Get Wallace! (2 page)

Brien sat gently tapping the desk with his fingers for some moments.

‘You may be right,’ he remarked at length, ‘but that doesn’t bring us any nearer solving the riddle of the identity of the person or persons in whose possession are the copies of the plans.’

The little man with the wrinkled face sat very still for some time considering the position. Before he spoke again, a small, keen-eyed, grey-haired individual carrying a file entered the room.

‘You’re just the man we want, Maddison,’ commented Major Brien. ‘Is there anything you can tell Cousins about your visits to the War Office and Air Ministry which is likely to give any clue, no matter how insignificant it may be, regarding the manner in which the leakage of the plans occurred?’

The newcomer shook his head slowly.

‘Not a thing,’ he confessed. ‘Both sets of plans are locked up in burglar-proof safes to which only the Air-Marshal and Vice-Marshal have access in one case and General Warrington and the permanent Under-Secretary in the other. The plans themselves were quite intact, and showed no signs of having been tampered with. With the exception of the models no attempt has yet been made at construction, and the only people, apart from the inventors, who have so far seen the plans, are the two bodies of experts who tested and adjudicated.’

‘All of course beyond suspicion,’ put in Brien. ‘I was at both demonstrations, and can vouch that no unauthorised person was present.’

Cousins looked sharply at him.

‘How do you know that all were beyond suspicion?’ he demanded. ‘I grant you that it seems ridiculous to suspect men
of their position and record, but somehow those plans have been copied, and, until we find out who did it, everybody concerned is under suspicion.’

‘Even the Air-Marshal and General Warrington?’ queried Brien with a twinkle in his eyes.

Cousins nodded.

‘I said everybody,’ he insisted.

‘You’re a suspicious beggar, Cousins,’ smiled Maddison.

‘Aren’t we all, in this service? If we’re not, we jolly well should be.’

‘Well,’ demanded the deputy-chief, ‘what do you suggest?’

‘I’m going round to the Air Ministry and War Office myself,’ was the reply. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll discover anything, as Maddison hasn’t, but there’s just a chance. After, all,’ he glanced slyly at the grey-haired man, his face creasing into one of his inimitable smiles, ‘he was once a policeman, and that’s bound to have cramped his style somewhat.’

‘I always thought you were a bit jealous of my Scotland Yard experience,’ retorted Maddison.

‘Nothing like that about me,’ Cousins assured him. ‘“O! beware, my lord, of jealousy!”’ he quoted. ‘“It is the green-eye’d monster which doth mock The meat it feeds on!” That’s Othello, in case you don’t know.’

‘For heaven’s sake don’t start him off, Maddison,’ pleaded Brien. ‘We’ll never get anywhere, if we allow him to break out with those infernal quotations of his.’

Cousins sighed deeply.

‘It’s appalling to reflect upon the lack of appreciation noticeable in my fellow men,’ he murmured. ‘As Bunyan has it—’

‘Let him keep it,’ interrupted Maddison, grinning broadly.
He turned to Major Brien. ‘I came in to tell you, sir, that I have decoded two wires received a few minutes ago, one from Gottfried in Berlin, and the other from Reval in Moscow. Here they are.’

He opened his file, laying it on the desk before the deputy-chief. The latter read the messages eagerly; looked up at Cousins with shining eyes.

‘This certainly helps,’ he announced. ‘The offers received by Berlin and Moscow were both dispatched by registered post from Sheerness. Replies, indicating willingness or otherwise to negotiate, are to appear in the London
Times
.’

‘Ah!’ came Cousins’ soft exclamation. ‘How interested in
The Times
we shall be for the next few days! A nice little job for one of your promising young men, Maddison.’

‘I think I’ll undertake it myself,’ replied the grey-haired man.

‘It looks pretty evident that the same organisation that made the offers to Paris, Moscow, and Berlin is behind the communication to the Foreign Office, offering to sell those French and German secret plans. Will you ring through to the Foreign Office, sir,’ he asked, ‘and find out where the letter they received came from?’

Major Brien turned to one of the telephones on his desk, took up the receiver, and asked for the Under-Secretary of the Foreign Office. As that particular wire communicated direct with the department he required, there was no delay. Almost immediately he received the necessary information, and imparted it to his companions. The document in question had been sent by registered post
from Sheerness
.

‘That settles it,’ declared Cousins. ‘Somebody has obviously opened business as a dealer in national secrets, and his headquarters
pro. tem.
seems to be in Sheerness or its vicinity. The Isle of Sheppey is not at all a bad place in which to stage a conspiracy. I’ll go down, and have a look round after I’ve been to the War Office and the Air Ministry.’

‘How in the name of all that’s wonderful,’ ejaculated Brien, ‘can this fellow have come into possession of secrets affecting so many different nations? It’s astounding. If all this is genuine, he must be amazingly ingenious and resourceful.’

Maddison nodded.

‘There’s no doubt about that, sir,’ he agreed, ‘which makes me wonder why he has fallen into such a stupid blunder.’

‘What blunder?’

‘Why, to dispatch all his communications from the same place, and to request that replies from each country interested should appear in
The Times
.’

‘H’m! That certainly doesn’t seem very clever.’

‘There may be method in the seeming madness,’ put in Cousins. ‘At all events I’ll go down to Sheppey and have a look round.’

‘Would you like to take anybody with you?’ asked Brien.

‘No, thank you. One is less conspicuous than two, and it is quite likely that a watch is being kept.’

‘It is also quite likely,’ put in Maddison drily, ‘that you will be on a wild goose chase. I very much doubt whether the sender of these communications actually lives in or near Sheerness. They are probably only posted from there as a blind.’

‘Maybe,’ returned Cousins, ‘but wild goose chases or not, I’m going down. That is, of course,’ he added rather belatedly to Major Brien, ‘if you agree, sir.’

‘Oh, rather – of course,’ nodded the latter. ‘It is possible you may stumble on something. But be wary, and don’t run any
unnecessary risks. There’s probably a great deal more behind this business than meets the eye.’

Cousins smiled.

‘
Mens tuus ego
,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll take the excellent advice of Haliburton: ‘“Mind your eye, and take care you don’t put your foot in it.”’

Cousins spent the rest of the afternoon, and a good deal of the evening, interviewing various officers, clerks, and commissionaires at the Air Ministry and War Office without result. He saw neither General Warrington nor the Air-Marshal, but that made no difference, as the permanent Under-Secretary of the War Office and the Vice-Marshal both accorded him interviews, did their utmost in fact to help him in every way they could. He even took a trip to a street in Pimlico, where he had a chat with the head night watchman of the War Office, who, like the others, was unable to supply him with any information that appeared of importance. It is true that the man informed him that General Warrington had rather surprisingly appeared at the War Office with a staff officer late at night about ten days previously, and had remained in his room for well over an hour. It was so unusual an event that it had caused a certain amount of comment among the members of the night staff, but Cousins decided it had little significance. It
was absurd to suspect the Chief of Staff himself of having ulterior motives, the officer with him was quite well known, apart from which his honesty of purpose was proved by the fact that he had accompanied the General. ‘Still,’ reflected the little man, as he entered a taxi and told the driver to take him to Lancaster Gate, ‘I’d like to know why they spent over an hour in the War Office at that time of night. Not my business of course – couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the plans. If, by some abominable freak, the General is a wrong ’un, he could make copies of the things at practically any time of the day. There would be no need to go to his office at dead of night; neither would he take a staff officer with him. Don’t start getting imaginative in your old age, Jerry.’

But that astute mind of his, which, during his long service as a member of the Intelligence Department had become accustomed to weighing up, sifting, and examining every item of information that reached him in his work, continued to dwell on that belated visit of the Chief of Staff to the War Office at dead of night, when neither war, rumours of war, nor manoeuvres required his presence there. An idea suddenly occurred to him. He directed the taxi driver to take him to the Air Ministry where he knew he would find the night staff already on duty. He had had a conversation with the head watchman, who had rooms in the basement, during the afternoon, but he wished to ask a question which had not occurred to him before. He found the man after some difficulty.

‘How often does the Air-Marshal work in his room here at night?’ he demanded.

The watchman looked at him in surprise.

‘Never, sir,’ he returned; ‘leastways very rarely. In fact I don’t think I’ve known him come back o’ nights more than two or three
times since he’s been Marshal. The one before him used to be a terror for night work.’

‘How long ago is it since he was last here at night? Now think carefully before you answer, as I am most anxious to know.’

The man was obviously intrigued by the questions, but made no comment. He had been instructed to give whatever information his interrogator might demand, and he did his best to oblige. For some time he stood thoughtfully scratching his chin.

‘It was a little over a week ago,’ he declared at length. ‘I remember quite plain, for I’d had kippers for supper, and they weren’t agreeing none too well – must have been a bit high.’

Cousins’ sharp eyes held his.

‘Why should you know it was just over a week ago because you had kippers for supper?’ he asked.

‘Well, you see, sir, the missus never gives me fish except on Friday. It wasn’t last Friday I know, so it must have been Friday week.’

‘Sure it was not longer back than that?’

‘Certain, sir.’

‘Today is Monday,’ mused Cousins, ‘that makes it ten days ago.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Was he alone?’

‘No, sir. He had one of his staff with him – a group-captain, who goes about with him a lot.’

‘What time did he arrive, and how long did he stop?’

‘It must have been after midnight, sir. He stopped until near two. I remember looking at my watch as he went.’

A very puzzled Cousins left the Air Ministry, and he re-entered his taxi.

‘It begins to look,’ he chuckled to himself, ‘as though the Air-Marshal and General Warrington are the villains of the piece. They
must have gone to their offices on the same night or, at least, on adjacent nights. I’ll probably get rapped on the knuckles, but I’m going to find out why.
Fortiter in re, suaviter in modo.
’

He was driven to the General’s residence in Knightsbridge, and sent in his card, on which he had pencilled some figures and a letter of the alphabet. The General was dressing for dinner, but did not keep him waiting, ordering the butler to bring him to his dressing room. A valet, obviously an ex-soldier, who was brushing his master’s dinner jacket, was told to leave the room, and the two were alone. The General, tall, straight as a ramrod, with grizzled hair, and a moustache rather larger and bushier than is generally worn in Army circles nowadays, gazed curiously at his diminutive visitor.

‘You’re from Intelligence I take it,’ he observed. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Are we likely to be overheard?’ asked Cousins. On being assured that they were not, he went on: ‘I won’t take up much of your time, sir. I merely came to ask a question.’

‘Ask it!’ General Warrington was obviously a man of few words.

He put on the waistcoat which he had been holding in his hand, and began to button it, still eyeing Cousins intently.

‘I am making investigations concerning the offer of copies of the plans of the Wentworth gun to Russia, Germany, and France.’

‘I gathered that.’

‘About ten days ago I understand, sir, you and an officer of your staff spent over an hour late at night in your room at the War Office. May I ask if you were there on business concerning those plans?’

The General’s mouth opened wide in most unmilitary fashion. He stared at the wrinkled countenance of the man before him harder than ever.

‘What the devil are you talking about?’ he demanded. ‘The latest I have been at the War Office for three or four months is seven in the evening. I was certainly not there late at night ten days ago.’

‘Ah!’ A little sigh escaped from Cousins. ‘You are quite certain of that?’

‘Of course I’m certain. Who told you I went there late at night ten days ago?’

‘The head watchman, sir.’

‘He’s a fool – must have been drunk.’

‘He seemed very certain. In fact he told me that your going there was such an unusual event that it caused a certain amount of comment.’

‘What is behind all this?’ The General frowned portentously. ‘The night staff must be mad, if they think they saw me there after seven. What time did this very – er – unusual event take place?’

Cousins smiled slightly at the sarcastic intonation.

‘As far as I could gather,’ he replied, ‘you were seen to arrive just after ten, and left about quarter past eleven. All that time you were shut up in your room with the officer who accompanied you.’

‘Rubbish!’ The Chief of Staff turned away, but almost immediately swung round to face Cousins again. ‘What is this leading up to?’ he snapped. ‘Am I to understand that I am suspected of copying and selling those plans?’

‘Hardly.’ This time the little Secret Service man smiled so broadly, and the wrinkles on his face became such a mass of cheery-looking creases, that in spite of his evident annoyance the General smiled also. ‘It would be almost a crime to suspect you of such an offence, sir.’

‘You’re wasting your time listening to such cock-and-bull stories. I—’

‘I don’t think I’ve wasted my time at all. In fact,’ went on the little man, ‘I believe I have discovered how the copies were obtained.’

‘How?’ he queried eagerly.

‘I’ll tell you when I have had a chat with the Air-Marshal,’ returned Cousins. ‘May I use your phone? It will save my going all the way to Teddington where he lives.’

‘You needn’t bother,’ was the reply. ‘He is due to dine here tonight. If you like to wait, you’ll be able to speak to him personally.’

‘That,’ declared Cousins, ‘is what I might describe as a bit of luck. As Virgil has it: “
Audentes fortuna juvat.
” I’ll wait.’

Attempts to draw him failed, rather to the General’s chagrin, He was presently conducted to the morning room, and supplied with refreshment, while his host completed his dressing. It was not very long before the Air-Marshal arrived. The General drew him apart from the other guests, and explained who was waiting to see him. Together they entered the morning room. The Air-Marshal, who, as a slim, alert flying wonder, had performed great deeds during the war, had grown, under the weight of authority, somewhat pompous and fussy, as well as stout. Cousins noted that he was about the same height as the General, though he appeared shorter, owing to a slight stoop.

‘I understand you want to see me,’ he observed, after introductions had been effected. ‘In connection with the alleged offer of copies of the plans of the Masterson monoplane to foreign countries, I presume?’

Cousins nodded.

‘That is so, sir,’ he responded. ‘May I ask, though, why you speak of the
alleged
offer? Don’t you think it is genuine?’

‘No; I don’t,’ returned the Air-Marshal bluntly. ‘The plans in
question are in a particularly strong safe to which only the Air Vice-Marshal and myself have access. It is utterly impossible for anyone else to obtain them, and make copies of them, without our knowledge.’

‘About ten days ago,’ declared the little man quietly, ‘you and a group-captain of your staff arrived at the Air Ministry about midnight, and spent nearly two hours closeted in your room. Would you mind telling me why you were there?’

General Warrington appeared startled. He had been asked a similar sort of question, and it struck him as significant. He frowned in deep perplexity, as he glanced from the wrinkled face of the Secret Service agent to the astonished countenance of the Chief of the Royal Air Force.

‘What are you talking about?’ demanded the latter after a short pause. ‘I seldom go to the Ministry at night, and I most certainly did not spend two hours there ten nights ago.’

‘Yet the night watchman and certain members of his staff are convinced that they saw you; just as the night staff of the War Office are convinced that General Warrington spent some time in his room on the same night or a night contiguous.’

The Air-Marshal turned to the soldier.

‘What does it all mean, Warrington?’ he asked irritably. ‘Either this man is demented, or my night watchmen are. I have not been at the Air Ministry as late as that since my appointment.’

The General shrugged his shoulders in rather a helpless manner.

‘I also,’ he asserted, ‘have had no occasion to go to my office late at night for some considerable time; yet, according to Mr Cousins here, the night staff of the War Office definitely state that I was there on or about the same night as you are supposed to have gone to the Air Ministry. It is very puzzling.’

‘It is ridiculous,’ snapped the other. ‘What do you expect to discover by manufacturing cock-and-bull stories of this nature?’ he demanded, glowering at Cousins.

The latter was not discomposed by his manner. In fact he seemed to be quite amused.

‘“How now, thou core of envy! Thou crusty batch of nature,”’ he murmured softly.

‘What’s that? What’s that?’

‘Merely a quotation, sir. I assure you,’ he went on, ‘that I am not manufacturing cock-and-bull stories. I have merely repeated what I have been told, and I am convinced that neither the head watchman of the War Office, nor his contemporary of the Air Ministry were suffering from hallucinations on the night or nights in question.’

‘Are you giving me the lie, sir?’ stormed the Air-Marshal.

General Warrington drew himself up, frowning ominously.

‘I do not disbelieve either of you gentlemen,’ Cousins assured them.

‘But, damn it all, man,’ remonstrated the General sharply, ‘you have just said—’

‘Just a minute, sir,’ interrupted Cousins patiently, ‘I know what I have said, and I have no reason whatever for doubting the information given me, either by you or by the watchmen—’

‘But you can’t believe both sides of the story. They’re contradictory.’

‘Yet I do. You see, General, there is no doubt whatever in my mind now that, on the night or nights in question, you and the Air-Marshal were impersonated.’

‘What!’ cried the airman.

‘Good Gad!’ exclaimed the soldier.

‘That is how the copies of the plans were obtained. On each occasion the man who impersonated you both was accompanied by a fellow disguised as a staff officer. Naturally no suspicion was aroused, and the two quietly went to your rooms, removed the plans from your safes, and copied or photographed them.’

‘Rubbish, utter rubbish!’ sneered the Air-Marshal. ‘You have let your imagination run riot. I have all along contended that the offer of copies of the plans to foreign powers was a scare or a hoax, nothing more. Even if some enterprising criminal and a companion had made themselves up to resemble me and one of the members of my staff, they could not have taken the plans from the safe in which they are stored. The combination is altered frequently, and the safe is burglar-proof.’

Cousins’ smile suggested the tolerant indulgence of a grown-up person dealing with an argumentative child.

‘I have seen both your safe and the safe in General Warrington’s room at the War Office, sir, and I beg leave to differ from you. Neither of them are really burglar-proof. An expert would open them without a great deal of difficulty. The supposed staff officer in each case was, I am convinced, a cracksman thoroughly experienced in his job, and he opened the safes. Whoever the men are, they are undoubtedly past masters in the art of impersonation. It is going to be a difficult job to run them to earth, but we have what might turn out to be a clue to their whereabouts. Now that I have discovered that you two gentlemen were impersonated, and the manner in which the copies of the plans were made, I must beg you to excuse me.’