Chapter XXXII: Shows How Too Many Policemen Sometimes Spoil the Broth

Mr. Culpepper had arranged that his confidential clerk, as soon as he had delivered the letters at Paramé, should wire a reply, not to his own office, but to that of a friend, and in a form that would arouse no suspicions in the minds of the police. The "dress-lengths," he was to say, had arrived, and the "hosiery" would arrive, or would not arrive to-morrow, according as Norah Culpepper was able or unable to keep the appointment he had suggested to her. As evening approached, and no answer came from Paramé, Mr. Culpepper grew seriously alarmed. He began to fear that either his messenger had never reached his destination, or something was wrong at Paramé itself. He debated seriously in his own mind what he ought to do, and finally he determined to go to Paramé himself early the next morning, and to take his risk of being followed there by the police. He rather thought he had given them the slip by coming out of his office through the adjoining building. At any rate, he had seen no sign since that he was being followed. It was disquieting that no reply had come from Paramé; but, even if something had gone wrong, he would be certainly no worse off in France than in England, and it might be that no one would pursue him thither. Shortly after Wilson had rung up the Hendon Aerodrome, Mr. Culpepper did the same and tried to arrange for a passage for an early hour the next morning. An aeroplane, he found, would be leaving early, with room for an additional passenger, but it would depend on the original hirer's consenting whether he could travel in it or not. Culpepper, who had given the name of Morgan and described himself as a merchant having urgent business in St. Malo, tried hard to reserve an assured passage, but finally he made the best of a bad job, and agreed to turn up on the following morning and take his chance of the other passenger's consent. The aerodrome would not give the name of this passenger, so that Culpepper was unable to get into touch with him overnight.

Wilson, driving up to Hendon early the next morning with the boy in buttons, was taken into the office and asked if he would mind if a Mr. Morgan, a merchant anxious to get to St. Malo in a hurry, shared the aeroplane with him. He agreed, and was taken to be introduced to Mr. Morgan. The little man started back when he saw Wilson, and seemed to expect immediate arrest. Wilson laughed at his discomfiture. "Hallo, Culpepper," he said, "are you coming too? The more the merrier."

"Coming where?" said Culpepper. "I'm going home, if that's what you mean."

"We shall be companions," said Wilson. "An unexpected pleasure, my dear sir. And we shall both meet friends we know on the other side."

Culpepper shrugged his shoulders. He turned to the clerk in charge. "My name," he said, "is not Morgan. It is Culpepper. I shall share Superintendent Wilson's aeroplane."

Wilson laughed again. "The play would not be complete without you," he said. "Come, hop in."

The three travellers took their seats. The plane ran along the ground, and then soared. The last contingent of our actors had set off for the grand transformation scene which will end our story.

* * * * *

At Paramé, meanwhile, events had been moving fast. Inspector Blaikie, as the previous day advanced, had become more and more bewildered. He had been sent to France to keep a watch on Norah Culpepper, with orders to arrest her only if she attempted to make her escape. This had seemed plain enough, and he had easily arranged with the French police for a warrant, and for the help of French officers in effecting the arrest, if this became necessary. But Blaikie had not bargained for the complications which set in soon after he had posted his watch. When first Arthur Wharton and then Lord Ealing, each followed by a detective from London, made their appearance at the villa, Blaikie could not make head or tail of these mysterious occurrences. Then Lord Ealing drove away in his hired car inland, and Blaikie had only one car immediately handy, and that he would not let go, lest Norah Culpepper should seize the chance of getting away. There was, therefore, some delay before the man detailed to keep on Lord Ealing's track could follow him. Lord Ealing, for the moment, got clean away, and Blaikie had to send off two of his three English detectives in pursuit, in the hope of picking up the trail.

When Arthur Wharton and Norah Culpepper took their stroll along the beach and then both returned to the villa, the Inspector was somewhat reassured. Apparently, the inmates of the villa suspected nothing, and were pursuing their ordinary course. At all events, Norah Culpepper did not appear to have any immediate intention of running away. It was all very perplexing, but Blaikie made up his mind to leave the watch to his remaining subordinate, and to snatch a few hours' sleep. If Norah Culpepper was meditating an escape, she would probably wait till it was quite dark, and that would not be till very late on this fine August night.

Blaikie's fellow-detective, left in sole charge--for the French police, though near at hand, had retired at evening to a room where they were drinking and playing cards--ensconced himself in an empty boat from which he could command a good view of the house. It was a beautiful, warm, drowsy night. He did not fall asleep, but his faculties were pleasantly lulled, and he felt most comfortable where he was. He watched the house, but he did not note any of the subdued bustle of the approaching flight.

At half-past ten a boy on a bicycle rode up to the cottage where Blaikie was taking his repose in the best bedroom, and left a telegram for the Inspector. The woman who received it, saying that it was a pity to disturb the gentleman, left it on the mantelpiece in the sitting-room for him to find when he woke and then went herself to bed. Blaikie, waking at eleven o'clock, went out without going into the sitting-room, and found his subordinate half asleep in the empty boat. After rating the man soundly, he stole through the coppice towards the boathouse, and tried to look through the crack in the wall. But it was too dark to make out the interior. Reassured by finding all quiet, Blaikie completed a slow survey of the entire premises, and returned to his cottage to fetch his pipe, which he had left on the sitting-room mantelpiece. As he entered he at last saw Wilson's telegram, and stretched out his hand to take it.

As he did so, he heard a loud shout from the villa, followed by other shouts, amid which he could hear the snortings of a motor-car about to start. Thrusting the telegram into his pocket, still unopened, he rushed out of doors, and ran quickly towards the villa. He was just in time to see a motor-car with a man driving and a woman muffled up beside him, starting along the road leading straight inland from the Culpepper villa. The French policemen, disturbed at their cards, came running after him towards the villa in a compact little body. The inhabitants of the nearer houses, disturbed by the shouting, either came running out into the road, or threw up their windows, and inquired volubly what the matter was. There was a great scattering to and fro.

"Quick, the car," said Blaikie to his subordinate, beckoning at the same time to the leader of the French police. Followed by these two, he dashed towards the car which he had waiting in readiness and leapt in. In five minutes the three police officers were in full pursuit of the flying car. But the car they were following was a fast one, and Blaikie saw they might be in for a long chase.

"Leave a man or two to watch the house, and the rest of you get another car and come after us," shouted the leader of the French police to his followers, as the police car started on its way. The little group of policemen scattered this way and that.

At that instant came a faint throbbing sound from the Culpepper villa, and the motor-boat, with Norah and Pasquett aboard, shot out of the mouth of the little river, making straight for sea. A policeman turning, managed to flash his lantern towards it, but in a couple of minutes it was out of sight, and only the throb of its engine could be faintly heard.

"The boat, the boat," shouted the French policemen, dancing up and down on the beach. "Where is our boat? Warn her, warn her." Deprived of their leader, who had gone off with Blaikie in pursuit of the flying motor-car, the policemen seemed to have lost the power of action. But, after a short hesitation, they all ran, shouting and gesticulating, towards the place where the police boat lay.

When they reached it, the alarm had already been given, and the man who had been left in charge was already preparing to start the boat. Two more policemen scrambled in and then the police boat shot out seaward in pursuit.

Arthur Wharton, meanwhile, was left alone in the villa with Mrs. Culpepper, who was in hysterics in the drawing-room. Abandoning his ineffectual efforts to comfort her, Arthur soon left the house and emerged upon the beach. He wanted to see what was happening. The remaining French policeman was battering at the front door a moment after he had come out by the garden.

Arthur stared seaward, but he could see nothing. The sound of the engines had died away. But soon came a noise of shouting over the sea. Arthur could hear no words, but he thought, rightly, that the shouts came from the police boat. Had they caught the fugitives? Or what had happened? Arthur remained, how long he did not know, staring into the darkness, but hearing only an occasional sound, made faint by distance.

At last came a sound behind him. One of the motors was returning. A car drove up to the point on the road nearest the sea. Blaikie and the two other policemen leapt down. They were cursing savagely. Blaikie saw Arthur's figure on the beach, and came running towards him. "What has happened?" he cried.

"Have you caught them?" asked Arthur, not anxious to give information before he must.

"Caught them?" shouted Blaikie furiously. "Yes, I've caught them. What's happened here? That's what I want to know."

"You had better ask some one who knows," said Arthur. "I came out because I heard a lot of shouting."

Blaikie seized Arthur by the lapels of his coat, and shook him. "Look here," he said, "I'll stand no nonsense. You were in that house. You know. Out with it."

"Go and see for yourself," said Arthur, shaking himself free.

Blaikie cursed again, and ran towards the villa. As he did so, the French policemen threw up a window, and shouted, "Who's there?" The French Inspector, who had now joined Blaikie, answered, and there was a rapid colloquy in excited French. "She has escaped," said the French Inspector, "in the boat--with a man. The police boat is in chase of them."

Blaikie had remembered, while this colloquy was proceeding, the telegram which he had thrust into his pocket just as the alarm was given. Taking it out, he tore it open and read it. His expression changed from anger to consternation. "My God!" he said, "Pasquett."

"What is that?" asked the other English detective.

"Pasquett was in the house," said Blaikie. "This is a wire--from the Superintendent--ordering me to get the French police to arrest him at once. Hell! It's he who's gone off with the girl in that boat. Quick! We must go after them. Where's that other boat you found?"

The detective answered by example. "This way," he said, beginning to run. Blaikie and the French police officer followed along the shore. Arthur was left alone again. He strained eyes and ears seaward. It seemed to him he could hear still a faint and distant sound, as of voices. Had the police boat caught the fugitives? His heart stood still.

In a few minutes he heard the third boat start, but it, too, speedily vanished seaward. There was not a sound on the shore, though the inhabitants of the little town had gathered in knots by the cottages discussing the strange events of the night. From the Culpepper villa came a blaze of light; for the French policeman had switched on all the lights, and was now turning the house upside down in an exhaustive search for nothing in particular. Arthur did not want to go back to the villa while he was there, but he felt a certain responsibility for seeing that Mrs. Culpepper came to no harm. He just stayed on the beach, and waited for something to happen. There was no sign of the Rustons or their car.

At length the policeman seemed to complete his examination of the villa. One by one the lights went out, till, from where Arthur stood, only the drawing-room light was visible. Then the policeman emerged, talking to some one within the house. Presumably he was giving his orders to Mrs. Culpepper. Arthur avoided him and entered the house by way of the garden. He found Mrs. Culpepper still in the drawing-room, moaning softly to herself.

Arthur spent the rest of the night between comforting Mrs. Culpepper and making short expeditions in search of news. But there was no news. No boat returned: nothing happened. At any rate, it looked as if Norah and Pasquett had not been caught yet.

Day dawned, and showed nothing but a waste of sea. The three boats were out of sight. At length Marie arrived, buzzing with excitement and news. The first police boat, she said, had stuck on a sand-bank, and the second had lost time in helping her off. The fugitives, meanwhile, had got clean away. After expressing at great length her unfavourable views of the police, Marie at length set about preparing breakfast and repairing some of the havoc that they had wrought. Arthur left the house, and went in search of the Rustons, whose address he had obtained from Mrs. Culpepper. But the Rustons, it appeared, were in bed, sleeping off the effects of their exciting night. Arthur thought it best not to disturb them. He walked on to the police station, but there they could, or would, tell him nothing. He went back to the villa for a mournful breakfast with Mrs. Culpepper, and then hung about the shore, still waiting on events.

At length he saw a car approaching. As it drew near he recognised two of the occupants. One was Superintendent Wilson and the other Alfred Culpepper. With them were a French police officer and a small boy in a state of great excitement.