The Secret Adversary
“Look here, Annette, I want you to help me get out of this.” She shook
her head.
“Impossible. There are three of them on the floor below.”
“Oh!” Tommy was secretly grateful for the information. “But you would
help me if you could?”
“No, monsieur.”
“Why not?”
The girl hesitated.
“I think--they are my own people. You have spied upon them. They are
quite right to keep you here.”
“They’re a bad lot, Annette. If you’ll help me, I’ll take you away from
the lot of them. And you’d probably get a good whack of money.”
But the girl merely shook her head.
“I dare not, monsieur; I am afraid of them.”
She turned away.
“Wouldn’t you do anything to help another girl?” cried Tommy. “She’s
about your age too. Won’t you save her from their clutches?”
“You mean Jane Finn?”
“Yes.”
“It is her you came here to look for? Yes?”
“That’s it.”
The girl looked at him, then passed her hand across her forehead.
“Jane Finn. Always I hear that name. It is familiar.”
Tommy came forward eagerly.
“You must know _something_ about her?”
But the girl turned away abruptly.
“I know nothing--only the name.” She walked towards the door. Suddenly
she uttered a cry. Tommy stared. She had caught sight of the picture
he had laid against the wall the night before. For a moment he caught a
look of terror in her eyes. As inexplicably it changed to relief. Then
abruptly she went out of the room. Tommy could make nothing of it. Did
she fancy that he had meant to attack her with it? Surely not. He rehung
the picture on the wall thoughtfully.
Three more days went by in dreary inaction. Tommy felt the strain
telling on his nerves. He saw no one but Conrad and Annette, and the
girl had become dumb. She spoke only in monosyllables. A kind of dark
suspicion smouldered in her eyes. Tommy felt that if this solitary
confinement went on much longer he would go mad. He gathered from Conrad
that they were waiting for orders from “Mr. Brown.” Perhaps, thought
Tommy, he was abroad or away, and they were obliged to wait for his
return.
But the evening of the third day brought a rude awakening.
It was barely seven o’clock when he heard the tramp of footsteps outside
in the passage. In another minute the door was flung open. Conrad
entered. With him was the evil-looking Number 14. Tommy’s heart sank at
the sight of them.
“Evenin’, gov’nor,” said the man with a leer. “Got those ropes, mate?”
The silent Conrad produced a length of fine cord. The next minute Number
14’s hands, horribly dexterous, were winding the cord round his limbs,
while Conrad held him down.
“What the devil----?” began Tommy.
But the slow, speechless grin of the silent Conrad froze the words on
his lips.
Number 14 proceeded deftly with his task. In another minute Tommy was a
mere helpless bundle. Then at last Conrad spoke:
“Thought you’d bluffed us, did you? With what you knew, and what you
didn’t know. Bargained with us! And all the time it was bluff! Bluff!
You know less than a kitten. But your number’s up now all right, you
b---- swine.”
Tommy lay silent. There was nothing to say. He had failed. Somehow
or other the omnipotent Mr. Brown had seen through his pretensions.
Suddenly a thought occurred to him.
“A very good speech, Conrad,” he said approvingly. “But wherefore the
bonds and fetters? Why not let this kind gentleman here cut my throat
without delay?”
“Garn,” said Number 14 unexpectedly. “Think we’re as green as to do you
in here, and have the police nosing round? Not ‘alf! We’ve ordered the
carriage for your lordship to-morrow mornin’, but in the meantime we’re
not taking any chances, see!”
“Nothing,” said Tommy, “could be plainer than your words--unless it was
your face.”
“Stow it,” said Number 14.
“With pleasure,” replied Tommy. “You’re making a sad mistake--but yours
will be the loss.”
“You don’t kid us that way again,” said Number 14. “Talking as though
you were still at the blooming _Ritz_, aren’t you?”
Tommy made no reply. He was engaged in wondering how Mr. Brown had
discovered his identity. He decided that Tuppence, in the throes of
anxiety, had gone to the police, and that his disappearance having been
made public the gang had not been slow to put two and two together.
The two men departed and the door slammed. Tommy was left to his
meditations. They were not pleasant ones. Already his limbs felt cramped
and stiff. He was utterly helpless, and he could see no hope anywhere.
About an hour had passed when he heard the key softly turned, and the
door opened. It was Annette. Tommy’s heart beat a little faster. He had
forgotten the girl. Was it possible that she had come to his help?
Suddenly he heard Conrad’s voice:
“Come out of it, Annette. He doesn’t want any supper to-night.”
“Oui, oui, je sais bien. But I must take the other tray. We need the
things on it.”
“Well, hurry up,” growled Conrad.
Without looking at Tommy the girl went over to the table, and picked up
the tray. She raised a hand and turned out the light.
“Curse you”--Conrad had come to the door--“why did you do that?”
“I always turn it out. You should have told me. Shall I relight it,
Monsieur Conrad?”
“No, come on out of it.”
“Le beau petit monsieur,” cried Annette, pausing by the bed in the
darkness. “You have tied him up well, _hein?_ He is like a trussed
chicken!” The frank amusement in her tone jarred on the boy; but at
that moment, to his amazement, he felt her hand running lightly over
his bonds, and something small and cold was pressed into the palm of his
hand.
“Come on, Annette.”
“Mais me voilà.”
The door shut. Tommy heard Conrad say:
“Lock it and give me the key.”
The footsteps died away. Tommy lay petrified with amazement. The object
Annette had thrust into his hand was a small penknife, the blade open.
From the way she had studiously avoided looking at him, and her action
with the light, he came to the conclusion that the room was overlooked.
There must be a peep-hole somewhere in the walls. Remembering how
guarded she had always been in her manner, he saw that he had probably
been under observation all the time. Had he said anything to give
himself away? Hardly. He had revealed a wish to escape and a desire
to find Jane Finn, but nothing that could have given a clue to his
own identity. True, his question to Annette had proved that he was
personally unacquainted with Jane Finn, but he had never pretended
otherwise. The question now was, did Annette really know more? Were her
denials intended primarily for the listeners? On that point he could
come to no conclusion.
But there was a more vital question that drove out all others. Could he,
bound as he was, manage to cut his bonds? He essayed cautiously to
rub the open blade up and down on the cord that bound his two wrists
together. It was an awkward business, and drew a smothered “Ow” of pain
from him as the knife cut into his wrist. But slowly and doggedly he
went on sawing to and fro. He cut the flesh badly, but at last he felt
the cord slacken. With his hands free, the rest was easy. Five minutes
later he stood upright with some difficulty, owing to the cramp in his
limbs. His first care was to bind up his bleeding wrist. Then he sat on
the edge of the bed to think. Conrad had taken the key of the door, so
he could expect little more assistance from Annette. The only outlet
from the room was the door, consequently he would perforce have to wait
until the two men returned to fetch him. But when they did.... Tommy
smiled! Moving with infinite caution in the dark room, he found and
unhooked the famous picture. He felt an economical pleasure that his
first plan would not be wasted. There was now nothing to do but to wait.
He waited.
The night passed slowly. Tommy lived through an eternity of hours, but
at last he heard footsteps. He stood upright, drew a deep breath, and
clutched the picture firmly.
The door opened. A faint light streamed in from outside. Conrad went
straight towards the gas to light it. Tommy deeply regretted that it was
he who had entered first. It would have been pleasant to get even with
Conrad. Number 14 followed. As he stepped across the threshold, Tommy
brought the picture down with terrific force on his head. Number 14 went
down amidst a stupendous crash of broken glass. In a minute Tommy had
slipped out and pulled to the door. The key was in the lock. He turned
it and withdrew it just as Conrad hurled himself against the door from
the inside with a volley of curses.
For a moment Tommy hesitated. There was the sound of some one stirring
on the floor below. Then the German’s voice came up the stairs.
“Gott im Himmel! Conrad, what is it?”
Tommy felt a small hand thrust into his. Beside him stood Annette. She
pointed up a rickety ladder that apparently led to some attics.
“Quick--up here!” She dragged him after her up the ladder. In another
moment they were standing in a dusty garret littered with lumber. Tommy
looked round.
“This won’t do. It’s a regular trap. There’s no way out.”
“Hush! Wait.” The girl put her finger to her lips. She crept to the top
of the ladder and listened.
The banging and beating on the door was terrific. The German and another
were trying to force the door in. Annette explained in a whisper:
“They will think you are still inside. They cannot hear what Conrad
says. The door is too thick.”
“I thought you could hear what went on in the room?”
“There is a peep-hole into the next room. It was clever of you to guess.
But they will not think of that--they are only anxious to get in.”
“Yes--but look here----”
“Leave it to me.” She bent down. To his amazement, Tommy saw that she
was fastening the end of a long piece of string to the handle of a big
cracked jug. She arranged it carefully, then turned to Tommy.
“Have you the key of the door?”
“Yes.”
“Give it to me.”
He handed it to her.
“I am going down. Do you think you can go halfway, and then swing
yourself down _behind_ the ladder, so that they will not see you?”
Tommy nodded.
“There’s a big cupboard in the shadow of the landing. Stand behind it.
Take the end of this string in your hand. When I’ve let the others out--
_pull! _”
Before he had time to ask her anything more, she had flitted lightly
down the ladder and was in the midst of the group with a loud cry:
“Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Qu’est-ce qu’il y a?”
The German turned on her with an oath.
“Get out of this. Go to your room!”
Very cautiously Tommy swung himself down the back of the ladder. So
long as they did not turn round ... all was well. He crouched behind the
cupboard. They were still between him and the stairs.
“Ah!” Annette appeared to stumble over something. She stooped. “Mon
Dieu, voilà la clef!”
The German snatched it from her. He unlocked the door. Conrad stumbled
out, swearing.
“Where is he? Have you got him?”
“We have seen no one,” said the German sharply. His face paled. “Who do
you mean?”
Conrad gave vent to another oath.
“He’s got away.”
“Impossible. He would have passed us.”
At that moment, with an ecstatic smile Tommy pulled the string. A crash
of crockery came from the attic above. In a trice the men were pushing
each other up the rickety ladder and had disappeared into the darkness
above.
Quick as a flash Tommy leapt from his hiding-place and dashed down the
stairs, pulling the girl with him. There was no one in the hall. He
fumbled over the bolts and chain. At last they yielded, the door swung
open. He turned. Annette had disappeared.
Tommy stood spell-bound. Had she run upstairs again? What madness
possessed her! He fumed with impatience, but he stood his ground. He
would not go without her.
And suddenly there was an outcry overhead, an exclamation from the