The House Of The Bears (29 page)

He did not see the men on the other side fish the coat out of the water and turn away. He was conscious only of the chilling coldness of the water, and a sudden twinge of cramp in his right leg. He reached the surface, drew in a gulp of air and went under again. Something brushed past him. When he came up for the second time he was more collected, and started to strike out for the side. He wanted now to help Rachel McDonald.

Something pressed against his back. A man was gripping the back of his neck and forcing him under.

He went down, not knowing whether he would be able to come up again, but the pressure relaxed under water, and with a wild heave he flung himself towards the bank. He broke water again, flung the hair out of his eyes; saw blurred figures on the quayside, some still struggling, and some watching. Then he heard a splash behind him.

Morne was there, reaching out for him again.

Palfrey went over on his side, turned on his back, kicked and caught him on the head, but not heavily enough to do any damage. Morne gripped his right arm.

Palfrey tugged desperately and Morne released his arm and grabbed at his neck. His fingers slid off the wet skin. Palfrey heaved, turned over and struck out for the bank on the other side. His ears were filled with loud, drumming noises; the cavern seemed to echo as if with thunder.

As with thunder. . .

The engines of the submarine were turning!

Then something touched his shoulder; he thought of Morne, and in a panic wrenched himself free. He was submerged for a moment, but came up again.

Someone cried: ‘Don’t struggle! Don’t struggle!’

There was something reassuring in that voice and he kept still. He felt someone take his shoulders and raise him. He could not help himself, but he knew that he was being dragged across the water to the far side. Another man was standing there, and bent down to help him. He collapsed on the quay, hardly conscious, hardly aware of thought. There were voices and that awful droning.

And a sharp explosion.

A shot!

He opened his eyes, but could see nothing beyond the water dripping from his forehead. Someone said: ‘Keep down!’ There was another shot; did the fool not realize what might happen?

He dashed his hair from his eyes, crouched low, and stared across the water. Markham was standing there, firing at him. There were two or three people in the water, and he wondered whether Morne was one of them.

He felt a bullet strike his thigh.

He gasped, and stopped moving, but stilt stared towards the far side. He saw Rachel McDonald get up from the ground and throw herself at Markham.

Markham. . . .

Someone shouted. Markham turned his head. The submarine was moving slowly; a man on the deck was beckoning Markham. Markham levelled his gun, the shot roared out, and Palfrey heard the bullet strike the floor near him. Then Markham turned and ran towards the submarine.

Morne was not aboard; Morne was somewhere in the water. But the ship was moving, and Markham was in control. The facts came to Palfrey in a vivid flash. Markham had all the time worked for this; was Kyle’s mystery man. Markham had known the truth and had waited, prepared to take over from Morne at the first opportunity. And this was his opportunity.

Markham reached the deck. The submarine was gathering speed. Somewhere within its cabins or holds were those ‘units’, those bombs which could be used to bring about such fearful destruction.

Palfrey tried to move; he succeeded only in flopping forward a few inches. The submarine was getting further away. He saw several men leap aboard, but none of Palfrey’s men; all Morne’s – or Markham’s.

Then Morne appeared!

He was swimming powerfully by the side of the ship. He reached her and hauled himself aboard. Markham was still staring at Palfrey, and noticed nothing. Two or three members of the crew helped Morne aboard, and still Markham seemed to notice nothing. Morne stood for a moment, his huge figure dripping water, his red hair glistening in the roof lights. He did not speak, but moved forward.

At last Markham realized that he was there.

Everyone on the quays was staring at the two men. Markham backed away. Morne stretched out his hand. His fist was clenched. Markham raised his gun, Morne knocked it aside with a contemptuous gesture, and then his hand shot out and gripped Markham’s throat. Palfrey could see the strength of his grip, saw Markham’s mouth open and his tongue protrude, saw his eyes bulging. The whole scene was moving away from Palfrey; and all the time the droning of the engines reverberated through the cavern.

Markham collapsed.

Morne maintained his pressure for a moment, and then flung the man into the water. As Markham fell and water splashed up over the deck, Morne seemed to shake himself, as if he had rid himself of something unclean. Then he stood quite still, looking at the quayside, looking towards Palfrey.

He was magnificent.

And he was getting away.

The submarine moved slowly towards another tunnel; it was half-way through and still Morne stood immovable, watching; when the deck reached the tunnel, his head was almost level with the roof, but he did not move.

He disappeared.

The droning of the engines was duller now.

Palfrey forced himself to look away. A man was bending over him, asking if he were all right, but he did not answer. How could anyone stop the submarine now?

There was a coat lying near him, sodden, shapeless; in the pockets was the formula, of Garth’s secret, but the bombs themselves were on board the submarine, and there was the one in the laboratory.

‘Look!’ cried someone on the other side of the water. ‘Look!’

As he spoke, men burst into sight from the tunnel from which Palfrey had come. The major led the way, Carmichael followed him, then the others who had been left in the laboratory streamed through. Rachel McDonald, on her feet now and approaching her son, started to talk and point. Palfrey saw the men streaming off in the wake of the ship; and for the first time, too, he saw a small motor-launch moored to the quayside. There were others on the far side that had at first been hidden by the submarine.

Palfrey croaked: ‘That launch – that launch!’

There was hope again, a faint flicker of hope which he dared not fan into flames.

Two men carried him to the boat, which rocked precariously, paining his wounded thigh. The others climbed in, and they started off just as another party in a larger boat on the opposite side began to move. They chugged through the darkness of the tunnel, unable to see anything at all, in imminent danger of collision, but soon there was light ahead of them and they saw that the larger boat had travelled fast.

The light looked unnatural.

They came out of the mouth of the tunnel, and saw that searchlights from ships standing out in the bay were all converging on the submarine. Small boats were moving towards it, and aeroplanes were flying across the bay, their lights shining down upon the water. The submarine itself, with Morne still on deck, was moving slowly, uncertainly. The great side of the cliff was above them, and behind them the small tunnel opening, like the mouth of a cave, which led to the workshops.

The small boats were nearing the submarine; one, much larger, was closing in on her. It was a destroyer, and Palfrey could see the men lining its deck, preparing to board. He watched the whole scene breathlessly; he saw the destroyer and the submarine touch; the submarine heeled over, then righted itself; and as it did so, men streamed aboard.

Morne moved; one moment he stood there in the blaze of light; the next he disappeared over the side. From the deck, Mrs. Bardie watched him.

Morne had gone and the submarine was stopped; the bay was seething with small craft, and aeroplanes still droned overhead. Palfrey felt the relief almost too much for him, but there was still anxiety in his heart. Had the bomb in the laboratory been found, and so released the men who had arrived just too late to prevent the submarine from leaving its berth? If so, where was that bomb now?

He was too tired to think.

The men with him said; ‘Had we better go back?’

‘No, we’d better head for Wenlock.’

‘Yes. I think so.’ The rest of the men in the boat were obviously relieved. Palfrey sat back as comfortably as he could and looked about him. Another, larger motor-boat drew near, and someone hailed him. It drew alongside, and he saw Kyle sitting in the bows, grinning.

‘Ahoy, Palfrey!’

Palfrey grinned back. ‘Did you find it?’

‘And
dismantled it!’

What?

‘It’s a fact.’

Palfrey found himself laughing. . . .

It was half an hour before he reached the crowded quayside in Wenlock Bay. It was brightly lighted and thronged with that until that day. Morne had intended to take Markham away and deal with him at sea.

She told them that Gorringer had visited Morne House through the mine workings, and had been killed only two days before.

She told them that she had not known the truth about Garth, nor suspected it. She told them, too, that on the night of Palfrey’s arrival someone had tried to break into Morne House, and the servants, most of whom obeyed Morne with unquestioning loyalty – had gone after him with the hounds.

‘And what of Loretta?’ asked Palfrey.

‘I think that Loretta discovered a little, perhaps not all, and confided in Halsted, who sent for you,’ said Rachel. ‘I think Loretta was frightened of the thing which her father was doing, but would not openly betray him.’

Later, Kyle was wheeled along. He was bright and cheerful, fully satisfied, he assured Palfrey. When Whitehall had moved, there had been no mistake about it.

‘We’re getting ready to return to the States when the inquiry is over. Maybe I shall get my job back. I shall need a job. I’m getting married.’

‘Splendid! Congratulations.’

‘Well, I’m taking on plenty with Susan,’ said Kyle, but there was a merry gleam in his eyes; he was certainly very pleased with himself. ‘Are there any things you feel aren’t cleared up yet?’

Palfrey said: ‘Only the incidentals. Why did Gorringer use Cheddar and Bristol when there were plenty of hiding places nearer the mine?’

‘That’s an easy one,’ Kyle assured him. ‘You ought not to have missed it. Don’t forget that Gorringer was fighting Morne, although trying to hide it. He needed a separate force. Morne looked after the workmen and employed the physicists, paying them well without telling them why he was working with Garth. Gorringer set up a different army, and he made all the mistakes. Except for Fyson, all of his people were modelled on. Al Capone. It’s a good thing they were.’

‘Yes,’ said Palfrey, and added, quietly: ‘Morne himself might have got away with it.’

‘What was there to stop him?’ asked Kyle.

There had been nothing; with the loyalty of his staff assured, and the Wenn Mine so close to Morne House, it was doubtful whether there would have been any leakage; the world might

‘All over,’ he said. ‘No need for regrets.’

Then across the silence came a roar, distant and yet deafening, terrifying. They stared at one another. The rumbling continued, and the blast came, but it whistled only softly in Wenlock and that room.

Loretta said, in a low voice: ‘I’m glad the house has gone. I can really forget now.’

McDonald was holding her hands.

The Palfreys went quietly out of the room.

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House of Stratus

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