Wallace at Bay by Alexander Wilson Read Free Book Online Page A

road in the hope that West, the driver, would glance round the corner, when he might be able to signal to him to approach. West, however, like most of the drivers employed by Secret Service Headquarters, was an old soldier of exemplary character and a rigid sense of discipline. He had been told to take the car out of sight and stand by it until Carter or Cartright came to him, and there he would remain until Doomsday if need be. Cartright knew that perfectly well.
    A neighbouring clock began to chime preparatory to striking nine. He looked across at the house. There were lights in thebasement, on the ground floor, and the storey above. Once or twice shadows had been thrown momentarily on the blinds, but otherwise there was no sign of life. Everything seemed so utterly peaceful that it was hard to imagine violence taking place over the way. But nobody knew better than Cartright how deceptive appearances can be. He shivered a little, and it was not altogether due to the chill wind or the rain, which was now descending in a steady stream.
    The last note of the hour was striking, when a large black car glided noiselessly round the corner from Formosa Street, passed him by, and stopped forty or fifty yards farther along. He recognised it as belonging to Sir Leonard Wallace, and a feeling of relief replaced the anxiety in his mind. A man of medium height, slim even in the raincoat he wore, with a felt hat pulled well down on his head, and his left hand in his pocket descended from the car, and strolled along the pavement towards him. There was no mistaking the chief. Cartright moved slowly to meet him.
    ‘Anything of interest to report?’ asked Sir Leonard, as he acknowledged the other’s salute.
    ‘We have discovered that Pestalozzi is in there, sir,’ Cartright told him, ‘and are pretty sure Haeckel and Zanazaryk are with him.’ He proceeded to repeat the conversation Carter had had with the lady in the public house, described how he had followed the four men to the place, and Carter’s recognition of Pestalozzi. A deep sigh of satisfaction was the only sound that left Sir Leonard’s lips by way of reply. ‘While they were in the pub,’ went on Cartright, ‘Carter decided to search their rooms. He was in there a considerable time, and had not reappeared, when they got ready to return. I hurried along and warned him by whistling,but they were too rapid to give him time to get out safely. He was opening the front door, when I passed, but they were so close behind me that I had to tell him to get back and hide. That was nearly three quarters of an hour ago, sir, and there has not been a sign of him since.’
    ‘He may be hidden somewhere listening to their conversation,’ commented Wallace. ‘Is he armed?’
    ‘I don’t know, sir. I’m afraid I forgot to ask. I am.’
    ‘H’m! I don’t suppose for a moment that he is.’ He stood in deep thought, his eyes fixed on the house across the way. ‘The ground floor is occupied by the bootblack,’ he murmured, presently, ‘and the floor above by Pestalozzi and his supposed brothers. We needn’t bother about the basement particularly, though we’ll keep a watch on it. Have you a bunch of skeleton keys on you, Cartright?’
    ‘No, sir.’
    ‘Then take these, go across, and open that door. Not a sound mind.’
    Cartright waited until a man and woman had passed by and a bus, going to the West End, had rounded the corner and disappeared; then he stepped from behind the tree which had sheltered him, and walked to the Formosa Street end of the road. A minute later he came back on the other side, slipped through the gate, and went up the steps to the door. Wallace strolled back to his car, put his head in the open window, and spoke to somebody within. One by one four men stepped out, immediately taking care to avoid any light, and, as far as possible, became merged with the darkness. They were all very expert at that sort of thing for, as the car went towards Sutherland