Mystery Mile (24 page)

Marlowe, once he realized that it was safe to speak before the vicar, sketched a rough outline of the affair in Kensington.

Crowdy Lobbett listened to him with growing excitement. At the end he rose to his feet and strode restlessly down the room.

‘This is terrible!' he said. ‘Terrible! Always others. I seem to escape myself, but wherever I go, whoever comes in contact with me seems to suffer. I spread this danger like a plague.'

‘Oh, well, we're all right for the present,' said Giles, with an attempt at cheerfulness. ‘Marlowe and I aren't really hurt, and Biddy and Isopel are perfectly safe for the time being. It's what's going to happen next that's worrying us.'

Old Lobbett turned inquiringly to Campion, who had been unusually silent ever since their arrival. The young man smiled at him.

‘We've been spilling so many beans for your sake that we've forgotten the pork,' he said. ‘It's the morning papers that have brought us down here.' He produced the back page of the famous daily from his pocket and handed it to the judge.

An exclamation escaped the old man as he saw the photograph Campion indicated, and he handed it to the vicar.

‘Disgusting!' said Alaric with sudden heat. ‘Disgusting! It's an ichthyosaurus, not a diplodocus. They'll be calling it an iguanodon next. Cluer will be furious about this.'

‘Anyhow, it's a darn good portrait,' said Mr Campion. ‘That's the real trouble.'

The seriousness of this new development was by no means lost upon Crowdy Lobbett. He had been lulled into a false security by the peace of Kepesake and by the absorbing interest of his new friends. His very blue eyes had grown darker, and the lines were deepening upon his still handsome face.

‘It's no good,' he said. ‘This can't go on any longer. I made up my mind that if this last scheme of yours failed, Campion, or if the danger threatened any of you youngsters, I should
face this thing alone and take what's coming to me. It's the only way to buy immunity for those about me.'

Campion let the other two finish their outbursts against this suggestion without making any contribution towards it. At length his silence became noticeable, and they turned to him. Giles was angry.

‘Good Lord, Campion, you're not saying that you agree with this ghastly idea?' he said. ‘We wouldn't stand it for a minute, sir,' he went on, turning to the judge. ‘We're in it now. We'll see it through to the end. You're with us in that, aren't you, Campion?'

Campion shook his head slowly, and was about to speak, when the vicar interrupted him.

‘No doubt you would prefer to discuss your affairs without me,' he said softly. ‘I shall be in my study when you want me.' He went quietly out of the room; as the door closed behind him Giles and the father and son turned towards Mr Campion once more.

The effects of the night's work had told upon him physically. There were dark shadows in his pale face, and behind the heavy glasses his eyes were inexpressibly weary. But his spirit was as effervescent as ever, and his voice, when he spoke, had lost none of its light-heartedness.

‘This rather ticklish question,' he began, ‘has been dragged up before I meant it to be. Natheless, as they say in the writs, since the matter has now come to a head, let's dot it. I think, if you don't mind, sir,' he went on, glancing at the judge, ‘a review of our transactions to date is clearly indicated. There're one or two facts that are important and must be properly filed for reference.'

Judge Lobbett, who had now become accustomed to the young man's somewhat misleading business manner, signalled to him to go on.

‘First of all,' said Campion, ‘Old Airy-fairy Simister, who, as we all know, is anxious to remain a kind of Machiavellian Mrs Harris, has a theory that you have a line on his birth certificate. So you have, but since it's written in Esperanto, or something, you can't read it. He doesn't know what you've
got hold of, and realizes that he wouldn't recognize it if he saw it.' He paused and glanced round at them. ‘Any boy who does not follow that, please put up his hand. All got there? Good! I'll carry on. He realized it was impossible to kidnap you in New York without running undue risk, so he hit on the ingenious little plan of scaring you out of action. That proving unsatisfactory, he invented a sensational killing on board ship. The untimely end of my poor Haig finished that idea for him. Now we come to Mystery Mile.' He talked on hurriedly, peering at them anxiously through his heavy spectacles.

‘There, as we know, we were spotted straight away, and poor old St Swithin got it in the neck, more by luck than judgement on Simister's part, I fancy. There's a mystery there we haven't fathomed yet, by the way.'

He paused for breath.

Judge Lobbett was bending forward intently. Campion continued:

‘To return to little Albert,' he said. ‘How did the famous sleuth go to work? First of all he gained the confidence of our client here. How did he do this? He detailed to Mr Lobbett senior the facts appertaining to the putting-away of Joe Gregory, a gentleman who crossed upon the same boat unspotted by anyone except his own dirty soul and myself.'

The judge turned to Marlowe. ‘That was so,' he said. ‘Until Campion convinced me of that I thought he was some young adventurer who had got hold of you. I don't suppose you remember hearing about Gregory. I sent him down for a long term some years ago. He was one of Simister's men. When I found that out it impressed me very considerably.'

‘Thousands of these splendid testimonials at our head office,' murmured Campion, and continued: ‘It was through this, then, that Our Hero and the Guv'nor got down to business on the disappearing act. Mr Lobbett agreed with me that our best chance was to make them show their hand a bit. This was done by our sensational vanishing performance at the maze. So far so good. The clever detective's splendid ruse worked sensationally, apart from one or two nasty bloomers which resulted in Biddy's adventure.

‘Then, as the movies have it, “Chance with her Fateful Finger, Like a Cheap Loud Speaker, Bellowed our Little Secret to the Waiting World”, and now you and little Albert are in the
bouillabaisse
.'

‘You really expect them any minute, I suppose?' said Marlowe.

‘Hardly,' said Mr Campion judicially. ‘We learned a good deal
via
Knapp and Biddy. In the first place, we discovered that Old Holy Smoke, the Voice in the Dark, was using our friend Datchett and his neat little organization, plus a pretty selection of thugs. That is to say that we know exactly who our enemies are with the single exception of our little Sim himself, who, by the way, is probably some well-known and respected person, like the Premier, or Mr Home, of the Home and Colonial.'

‘You don't think he's got any of his own men over here?' It was Judge Lobbett who spoke.

‘It all depends on what you mean,' said Campion. ‘I'm not sure whether Mr Datchett isn't one of his own men. Certainly, he is second in command at the moment. And that is where we come to our second slight advantage. If ever anyone had his headquarters and staff mucked up completely, the man is Datchett. He himself is probably not yet convalescent. That gives us time, anyway. It also gives us the blessed possibility that the Big Bezezus himself will turn up to make a personal affair of it. It's well on the cards, I think.'

‘Still I don't get your idea,' said Marlowe, cutting in. ‘What's your plan of campaign?'

Campion hesitated and looked at the judge. ‘I want you to come back to Mystery Mile with me. I choose Mystery Mile because it's our own ground, so to speak. They'd attack
us
. We shouldn't be endangering anyone else, for I'm certain Simister's not the man to go yokel baiting. Either we get them or they get us. Any development will be pretty speedy, certainly sensational, and probably final. What do you say?'

A gleam had appeared in the old man's eyes. This was the sort of proposition that appealed to his forthright personality.

‘I'm on,' he said.

‘So am I,' said Marlowe.

‘You can count on me,' chimed in Giles.

Campion shook his head. ‘Sorry,' he said to Marlowe, ‘but your father and I go alone or not at all. That's the final scheme.'

‘Yes, that's final,' said old Lobbett. ‘See here, Marlowe, I'm in this because I can't and won't help it. Someone's got to look after Isopel. It's not only because you're my son and a man likes to feel that there's someone carrying on if anything happens to him, but you've got work to do. You've got Isopel and all my affairs to look after.'

The boy looked at him helplessly.

‘But I can't let you and Campion go alone into this, dad. Why Campion?'

‘Oh, orders taken for this sort of thing daily,' said the irrepressible young man airily. ‘You seem to forget my professional status.'

‘That's so,' said the judge. ‘You and Paget, Marlowe, are out of it.'

‘Rot!' said Giles. ‘I'm coming, even if I only go back to live in the Dower House as I've a perfect right to. None of you know your way about Mystery Mile as I do. I'm the man you want. I've two arms still useful, which is more than Marlowe has. My head never was much good, anyway.'

Mr Campion looked thoughtful. ‘There's something in that,' he said.

‘What about your sister?' said old Lobbett.

Giles hesitated and glanced at Marlowe. ‘I think she'll be all right,' he said.

Lobbett looked sharply at his son. ‘Is that so?' he said. ‘Then you cut back to the city as soon as you've had a rest. What do you say about young Paget, Campion?'

‘I don't see that we can prevent him coming,' Campion said slowly. ‘It's a far, far better thing, and all that, you know, Giles.'

‘I don't like it,' said Marlowe.

‘“Efficiency” is my watchword,' said Mr Campion. ‘Who arrested Jack Sheppard? Who convicted Charlie Peace? Who trailed Palmer the Poisoner? Who brought Jack the Ripper
triumphantly to Justice? Who stopped mixed ping-pong in the Polytechnic? Don't heckle me, I only ask you. Who? For the next thrilling instalments see
Polly's Paper,
twopence every Tuesday.'

‘That settles it,' said Lobbett. ‘Now, Campion, what's the next move?'

‘Sleep, Nature's sweet restorer,' said the young man quite seriously. ‘The learned cleric must be prevailed upon to put us up today. We'd better arrive at Mystery Mile at night. I think we're safe here until then. Marlowe, you'd better rest, too. We'll put you out at the nearest railway station on our way.'

‘Hell to you!' said Marlowe. ‘I don't think I shall ever sleep again.'

‘Amateur,' said Mr Campion happily. ‘I shall slumber like a babe.'

There was no difficulty about accommodation in the old Vicarage. Within half an hour the adventurers were established in a bedroom whose stripped beams and plaster walls were cool and silent.

When the three awoke they found that a repast had been prepared for them which would not have dissatisfied a small medieval army going into battle.

It was nearly nine o'clock when they finished their meal. There were no reports of any strangers in the village, and Campion became thoughtful.

‘They must have watched the flat,' he said. ‘I thought there was a man there. Quite likely they had a bit of a hangover from last night. We may not see a sign for a day or two.'

‘I wish I was in this,' said Marlowe for the hundredth time. ‘My arm isn't nearly as stiff as I thought it would be.'

His father turned upon him. ‘We settled that this morning, son,' he said. ‘You pack right back to the city and take this letter with you to Isopel.'

‘You're out of it,' said Giles. ‘I feel primed up to hit something. God help Kettle if nothing more serious arrives.'

‘There's a train for you, Marlowe,' said Campion, ‘at Woodbridge at half-past ten. We shall get back to Mystery Mile about an hour later. Are you all ready?'

They nodded. The realization of the seriousness of the expedition returned to their minds, and although Campion remained as flippant as ever, the others were quiet.

Alaric Watts unbarred his gate and let the great Bentley creep noiselessly out.

They stopped only a minute to put Marlowe down at Woodbridge. Marlowe and his father, who had been sitting in the back of the car in close conversation, merely shook hands.

Giles bent towards the younger man. ‘Look after the kid,' he said, and added awkwardly, ‘All my love to Isopel if anything happens.'

Marlowe nodded. ‘I envy you, old boy,' he said sincerely. ‘Any message, Campion?'

‘Tell Biddy, “Smiling, the boy fell dead”,' said Mr Campion. ‘Should I do so, of course. Tell her she can have Autolycus,' he added more seriously. ‘Lugg, too, if she likes. The woman could hardly hope to forget me if she had those two about the house.'

On the last word he swung the car round out of the tiny station yard towards Mystery Mile.

It was at that precise moment that back in the Vicarage at Kepesake the Reverend Alaric Watts pored over an ultra-late telegram which the postmaster had only just brought over himself, ‘to oblige'.

It was addressed to Campion, Redding Knights. It had been delivered at the Hall, and Cluer had sent the postmaster over to the Vicarage.

The old vicar had hesitated before he read it, but as the postmaster volunteered the information that it was urgent, he finally slit open the flimsy envelope.

RETURNING MYSTERY MILE STOP
[
IT RAN
].
COME TO US AT ONCE STOP
.
URGENT
.
BIDDY
.
YSOBEL
.

Alaric Watts turned to the postmaster. ‘The post office makes funny mistakes,' he said testily. ‘The lady spells her name I-S-O-P-E-L.'