The House Of The Bears (26 page)

Palfrey said: ‘We’ll have to make a more thorough search. We might find a door like that at the theatre. The devil is to know where to start.’

‘Ground floor, anyhow,’ said Kyle. He was perspiring freely, and had his leg up on a chair. ‘I’ll have to rest for a while, Palfrey. You fellows get cracking.’

‘We may as well start in the gallery,’ McDonald said.

They switched on all the lights in the gallery. Two men took a wall apiece. They tapped and explored, but found nothing at all helpful; they had nearly finished when the silence of the house was broken by a sharp cry: ‘Palfrey!’

‘That’s Kyle!’ snapped Palfrey. He rushed forward with the others. There was a scuffling noise from the inner room, and another cry. As they reached the door leading to it, a figure appeared for a moment, someone Palfrey did not recognize, and the door slammed!

‘Rush it!’ cried Bandigo.

They flung themselves on the door, but it was locked. They could hear sounds of a fierce struggle within; then silence, followed by a sharp, cracking noise; and silence again.

Bandigo was working furiously on the lock of the door. He got it open in a few minutes, and Palfrey went forward cautiously, his gun in his hand. But the room was empty; there was no sign of Kyle.

The others crowded in. McDonald hurried over to Kyle’s chair. The arm was smeared with blood. There were patches of blood on the carpet by the side of the chair. A little pool had gathered near the fireplace; someone had trodden in it and left a trail.

All of them looked at the floor, their eyes moving with one accord towards the last dark patch of blood near the bookcase built into the wall by the fireplace.

McDonald said: ‘That’s it.’

‘We can’t do much on our own,’ said Palfrey. ‘We must have more help.’ He looked at the clock over the fireplace; it wanted a few minutes to midnight. ‘The police will be on the moor by now,’ he said. ‘Somebody had better go and tell them all to come here; then we shall feel that we can take more action.’

‘I want to stay here,’ said Bandigo.

Palfrey said: ‘Will you fellows go?’ He was looking at the policemen.

They agreed without hesitation, and left immediately. Contact with the police cordon should be made about a mile from Morne House, and within half an hour, unless they met with trouble on the road, the police should be here in strength. Palfrey was uneasy at having to wait, but he knew that there was no choice left open.

‘Are you going to try to open that wall?’ asked Bandigo.

‘Not yet,’ said Palfrey. ‘I think-’

He was looking at the bookcase as he spoke; and he saw it move. McDonald caught sight of it and jumped away. Bandigo dropped his right hand to his pocket.

One end of the bookcase moved outwards. It moved soundlessly, slowly, and a dark void became visible behind it. Palfrey took out his gun, stepped towards the fireplace and covered the gap.

A man said: ‘Stand away from the opening, all of you.’

‘Stand away,’ the man repeated. ‘Don’t be foolish enough to think you can defend yourselves. Sir Rufus wishes to speak to you.’

One of the servants came through. He straightened up and looked at Palfrey’s gun with a sneer. Another man followed him. Palfrey thought: ‘They seem very confident.’ He heard a movement behind him and looked round. There were two other men in the room, near the minstrel gallery door, and both were armed. The hopelessness of the situation came over Palfrey like a dark shadow. In this house it was impossible to defend oneself, impossible to know when one was safe. He put his gun into his pocket. Bandigo did the same.

Morne
wanted to speak to him.

There was a movement from behind the bookcase. The servant stood on one side, his head bowed. It was fantastic. Palfrey, McDonald and Bandigo stood in a half-circle about the bookcase, with the armed men behind them.

Morne stepped through.

He was faultlessly dressed, and looked more composed than Palfrey had yet seen him. He limped slightly. His red hair was brushed back in waves from his forehead, his brow was unfurrowed, he looked impressive and remarkably handsome; there was something almost regal about him.

Palfrey smiled; ‘So you’re responsible, Morne.’

Morne smiled faintly. ‘Sit down, Palfrey. All of you sit down, please.’ He stood in front of the fireplace, looking at them, one hand in his coat pocket, the other held in front of him. ‘I do not quite know what you mean by saying that I am responsible, Palfrey. If you mean that I am responsible for my daughter’s accident, you are quite wrong.’

‘I was thinking of Garth and Gorringer,’ said Palfrey.

‘Of Gorringer, you need have no further fears,’ said Morne. ‘I do not know how much you have learned. I suppose you know as much as Kyle knows. He has just been persuaded to tell me that. That is why I thought it best to talk to you, Palfrey.’

Palfrey did not speak.

‘Of the early days of this adventure,’ Morne said, ‘you know much of the truth. Anster, Cunningham, Malcolm and Grayle were my friends. They knew what Garth had discovered. They believed that this discovery could not safely be left in the hands of governments swayed by power politics, fired by greed, intoxicated by their own power. I fully agreed with them, Palfrey. I agree now. You are a reasonable man, free of prejudice. Don’t
you
agree?’

Palfrey did not speak.

‘I think, at heart, that you do,’ said Morne. ‘It was decided then to make sure that Garth’s discovery should be made known only to a small circle of men on whom complete trust could be placed. Unhappily, Gorringer was included in that circle. He was not incorruptible.

‘I was aghast when I heard of the death of my friends. At that time I believed that outside persons were responsible. I even suspected Nicholas Kyle. I am convinced now that he was driven by excellent motives, although undoubtedly he was misguided.’

He paused. Palfrey listened intently for the next word, fascinated by this man’s calm confidence.

No one else spoke.

‘When I discovered that Gorringer was, in fact, disloyal and had killed my friends,’ continued Morne, ‘I took the appropriate action. In such a matter as this, ordinary standards and ordinary laws are of small significance. I know now that Gorringer was responsible for the earlier accidents to my daughter; that she believed that he was blackmailing me; that she stole the papers, which you afterwards found, in the hope of helping me; that she had confided a little in Halsted, who got in touch with you. These things, doubtless, puzzled you.’

‘Yes.’ The word seemed wrung from Palfrey.

‘Now one of the things which Gorringer did was to try to put pressure on Garth,’ went on Morne. ‘When I discovered that, I gave Garth sanctuary here. I was not aware, at the time, that I was harbouring traitors. I let it be known that Garth was engaged to Loretta, because it was a sufficient answer to all the questions which might be asked. I knew that I could rely on my daughter’s discretion, you see.’

Palfrey did not speak in the pause which ensued.

‘However, there
was
treachery,’ said Morne. ‘My nephew Gerald and his mother conspired together to work against me.
They
sent Garth away. Gerald, angered because I had refused to allow him to marry Loretta, became quite beside himself.
He
was responsible for the accident in the minstrel gallery. He was the man who nearly killed you in the gallery. All of these things he confessed only last night, a little while before he died. He pretended that he was trying to help Loretta; he used that as an excuse for his many journeys, for his interference, for his appeal to Bruce McDonald to help. Last night, loyal supporters of mine discovered the truth about him just before his death. They would have brought him back here alive had he not made difficulties. You also made difficulties, and the proper course was taken. You see, Palfrey, I am being very frank.’

‘Yes,’ Palfrey’s voice was hoarse.

‘Let me explain a little about the theatre at Bristol,’ said Morne. ‘It was used by those who worked for Gorringer. What Gorringer did not know was that for some time some of his workers were, in fact, in my employ. Those workers escaped from the river last night, after hearing Gerald’s confession, and since have reported to me everything that happened. The theatre itself was not used except as an entrance to the tunnels which led to the docks and which enabled some men to move secretly by night. Gorringer first discovered it, and preferred to use it at considerable trouble, because he wanted – wisely – to distract attention from this house and from the mines.’

Palfrey’s lips tightened.

Morne smiled serenely. ‘So the mines surprise you, Palfrey? They should not. Garth had been working in them for a long time.’

Palfrey did not answer. The dominant thought in his mind was that Morne did not realize that they were on the track of the mines. That mattered more than anything else. Carmichael and the others were working near there now, might even have found the secret entrance to Wenn Mine.

‘Do you or don’t you realize the significance of that?’ For the first time, Morne’s voice was sharp.

Palfrey said slowly: ‘No, not altogether. You talk as if you were the only person who held this knowledge. You are not. It is well known to the Government here and in America.’

Morne said: ‘I thought you would see more clearly than that, Palfrey. The United Nations – united!’ he added, scornfully, and suddenly there was fire in his voice and in his eyes. ‘Split asunder by dissension, by trivialities, standing by while half the world is ravaged by disease and starvation – what weaklings they are; what puny creatures guide them!’

Palfrey said, with a faint laugh in his voice: ‘Most people would rather trust the Great Powers than you, Morne.’

‘Do you understand, Palfrey, that you are completely in my power? I have been patient with you. I have encouraged you to stay here. I wanted, you see, a reliable messenger to take my information to the proper quarters, and I wished you to be that messenger. But I am not everlastingly patient –’

Palfrey said; ‘My patience isn’t inexhaustible, either.’

Morne said harshly: ‘You do not appreciate the seriousness of the situation. I will acquaint you with it. The trial explosion at sea two nights ago failed only in one thing; the power of one small unit was under-estimated; it was not intended to cause such damage. There are many other units in my possession. The work is complete. That is why I have prepared to leave this house. I shall go, with my staff, to a place where I shall not be easily found. A ship is waiting off Wenlock Cliff to take me tonight. Its cargo is already loaded. The mine where the experiments were carried out will be destroyed when I have left.
This house wilt be destroyed.
I shall cut myself off completely from my earlier associations. I must take no risks, Palfrey, and I
shall
take no risks.’

Palfrey said: ‘How many are you taking with you?’

‘As many men as I need,’ said Morne. He looked impatient. ‘If you are worried about the police who were here, and those friends, of course, you are worrying yourself unnecessarily. They have been taken to a place of safety, and they will return when I have left the country. You see. Palfrey, most of this part of the moor is mined. There are entrances in many unexpected places. Halsted found one.’ He laughed, and then went on more quickly. ‘I do not want to prolong this interview, Palfrey. I have no personal animosity against you or the police or anyone who has helped you. I wish them well. I want you to act as courier to Whitehall – keeping, you see, to my original plan. I have prepared a letter. You can take it tomorrow. Tonight you will spend beneath the house, and you will be freed in time to escape before it is destroyed.’

Palfrey said: ‘You know, I can’t understand you. Only a few days ago, I thought you were about to commit suicide.’

Morne said harshly: ‘That was after I had discovered that Gorringer had betrayed me. I thought he had won, but I was able to defeat him. If you are still interested in trifles, Palfrey, you may like to know that Gerald Markham poisoned me; he used nicotine; doubtless, the symptoms of my attack are now obvious to you.’

‘How long ago did you first start on this, Morne?’

‘Years ago,’ said Morne. His voice was low-pitched. ‘I shall succeed, Palfrey. Nothing
must
prevent it. You know the situation as I do. You know, in your heart, that the leaders of the nations today are not fit to lead. You know they cannot be trusted –’

‘I know nothing of the kind!’ snapped Palfrey.

Morne raised his hand.

Palfrey was thinking: ‘The mine and the ship; they must both be taken.’ How could anything be done
quickly
unless he or Bandigo or McDonald got away and told the story?

Morne said: ‘Do as I tell you, Palfrey. Go to the bookcase and through the wall.’

The armed men were standing behind Palfrey. The two guards were by the bookcase. Morne was pointing towards it. Bandigo and McDonald moved towards it as if they could not help themselves. But Palfrey continued to sit on the arm of the chair, trying to look unconcerned. Now he could think of nothing else but Cartwright’s police, who must surely be near at hand.

If they arrived in time, they might stop Morne from getting away. King Rufus! The sole arbiter of success or failure. The man who ruled over his staff as if indeed they were his subjects.

Get
him
away, and the rest would be easy; nothing would be done without him.

‘Palfrey!’

Palfrey sat still. ‘I’m not going,’ he said.

‘I do not want to use force, but –’

‘You hypocritical madman!’ said Palfrey, harshly. ‘You dare to say you don’t want to use force! You used it on Wenlock. You killed and maimed. You will kill and maim again! You started off with lofty ideals, and they turned your mind. You are no longer sane; you are the Devil incarnate, and I shall do
nothing
to help you. I shall not stir a finger. I shall stay here, dead or alive.’

Morne said heavily: ‘Do as you are told. Palfrey; I shall have no more of this.’