Get Wallace! (24 page)

Greatly relieved that he was apparently no longer an object of suspicion the man departed. Sir Leonard told his assistants to make themselves comfortable until his return, and left the house. Giving Johnson certain explicit directions, he entered the car, and was driven away.

The British Secret Service includes among its members all sorts and conditions of people cloaking their activities under the guise of almost every profession it is possible to mention. The greater number of these live abroad, but there are also individuals in Great Britain, holding more or less important civil posts, whose connection with the government department controlled by Sir Leonard Wallace would never be suspected. Among these are two of London's most famous physicians. One of them is the nominal head of a nursing home in Mayfair of which the matron and the principal nurses on her staff are also trusted members of Sir Leonard's organisation. The advantages of such an arrangement in connection with a department of the nature of the Secret Service will be too obvious to need explanation. Not infrequently the existence of a nursing home staffed by nurses, and visited by doctors in Sir Leonard's confidence, has been found of the utmost value. To the house of one of these medical men Wallace was driven on this occasion. Although the hour was so early he found that the man he had gone to visit had already risen. For ten minutes they were closeted together, after which they both left in Sir Leonard's car for the nursing home. The matron and two nurses were called, and a short conference took place.

Half an hour after leaving Grosvenor Square, Wallace re-entered Sir Peter Nikoleff's house accompanied by the doctor and one of the nurses. Anstruther was called, and the four of them went up
to the room where the great financier lay dead. The secretary was dispatched to rouse the household, and quickly the news spread that Sir Peter was desperately ill. Servants, with anxious faces, were soon rushing hither and thither, conveying to the bedroom various articles demanded by the doctor, which the nurse always took in at the door. Sir Leonard rejoined the two statesmen; gratefully accepted a cup of coffee handed to him by a footman.

‘Double pneumonia,' he declared succinctly.

The Cabinet ministers made no reply, except to nod their heads. In the eyes of each, as they regarded the Chief of the Secret Service, was an expression of frank admiration, not unmixed with a look of profound relief. Shortly afterwards they took their leave, warmly shaking Anstruther by the hand, as he stood holding the door open for them. Soon after their departure an ambulance arrived. With the doctor on one side, the nurse on the other, the body of Sir Peter was carried down the stairs and out of the house. Sir Leonard and the secretary followed behind. Pale-faced, wide-eyed servants, and other members of the household, strove to catch a glimpse of their employer as he passed by, but they could see little of his face, blankets being drawn almost up to the closed eyes. Anstruther and Sir Leonard stood on the steps watching until the ambulance glided out of the square on its way to the nursing home; the former, despite the fact that he was clad only in pyjamas and a dressing gown, apparently impervious to the bitter cold; then they re-entered the house. In the centre of the hall, frowning as though in perplexity, stood Thalia Ictinos. Wallace walked up to her. The same look of hatred as before was in her eyes as she watched his approach.

‘When you came back on the launch with Sir Peter,' he asked, ‘did he seem ill?'

She started a little.

‘So you know that we came here together,' she murmured.

‘Of course. That is why I came to ask Sir Peter what connection there was between him and your father. Unfortunately I found him too – er – ill to give me any information.' She gave an almost imperceptible sigh of relief, which he was quick to notice. ‘Perhaps you will tell me,' he added.

‘I have nothing to tell you,' she returned sharply.

‘At least,' he urged, ‘you will answer my first question.'

‘He did not seem ill. Several times he shivered with the cold that was all.'

Turning she walked away from him. Sir Leonard watched her ascend the stairs; then joined Anstruther in his sanctum. The latter was engaged in telephoning a carefully framed report of Sir Peter Nikoleff's supposed illness to the press. Waiting until he had finished, Wallace had a few words with him, shook hands, and went to rejoin his assistants. They had been supplied with refreshments, and had made themselves very comfortable.

‘The affair is finished,' he remarked simply. ‘Let us go.'

As they crossed the hall, Anstruther the secretary walked heavily up the stairs. He was on his way to the room so recently and tragically visited by the Angel of Death. The four Secret Service men took their seats in Sir Leonard's car. Brien whistled softly.

‘Do you realise,' he remarked, ‘that it is only forty-eight hours since you landed from the
Majestic
?'

‘Forty-eight hours!' repeated Wallace. ‘It seems like forty-eight years.'

Christmas is essentially a festival for the children, and on this occasion particularly there was great jubilation among the younger members of the Wallace and Brien families, the reason being that, for the first time for years, the house party held annually in Sir Leonard’s beautiful residence in New Forest, was complete. There were present, besides Sir Leonard and Lady Wallace and Adrian, Major and Mrs Brien and their children, and Wing-Commander and Mrs Kendal. As Cecil Kendal is Molly’s brother, and Mrs Kendal the sister of Mrs Brien, it was indeed a family party. But, despite the general happiness of everybody, the blissful elation of the children, it is certain that the greatest joy was felt by Molly. To have her husband with her at any time is always her greatest pleasure, to have him at home in that season, which is the very epitome of happiness, was the acme of bliss to her, especially as four years had passed since they had spent the Yuletide together. Her heart was full of thankfulness and, for the time being at least, the shadow of anxiety and suspense,
which overhung such a large part of her life, had departed, leaving her without a care in the world. The two days of intense strain, which Sir Leonard had spent immediately on his return from the United States, had left him careworn; there were little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that she had never seen before. She asked no questions, for she was careful never to interfere or intrude in any way in his official life; nevertheless she knew he had undergone a great deal, had suffered severely. But rapidly, under her devoted care, he recovered all the heartiness and
joie de vivre
which was so typically part of his character.

Wallace himself entered into the spirit of the season thoroughly. Of the three men he was the most boisterous. Always planning games and expeditions for the children, he took part in them with thorough abandon, appearing to enjoy himself every bit as much as they, which probably he was. Christmas Day itself was an enormous success, and neither he, Brien, nor Kendal spared themselves in their efforts to make it noteworthy, a real red-letter day in the lives of their children and their wives. The
pièce de resistance
was an enormous Christmas tree at which three Santa Clauses appeared carrying sacks of presents, and staged a friendly dispute concerning their right to the title of Father Christmas. The fun waxed fast and furious, reaching a perfect climax, when they agreed that the old man of Yuletide was in reality triplets, and proceeded to distribute gifts to the ladies and the youngsters amidst screams of delight and uproarious merriment. The servants were not forgotten, and were included in the general merry-making round the Christmas tree, receiving their presents and joining in the hilarity with great good will. Altogether it was a memorable occasion.

The only serious note during the whole of that day was struck at the end of dinner, when the ladies had left their men to port
and cigars, and betaken themselves to the cosy seats round the huge fire in the smaller of the two drawing rooms. Sir Leonard, feeling pleasantly tired after his exertions, allowed himself to relax, and sat, eyes half closed, listening to the conversation of his companions. Suddenly Kendal leant across the table, and addressed him.

‘Bad luck on old Nikoleff being struck down with double pneumonia, isn’t it?’ he observed. ‘They say there’s no hope of his recovery.’

‘He died this morning,’ returned Sir Leonard calmly.

Brien glanced at him sharply; Cecil Kendal whistled long and thoughtfully.

‘That will mean a pretty hectic upset, won’t it?’ he asked.

‘Not now. You see his death was more or less expected, and by this time everything has been adjusted in anticipation of it. Of course, countries for which he had floated huge loans will feel the draught a bit, but nothing to the extent they would have done if, for instance, he had died without warning.’

‘I see. I never could make head or tail of finance. It has me beaten every time. There was a bit of a crisis in financial circles on the day he was taken ill, wasn’t there?’

Sir Leonard nodded.

‘Yes; quite an exciting and anxious time, I believe, but things began to quieten down twenty-four hours afterwards, and yesterday they were almost normal. I take off my hat to Anstruther,’ he added, glancing at Brien, ‘he has engineered things admirably – proved himself a wizard in fact.’

His words carried a deeper meaning than Kendal suspected, but Brien understood, and the latter’s lips curved in a slight smile.

‘Who is Anstruther?’ asked Cecil.

‘Sir Peter’s chief secretary. The man behind the scenes, who has spent about twenty-five years in carrying out Nikoleff’s orders and studying his methods. A very fine fellow. He was deeply attached to Sir Peter, but even he wasn’t acquainted with all the financier’s undertakings.’

Kendal gazed at his brother-in-law with a new admiration in his eyes.

‘Is there anything you don’t know?’ he asked.

Wallace nodded his head solemnly.

‘So much,’ he stated, ‘that sometimes I am appalled at my ignorance.’

Kendal grinned; then became serious once more.

‘Poor Nikoleff,’ he murmured. ‘I knew him a bit – he seemed a decent old boy.’

‘He was,’ agreed Sir Leonard, ‘but, like a great many men of his extraordinary mental brilliance, he had a kink. Still he’s gone now, and the kink has gone with him.’ He raised his glass. ‘May he rest in peace,’ he added.

The others followed his example, and drained their glasses to the memory of the man who had been the greatest force in the world.

‘By the way, Leonard,’ pursued Cecil, putting down his glass as though its position on the table were a most important matter, ‘from hints, signs, and portents I rather suspect that you’ve had a pretty hectic time lately. What have you been up to?’

‘Cecil, your use of the word hectic is becoming monotonous,’ admonished his brother-in-law. ‘Try something else.’

‘Come on, out with it,’ persisted the other in persuasive tones, ‘or is it one of those frightful secrets you keep shut up in your reticent breast? I’m always keen on hearing about your adventures,
you know; flatter myself that I have once or twice proved useful. Do you remember Luis de Correa?’

Wallace smiled reminiscently.

‘I do,’ he admitted. ‘A crook, but a sportsman. As I have not heard of his committing any transgressions lately, I am almost inclined to believe that he has decided to be honest.’

‘What about this yarn. Mustn’t I hear it?’

‘I don’t suppose it will do any harm, if you really want to know. Billy let me in for the business. He thought I’d enjoyed myself too much in the States, I suppose.’

Brien made a grimace. Sir Leonard then told his brother-in-law of his encounter with Stanislaus and Thalia Ictinos, leaving out all mention of Sir Peter Nikoleff’s connection with the conspiracy, and making it appear that he had found the documents, so important to France, when a boat called the
Canopus
, which Ictinos had hired, had been raided. Kendal listened entranced, not uttering a word until the narrative was concluded; then he gave vent to his feelings.

‘Great Scott!’ he exclaimed. ‘What a perfectly bloodthirsty brute that fellow Ictinos must be. Hanging’s too good for a fellow like that. How are the invalids?’

‘All out of danger, I’m thankful to say. It was touch and go with Hill and Farrell, but they’re progressing well now. Maddison, too, has had a streaky time, but he’s well on the road to recovery. Of course you knew it was young Cunliffe’s funeral Billy and I went up to attend yesterday.’

Cecil nodded.

‘You fellows do take risks,’ he murmured. ‘I almost wish I could get into the game.’

‘My dear Cecil,’ protested Wallace in mock alarm, ‘don’t talk like that. What on earth would the RAF do without you?’

Kendal grinned.

‘Lots,’ he returned nonchalantly. ‘Will Farrell receive the King’s pardon?’

‘It has already been arranged,’ put in Brien. ‘Furthermore Leonard is going to set him up in a little business.’

Cecil nodded understandingly.

‘You’ve a soft heart, brother-in-law,’ he declared, ‘even though you are a stern, grim ogre of a Secret Service man. Have you handed over those French plans to Monsieur what’s-his-name yet?’

Wallace and Brien laughed.

‘Handed them over!’ exclaimed the latter. ‘Why, as soon as Leonard got Damien on the phone, and told him he had them, the dear old chap jumped into an aeroplane and descended on us amidst a torrent of te deums and benedictions.’

‘He certainly was delighted,’ agreed Sir Leonard, ‘and I don’t mind admitting a peculiar pleasure in being of use to him. I like him, and I like France.’

‘Have you men deserted us entirely, and on Christmas night too?’ enquired the plaintive voice of Lady Molly from the doorway.

‘We haven’t moved, dear,’ protested her husband. ‘It was you who deserted us.’

‘When are you coming?’

‘At once!’ cried the three men together.

As they crossed the hall, Brien took Sir Leonard’s arm. Kendal was ahead of them.

‘Where was Senostris all the time?’ he asked.

‘In the south of France,’ was the reply. ‘When he returns to England, I’ll have to take him into my confidence to a certain extent before handing him back his yacht and its crew.’

‘Anstruther told me that Thalia Ictinos was nosing about Sir
Peter’s rooms a lot before he turned her out of the house. I suppose she was after the French plans.’

‘Of course she was,’ nodded Sir Leonard, ‘and I daresay she is mighty puzzled to know what has become of them. She tried twice to get into the nursing home to see Nikoleff. Now she seems to have disappeared.’

‘I wonder if we’ll ever hear of her again!’

They did.

But that is another story.