Henry Leverage

“ MacKeenon had said no word. He crouched like a watchful hound, ready, alert for the first overt act. Fay had weighed the chances when he had first entered the car. They still held good. The great motor often slowed for traffic—for the tide of war which flowed Londonward, even after the last treaty of peace had been signed.
Lorries, caissons, embarked troops in olive-drab, invalided officers and men strolling through the rare English meadows, all were a maelstrom where freedom from pursuit could be had.
Fay feared no living man or group of men. ”

“ He knew of the wide-flung power of Scotland Yard. It never let a man go!
Then, for what reason, he argued, had they let him run scot-free? Had a net already been spread into which he was bound to stumble? Or was it the flicker of fortune’s wheel that had turned his way at last?
He examined the lock of the little black bag, reached for his cap and overcoat, and strode out of the room. The yielding door was so unlike the iron horror at Dartmoor! He whistled gayly as he ran down the ancient steps and burst out and into the glad light of day. ”

“ Saidee leaned aft and Fay was thrown against the side of the cabin. Shouting and the hoarse orders of the mates resounded. The fog was ripped in one place to port. Through the gap the fine prow and the belching funnels of a British destroyer of the superclass leaped. She bore down and rounded the ship’s bow like a skater on ice. Four flags were flung to her bridge signal-halliards. A callow lieutenant-commander in oil-skins and a sou’wester held a battered speaking-trumpet to his beardless lips. Beside him stood a man in a plaid overcoat and cap. ”

“ A mansard roof, gables on the corners, well-curtained bays and wide porches, denoted one of the smartest of London houses. A small garage at the end of the driveway had room for two motor cars. A side house, well hidden in shrubbery, probably contained the servants. The all, in the night’s gloom, was a picture to charm most any prowler.
Fay studied the lower windows, with a professional glance. He drew himself back into the hedge as he heard a click and then the sound of somebody moving at the front of the villa. ”

“ Two blasts sounded from the siren aft the squat funnel. These were answered as both ships hugged the banks of the canal. They glided by, starboard to port, with a scant fathom’s distance between the rails.
Fay leaned outboard, grasped a davit-stay and studied the faces of the passengers on the boat. He ran his eyes down the line. He felt the answering stares. Broad faces and keen ones were there. Flashily dressed travelers were sandwiched between burly burgers. Children stood on the high places of the crowded deck with their bow legs supporting grotesque bodies. ”

“ Her skirt, her shoes, her waist and feather-dragging hat, were all sea-soaked and mist-flattened. Her eyes and the jewels on her fingers alone spoke the Saidee Isaacs of other days.
“Come on,” he said, snatching up her hand. “There’s a trail inland and a wide world to walk in. Let’s find a hay-mow or barn and go to sleep. We’ll feel better when we wake up. I’m sorry about the glasses, but I hated the thing from the beginning and now I know I was right.” ”

“ Sir Richard jerked a thumb toward the black boxes. “The secret for making these dyes will save the world from a galling monopoly. It will make the place we live in, Fay, just that much safer for Democracy. The war between nations is over. There will come another war—the commercial one between Germany and the world. We can best win that war by being prepared—by dye-works and potash deposits and freedom from secret formulae.” ”

“ The boat cast off from the quay and, clearing the buoys, struck through the murk on the long leg to the Continent. A winding shroud came down the sea and blotted out every light. A moaning lifted from the waves. Above this moaning sounded the steady clanking of the Clyde-built engines which were of four-expansions and balanced.
Knot by knot, league over league, the fast boat cut through the night. The grizzled skipper placed his trust in providence and held his North Sea course, edging as the hours went on toward the Lowland Country. ”

“ Fay felt it as he watched the Scotch inspector. Try, as he should, he could never get over the feeling that the detective was his born enemy.
MacKeenon was so like a waiting collie. The leathern pouches of the Scot—the curl to his lips—the fang-like teeth, all made this thing seem real.
With Sir Richard Colstrom there was this difference. The chief had traveled far. He had taken the pains to acquire some of the argot of the underworld. He was rated square—after he caught his quarry. Fay could never believe that a manhunter played a fair game in running down criminals. ”

“ Fay heard MacKeenon rounding the corner of the table and fingering the locked boxes.
“We’ll grant it!” snapped Sir Richard testily. “We’ll grant your talents. It is because of them that we have brought you here tonight! As man to man, Fay, we’re in a knot. I’m sure you are the one rogue in all the known world who can help us out. ”

“ Saidee Isaacs took one quick step toward the table. Fay stopped her with a reaching arm. There was a quizzical smile on the cracksman’s face. He had read Sir Richard aright.
“I think—” started the chief of the investigation division, “I think that you are just a bad boy grown up.”
Sir Richard sat bolt upright. He leveled a steady finger across the polished surface of the table.
“You’re a fool in a fool’s paradise. You can’t move contrary to fifty million people, and get away with it. There is a place for such who break the laws—a house with a Thousand Doors! What have you got to say, Fay? ”

“ Her face was turned forward and over the port quarter. Her eyes glowed with suppressed fire. A shout had sounded from the pilot-house. The wheel had been swung as much as three degrees. The ship had reeled and then darted on through the folds of the sea fog.
Fay warily turned and stared at the girl. He stepped toward the door. A shot, muffled and far to the southward, boomed through the night. It was repeated with sullen tones. The ship was signaled to stop!
A door opened next to the cabin occupied by Harry Raymond. The cockney thrust out a long nose and a curious pair of eyes. ”

“ A sleeve-valved motor, black, tired with steel-studded rubber, throbbing with life and a desire to roll up the road, stood close at hand. Into the tonneau of this car MacKeenon tossed the kit-bag and overcoat, then turned and assisted Fay to mount the running-board, where he had hesitated for the minutest fraction of a second.
Liberty was over that causeway. Freedom might be gained by a try at the marshes and moorland. The mist was almost thick enough to hide in. The world beyond was very wide indeed. ”

“ Fay took every precaution. He approached the quays and the canals by lowland paths as the sun dipped below the western sea-mist. He leaped a causeway, went over a thin plank, and drew this ashore after him. The way ahead was narrow. The way behind was closed to all save a good swimmer.
He came to a paved road beside which was a long row of tall poplars. A windmill with crossed arms, like two combs on a pepper box, reared toward the sea. Another showed beyond gray-stucco houses and lean barns. The flat-green of Holland merged into a pea-soup fog which was rising. ”

“ The same black car, with its H.M.S. plates, that had brought Fay to London from Dartmoor, was waiting. The same driver sat in the front seat. In the rear, holding an inviting door, stood the little old man who had followed the cracksman to Holland. His bundle lay on the seat. It was the nipper grip of the Yard—and perfect team-work!
The ride south and then west through the crowded throng of City clerks and busses was made in utter silence. MacKeenon sat between Fay and the girl. The little old man, whose eyes were as bright as a terrier’s, watched everything. ”

“ A single figure climbed for the highest places. It appeared on the top of the pilot-house. Fog wrapped the standing rigging. Wind and mist blotted out the view.
The view returned. The figure was now close by the funnel. Hands were raised impotently toward the heavens. The German in Dutch Gus had caved. He cried, and the sea mocked him.
Fay loosened a pair of oars, sat down, and swung the bow of the small boat toward the ship. He sensed his position and bent his back. The ship went down in a geyser of white foam. The upper deck-cabins and ventilators were sheered from their holding-bolts. ”

“ The door kept opening. It revealed the edge of a purple hat, a shoulder and then the olive features of Saidee Isaacs. She stepped in and pressed the door shut. She turned with her skirts swishing.
“Did you get it?” she asked.
Fay was mute for once in his life. He figured the turn of events as he watched her eyes change color and grow soft. She had hired the auto belonging to the hotel upon her arrival in Holland. It was natural that she should stop at the same hotel after her vain appeal on the quay. Perhaps she had hoped against hope that he would return to the cipher quest. ”

“ Sir Richard guessed what was passing in the cracksman’s mind. He smiled with sudden warmth. His head came forward as his right hand reached out. “You think this is a police trap, Fay,” he said sincerely. “It isn’t at all. It’s an attempt to call upon the highest talent in the world—in his own particular line. We all have specialties. Mine is trying to raise better dahlias than my neighbor. Yours is opening strong-boxes which American safe-makers have branded as burglar-proof. That big crib in Hatton Gardens was an American box, wasn’t it?” ”

“ What then?”
“You and I alone know what you are going to do.”
“MacKeenon?”
“He obeys orders. I like you, Fay. Damnit, I admire enterprise—even if it is opening strong-boxes! What would Scotland Yard be if there weren’t men like you in the world? You’re a mark and all that, but you’ve done one or two big things in your line.”
Fay rubbed his wrists as if handcuffs were still binding him. He shifted his weight and eyed the three boxes with new concern. “My price,” he said, “may be more than you or England are willing to pay.”
“No price is too high to pay for the key to this cipher.” ”

“ Her eyes glowed as she reached out an overly jeweled hand. “All bets in the crook game are off,” she said with American directness. “They’re off for a time, Chester. I got you out of Dartmoor for bigger game.”
Fay had never fully understood Saidee Isaacs. The riddle-woman was strong in her. She was two natures as wide apart as the poles. She could hate stronger and longer than anybody he had ever known. Her love, which had never been given to any man, would mean all in all. ”

“ He had planned to take a night’s rest at the hotel which flanked Clanson’s Antique Shop. The dealer’s statement concerning Dutch Gus, and, moreover, Saidee Isaacs, changed this plan. He wanted to walk in the wide places. No trace of drowsiness weighed his eye-lids. Shepherd Bush—the Thames—Richmond and Hammersmith, were ahead of him. There was no law in England that prevented a man taking the road. Fay went on, with his oakum-stained nails gripping his palms, his eyes set ahead and slightly upward where the yellow vault of the London sky pressed down on his throbbing temples. ”

“ It had been too soon since leaving Dartmoor for him to have found himself. He knew this with the intuition of the released felon. A man’s mind was a delicate thing. It could not adjust itself over night or during the period of a few days. It wanted weeks and months.
A plan took form and substance as he waited by the boat. He did not even know the ports of call of the ship he was on. Any question toward finding out would excite suspicion. The purser would be around for the fare. Fay wondered, with a light laugh, what port he would name. ”

“ Fay turned a corner, leaned against the wall and lighted a cigarette in the shadow of a doorway, within which was a deep, blue light. A constable stood across the street in an attitude of resignation. There was no other name for it.
The cracksman shifted his coat from his right arm to his left, dropped the cigarette to his feet and stepped briskly toward the same corner he had rounded. It was an old trick of a man who feared a shadow. He saw none. A “growler” or four wheeler, drawn by a decrepit nag, rattled over the asphalt, going toward the West End. ”