Okewood of the Secret Service [78]
He knew he was in the direst peril; but he was not afraid for himself. He was crushed to the ground by the sickening feeling that he was going to be beaten, that the gang were going to slip through his fingers after all... and he was powerless to prevent it.
He guessed at once what had happened. Bellward must have escaped from custody; for there was no disguise about this pale, flustered creature who had the cowed look of a hunted man in his eyes. He must have come to the Mill House to get his motorcycle; for he surely would have known that the villa would be the first place to which the police would follow him up.
Desmond saw a little ray of hope. If--it was a very big if--Bellward's flight were discovered promptly, the police might be expected to reach the Mill House very soon behind him. Bellward must have come straight there; for he had not even taken the very elementary precaution of shaving off his beard. That made Desmond think that he must have escaped some time that evening after the barbers' shops were closed.
With thumping heart, with bated breath, he waited for what was to come. In a very little while, he told himself, the truth must come out. His only chance was to try and bluff his way out of this appalling dilemma and above all, at all costs--this was the essential fact which, he told himself, he must keep steadfastly before his eyes--not to lose sight of Mortimer whatever happened.
Bellward's voice--and its tones showed Desmond what an accomplished mime Crook had been--broke the silence.
"I have nothing to explain," he said, turning from the sofa where he had been exchanging a few words in an undertone with Mrs. Malplaquet, "this is my house. That is sufficient explanation for my presence here, I imagine. But I confess I am curious to know what this person"--he indicated Desmond--"is doing in my clothes, if I mistake not, giving what I take to be a very successful impersonation of myself."
Then Desmond stepped boldly out of the shadow into the circle of light thrown by the lamp.
"I don't know what you all think," he said firmly, but it seems to me singularly unwise for us to stand here gossiping when there is a stranger amongst us. I fail to understand the motive of this gentleman in breaking into my house by my private door, wearing my clothes, if I am to believe my eyes; but I clearly realize the danger of admitting strangers to a gathering of this kind."
"Quite right," agreed Behrend, nodding his head in assent.
"You have had one singular surprise to-night already," Desmond resumed, "in the matter of the jewel which our respected leader was about to show us: if you recollect, our friend was only prevented from giving us the explanation which he certainly owed us over his little hoax by the arrival, the most timely arrival, of his confederate..."
"Confederate?" shouted Mortimer, "what the devil do you mean by that?"
"Yes, confederate," Desmond repeated. "Max, Behrend, Mrs. Malplaquet, all of you, look at this wretched fellow"--he pointed a finger of scorn at Bellward--"trembling with fright at the role that has been thrust upon him, to force his way into our midst, to give his accomplice the tip to clear out before the police arrive."
"Stop!" exclaimed Mortimer, raising his pistol. Behrend caught his hand.
"We'll hear you in a minute!" he said.
"Let him finish!" said Mrs. Malplaquet, and there was a certain ominous quietness in her tone that startled Desmond.
As for Bellward, he remained silent, with arms folded, listening very intently.
"Doubtless, this double of mine," continued Desmond in a mocking voice, "is the bearer of the Star of Poland, the wonderful jewel which has required our beloved leader to devote so much of his time to a certain charming lady. Bah! are you going to let a man like this," and he pointed to Mortimer disdainfully with his hand, "a man who puts you in the fighting line while he amuses himself in the rear, are you going to let this false friend, this bogus spy, cheat you like this? My friends, my advice to you, if you don't want
He guessed at once what had happened. Bellward must have escaped from custody; for there was no disguise about this pale, flustered creature who had the cowed look of a hunted man in his eyes. He must have come to the Mill House to get his motorcycle; for he surely would have known that the villa would be the first place to which the police would follow him up.
Desmond saw a little ray of hope. If--it was a very big if--Bellward's flight were discovered promptly, the police might be expected to reach the Mill House very soon behind him. Bellward must have come straight there; for he had not even taken the very elementary precaution of shaving off his beard. That made Desmond think that he must have escaped some time that evening after the barbers' shops were closed.
With thumping heart, with bated breath, he waited for what was to come. In a very little while, he told himself, the truth must come out. His only chance was to try and bluff his way out of this appalling dilemma and above all, at all costs--this was the essential fact which, he told himself, he must keep steadfastly before his eyes--not to lose sight of Mortimer whatever happened.
Bellward's voice--and its tones showed Desmond what an accomplished mime Crook had been--broke the silence.
"I have nothing to explain," he said, turning from the sofa where he had been exchanging a few words in an undertone with Mrs. Malplaquet, "this is my house. That is sufficient explanation for my presence here, I imagine. But I confess I am curious to know what this person"--he indicated Desmond--"is doing in my clothes, if I mistake not, giving what I take to be a very successful impersonation of myself."
Then Desmond stepped boldly out of the shadow into the circle of light thrown by the lamp.
"I don't know what you all think," he said firmly, but it seems to me singularly unwise for us to stand here gossiping when there is a stranger amongst us. I fail to understand the motive of this gentleman in breaking into my house by my private door, wearing my clothes, if I am to believe my eyes; but I clearly realize the danger of admitting strangers to a gathering of this kind."
"Quite right," agreed Behrend, nodding his head in assent.
"You have had one singular surprise to-night already," Desmond resumed, "in the matter of the jewel which our respected leader was about to show us: if you recollect, our friend was only prevented from giving us the explanation which he certainly owed us over his little hoax by the arrival, the most timely arrival, of his confederate..."
"Confederate?" shouted Mortimer, "what the devil do you mean by that?"
"Yes, confederate," Desmond repeated. "Max, Behrend, Mrs. Malplaquet, all of you, look at this wretched fellow"--he pointed a finger of scorn at Bellward--"trembling with fright at the role that has been thrust upon him, to force his way into our midst, to give his accomplice the tip to clear out before the police arrive."
"Stop!" exclaimed Mortimer, raising his pistol. Behrend caught his hand.
"We'll hear you in a minute!" he said.
"Let him finish!" said Mrs. Malplaquet, and there was a certain ominous quietness in her tone that startled Desmond.
As for Bellward, he remained silent, with arms folded, listening very intently.
"Doubtless, this double of mine," continued Desmond in a mocking voice, "is the bearer of the Star of Poland, the wonderful jewel which has required our beloved leader to devote so much of his time to a certain charming lady. Bah! are you going to let a man like this," and he pointed to Mortimer disdainfully with his hand, "a man who puts you in the fighting line while he amuses himself in the rear, are you going to let this false friend, this bogus spy, cheat you like this? My friends, my advice to you, if you don't want