Daredevil
the complete performance should move as cleanly and slickly as an
exhibition by a perfectly trained _corps de ballet_.
It was all carried out with incredible speed and efficiency. Barely
five minutes elapsed between the first intimation of the attack and
the collection of every gem in the place in the bag the three
operatives carried.
In the forefront of the crowd a keen-faced young man was writing
swiftly in a notebook. His astounding unconcern stamped him
immediately as a member of the only profession which would be
detachedly interested in the end of the world.
Snooper Brome replaced the pins in the bombs he held, and one of his
assistants did the same. The third man still held up his hands with
their load of concentrated death. The three who had rifled the cases
left first, strolling out one by one and conversing casually of what
they had seen. Morini, carrying the bag, paused to deliver a mocking
farewell.
"We shall meet again, Captain Arden," he said.
"In the Old Bailey," brisked Storm cheerfully. "So long, Gat."
He had no fear of being attacked then, for obviously the gang would
be unwilling to alarm the people outside if it could be avoided. The
whole thing was staked on the handicap of the crowd of people who
would be involved in the fight if the police made a move. It was the
most consummately daring bluff in the history of crime, and, granted
police officers who felt responsibility for the safety of the general
public, it was a bluff that could not be called....
Now only the last man was left, and he stood like a graven image
while the hands of the big clock on the wall over his head moved
slowly. A silence had fallen on the crowd, and the only sound was
the restless movements of their feet. The reporter was still writing
dispassionately.
And then, without the quiver of a nerve, Storm performed an act of
reckless heroism that drew a great gasp from the crowd. He threw
away the butt of his cigarette, and reached boredly to his pocket.
Those who were near him saw something hard and blue-black leap out
with his hand....
He fired, and as he fired he hurled himself forward, The man with the
bombs sagged and crumpled with a little choking cry. Storm was upon
him even before he fell, had wrenched the bombs from the spastic
clutch of the dead hands, and was racing towards the door. Beyond
that door was a long marble corridor which led to the vaults wherein
the treasures offered for sale at Moraine's were stored at night.
With a grunt he flung the two bombs far from him and jerked himself
back into the room.
They detonated in mid-air, and he was only just in time to avoid the
fragments of metal that came whizzing back on the earth-shaking
reverberation. The tense effort left him gasping weakly, and the
screams of panicking men and women came to him through a red haze.
But it was only for a moment.
"Attaboy!" His cheery voice rose above the pandemonium. "Three
shies a penny--_after 'em, you hounds of Hell!_"
The detectives, led by Teal, poured out of the other door which led
to the street, and were met by the inrush of the outside guards who
had heard the explosion. Storm watched them go, and then went
towards the fighting, stampeding mass of people who were striving to
follow them. At a glance he saw that the flying splinters of the
bombs had done no physical damage, and he let his parade-ground voice
go like a whip crack. He cursed and insulted them into silence, and
barked them back into the room.
"You poor henripped sheep!" he snapped when he had cowed them into
some sort of order. "There'll be no more fireworks. Form single
rank, all ladies to the right, and go out quietly--not like a lot of
milling white rabbits!"
He marched them out like a string of beaten dogs. Only one protested
at this assumption of command, and he was a man whom Storm had marked
down in the stampede--a gross, expensively dressed bounder, white and
shaking with terror, who had striven to claw his way to safety
through a mob of frightened women.
"I'll have the coat off your back, sir!" he fumed, his voice shrill
with the reaction from fear. "You--you--you insolent young puppy,
swearing at us as if we were the scum of the earth! I'll report you
to your chief! I'll have you kicked out of the Force! You're a
disgrace to the police, sir--a disgrace! You--you endanger our
lives, and then you have the--the impertinence--the impertinence--I
demand to know your name, sir! I shall go straight to Scotland Yard!"
"I am Captain Arden," said Storm coldly, and his lip curled. "Ask
for Mr. Kennedy, who is my chief. And put a cushion in the seat of
your trousers before you go, because he will quite certainly kick you
down the stairs."
"I'll write to the papers about this outrage!" stormed the man.
"I'll have you pilloried in the Press! I'll--I'll----"
"I'll tie you in three knots and push you under an omnibus if you
aren't outside in five seconds," said Storm quietly, and there was
such concentrated scorn in his voice that the man shrank away as
though he expected a blow.
Storm was boiling with suppressed rage beneath his calm exterior, for
the events of the past minutes had frayed his nerves more than he
would ever have admitted. The reporter had watched the scramble with
half-closed, amused eyes, and had gracefully taken his place at the
end of the queue when peace was restored. He was the last to leave,
and he held out his hand as he came to the door.
"I won't ask for an interview," he said, "because I don't want my
head bitten off before I've written up this scoop. Here's my card.
I'll see you through if that cow in trousers makes a fuss."
Storm's acid stare dissolved into a smile in response to the
youngster's grin, and he shook hands heartily. They went out into
the street together, and shouldered their way through the mass of
excited people who had assembled. A uniformed man answered Storm's
query.
"Your men are after them, sir, but I don't think they've much chance.
I saw them all go, and they looked too innocent to be wrong; besides,
there'd been no alarm."
Storm started up the Hirondel and the journalist, without invitation,
joined him. Storm drove him back to Fleet Street and returned to
Scotland Yard. He was feeling annoyed, for he had risked everything
to allow the detectives to give chase with the least possible delay,
and yet he knew the futility of attempting to allow even two minutes'
start in London to a fast car whose number was unknown; and he did
not doubt for one moment that the gang had provided themselves with
every possible means of ensuring a good getaway.
Newsboys were rushing about with sensational posters in their hands,
yelling indistinguishable captions, but he hardly noticed them. He
had occasion to remember them, however, when he reached his room, for
a letter was awaiting him and it was marked URGENT. He tore it open,
and found a sheet of thin foolscap covered with neat writing. At the
head of it was drawn the symbol of the Alpha Triangle, and just below
this was a note:
A copy of this Manifesto has been sent to all the London newspapers,
and all News Agencies.
Then came the lines of writing headed in a way that was more
audacious than any criminal proclamation--of which a few are issued
from time to time, but of which nobody takes any notice--he had ever
read. And the subject-matter of the manifesto would only a week ago
have excited his derision.
FIRST MANIFESTO
_by the Lord of the Alpha Triangle, in Council, to the Parliament
and People of the United Kingdom._
WHEREBY it is announced as follows:
The Society at present known as the Alpha Triangle is the most
powerful and the most highly-organised Institution of its kind the
world has ever known. The Society is composed of those who,
recognising the fact that Force is the law of Nature, and that the
principles obtaining in International Politics are those which should
have currency in Social Politics, have arranged to extract from the
World the wealth which they desire by such means as they think fit to
employ. Recognising, also, that they are declaring a War upon the
Laws of the World, the Alpha Triangle wish it to be understood that
no human life will be sacred to them during the duration of such a
War.
IN ORDER, therefore, that much needless sacrifice of life may be
saved, the Alpha Triangle takes this opportunity of announcing that
it will declare an End of this War on receiving official Intimation
of the acceptance by His Majesty's Government of the following Terms
of Peace:
(1) THAT the Government above cited shall, within two months of the
date hereof, pay to the Alpha Triangle the sum of £15,000,000
(Fifteen million pounds).
(2) THAT the Government above cited shall, upon making this payment,
utter a proclamation freely pardoning the several members of the
Alpha Triangle and fully indemnifying them from the results of any
civil or criminal proceedings in connection with any felonies,
misdemeanours or torts committed by the said members of the Alpha
Triangle, up to and including the day upon which this payment is made.
(3) THAT the Government above cited shall make this payment in gold
ingots, in a manner to be described upon our receipt of the
notification of the said Government that they accept these Terms
without any reservation or alteration whatsoever.
AND WHEREAS it is expedient that these Terms shall be complied with
without delay, we further announce that until the aforesaid
notification of acceptance shall be received by us through the medium
of the Daily Press, we shall at intervals of three days inclusive
assassinate the undermentioned members of the Cabinet:--
Sir John Marker (Home Secretary).
Hugh Anderby Neilson (Chancellor of the Exchequer).
Paul Hesketh (Foreign Secretary).
Lester Hume Smith (Secretary for War)
Lord Hannassay.
John Bayridge-Rand.
AND IN ADDITION, the criminal activities of the Alpha Triangle will
continue with unabated energy. Of the efficiency of these activities
the Public will be in possession of a striking example by the time
this Manifesto appears in print.
FURTHER BE IT KNOWN that the lives of those who set themselves to
track down the Alpha Triangle are forfeit, and this sentence will be
first carried out upon the persons of Captain Christopher Arden and
Inspector Claud Eustace Teal.
GIVEN by our Hand this Day,
(Signed)
For signature there was simply a small replica of the crest which
commenced the sheet.
Storm read the rambling, arrogant proclamation through again, taking
in all its pseudo-legal jargon, unnecessary capitals, and peculiar
paragraphing. It was an amazing announcement, and yet he absorbed
every word of it eagerly, for even though it was undoubtedly the work
of a madman he had already had enough evidence that the madman had
the brain of a genius and the organising ability to carry through his
extravagant threats. And the men were there to serve him--the
half-human, brutal, remorseless dregs of four or five nations, who
would kill for him readily.... One thing only amused him, and he
spoke of it to Inspector Teal when the plump detective arrived.
"You've discovered my guilty secret," said Mr. Teal sadly. "If I was
on the staff of the Triangle, I'd have put the name of the man who
suggested those names to my father on the list."
There was a silence. Then:
"It's incredible!" Storm said harshly. "Teal, if your pal Joe put
this manifesto into his book every critic would tear it to pieces.
And yet it's true! It's possible! A bughouse genius with an army of
cheap thugs who'll obey him--this"--he tapped the paper--"this don't
count a blue hoot! It only proves he's mad, and I knew that already.