Terror Tower Read online

  Since the house was still servantless, he and Jim and McWraith had to get their own lunch, which they did with the aid of fresh supplies procured by McWraith from the village.

  Jim had, however, learned that there was a servants’ agency at Hythe, and during the meal he announced his intention of driving over during the afternoon and seeing what he could find.

  ‘If I can’t get hold of anybody,’ he said, ‘we shall have to shut the place up for the time being and stay at the hotel at Hythe.’

  ‘Then I hope you find somebody,’ mumbled McWraith, his mouth full of mutton chop. ‘It would be a pity to leave here and chance missing whatever excitement may be going.’

  They had washed up the things and Jim was setting out to fetch the car when the telephone bell rang.

  McWraith answered it and called to Lowe.

  ‘It’s your boyfriend, the superintendent,’ he said as the dramatist took the receiver from his hand.

  Hartley had news. He had just received a telephone call from the Yard to say that Detective Inspector Shadgold and Detective Inspector Murley were coming down to see him and expected to arrive about four o’clock. It was in connection with Johnny Calling, and very important. He thought, perhaps, Lowe would like to be there.

  ‘I should very much, Hartley,’ answered the dramatist. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’

  He hung up the receiver and turned to McWraith.

  ‘I wonder if you two would take me with you into Hythe,’ he said.

  ‘Of course,’ answered the huge Scotsman promptly. ‘It’ll be a tight fit though.’

  ‘I can manage to squeeze into the dickey-seat,’ said Lowe. ‘I shall probably be able to come back in my own car. I should think they’ve put the new tyres on by now.’

  The hoot of a horn from outside warned them that Jim was waiting and impatient, and they joined him.

  Lowe explained his altered plans — for he had at first arranged to stay behind — and when McWraith had with difficulty packed himself in beside Jim he took his place in the rear seat.

  They reached Hythe a little after three, and leaving Jim and McWraith to set out on their servant-hunting errand, Lowe entered the police station.

  He found Hartley in his microscopic office at the back of the charge-room and sat down in the chair which the superintendent indicated.

  ‘I phoned you, Mr. Lowe,’ said Hartley, removing a pair of large horn-rimmed spectacles and carefully putting them away in a case, ‘because it seemed to me that this visit might have some important bearing on this affair at Stonehurst. There must be something behind this Johnny Calling murder that the Yard know about for them to send down like this.’

  ‘I agree with you,’ said Lowe. ‘Maybe they’ll be able to give us just the line we’re seeking.’

  ‘That’s what I’m hoping, sir,’ said Hartley, nodding. ‘The chief constable was on the phone just before the message came through from the Yard, wanting to know if I’d made any further discoveries. And when I told him I hadn’t he suggested it would be a good plan to invite the help of Scotland Yard.’

  He looked across at Lowe and pursed his lips.

  ‘Well, naturally I don’t want to do that if I can help it, Mr. Lowe. It would be a feather in my cap if I could pull this business off on my own — with your help, of course,’ he added.

  ‘Yes, I understand how you feel about it. It’s a question of personal pride, isn’t it?’

  ‘You’ve hit it, sir,’ answered Hartley, smiling. ‘That’s what it is. You see, this is the first big thing I’ve had the chance of handling, and I’d like to go through with it to the end.’

  ‘Well, you know that it was more or less at the request of Inspector Shadgold that I came here,’ said Lowe. ‘That is, originally I was coming down, anyway, the next day. It was Johnny Calling’s phone call that brought me before I intended. So, as far as the missing men are concerned, it’s Shadgold’s job, but these murders are, of course, in a different category. They happened in your district, and unless you call on the Yard for help they’ve no power to interfere. That’s really what you’re getting at in a roundabout way, isn’t it?’

  The superintendent’s big face reddened.

  ‘Yes, sir, that’s it,’ he said slowly. ‘I was rather afraid these fellows who are coming down might — well, sort of take charge and persuade the chief constable to officially apply for help . . .’

  ‘I don’t know Murley,’ interrupted Lowe, ‘but so far as Shadgold is concerned you needn’t worry. He’s one of the best of good fellows, and he wouldn’t dream of robbing you of any kudos —’

  ‘Any what, sir?’ asked the puzzled Hartley.

  ‘Any credit,’ supplemented Lowe. ‘Besides which, while they’re in this district you are their superior officer.’

  ‘Yes, sir, I know that,’ said Hartley. ‘But I’m only a local man, and they’re Yard men. Superior officer or not it makes a difference. However, I’m glad I mentioned it, sir.’

  He began to talk about the arrangements that had been made for the inquest on the Norths for the following morning, and was still so engaged when a constable, looking rather flustered and nervous, announced the arrival of ‘Detective Inspector Shadgold and Detective Inspector Murley.’

  ‘Ask them to come in here, Tillet,’ said Hartley, breaking off hastily in the middle of a sentence; and a second later the two Yard men were ushered into the office.

  ‘Good afternoon, Superintendent,’ began Murley; and then Shadgold who was behind him caught sight of Lowe.

  ‘Hullo, Mr. Lowe!’ he exclaimed. ‘I knew you were down here somewhere, but I didn’t expect to see you here.’

  ‘I’ve come to hear what you’ve got to tell us concerning Johnny Calling,’ said the dramatist, smiling.

  ‘What do you know about Johnny Calling?’ he asked quickly.

  Shadgold looked at him suspiciously.

  ‘Nothing at present — except that he was a burglar and that he’s dead,’ answered Lowe. ‘But I shall be very interested to hear more.’

  ‘I thought you’d already heard something,’ grunted Shadgold, and when the dramatist shook his head: ‘Well, then, I think Murley and I can supply you with some very interesting information.’

  Chapter Twenty – The Man in the Porch

  ‘And that’s why, immediately we learned about the identity of the dead man, we came down,’ said Inspector Murley at the end of an hour. ‘When Shadgold told me, I thought it was a clue that ought to be followed up at once.’

  ‘You see, Mr. Lowe,’ cut in Shadgold, ‘it struck me that this drug ramp, ‘slush’ money and burglary epidemics were connected with this other business of the disappearances.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ said Lowe. ‘Don’t you, Hartley?’

  The big superintendent nodded.

  ‘I do,’ he declared without hesitation. ‘I think it’s just the thing we’ve been looking for, sir. A line to the motive behind all these crimes.’

  ‘It seems to me, sir,’ said Murley, his thin, alert face alive with interest, ‘that Stonehurst is the headquarters of this gang.’

  ‘I’m almost certain of that,’ agreed Lowe. ‘I’m beginning to understand now why those extraordinary changes took place two years ago, Hartley.’

  ‘What changes were those?’ asked Shadgold quickly.

  ‘I think Superintendent Hartley had better tell you that,’ answered the dramatist, and Hartley complied.

  The two Scotland Yard men listened with interest, and when he had finished Murley whistled softly.

  ‘I’d like to have a look at some of these newcomers,’ he remarked. ‘I’ve an idea that they might prove to be old friends.’

  ‘We shall have to go carefully over that,’ said Shadgold. ‘If they’re crooks, as we believe, we don’t want to scare them. It would be easy to catch one or two, but the others would be off like the wind at the first sign of danger. We might as well pull in the lot while we’re about it.’

  Murley nod
ded.

  ‘I agree,’ he said heartily. ‘The difficulty is to know who is in this business and who isn’t. Some of these people who have come to live in the village may be quite innocent, and we don’t want any trouble. Again, there may be some who have never passed through our hands, who are in it up to their necks, but whom we shouldn’t recognise.’

  ‘Yes, and they would get away if you acted precipitately,’ answered the dramatist. ‘And there wouldn’t be a shred of evidence to convict them.’

  ‘That’s quite right, sir,’ said Superintendent Hartley. ‘It’s going to be a tricky business, because, for one thing, all we’ve got to work on is conjecture. We’ve got no definite case against anybody. And for another, after these murders you can bet your life that these birds are going to be extra cautious. They know that the place is being watched by the police and they’re not going to be so silly as to make any move that’s likely to give them away.’

  There was a short silence, broken by Lowe.

  ‘Have you photographs of these men Freeman and Kenner?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Murley.

  ‘Then,’ went on the dramatist, ‘I think it would be a good plan if you could get them down here and let Hartley have them. He’s seen most of the people in the village and he might be able to identify them.’

  ‘I’ll have them sent down at once.’ Murley looked across at Hartley. ‘Can I use your ’phone, Super?’

  ‘Of course.’ Hartley pushed the instrument towards him, sliding it along the desk.

  The inspector asked for ‘Trunks,’ and a few seconds later was speaking to Chief Inspector Watling at the Yard.

  ‘They’re being sent right away,’ he said presently, hanging up the receiver.

  ‘You see,’ said Lowe, ‘if we’re lucky enough to narrow this down to one — or perhaps two — people whom we know are involved, we can keep a watch on their movements. And so long as they don’t know we’re watching them they’ll lead us to the rest.’

  ‘In that case I think it’d be just as well if Murley and I stayed for a while,’ said Shadgold. ‘Don’t you?’

  Lowe looked at Hartley.

  Remembering their conversation prior to the arrival of the others, he wondered how the superintendent would take this suggestion. As he had rather expected, Hartley looked a little glum.

  ‘Well —’ he began, and Lowe broke in before he could say any more.

  ‘I think the superintendent would welcome your co-operation,’ he said tactfully, ‘if it was understood that so far as these murders are concerned your help would be more or less unofficial.’

  ‘Of course, in that respect it would be,’ said Shadgold quickly. ‘That’s entirely up to Superintendent Hartley. We haven’t been asked to help. All we are officially interested in is the mystery surrounding the disappearances and the truth concerning this criminal gang, if it exists.’

  Hartley’s face cleared.

  ‘In that case I’ll be very grateful if you’ll give me a hand,’ he said.

  ‘If you’ve decided to stay,’ said the dramatist, ‘why not come back and put up at Greytower? I’m sure Mr. Winslow will be only too glad, and you’ll be right in the thick of it.’

  ‘That’s a very good idea, Mr. Lowe,’ said Murley, ‘only we shall have to be careful that we’re not spotted.’

  ‘There’s no reason why you should be,’ answered Lowe. ‘It’ll be dark before we get back, and you can keep well under cover during the day.’

  As the two Yard men approved of the plan it was agreed that Lowe should put it up to Jim when he and McWraith returned from the servants’ registry.

  ‘If this criminal organisation exists,’ said Lowe, when this had been settled, ‘as I for one think it does, after what you’ve told me, they couldn’t have chosen a better place than Stonehurst for their headquarters. A typical old English village is the last place one would think of looking for anything of the sort, and for one part of their operations the sea is most conveniently close.’

  ‘You mean the drugs?’ said Shadgold, and Lowe nodded.

  ‘Exactly,’ he replied. ‘They could land any number of secret cargoes down by the coast with very little risk of detection. And as for the rest of their activities’ — he shrugged his shoulders — ‘well, they could be carried on in comfort.’

  ‘They won’t be so comfortable if I can get my hands on ’em!’ grunted Murley. ‘I’ve had a pretty fair sickener of this job during the last eighteen months, working night and day with no results to show for it.’

  ‘The person we want to lay our hands on is the man or woman at the back of it,’ said Lowe.

  ‘You agree with the Chief Commissioner, then, sir?’ asked Murley.

  ‘Most certainly I do,’ declared the dramatist. ‘Unusual as it is outside fiction to find a master-mind at work, I think we can safely assume that it is so in this case. From what you tell me, all these crimes have been most carefully planned. The distribution of the drugs and the bad notes, for instance. All that indicates a clever brain directing. And then supposing — as we are certain they are — that these disappearances are traceable to the same cause. Look at the clever way they have been carried out. These four Yard men have vanished without a trace, and that’s not so easy as it sounds. Oh! yes, there’s somebody directing operations, somebody responsible for the whole scheme — somebody who conceived the idea of turning a peaceful country village into a crooks’ colony.’

  ‘And it may be anybody,’ put in Hartley gloomily. ‘All the people that might have been able to tell us anything have been wiped out.’

  ‘Including Mrs. North,’ said Lowe quietly.

  ‘She wiped herself out,’ said the superintendent, and then, catching the expression on the dramatist’s face, he added quickly: ‘Don’t you think so, sir?’

  ‘It certainly looked like it,’ admitted Lowe, ‘but I must say I’m doubtful. It was such a very convenient thing for her to do.’

  ‘Well, I don’t see how she could have been murdered, and that’s the only alternative,’ protested Hartley. ‘The door was locked when Dr. Grendon and I entered the room, and the windows were shut and fastened, and hadn’t been tampered with. Nobody could have got at her.’

  ‘There was one person who could,’ said Lowe meaningly. ‘Dr. Grendon.’

  Hartley sat up in his chair with a jerk.

  ‘Dr. Grendon?’ he repeated incredulously. ‘But he didn’t go in on his own, sir. I was with him —’

  ‘Not all the time you weren’t,’ broke in Lowe. ‘He was alone with her when you came downstairs to us.’

  ‘But,’ exclaimed the superintendent, ‘she was dead then —’

  ‘How do you know she was dead then?’ Lowe snapped out the question sharply, and as Hartley stared at him with dropped jaw, too surprised to reply, he went on quickly: ‘Because Grendon told you so. But supposing at that time she wasn’t dead, only sleeping? What was to prevent Grendon from killing her while they were left alone?’

  ‘By Jove, Mr. Lowe,’ interjected Shadgold. ‘The man would have needed colossal nerve. Think of the risk.’

  ‘It would have been a bigger risk to let her live if she knew as much as we think she knew,’ retorted the dramatist.

  There was a momentary hush of silence while the other three occupants of the tiny office stared at him.

  ‘If this theory of yours is right,’ said Hartley at last, ‘I’d better arrange for an autopsy.’

  ‘I think you ought to,’ answered Lowe. ‘Only it will have to be carried out secretly. It mustn’t leak out that we suspect anything but accidental death or suicide, otherwise we shall put Grendon on his guard.’

  ‘I’ll see Dr. Peters and explain matters to him, sir,’ said the superintendent.

  ‘You’re sure he’s to be trusted?’ warned Lowe. ‘We can’t be too careful.’

  Hartley gave a confident smile.

  ‘Oh, yes, sir,’ he answered reassuringly, ‘he can be trusted all right.’

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bsp; ‘Well, if it should be proved that the woman was killed as you suggest, Mr. Lowe,’ put in Shadgold, ‘it will give us one of the people concerned in this business for certain.’

  ‘And through him the whole bunch, I hope,’ answered Lowe grimly. ‘I’ve got an extraordinary incentive to run these people to earth, Shadgold —’ He stopped suddenly, and the inspector who knew that he was referring to Arnold White nodded sympathetically.

  ‘Let’s hope that no serious harm has come to Mr. White,’ he said.

  ‘There’s just one reason why we can hope that,’ answered the dramatist. ‘It’s a very faint one, but it’s possible they may be keeping him alive to use as a hostage in case of emergency.’

  He saw by their faces that none of them thought this was very likely, and, indeed, he had very little faith in the suggestion himself. But it was a forlorn hope, and he clung to it.

  The constable came in at that moment to say that Jim Winslow was waiting outside, and Lowe went out to him, accompanied by Shadgold and Murley.

  ‘The more the merrier,’ said Jim when the dramatist had introduced the Scotland Yard men and had suggested that they should put up at Greytower. ‘I’ve found a couple of good servants, an ex-serviceman and his wife, and they’re coming over in the morning. So after to-night we shall have somebody to look after us.’

  ‘In the meantime,’ grinned McWraith, indicating a large package that rested precariously on his knees, ‘We’ve got enough tinned food for a regiment.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt that Shadgold and Inspector Murley will be glad to sample it,’ remarked the dramatist. ‘I’ll just slip round to the garage and see if my car is ready, and then we can get along.’

  ‘We’ll go on ahead,’ said Jim. ‘You’ll probably catch us up half-way.’

  He drove off with a wave of his hand, and Lowe, Shadgold and Murley walked round to the garage.

  The car was ready, and with the two Yard men in the back, Lowe brought it round to the police station, where they stopped for a moment to say good-bye to Hartley.