THE COMPLETE BULLDOG DRUMMOND SERIES (10 Novels in One Edition). H. C. McNeile / Sapper
him. And then, like a dreaded bolt from the blue, had come the letter of warning from the Black Gang.
Anyway, he reflected, as he turned out his light after getting into bed that night, the police knew nothing of his double life. They were all round him, and there was this big fool in the house...For a moment his heart stopped beating: was it his imagination or was that the figure of a man standing at the foot of the bed?
The sweat poured off his forehead as he tried to speak: then he sat up in bed, plucking with trembling hands at the collar of his pyjamas. Still the shape stood motionless: he could swear there was something there now—he could see it outlined against the dim light of the window. He reached out fearfully for the switch: fumbled a little, and then with a click the light went on. His sudden scream of fear died half-strangled in his throat: a livid anger took the place of terror. Leaning over the foot of the bed and regarding him with solicitous interest, lounged Hugh Drummond.
"All tucked up and comfy, old bean," cried Drummond cheerfully. "Bed socks full of feet and all that sort of thing?"
"How dare you," spluttered Latter, "how dare you come into my room like this...."
"Tush, tush," murmured Drummond, "don't forget my orders, old Latter, my lad. To watch over you as a crooning mother crooneth over the last batch of twins. By the way, my boy, you skimped your teeth pretty badly to-night. You'll have to do better to-morrow. Most of your molars must be sitting up and begging for Kolynos if that's your normal effort."
"Do you mean to tell me that you were in here while I was undressing?" said Latter angrily. "You exceed your instructions, sir: and I shall report your unwarrantable impertinence to Sir Bryan Johnstone when I return to London."
"Exactly, Mr. Latter. But when will you return to London?" Drummond regarded him dispassionately. "To put some, if not all, of the cards on the table, the anonymous letter of warning which you received was not quite so anonymous as you would have liked. In other words, you know exactly whom it came from."
"I don't," replied the other. "I know that it came from an abominable gang who have been committing a series of outrages lately. And that is why I applied for police protection."
"Quite so, Mr. Latter. And as—er—Fate would have it, I am here to help carry out that role."
"What did you mean when you gave me that warning before dinner? That man is one of the leading citizens of Sheffield."
"That was just a little jest, Mr. Latter, to amuse you during the evening. The danger does not lie there."
"Where does it lie?"
"Probably where you least expect it," returned Drummond with an enigmatic smile.
"I shall be going to-morrow," said Latter with attempted nonchalance. "Until then I rely on you."
"Precisely," murmured Drummond. "So you have completed your business here quicker than you anticipated."
"Yes. To be exact, this afternoon before you arrived."
"And was that the business which brought you to Sheffield?"
"Principally. Though I really don't understand this catechism, Mr. Drummond. And now I wish to go to sleep...."
"I'm afraid you can't, Mr. Latter. Not quite yet." For a moment or two Charles Latter stared at the imperturbable face at the foot of his bed: it seemed to him that a strange tension was creeping into the conversation—a something he could not place which made him vaguely alarmed.
"Do you think this mysterious Black Gang would approve of your business this afternoon?" asked Drummond quietly.
Mr. Latter started violently.
"How should I know of what the scoundrels would approve?" he cried angrily. "And anyway, they can know nothing about it."
"You feel quite confident in Mr. Delmorlick's discretion with regard to the friends he selects?"
And now a pulse was beginning to hammer in Mr. Latter's throat, and his voice when he spoke was thick and unnatural.
"How do you know anything about Delmorlick?"
Drummond smiled. "May I reply by asking a similar question, Mr. Latter? How do you?"
"I met him this afternoon on political business," stammered the other, staring fascinated at the man opposite, from whose face all trace of buffoonery seemed to have vanished, to be replaced by a grim sternness the more terrifying because it was so utterly unexpected. And he had thought Drummond a fool....
"Would it be indiscreet to inquire the nature of the business?"
"Yes," muttered Latter. "It was private."
"That I can quite imagine," returned Drummond grimly. "But since you're so reticent I will tell you. This afternoon you made arrangements, perfect in every detail, to blow up the main power station of the Greystone works." The man in the bed started violently. "The result of that would have been to throw some three thousand men out of work for at least a couple of months."
"It's a lie," said Latter thickly.
"Your object in so doing was obvious," continued Drummond. "Money. I don't know how much, and I didn't know who from—until last night." And now Latter was swallowing hard, and clutching the bedclothes with hands that shook like leaves.
"You saw me last night, Mr. Latter, didn't you? And I found out your headquarters...."
"In God's name—who are you?" His voice rose almost to a scream. "Aren't you the police?"
"No—I am not." He was coming nearer, and Latter cowered back, mouthing. "I am not the police, you wretched thing: I am the leader of the Black Gang."
Latter felt the other's huge hands on him, and struggled like a puny child, whimpering, half sobbing. He writhed and squirmed as a gag was forced into his mouth: then he felt a rope cut his wrists as they were lashed behind his back. And all the while the other went on speaking in a calm, leisurely voice.
"The leader of the Black Gang, Mr. Latter: the gang that came into existence to exterminate things like you. Ever since the war you poisonous reptiles have been at work stirring up internal trouble in this country. Not one in ten of you believe what you preach: your driving force is money and your own advancement. And as for your miserable dupes—those priceless fellows who follow you blindly because—God help them, they're hungry and their wives are hungry—what do you care for them, Mr. Latter? You just laugh in your sleeve and pocket the cash."
With a heave he jerked the other on to the floor, and proceeded to lash him to the foot of the bed.
"I have had my eye on you, Mr. Latter, since the Manchester effort when ten men were killed, and you were the murderer. But other and more important matters have occupied my time. You see, my information is very good— better than Delmorlick's selection of friends. The new devoted adherent to your cause this afternoon happens to be an intimate, personal friend of mine."
He was busying himself with something that he had taken from his pocket—a thick, square slab with a hole in the centre.
"I admit that your going to the police with my note surprised me. And it really was extraordinarily lucky that I happened to be in the office at the time. But it necessitated a slight change of plan on my part. If dear old McIver and his minions are outside the house, it's much simpler for me to be in. And now, Mr. Latter—to come to business."
He stood in front of the bound man, whose eyes were rolling horribly.
"We believe in making the punishment fit the crime. This afternoon you planned to destroy the livelihood of several thousand men with explosive, simply that you might make money. Here," he held up the square slab, "is a pound of the actual gun-cotton, which was removed from Delmorlick himself before he started on a journey to join my other specimens. I propose to place this slab under you, Mr. Latter, and to light this piece of fuse which is attached to it. The fuse will take about three minutes to burn. During that three minutes if you can get free, so much the better for you; if not—well, it would be a pity not to have any explosion at all in Sheffield,