Chapter XXXI

IN WHICH A LOVER'S IDYLL IS RUDELY INTERRUPTED, BUT JOHN PASQUETT
IS EQUAL TO THE OCCASION

Norah Culpepper was singing a little French song as she tended her roses in the garden at Paramé.

"Il était un roi d'Yvetot,
Peu connu dans l'histoire,
Se levant tard, se couchant tôt,
Dormant fort bien sans gloire.
Et couronné par Jeanneton
D'un simple bonnet de coton,
Dit-on."

The singer paused.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, ah, ah, ah, ah!
Quel bon petit roi c'était là
La, la."

answered a man's voice from the roadway.

Norah turned sharply round, and put her hand to her breast. "Jack," she said.

"Darling," said Pasquett, freshly arrived from Paris. They embraced.

"I thought you were in Siberia," she said, when her mouth became disengaged.

"This is a little surprise for you," said Pasquett. "And it's not for long. I must go to England to-morrow."

"You'll come back. You're not going to Siberia again."

"I'm taking you with me this time, my dear. Will you come?"

They kissed again. "What a baby it is," she said.

They went on like that for some time.

"The Rustons are staying in Paramé," she said at length.

"I'm in luck," said Pasquett. "They're the very people I'm looking for."

"I thought you came to see me?"

"Don't be a goose. But I want them, too. Want them badly."

"Whatever for?"

"You know young Arthur Wharton. He's got it into his head that I'm not John Pasquett at all, but some one else."

"Some one else. Who else? Not----"

"Oh, no. No one in particular. You see, unfortunately, he came across my death certificate in Siberia."

Norah laughed. "Oh, that." Then she became serious. "Does it matter?"

"No, only I have to prove to the young ass that I really am who I am. That's what I want the Rustons for."

"Won't I do?"

"He might not believe you. He knows you're in love with me."

"You're mighty sure about it, Mister Pasquett."

"Quite, darling. So's every one who sees you with me. Are the Rustons in?"

"They're out for the day. They'll be back this evening."

"Then we can have an hour or two to ourselves. Except that I must find that old photo album."

"What? The one with all the photos of you? I've got that."

"You would have."

"Yes, I love it. There's every conceivable photo of you in long frocks, short frocks, in your little blouse and knickers, right till you become a big grown man. I keep it under my pillow every night."

"Liar."

"Well, perhaps not every night. What do you want it for?"

"To show young Arthur. No one could mistake the evolution of my beauty. It's proof positive."

"You always did have an enormous mouth. And that absurd ear." Norah kissed his left ear, little conscious that it had already betrayed her lover to the observant eyes of the boy in buttons. "I love my cow with the crumpled horn," she chanted.

All of a sudden she became serious. "My dear," she said, "I quite forgot. You know that man, Superintendent Wilson. He's been here again."

"Been here? Whatever for? When was he here?"

"Only a day or two ago. He saw mother, and I'm sure he's been poking about here for something."

"What could he know, darling? Surely they've dropped the case--unless Lord Ealing has put the cops on me. And that won't matter if it's only the question of identity that's worrying them."

"Mother says he would talk about nothing but south coast watering-places, and how he'd seen me at one of them. Of course, she didn't give anything away. And there was a little boy who I'm sure was spying on me, and when I asked him who he was he said his name was Pasquett."

"It may have been, darling. I'm not the only Pasquett in the world. And why should he say it was if it wasn't?"

"I don't know, but I feel sure there was something wrong. Mr. Wilson pretended he was just taking a holiday over here, and had dropped in for a friendly call."

"Perhaps he was, darling. Don't you get worried. I don't see how they can possibly know anything. And they think I'm safe in Siberia."

Norah hoped Jack was right, but she could not help worrying. Her lover, on the other hand, seemed too pleased to be with her again to attend very closely to anything else. He laughed at her fears. Even Norah soon put them by in her joy at her lover's return. Even criminals--if these friends of ours are criminals--must make love very like ordinary people.

The Rustons came round that evening. They were very old acquaintances of Pasquett's, who had introduced them to the Culpeppers in Paris. They had known him in America, and could swear to his identity. Moreover, they knew where others who had known Pasquett in the old days could be found. The Thomas's in Fulham would readily confirm what they said. Mr. and Mrs. Ruston agreed to travel to London on the morrow with Pasquett, and put matters right with Arthur Wharton and Lord Ealing.

But, when the morrow came, Pasquett found it hard to leave Norah so soon. "Why not one day more?" he asked himself. He could travel the next day. Arthur would not expect him sooner. So he was still in Paramé when Arthur Wharton's telegram reached him on the afternoon following his arrival. He and Norah were out in the motor-boat when it came. They returned very late for dinner and found it. "Hurrah, another day's reprieve," said Pasquett. "But I wonder what all the fuss is about."

The happy party at Paramé was quite unconscious that day of the evils gathering round it. Norah did, indeed, notice the aeroplanes flying over the sea, and supposed "there must be a race on, or something." Pasquett was far too busy enjoying himself to bother his head about aeroplanes. "I dare say," he said.

They did not know that the first aeroplane, starting from Croydon, deposited at St. Malo Mr. Culpepper's confidential clerk and the detective who was his travelling companion. They did not know that a vitally important letter for Norah from her father was lying in the police station at St. Malo, or that its contents had been communicated to Scotland Yard. They did not know that the unfortunate clerk lay a few miles off in prison, unable to send out any message. They did not know that, in swift succession, Inspector Blaikie, Arthur Wharton, another detective, Lord Ealing, and yet another detective were flying across the Channel to disturb their tranquillity. They did not know that before evening, there was a detective in the copse behind the house, another hiding behind a boat on the beach, and a French police patrol boat lying in readiness round the next headland. They knew very little indeed, except that they were in love with each other.

Inspector Blaikie, with the aid of the French police, had set this watch immediately on his arrival, and himself watched the return of the lovers in their boat, and its safe bestowal in the boathouse. But the distance was too great for him to recognise Pasquett, whom he believed to be still in Siberia. Concealed in one of the cottages where he had engaged a room with a commanding view, Blaikie saw Arthur Wharton hurrying along the road that led to the villa, and saw the door close upon him. Three-quarters of an hour later, Lord Ealing drove up in a hired car, and he, too, disappeared into the house. The detective who had followed them reported to Blaikie, who sent the man into St. Malo to hire, if he could, a second motor-boat, in which Blaikie and his fellows would be able, if necessary, to take up the chase. The Inspector, as we have seen, had orders to make no arrest unless the inmates of the villa attempted to escape. Impatiently, he awaited Wilson's coming. He could not make out what Arthur Wharton and Lord Ealing were doing at the villa.

* * * * *

We, fortunately, are privileged to enter, and to see for ourselves. Old Marie had gone home, and it was Pasquett himself who opened the door to Arthur Wharton on his arrival. He began a hilarious welcome, and then saw Arthur's woebegone face. "Why, whatever is up?" he asked.

"Everything," said Arthur. "Ten to one a damned detective has followed me here, though I've done my best to give him the slip. Everything's discovered, Jack. You must fly at once."

"What the devil do you mean?" said Pasquett.

"Superintendent Wilson knows everything."

Pasquett drew Arthur into a room and shut the door. "Now," he said, "tell me what you mean."

"I told Lord Ealing about my--my doubts, and he somehow let it out to Wilson. And----"

"Oh, if that's all," said Pasquett, greatly relieved, "it doesn't matter in the least. I can prove to you or anybody else in five minutes that I'm who I always said I am."

"Never mind who you are, Jack. That's neither here nor there--now. It isn't that."

"Then what is it?" The colour had gone from Pasquett's face, but he retained his self-possession.

"Wilson says he can prove that you were in London when Radlett was murdered, and that you escaped to France the morning of the discovery."

"My God, that is serious."

"He has found it all out, except that you are back in Europe. I told him you were still in Siberia."

"You're a good friend, Arthur. I wonder how the devil he found out."

"So it's true," said Arthur. "I so hoped it wasn't true. Oh, Jack, you must fly at once."

"Looks a bit like it; but it's easier said than done."

"Then you did do it, Jack. I'd been hoping against hope you didn't. You killed him?"

Pasquett stared at Arthur. "Good God! You think I killed poor Hugh. Of course, it's quite natural you should. I suppose Wilson thinks so, too. No, Arthur, I didn't kill him."

"Then you needn't fly. You can stay and tell them the truth. It's all a hideous mistake."

"No, Arthur, I must fly, just as much as if I'd killed him. You see, I did--something else. I was there--at Sugden's Hotel. If I'm caught--no, I mustn't be caught."

"I don't understand, Jack. You say you didn't kill him. Yet you were there. Do you mean he isn't dead?" said Arthur, with a sudden hope dawning upon him.

"No," said Pasquett. "He's dead, poor chap."

"Then who did kill him? What did you do that you have to fly all the same? Oh, Jack, tell me all about it."

"My dear Arthur, I can't tell you now. There's no time to be lost. I will when I get a chance. I don't think you'll blame me much, when you know. But it's a long story. Do you say there were detectives following you?"

"Wilson put men on to watch me. Of course, I hope I gave them the slip. No one knows you're here."

"Hm. Not unless the police have got hold of your wire to me, or mine to you. The chances are they will soon, even if they haven't already. That means there's not a minute to lose. I must tell Norah. We must fly together. Perhaps there's still time. Look here, Arthur. I'm going upstairs first. There are windows there from which I can get a good view. I want to see if the house is being watched already. You didn't notice anything as you came along?"

"No, Jack, I don't know what I ought to do."

"You stay there, Arthur, and keep cool. I mean to get out of this if I can."

"As long as you didn't--kill him----"

"Of course I didn't kill him. Stay where you are. I'll be back in a minute." Pasquett dashed upstairs, leaving Arthur to stare moodily out of the window along the empty sea front.

Yet not quite empty. A car came towards the house at full speed, and stopped at the door. Lord Ealing leapt out, and told the driver to wait. Arthur, after an instant's hesitation, went to the front door and admitted his uncle. "What the devil are you here for?" he asked. "Come in here," he added, and let his uncle into the room Pasquett had just left. "What do you want now?" he said truculently.

"My dear Arthur, keep cool. I want to see Mr. Pasquett."

"He's not here. He's--gone."

"Gone? Where?"

"Away. For good."

"Whatever do you mean? You didn't tell that policeman?"

"I didn't tell him anything. He told me."

"He told you? What?"

"That he had proof positive that Jack murdered Hugh Radlett. But he didn't. Only----"

"My God," said Lord Ealing. "So that's it, is it? Can he prove it?"

"How do I know? He says he can. But it's not true. It can't be true."

"And what are you doing here?"

"I came to tell Jack to fly at once."

"And Mr. Pasquett has taken your advice, has he? Well, it's best so, perhaps."

"What did you come here for? You didn't come to warn Jack, did you?"

"I came to have a little talk with Mr. Pasquett, and find out just how things stood."

"He says he can prove he is Pasquett. Has the proofs here, in fact. But it doesn't seem to matter now, does it, who he is?"

"A murderer hangs as well by any name, no doubt."

"No, no. Jack swears he didn't kill Radlett."

"Then what has he run away for?"

"He hasn't run away, yet, Lord Ealing," said Pasquett's smooth voice. He had entered the room just in time to hear Lord Ealing's question.

"The police are all round the house, Arthur," he added. "I saw that fellow Blaikie distinctly with my field-glass."

"Then you can't get away. What _shall_ we do?"

"Look here, Pasquett," said Lord Ealing, "if that's your name----"

"It is, my lord," said Pasquett.

"I came here to find out who you really are, and now Arthur tells me that, in addition to being an impostor, you are a--murderer."

"I never said anything of the sort, uncle," said Arthur.

"At all events, he told me the police very badly want you on a charge of murder," said Lord Ealing.

"So he informs me. I was not aware of it till now."

"Upon my word," said Lord Ealing, "you take it coolly. Are you aware that this will ruin, not only me and the Anglo-Asiatic, but some thousands of people who have put their money into this infernal concession? Are you----"

"I have not ruined you _yet_, Lord Ealing."

"What do you mean, sir? If this murder charge is proved, what becomes of the concession? That's what I want to know."

"What I meant, Lord Ealing, was that, as I have not ruined you _yet_, I rely on your helping me to get away."

Lord Ealing's fury changed to fear in an instant. "What's that?" he said. "What do you mean?"

"I was referring to a little incident which doubtless remains in your lordship's memory. When my friend Hugh Radlett was at Sugden's Hotel, you addressed a private letter to him there. In it, you referred to a certain little scheme which you had concocted between you--own brother to a trick you subsequently played off on me. Radlett had reached a private understanding with you that he was going to take up the concession jointly with the Anglo-Asiatic. But you suggested that he should give it out temporarily that he was not coming in, in order that the shares might slump, and you and he both make a pretty penny by buying them when they were down. You also offered, in return for a big block of unpaid shares in the new company, to guarantee that the Foreign Office would sympathetically consider the question of recognition. I see you remember the letter. Does your lordship wish to see it published?"

"How the devil did you get hold of that letter," said Lord Ealing, "if you're not the murderer? You killed Radlett, and stole the letter from his room."

"As a matter of fact, Lord Ealing, I did not kill Hugh Radlett. But suppose I did. At any rate, I am in possession of your letter, and, if I am caught, it will certainly fall into the hands of the police. I shall see that it does, and that it is published in the newspapers. Will you like that, my lord?"

"I'll give you a thousand pounds for that letter," said Lord Ealing.

"Oh, no. It is not to be bought," said Pasquett, "not with money. These are my terms. You will give me any help in your power, even at a risk to yourself, in escaping from the police. If you do as I tell you, the letter will be handed to you when your part in the affair is over. You will then be free to destroy it. But till then it will remain in my keeping or that of my friends. If you refuse, I shall send it to the newspapers at once, and hand the original to the man who attempts to arrest me. Is that your choice?"

Arthur had stood tongue-tied, listening in astonishment to this dialogue. He was learning more about Lord Ealing these last few days than he had ever learnt before in all his life.

"Shall I publish?" Pasquett repeated.

Still Lord Ealing said nothing. He simply stared at Pasquett as if he would like to kill him.

"No, I thought not," Pasquett went on. "In that case, your lordship will be good enough to wait here until we have decided how you can best help in our escape. Don't run away, Lord Ealing. The letter will be published if you do. It is merely a little matter of business between us. Sit down and think it over. Come, Arthur." And Pasquett walked out of the room. With a doubtful glance at his uncle, standing immobile in the middle of the room and staring at nothing, Arthur Wharton followed his friend.

"Now, Arthur," said Pasquett, "we must hold a council of war. Will you come to it? They all know what's in the wind."

"I'll come, Jack. I believe you didn't kill him."

"That's right," said Pasquett, leading the way into the drawing-room of the villa.

There Arthur found quite a company assembled. Norah Culpepper was there with her mother, who was whimpering in a corner. And there were a strange man and woman, whom Pasquett introduced to him as Mr. and Mrs. Ruston. Norah rose as they entered, and came and took Pasquett's hands in hers. She seemed the calmest of them all.

"I have a plan," said Pasquett. "I'm sorry, Ruston, to drag you into this, especially as you don't know what it's all about. The police are after me for murder. I give you my word I'm not a murderer. I haven't killed any one. Norah knows that, and Mrs. Culpepper. But I have very good reason for not meeting the police. If they catch me, I stand a good chance of being convicted, not for murder, but for something else that would mean a good long sentence. So does Norah, and Mr. Culpepper, if they catch him." There came a loud sob from Mrs. Culpepper in the corner. "Now, if you choose, you can walk straight out of this house, and have no more to do with me. I shan't blame you. On the other hand, you can help me, if you're game to take a bit of risk."

Ruston obviously hesitated. He turned towards his wife.

"It's all right, old chap," said Pasquett. "I shan't take it amiss if you refuse."

"What's it all about?" said Ruston. "I think I ought to know that before I make up my mind."

"It's this," said Pasquett. "You've heard of Hugh Radlett, who was murdered a few months ago and whose money came to me." Ruston nodded. "The police think I killed him. Norah here will tell you I didn't. He was my best friend, you know. I wouldn't have hurt a hair of his head."

"Then why run away?" said Ruston.

"Because, though I didn't kill him, I could only prove that I didn't by proving myself guilty of another crime that would get me a good many years hard. Now, do you see?"

"Do you mean you did commit the other crime, whatever it was?" Ruston asked.

"Yes, I did. It was not a crime in my eyes; but in the eyes of the law--it would mean something pretty severe. And Norah was in it, too. If we're caught, either of us----"

"Oh, they mustn't be caught," said Mrs. Ruston. "Help them, dear."

"Thank you, Mrs. Ruston. But it's dangerous, I warn you, though I have an idea."

Ruston took Pasquett's hand. "We were boys together," he said; "you once saved my life. I'm game. What is it?"

"Didn't you say a ship of yours was sailing from Havre to-morrow morning? Yes, I thought so. I want you to send a message to that ship to cruise off this coast out of sight of land--say off the southernmost point of Alderney--ready to pick up two people in a motor-boat and ask no question. See the idea?"

"I see. Fortunately the ship carries no wireless, and she's bound straight for Odessa. You mean to go off in the motor-boat and join her?"

"Yes, with Norah. It's the only chance. The police are all round the house now. Of course, we may not be able to get away in the boat. They may rush the house sooner. But it looks as if they're holding back for something. I mean to try about midnight. What do you say, Norah?"

"Yes, I see no other chance," said Norah slowly. "And if the police have a boat, it's not very much of a chance."

"Unless we can get away unseen in the dark," said Pasquett.

"They're bound to hear the engine."

"Then we must take the risk. If we once get away, they'll have a job finding us."

"But how am I to get in touch with my ship?" said Ruston. "If I go, the police will be after me, sure as fate. And they'll find out about my connection with the ship, and send a fast boat after you, and catch you."

"I've provided you with a messenger, Ruston. Lord Ealing will take the message."

"Lord Ealing! He is helping you to escape?"

Pasquett laughed. "He has the best of reasons for not betraying me. And for not being followed to Havre by the police. Here, Ruston, I want you to take charge of this letter. Read it." Pasquett handed Ruston Lord Ealing's letter to Hugh Radlett.

Ruston read it. "Whew," he said, "that would make some stink if it came out."

"If Ealing betrays me, I rely on you to get that letter published in the newspapers. If he plays the game, you will hand it to him when he comes to claim it. Don't tell a soul you've got it, of course."

"Then Lord Ealing is to be my messenger, is he? I'll write now." Ruston sat down and wrote a short note to the captain of his ship, bidding him get away from Havre the first thing in the morning, and cruise off the southernmost point of Alderney till he picked up two people in a motor-boat. If he saw no sign of them by dusk on the following day, he was free to continue his voyage. "Ask no questions, and destroy this letter," Ruston concluded. "My friends are passengers to Odessa, at my expense."

"He's a discreet chap, and devoted to me," said Ruston. "He'll do it, never fear." He read the letter aloud, and handed it to Pasquett.

"I'll give it to the messenger boy at once," said Pasquett. He went in search of Lord Ealing.

A few minutes later, they heard Lord Ealing's voice in the hall, and Pasquett's cheerfully wishing him "bon voyage." Then came the sound of his motor starting. A minute later, Pasquett came back into the room. "That's done," he said. "I warrant he'll do his best, as if the devil was after him. He'll come to you for his letter, Ruston, when we've gone. And now, darling, we must prepare for our voyage."

For the next hour there was a bustle of preparation. Pasquett and Norah Culpepper packed up a few things to take with them. They stole round to the boathouse, and tended the boat as carefully as for a race, oiling every part of the engines in preparation for their voyage. But in an hour all was ready, and it was still far too light to make a start. "We must wait till nearly midnight," said Pasquett, "even though it means the danger of their rushing the house meanwhile."

"We are thinking of slipping off home, unless we can be of any use," said Ruston.

"No," said Norah. "We want you. Our car's in the garage. There are sure to be police watching the boathouse and the shore. Just before we slip away in the boat, it will help enormously if you two drive off in the car from the other side. Make as much noise as you can, and all the police will rush for you, thinking it's Jack and I, trying to get away. Meanwhile, we shall get a start in the boat. Do you see the idea? There's really no danger in it for you, is there?"

"Oh, we'll do it," said Ruston. "Eh, Helen?" Mrs. Ruston agreed.

"Then that's that," said Pasquett. "You're real friends."

"And now," said Norah, "I'm going for a stroll."

"Going for a stroll?" said Arthur, incredulously. "You'll be seen."

"Precisely," said Norah. "I want to be seen. I'm afraid of those policemen getting nervous, and being afraid I've got away somehow. If I take a quiet stroll along the beach, without hat or coat, they'll know I'm here, and, what's more, they'll be quite sure I don't know they're here. Moreover, I want to see if they've got a boat."

"But they may arrest you." It was Mrs. Ruston who spoke.

"I don't think so," said Norah. "Why haven't they done so already? No. They're waiting for something or somebody. I think it's safe enough. I won't go far--only along the beach. I won't be out ten minutes."

"Let me come with you," said Arthur, and Norah welcomed the suggestion.

So Arthur Wharton and Norah went, hatless and coatless, into the garden, and strolled down on to the beach. Pasquett watched them, standing well back, from a window; he was nervous, though he had agreed that Norah should go. If the police were after all to arrest her, he would give himself up too. He could not bear to go away and leave Norah to take the consequences of their joint misdeeds.

The two figures passed out of sight beyond the little group of boats from whose shelter Wilson had once watched the villa. Pasquett became yet more anxious, despite himself. He had seen a hasty consultation going on outside the cottage just above the place where the boats lay. Blaikie was resisting the eagerness of his French helpers to effect an immediate arrest. "She can't get away," he said. "I don't want her arrested yet." The Frenchmen shrugged their shoulders, and clamoured in vain.

Then Norah and Arthur reappeared, still walking unconcernedly along, this time towards the villa. In a few minutes they were back in the house. "There's a French police boat just round the bend," said Arthur.

"I know her," said Norah. "She's not so fast as ours."

"And Inspector Blaikie's in the cottage just above," said Arthur.

"So now we know the lie of the land," said Pasquett, cheerfully. He turned to Mrs. Culpepper. "Mother, give us a square meal before we start. We shall need it."

Norah went away to help her mother prepare supper. The Rustons were still in the drawing-room. Arthur drew Pasquett aside.

"Jack," he said, "you've time now. Tell me--what really happened. I must know--if I'm to help you."

"Right you are," said Pasquett. "I'll tell you the whole story."

And he did.

But that will keep--though perhaps the intelligent reader has guessed it already.