The little squirt pointed with his thumb to the floor.

“This way,” said he, and went to one 'of the doors they had taken for cupboards. He turned a key. The little squirt went through the doorway. Sir Henry followed. “Harrison —Pamela —in some cellal’ whispered Brocklebank. “I wonder!” said Tolefree. "Keep your wits awake. Make for that door. We’ll stand behind it. Now!" Brocklebank and Tolefree slid silently across to the corner, entirely concealed by the open door. A rumble of voices came from below, but they could make out no words except, presently, a sharp “Get out!” from Worth. A door closed. The little squirt was coming up the stairs. “Hist!” said Tolefree. He shot round, to see the muzzle of a revolver three inches from his nose. "Make a sound and I shoot!” murmured Tolefree. "Sit in that chair. Keep your hands on the table. When Sir Henry Worth comes up, keep on sitting there, and say a word at youi peril, Benson.” Sweating with fear as he looked at Tolefree’s gun, he dropped into the -chairchair ana put his hands on the table. Three minutes, perhaps four, passed. The door- below opened. Worth’s gruff voice came in a gust: "Well! —it’s your own fault. You’re a dam’ fool. I'll do nothing for you.’ The door banged. Worth’s footsteps ascended. Tolefree, standing by the little squirt, looked at the doorway. “Good gracious!” he exclaimed, as Worth came into view and stopped likca man stricken to stone, his red face blanching. "Sir Henry! What a happy coincidence! We’ve just run down the little squirt for you. Here he is. We don't like him. Will you please take him away?” "What the devil —d’you—mean by it, Tolefree?” Worth stammered. “Just that,” said Tolefree. My urgent wish is, to have Mr Benson removed from the premises at once, and by you and without discussion. If not, I call the police to take charge of him.” “I must say, Tolefree ” “Well, if you must, you will. Brocklebank, will you fetch the officer?” Brocklebank started for the door. “Stop!” cried Worth. “We'll have this out another time, Tolefree. Now. Benson ” “That’s better. Au revoir, Sir Henry, and a pleasant drive to —Eastbourne, was it? Brocklebank, will you kindly see Sir Henry to his car and then come back to me?” Brocklebank, gun in hand, brought up the tail of the procession—through the yard. A car waited tenantless. The little squirt climbed into the driver’s seat, Sir Henry into the back. He leaned out of the window to say to Brocklebank at the gate: “Mr Brocklebank, I'm a hasty man when I’m crossed.” “I believe you,” said Brocklebank. “You are anynow. Good night, Sir Henry, and pleasant dreams.” Worth snorted, wound up the window; the car started. As Brocklebank watched it away, the patient taxi crawled down the road. He hailed it. “Hope we shan’t be long now,” said he. “You can pull up here and wait.” Back to the kitchen. Tolefree stood at the door of the cellar stairs, looking down. A bulb was lit at the bottom, showing a closed door. “Curious,” said Tolefree. He turned to Brocklebank. “Well let's see. Keep your gun in evidence. I’ll go first.” Brocklebank followed silently. Twelve steps. A little square well at the bottom. The door facing them was not fastened; a slit of light came through. "Damn —I’ll not wait!” Brocklebank pushed past Tolefree and threw the door wide open, saying. “Pamela! —are you here?” Then he swore another loud oath. The cellar had only one occupant. A figure sitting crouched over the table, head in hands, was there. It was the man with the narrow eyes and the clipped moustache he had first seen in the dining car of the P.L.M. rapide. “Farley!" he cried. “What the hell But it was clear enough that Henry had carried out his resolution; he had put Farley under the charge of Norrie or Rovigo, or both. And it was Farley’s cache they had discovered, not Harrison's. But then—Pamela’s mute message——” "Mr Farley, never mind anything else for the moment,” said Tolefree. "Where is George and where is Miss Pamela?” Farley shook his head. “You don’t know? But they've been here! When did they go?” “Who are you? What d’you want here? Are you the police?" said Farley. “No. but if you wish I can soon get the police. Better be candid. Tell us as shortly as you can what's happened. Disregarding Tolefree, Farley turned to Brocklebank. “How the devil did you get in. and what’s become of that thug Norrie?” “We've taken care of Norrie,” said Brocklebank; “he won't worry you.” "Then for heaven's sake let's get out of this damned hole.” “Whose house is it?" Brocklebank demanded. "Whose? Didn't you know? Mine.” “Yours !" "I see —I see!" said Tolefree. "Very ingenious indeed. Introduce me to my host, Brocklebank.” “This is Tolefree; working with me. But carry on. Farley. Get upstairs.” Farley strode past them and led the' way. 'Come through to the diningroom. I'll tell you what I can, Brocklebank. I owe you that much. But you know there's a point I won't pass whatever you do." (To be Continued). I