Nude in Mink by Sax Rohmer (classic literature books txt) 📖

not delay for a moment. Someone’s life depends upon me. I must take my baggage and go. Don’t follow me … It means death to follow me.”

He went out. Donovan heard the click of the bedroom switch. He heard that monotonous voice: “… not delay for a moment. Someone’s life depends upon me. I must take my baggage and go. Don’t follow me. It means death to follow me…”

He was horrified beyond expression. But, dimly, he heard Ives speaking: “I begin to understand what we’re up against. That man is under some sort of control. Whoever sent him here, thought the flat would be empty. But that speech was meant for you, in case you were at home.”

“We must get him, Ives! Handcuff him, if necessary! To all intents and purposes, poor Maitland is a madman!”

A strong hand gripped Donovan’s arm.

“Go easy! Go easy! I’m in charge of this case. We are not going to interfere with him. We are going to see what he does, and when he goes, we are going to follow him. You may never have seen a somnambulist, but I have. Dr. Maitland is practically walking in his sleep, but he’s carrying out specific orders. We want to know what they are!”

Donovan breathed hard, and then, “I think I can guess what they are,” he said. “All his notes on the case are in a steel box in his valise. And the valise is locked in the wardrobe. Somebody requires that material. What shall we do? They are probably waiting below for him.”

“For once in a while, your friend, Sumuru, has been let down by bad staff work. Those who take big chances are open to it. But I have learned something: never to disbelieve a story because it sounds impossible.”

“But what shall we do?”

“You, stand by here. Whatever he does, don’t interfere with him. Don’t awaken him. He’s in a trance, or asleep. When he leaves, follow on. I shall have the police car handy. Run across and jump in.”

And so, Ives having stolen downstairs, Donovan found himself alone in the flat with poor Maitland. He could hear him moving about in the bedroom. He heard him open the drawer in which the wardrobe key was kept and heard him open the wardrobe.

At intervals he muttered, “Must take my baggage and go. Don’t follow me…” It was horrible to listen to… “means death to follow me …”

He was through with this job sooner than Donovan had anticipated, and when he came out carrying a suitcase and the valise, Donovan was a second too late to take cover!

He could have cursed himself for a clumsy fool; then he realised that it didn’t matter.

Maitland’s eyes were turned straight in Donovan’s direction. But there was no recognition there, in fact there was no consciousness of any presence! He stared glassily right through Donovan… “Don’t follow me … It means death to follow me…”

Donovan didn’t stir, and Maitland walked right past him, opened the door, and carrying his baggage, went downstairs.

Donovan followed, some little distance behind, and when Maitland stepped into Bruton Street, slamming the door behind him, Donovan opened it an inch or so and peered out, cautiously.

A car was standing by the corner of the mews across the street, and for this Maitland headed. Donovan saw the driver get down and help with the bags, and trusting to the darkness, he took a quick look, right and left, but failed to see Ives.

Maitland got into the waiting car, and it moved off. Then, Donovan stepped right out.

Where was Ives?

An answer came almost as the query formed itself in his mind. The police car had, evidently, been parked in the mews! Now, it came out. Ives stood on a running-board.

“Jump in, sir! We mustn’t lose him!”

Donovan jumped in, and the chase began.

4

“When I saw that car,” Ives explained, “standing there, I didn’t know what to do. I knew it might be one belonging to the gang. So I strolled along casually to the corner of Bond Street as if I had merely come out of another of the flats. Once there, I hared around to the other end of the mews. I found my man asleep, but I soon woke him up.”

“You hope this may lead us to Sumuru’s headquarters?”

“Well, to some place used by her people, anyway. I had no time to get a squad together, so that, whatever happens, the three of us, you, I, and Thomson, my driver, must deal with it.”

“We may disturb a hornet’s nest.”

“It’s quite possible. We have evidence to show that your lady friend sticks at nothing. Now, where the devil are they making for?”

At this hour of the morning the West End streets were deserted, so that there was no difficulty in following the mysterious car from point to point. The police driver could easily have overtaken it, but Ives’s orders were to drop well behind until the quarry rounded any corner and then to dash forward in order to keep it in sight. He had just performed such a dash as Ives spoke, falling in behind the car as its driver swung right, along Park Lane.

“Marble Arch, apparently.”

“They know they are followed, Mr. Donovan. It was unavoidable in the circumstances. And they know that this Squad car can overhaul them. I wonder what they’ll try?”

“Got the number?”

“Yes. But it wouldn’t help if they managed to slip away. I’m almost sure it’s a private car, used by the gang. In that case they can change the number plate whenever it suits them. Hullo! Go slow, Thomson!”

“They’re pulling up! They’re pulling up!”

“Easy Thomson, easy! Slow down—”

“They’re drawing in to the verge!”

“Where the Park railings used to be!”

“Not another car in sight.”

“Not likely to be, at this hour.”

“Good heavens, Ives! You see! You see! Someone has been flung out!”

Craning forward, Donovan had seen the leading car drawing in on the bend right to where the Park railings had formerly stood. He saw now, the near-side door swing open … and he saw a man’s body topple out!

“Good God! It’s Maitland!”

“Open up, Thompson!” The police car leapt forward. “Stop where he lies. You go ahead when we get out. Pass that car and jamb it! Make no mistake. Whoever’s inside —bring ‘em in… dead or alive! …” A shriek of brakes. “Here we are. Jump, Mr. Donovan!” Both sprang out. “Let her go, Thompson. Bring those men in, remember!”

Away streaked the car in the wake of the now racing quarry, and Donovan found himself bending over Steel Maitland where he lay.

“An old trick,” said Ives savagely. “But it rarely fails. We dare not leave him lying there with not a soul about. Is he—”

“He’s alive. But he’s quite unconscious. Ives, there was someone else hiding in that car.”

“I know. Although he never showed himself when Dr. Maitland got in. Do you think he’s been knocked out?”

The inspector shone a ray from his lamp into the pale, bearded face.

“There’s no sign of injury. But it might have been a blow on the head.”

“Do what you can. I’ll run across to the box on the corner and get a car and a doctor.”

Ives ran off, and Donovan gave a more careful overhaul to Steel Maitland. He was no medical man, but he understood first-aid, which includes at least the rudiments of the business. Maitland lay like a log. But Donovan could find no signs of injury to head or limbs; and all his ribs were intact. He suspected that he might have struck his skull when thrown out of the car, but failed to detect any evidence to support this.

Donovan was uncertain just how late it was, but noted that no one passed that way during all this time, until a constable turned up. His manner bristled with suspicion.

“Hullo! What’s this?”

“Someone thrown out of a car, Constable. He happens to be a friend of mine “

“Does he? Let’s have a look at him.”

Donovan stood up, and the Constable stared challengingly into his eyes before stooping over Maitland. Donovan decided to relieve the tension.

“My name is Donovan. Chief Inspector Ives, who was with me at the time, has gone to a police box to call a surgeon. I’m expecting him back at any moment.”

“Chief Inspector Ives? Oh! Are you are friend of his?”

“I know him fairly well. He is an old friend of Dr. Maitland’s, here.”

“Dr. Steel Maitland?”

“Yes.”

“Phew! Never saw him before, sir, Sorry to see him like this. But he’s well known to the force. Who’s the sprinter?… Oh, it’s the inspector.”

Ives came doubling up and was saluted by the constable.

“Never salute a plain clothes officer,” the inspector snapped, irritably. “Devil of a lot of trouble getting that arranged,” he explained apologetically. “Stand by, Constable, to lend us a hand. Excuse my bad temper. They’ll be here shortly.” He looked down at Maitland. “Any change?”

“No, I’m sorry to say. He seems to be breathing regularly, too, and—”

“Is that you, Donovan?” came a voice from the ground.

It would have been difficult to say which of the three jumped highest. The voice was the voice of Steel Maitland —and Steel Maitland was sitting up and staring all about him!

“Take it easy, Doctor,” Ives warned.

“Oh, hullo, Ives! You there, too? Now—” he stood up, unsupported—“how the hell did I get here!”

“Go easy,” Donovan urged.

“Thanks—I’m all right. Except for a racking headache… Gad! it’s coming back! Donovan! Donovan! She is there—Claudette! That devil woman has her again!”

“You are sure? You are sure?”

“Sure? I tell you she’s there, Donovan—in that damnable place filled with mimosa! …”

4

In that fabulous marble apartment for which, already, many men were searching, an ominous stillness reigned. Philo, of the massive shoulders, stood before his beautiful, dreaded mistress, his powerful hands clenched, his head bowed, and dew of perspiration on his low brow.

My Lady sat upright in a high-backed ebony chair which bore the arms of a long dead cardinal. Then, she spoke. “You have failed.”

“My Lady!”

“Silence! Listen. Your information concerning the movements of the American, Donovan, was false. He had returned to his apartment. He was joined there by a Scotland Yard officer—_unknown_ to you! But for the quicker wit of Varro, in the car, all would have fallen into the hands of the police.”

“Dear My Lady, although they had to abandon the car in Bayswater, they saved the steel box. I have it here_–-_

“The car will set the police on the scent. They had also to abandon Dr. Maitland. By now he will have recovered from the treatment. He is not a Mark Donovan. He is not in love with one of my women. He has all the resources or the Secret Service behind him. You fool! You witless fool!

Bending, she struck Philo a sharp blow on the cheek. He did not flinch. My Lady laughed.

“You have worked in the ruby mines, Philo—

Now, he displayed something resembling human emotion.

“Madonna! Not that! Not that!”

“Your great physical strength fits you to endure privations. Your dull, animal brain has become a menace to me. I thought I could train you—for you have certain qualities—”

“My Lady! I beg of you—”

“One more task I shall entrust to you, Philo. It will be the hardest of all. Should you fail—”

“I shall not fail: I shall not fail!”

“Stand upright. Go. Tell Caspar to send Sister Jean to me, here, at once …”