Island of Terror Read online

  In spite of himself Jim laughed.

  “You damned little scoundrel,” he said. “Where is this conversation leading to?”

  “That, my friend, remains to be seen,” answered Dresler. “To be quite truthful, Mr Maitland, I had to assume that you would pass on your strange delusion to the police as soon as you recovered. I therefore made my plans accordingly. When, however, I found that you had said nothing I revised my estimate of your character. I had you shadowed from the time you left the police station, and it soon became clear that you were going to play a lone hand. Your conversation with Goldstein confirmed the fact.”

  “So he passed it on, did he?” said Jim.

  “At once,” replied the other. “Now I like people who play lone hands. They belong by unquestioned right to the fellowship of one. Shall we play on the same side, or not? Shall we join forces, or shall we fight?”

  “The proposition requires thought,” said Jim, with a warning glimpse at his cousin who with his mouth open and his eyes almost falling out of his head had been following the conversation in silence.

  “What advantage is it to you,” he continued, “if we amalgamate?”

  “I will be candid,” said the blind man. “From enquiries I have made about you today I have learned several things. You are, I gather, one of those men who like adventure for adventure’s sake. You are further an almost legendary figure as far as a scrap is concerned. Last night I managed to control your drunken frenzy, but I am not under any delusions that I should be able to do it a second time. And, while I think of it, may I apologise for that absurd note you received. It was sent when I had no idea as to the manner of man you were.”

  Jim laughed again.

  “I accept your apology,” he said gravely.

  “Very well, then,” continued the other. “It is clear to me that you and I are going to see more of one another in the future. Your presence tonight proves that you are of – shall we say – a curious disposition. And, in brief, I would sooner have you on my side than against me. What do you say?”

  “Your side in what?” asked Jim mildly. “Forgive my denseness, but you speak in riddles.”

  “Is that so, Mr Maitland?” said the other leaning forward. “Just how much do you know?”

  “It would seem,” remarked Jim, “that there are one or two things on which you are not omniscient. However, I still await an answer to a very simple question. Your side in what? Running a gambling den?”

  The blind man sat silent, motionless: almost it seemed as if he was trying by some form of telepathy to read the other’s brain. And his problem was as clear as if he had spoken aloud. Was it merely the sound of the shot that had brought Jim Maitland in the night before? Was it pure coincidence, or was there something more behind it? It was impossible for the dwarf to know of his acquaintance with Judy Draycott: at the same time men of Dresler’s kidney are by nature ultra-cautious. And knowing as he did that Jim had recently returned from South America, the reason for his hesitation was obvious.

  “No: not that, Mr Maitland,” he said at length. “In fact owing entirely to you our little club below has ceased, as you doubtless observed on your way up. But it is possible that in the near future we might be of great assistance to one another.”

  “You flatter me,” said Jim.

  “My strong point, if I may say so, lies more in the planning of schemes, and in their organisation, rather than in actually carrying them out. My infirmity is a great handicap. And as I say, I have great hopes that very shortly I shall be in a position to put a suggestion in front of you which will appeal enormously to a man of your temperament.”

  “Why this altruism, Mr Dresler?”

  “For the reason I have already stated. I would sooner have you on my side than against me. And from the estimate I have formed of your character it will be impossible to do what I would most prefer – dismiss you altogether.”

  “Very frank,” laughed Jim. “And what is the nature of this suggestion?”

  “Should you accept my proposal I will tell you in due course. I may say that it is perfectly legal.”

  “That must be rather a novelty for you, Mr Dresler,” said Jim rising. “Of course, you will quite understand that it is impossible for me to commit myself in any way until you are more explicit. But at the same time, should your scheme appeal to me, I shall be quite prepared to consider it on its merits.”

  “Excellent,” remarked the dwarf. “And in view of our very amicable chat I can only regret that I took such an unnecessary precaution as to ring up the Exchange. I think we understand each other perfectly.”

  A faint smile crossed Jim’s face, which would have caused the dwarf considerable uneasiness had he been able to see it.

  “Perfectly,” he agreed. “I shall await your suggestion with interest.”

  “And in the meantime,” said the other, “we may dismiss the question of the police, I take it?”

  “Assuredly,” answered Jim. “A meddlesome body of men. Good night, Mr Dresler. I have greatly enjoyed our chat.”

  He signed to his cousin to follow him, and a few moments later they were both in the drive.

  “Don’t speak,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to run the slightest risk of him hearing your voice. You may come in very useful later, my lad.”

  They walked a hundred yards in silence, and then Percy exploded.

  “Good Lord! man,” he said, “you can’t mean to join forces with that little reptile?”

  “Just as much,” grinned Jim, “as he means to join forces with me. A thoroughly dangerous man, Percy, but unless I’m much mistaken, we’ve got five to four the better of him. In fact we’ve done a damned good evening’s work.”

  “He bluffed you good and hearty over the police,” said the other.

  “Did he? I wonder. A lot that he said was perfectly true. They’d have asked me some very awkward questions.”

  “Yes, but dash it all, old boy, it’s a bit tough on the wretched blighter who was shot. I’d like to see somebody get it in the neck over that.”

  “You can take it from me, Percy, that someone is going to get it in the neck before I’ve done with them. There’s a good deal I haven’t told you as yet: I wanted confirmation before I passed it on. Tonight I’ve got it.”

  “Confirmation of what?” demanded the other.

  “The fact that there was more in the whole thing than met the eye.”

  “You mean that last night’s shooting was not a mere gambling quarrel.”

  “Possibly. But a better way of putting it would be that the man who was shot did not go there primarily to gamble. He went in connection with the scheme our friend suggested I should come in on.”

  “I wonder who the poor devil was. A pity you don’t know.”

  “I do,” remarked Jim. “And that, my lad, is where we’ve got five to four the better of him. He was Miss Draycott’s brother.”

  “Rot,” said the other incredulously, stopping dead in his tracks. “How on earth do you know?”

  “The likeness of two peas to one another could not be greater,” said Jim. “He only landed from South America yesterday – at least that is when the mail boat berthed – and what his movements were after that until he found himself in that gambling den I can’t tell you. Who it was who persuaded him to go there I don’t know. It may have been the dago who finally shot him: it may have been Barnet. The point is immaterial, anyway. What is important is that he had in his possession information which he believed to be of value. And what that little swine was trying to puzzle out tonight was whether I knew that fact or not. So finally he fenced. He alluded to a scheme, but said no word of what it was.”

  “Have you any idea?”

  “I have a very shrewd idea. And I have a further shrewd idea, Percy, that there’s going to be a lot of fun in the near future for both of us – that is, if you care to come in.”

  “You bet I will. I rather enjoy this sort of thing. But isn’t it a bit rough on the gi
rl, old lad – little Judy.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Jim. “But I acted with my eyes open. Telling her won’t bring him back to life, and would inevitably have brought the police in. It might have resulted in the dago swinging, but I doubt it. So in the fullness of time we will take the law into our own hands and shoot him. But not yet.”

  “Easy over the bricks,” cried his cousin. “In my case the condemned man would not eat a hearty breakfast.”

  “We won’t do it here, Percy. I think we shall be going to South America shortly, and it is easy out there.”

  “South America! What the devil are we going there for?”

  “Sea trip with a nice breath of ozone. And in the meantime just remember two things. First we have not been to Hampstead tonight: second and by far the more important, Miss Draycott and I have never met. A still tongue, Percy, and a sharp eye, and you’ll be quite a credit to the family before I’ve done with you.”

  They drew up at the door of the Dorchester, and Jim got out.

  “Night night, old lad. I’ll put you wise to everything before long.”

  CHAPTER 5

  It was with real curiosity he awaited the arrival of his letters the next morning. What was this strange document the dead man had sent to his sister? Was the whole thing a mare’s nest, or could it be possible that by some strange fluke he had stumbled on something genuine?

  He recognised the writing at once, and sitting down in a deserted corner of the smoking-room he opened the envelope. There was a short covering note that he glanced at first.

  Dear Mr Maitland [it ran]

  I enclose the map. Am expecting you about twelve.

  Yours sincerely,

  Judy Draycott

  Then he turned his attention to the enclosure. It was as she had said a map, or rather half a map. Evidently the original had been cut in two, and the murdered man’s idea was obvious. He had kept one half himself: the other he had sent to his sister.

  The drawing was crude: the writing illiterate – just what might have been expected from an uneducated sailor.

  It was clearly meant to represent part of an island: the word CLIFFS proved that. HILL was clear, but what A was struck him as doubtful: possibly a tree. CKS and OMP he gave up. The writing at the bottom was no assistance either. Presumably the first word was FROM, in which case the first line read – FROM THE HILL A LINE SOUTH.

  He took out his pocket-book and studied the scrap of paper he had found the night before. From its shape and the position of the letters, it must be the bottom left-hand corner on the other half, and it seemed to him that WE might be the first half of west, so that he got – FROM THE HILL A LINE SOUTH WEST. RER LURKS AND TRESUR RICH was meaningless without the context. In fact the whole thing was useless without the other half. Whether it would prove of any value even with the other half was neither here nor there: without putting the two together no one could get any further.

  He leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette: the main points of the situation were clear. Dresler and his friends had one half – save for the torn-off scrap in the corner: he had the other. But while he knew they had it, they were not in the same position over him. Which was where, as he had said to his cousin, he was five to four the better of them.

  That they had intended to kill young Draycott he did not believe for a moment: if they wanted him out of the way it could be done more easily and far more safely by methods other than shooting him in a house in London. But it happened and they had had to make the best of it. They had acted promptly and cleverly: but for the amazing freak of fate which had caused him to meet Judy Draycott just before he heard the shot he would actually have been in the position in which they thought he was – an accidental passer-by who had heard a shot. And had it not been for the fact that the dago apparently knew his reputation, much of last night’s conversation would not have taken place. Dresler feared him because his name was Jim Maitland, with a reputation for looking for trouble, and not because he knew anything of this particular affair.

  A new train of thought started. Did the other side know that half the map had been sent to Judy Draycott? Her remark to him over the telephone about her room having been tampered with while she was at dinner pointed to the fact that they did. It also pointed to the fact that they did not think the map was valueless. What proof they had, other than the dead man’s word, he had no means of telling, but men like Emil Dresler do not embark on schemes unless they are sure of their facts. And if that was so, the point that arose was how was he to see the half that was in his? Or if possible to do more than see it, and actually get it? He would have not the slightest compunction in stealing it from them if he could – it was Judy Draycott’s property, anyway: and then with the complete map in front of him he could use his own judgment as to whether the thing was worth while following up or not. But how to set about it was the problem. That it was a case for guile and not force was obvious, but beyond that main generalisation for the time being he could not get. And it was not until he had sat there for more than an hour that the glimmerings of a scheme began to dawn in his mind.

  Once more he studied his half of the map intently, only it was not at the drawing he was looking but at the paper. And the question he was debating in his mind was whether it would be possible to obtain an exactly similar quality and brand in London. It was cheap white paper, with a faint watermark that looked like a crown in the corner, and it had been made in all probability in South America. Could an exact replica be found here? On that point depended the whole idea, which was this.

  He could keep the eastern and western boundaries of the island exactly where they were: he would keep CKS and OMP in their proper positions; in fact he would alter nothing along the line of the scissor cut. But after that he would draw an entirely new map. The hill could be placed in a totally different place: also the thing marked A. And the wording at the bottom could be changed. As long as the two halves joined when put together, no suspicions would be aroused, provided always the paper matched exactly. And it thus might be possible to get a good look at the genuine other half, whilst only showing a fake of the one he held in his hand.

  There were many details to fill in, but he felt instinctively he was working on the right lines. And the first thing to do was to find out about the paper. But before going out he decided to telephone Judy Draycott.

  In view of the attention paid him by Dresler the preceding day, he would almost certainly be followed again. And at this stage of the proceedings it was vital to keep the other side in ignorance of the fact that they knew one another. It was too risky to go to her house: the point to be decided was where to meet her.

  “Hullo! Jim, how’s life?”

  Percy had just come in, and Jim drew him on one side.

  “I’ve got a job of work for you, young feller,” he said. “I was just going to telephone, but you can take a message instead. It’s safer. Go and see Miss Draycott, and tell her that I do not propose to come to her house this morning. Explain to her that for reasons which I’ll give her later it would be most unwise for anyone to know that she and I have met, and that since I may be followed I don’t want to go to Langham Square. And then, Percy, you will bring her to the ladies’ entrance of the club here, and I will join you in due course.”

  “Right you are, old boy. Presumably no word about last night?”

  “No word about anything – yet. And certainly no word about the brother, for she will almost certainly talk to you about him.”

  He gave his cousin some ten minutes’ start before following him into the street. And then he seemed in no great hurry. He stood on the pavement, his stick swinging loosely in his hand, apparently enjoying the air. But when Jim Maitland was apparently doing something the betting was largely in favour of the fact that in reality he was doing something else. And in the short space of time he remained there before hailing a taxi his lynx eye had picked up two men whose appearance he mistrusted. They were both loitering there a little t
oo obviously.

  He glanced backwards as the car turned into Pall Mall: they had got into another one and were following. And it occurred to him that there might be the possibility of a little fun. So leaning out of the window he told his driver to go slowly round St James’s Square until he told him to stop.

  “Round and round,” he remarked. “The air there is peculiarly beneficial.”

  Now, as all the world knows, there are five roads that lead out of St James’s Square, and it put the two gentlemen in a quandary. They dared not stop for fear their quarry would slip them by one of the five: at the same time when Jim had completed the circuit for the sixth time the situation became strained. And it became even more so when he stopped his machine and waved a genial hand at them.

  “Good fun, isn’t it?” he called out as their car went past him. “Are we going to continue, or are we not?”

  The car pulled up and one of the men got out.

  “Were you speaking to us?” he demanded.

  “No, no, laddie. To the sparrow twittering in yonder tree.”

  “Cut it out,” snarled the other with a quick look round, “or you’ll find yourself with a thick ear, my boy.”

  Jim began to laugh silently.

  “You rat-faced excrescence,” he said pleasantly, “you couldn’t give a thick ear to a baby in arms. But I warn you quite seriously that if you continue to follow me I’ll give you in charge to the nearest policeman. Your face and that of your friend are enough to turn the milk sour… Ah! would you?”

  It happened quickly. Enraged by Jim’s remarks the other had aimed a definite blow at his eyeglass. It failed to connect by at least a foot, but it was enough for Jim. And a moment later the man was standing helpless with his arm in a grip that felt like a steel vice.