The Voice from the Void: The Great Wireless Mystery Part 23

"And what 'ave you been up to 'ere--eh?" demanded the officer, who had gripped him tightly by the coat collar and arm.

"Nothing," replied Allen. "I fancy you've made a mistake!"

"I fancy I 'aven't," was the constable's reply. "You'll 'ave to come to the station with me."

"Well, do as you please," said Allen with an air of nonchalance. "I've done nothing."

"I'm not so sure about it. We'll see what you've done when you're safely in the cells."

Cells! Mr Richard Allen had already had a taste of those--on more than one occasion--both in England and abroad. It was, after all, very humiliating to one of his high caste in crookdom to be arrested like a mere area sneak.

"I don't see why I should be put to the inconvenience of going to the station," the cosmopolitan remarked.

"Well, I do, mister, so there's all the difference!" replied the other grimly, his eyes and ears on the alert to hail one of his comrades, a fact which the astute Mr Allen did not fail to realise. The situation was distinctly awkward, not to say alarming, for in his pocket he had the precious map.

Suddenly they were about to turn the corner into the main road when the prisoner, who had gone along quite quietly, even inertly, quickly swung round and s.n.a.t.c.hed at the policeman's whistle, breaking it from its chain and throwing it away.

It was done in a moment, and next second with a deft movement he tripped up his captor, and both fell heavily to the pavement. He had taken the constable unawares, before he could realise that he had a slippery customer to deal with. The constable, however, would not release his hold, with the result that they rolled struggling into the gutter, the policeman shouting for a.s.sistance.

A man's voice answered in the distance, whereupon Allen's right hand went to his jacket pocket, and then swiftly to the face of his captor, who almost instantly relaxed his hold as he fell into unconsciousness.

The prisoner had held a small capsule in his captor's face and smashed it in his fingers, thus releasing an asphyxiating gas of sufficient potency to render the constable insensible.

Quick as lightning Allen disengaged himself, and dragging the senseless man across the pavement into the front garden of a small house exactly opposite, closed the gate, picked up his hat, and then walked quietly on as though nothing had occurred.

As he turned the corner he came face to face with another constable who was hurrying up.

"Did you hear my mate shouting a moment ago, sir?" asked the man breathlessly.

"No," replied Allen halting. "I heard no shouting. When?"

"A few moments ago. The shouts came from this direction. He was crying for help."

"Well, I heard nothing," declared Allen, still standing as the constable, proceeding, pa.s.sed the gate behind which his colleague lay hidden.

Then Allen laughed softly to himself and set out on the high road which led to Kingston.

"A narrow shave!" he remarked to himself aloud. "I wonder what Barclay will say when they go to Underhill Road!"

Not until eight o'clock in the morning did a milkman going his round find the constable lying as though asleep in the little front garden.

He tried to rouse him, but not being able to do so, called the nearest policeman who summoned the ambulance. At first the inspector thought the man intoxicated, but the divisional surgeon p.r.o.nounced that he had been ga.s.sed, and it was several hours later, when in the hospital, that he managed to give an intelligible account of what had occurred.

About noon an inspector called upon Mr Barclay at Underhill Road, but he had gone out.

"Did you find any of your bas.e.m.e.nt windows open when you got up this morning?" he asked the housekeeper, who replied in the negative. Then the new parlour-maid being called declared that she had fastened all the windows securely before retiring, and that they were all shut when she came down at seven o'clock.

The inspector went away, but in the evening he called, saw Mr Barclay, and told him how a man lurking against the kitchen window had been captured, and explained that he must be a well-known and desperate thief because of the subtle means he had in his possession to overcome his captors.

"My servants have told me about it. But as they say the windows were fastened the man could not have committed a burglary," replied Mr Barclay. "The house was quite in order this morning."

"But it is evident that the fellow, whoever he was, meant mischief, sir."

"Probably. But he didn't succeed, which is fortunate for me!" the other laughed.

"Well, sir, have you anything particularly valuable on the premises here? If so, we'll have special watch kept," the inspector said.

"Nothing beyond the ordinary. I've got a safe down below--a very good one because the man who had this house before me was a diamond dealer, with offices in the City, and he often kept some of his stock here.

Come and look at it."

Both men went below, and Mr Barclay showed the inspector the heavy steel door.

The inspector examined the keyhole, but there were no traces of the lock having been tampered with. On the contrary, all was in such complete order that Mr Barclay did not even open the safe.

"It's rather a pity the fellow got away," Mr Barclay remarked.

"It is, sir--a thousand pities. But according to the description given of him by Barnes--who is one of the sharpest men in our division--we believe it to be a man named Hamilton Layton, a well-known burglar who works alone, and who has been many times convicted. A constable in Sunderland was attacked by him last winter in an almost identical manner."

The inspector made a thorough search of the bas.e.m.e.nt premises, and again questioned the fair-haired parlour-maid who was Lily's successor. She vowed that she had latched all the windows, though within herself she feared that she had overlooked the fact that one of the windows was unlatched in the morning. Yet what was the use of confessing it, she thought.

So there being no trace of any intruder, the inspector walked back to the station, while Mr Barclay smiled at the great hubbub, little dreaming that in place of that precious map there reposed in the envelope only a plain piece of paper.

That afternoon d.i.c.k Allen arrived at Willowden. Gray was away motoring in Scotland, where he had some little "business" of the usual shady character to attend to. Freda had gone to Hatfield, and it was an hour before she returned. During that hour Allen smoked and read in the pretty summerhouse at the end of the old-world garden, so full of climbing roses and gay borders.

Suddenly he heard her voice, and looking up from his paper saw her in a big hat and filmy lemon-coloured gown.

He waved to her, rose, and met her at the French window of the old-fashioned dining-room.

"Well?" she asked. "What luck, d.i.c.k? I worried a lot about you last night. I felt somehow that you'd had an accident and to-day--I don't know how it was--I became filled with apprehension and had to go out.

I'm much relieved to see you. What's happened?"

"Nothing, my dear Freda," laughed the good-looking scoundrel. "There was just a little _contretemps_--that's all."

"Have you got the map?"

"Sure," he laughed.

"Ah! When you go out to get a thing you never fail to bring it home,"

she said, with a smile. "You're just like Gordon. You've both got the impudence of the very devil himself."

"And so have you, Freda," laughed her companion, as he stretched himself upon the sofa. "But the little reverse I had in the early hours of this morning was--well, I admit it--rather disturbing. The fact is that on leaving the house in Richmond a constable collared me. He became nasty, so I was nastier still, and gave him a Number Two right up his nose.

And you know what that means!"

"Yes," said the woman. "He won't speak much for eight hours or so. I expect he saw the red light, eh?"

"No doubt. But I've got the little map here, and Barclay retains a sheet of blank paper."

"Splendid!"

Then he drew it from his pocket and showed it to her.