DETECTIVE CLEEK'S GOVERNMENT CASES (Vintage Mystery Series). Thomas W. Hanshew
is Dollops I can't understand," he broke out bitterly, replacing the receiver. "If only I could get an explanation of him; it seems so impossible, so unlike the lad."
Even as he spoke, there came a tap at the door, it opened inward, and Hammond stepped into the room, removing his hat and standing at attention.
"Well?" rapped out the Superintendent, in the sharp staccato of anxiety. "What is it? What do you want?"
"Beg yer pardon, sir, for disturbing you, but I thought you ought to know; it's something to do with Mr. Cleek."
"Cleek!" flung out the Superintendent sharply. "Speak up, man! If it's a clue, speak up!"
Hammond "spoke up" forthwith. "I was on point duty, just off Kensington High Street, sir," he began, "when a motor-car passed, exceeding the speed limit something awful. I tried to stop it, but to my surprise young Dollops was on the front seat, and when 'e sees me, 'e puts his 'and in his pocket, says something to a foreign-looking chap on the seat beside him, throws me this, and they drives on quicker than ever."
Mr. Narkom snatched "this" from the outstretched hand. It proved to be a scrap of paper twisted round a sovereign. The coin fell unheeded from Mr. Narkom's shaking fingers, however, for it was the grimy scrap of paper that he clutched. On it were the scrawled words: "God's sake and Cleek's, take this to Mr. Narkom, Scot. Yd. Car L 404. Dollops. Safe."
"What does it mean?" cried Ailsa, her hands clinging to Mr. Narkom's arm. "Tell me, Mr. Narkom! For God's sake, what does it mean?"
Mr. Narkom's eyes fairly gleamed.
"The bully boy! The splendid lad! Got him as safe as houses!" he retorted with half a laugh and half a sob. "Thought it was a funny thing if that young shaver turned out a crook. That's the number of the car, Miss Lorne, so don't you worry. We'll have Cleek back again safe and sound before you can turn round."
He said no more, simply turned back to the telephone, stopping only to toss the sovereign over to Hammond as he told him that Cleek was in danger, and instructed him to find the car of that number.
It did not take long to ascertain that L 404 belonged to the Ritz Hotel, and even as the news was borne to Narkom the clanging of his bell brought not only the porter, but Lennard himself, who had just heard the news.
"The limousine, as quick as you can. What's that? Ready? Good man! To the Ritz, then." He dashed to a hook on which hung his hat and coat; grabbing them, he beckoned to Miss Lorne, and flung open the door. "If only we're in time! If only it's possible to save him! Come on, Miss Lorne; come on, my dear, to Cleek's victory!"
Miss Lorne "came on" with such a surprising suddenness that three minutes later the blue limousine shot out of the precincts of the Yard, and took the distance between it and Piccadilly at a mile a minute clip.
The arrival of the well-known car and its still more familiar Superintendent brought the manager on the scene, only too willing to answer such inquiries as the English law, embodied in the portly person of Superintendent Narkom, should demand of him. "Count Irma of Maurevania? Of a surety, yes, he was staying here, occupying one of the finest suites the hotel offered. Yes, he would send up and ask for an interview. . . ."
Mr. Narkom, his cheeks pink with suppressed excitement, mopped his forehead briskly. His foe could not escape him, for all round the Ritz was drawn a cordon of plain-clothes men, on the alert for all out-goers, and the Count himself should be held hostage for the man he had kidnapped.
The few minutes which elapsed seemed like hours to Ailsa, her fears yet unallayed, despite her companion's optimism. The return of the manager brought with it therefore no disappointment to her.
"But an hour ago, monsieur," he said with many bows of solicitude, "I find that one of his equerries was taken ill while out driving, and the Count himself, like the kind master he is, drove him away to a hospital. He will return later."
Mr. Narkom's banished fears arose in all intensity. Only too well did he know how many chances there were of Count Irma's return. Money would be sent, but Irma himself would not come; he was already making his way out of the country with all expeditiousness, and, with him, Cleek. To search the hospitals was, of course, futile; they had come up against a blank wall, and the Superintendent met Ailsa's agonized gaze with a mute appeal for a renewal of her faith in his resources.
Without further delay they passed out into the courtyard, and were back on the pavement beside the limousine, when a paper-boy, to all intents and purposes bent on selling them the latest edition of the evening paper, sidled up closer and whispered to Mr. Narkom:
"A chap said 'e was Dollops, sir, if you're Mr. Narkom — paper, sir?" he broke off; "paper, sir? Buy a paper?"
"Yes, yes!" gasped the Superintendent, feeling for a coin.
"If you come 'ere, I was to give you this and get a shillin'."
The shilling appeared forthwith, and with the copy of the paper Mr. Narkom clutched another and still grimier scrap than that other one he had received.
Instantly his eyes were on the alert. He glanced down at it, without seeming to do so, and read these words: "Tower House at London Bridge Docks, sailing to-night. 6. Dollops. He's awl rite."
With one excited nod, Mr. Narkom fairly wrenched open the door of the limousine, and waving Miss Lorne inside, leaned over to Lennard.
The docks at London Bridge," he said excitedly. As fast as you can streak it, Lennard, my boy! For Mr. Cleek, for me! We've got to get there before six, or it's all up."
"Right you are, sir!" responded Lennard heartily.
Then, with a glance at the little clock before him: "Half an hour! Crumbs! but it's a close shave." Then they were off and away at a pace that ate up the distance like a cat lapping cream.
But the age for miracles is over, and no motor can beat time for speed. Try as he might, it was just ten minutes after the hour had struck when Lennard brought the car up to a somewhat deserted-looking house at the rear of a disused landing stage to which they had been directed. Evidently Count Irma had had his plans all cut and dried before taking the final motor ride into the pleasant Thames Valley. It was not yet dusk, and even as they gazed up the expanse of the river they could distinguish a long electric launch making its way to the sea, and carrying with it the man they both loved, beyond hope, beyond redemption, beyond everything that made life worth living.
Mr. Narkom sucked in his breath helplessly, then switched round on his heel.
"The police launch, quick! Follow me, Miss Lorne. You stay here, Lennard, with the car. You may be needed. Come!" The Superintendent panted off, and a few minutes later he was telling as much as was necessary to the head of the River Police.
In the swiftest launch obtainable they took their places. There was a whirr, a shaking of the whole boat, then it swept out, on the race against time, as though it were a living thing, cognizant of the reason for its mad haste.
Mr. Narkom sat with clenched hands, breathing with great effort, until they again saw the trail of the escaping boat, when he gave a little shout.
"Faster, man! Faster! Don't let it escape! For God's sake overtake it!"
And overtake it they did. Heading the launch round so as to get directly in the way of the boat, the police officers hailed it, bidding it stop, in the name of the law. But there came no slackening of speed. The hunted boat was simply swerved aside, and sped on its course apparently undaunted.
"No use, Mr. Narkom, sir," said the police officer in charge. "There's only one thing — wireless. Stop her at the mouth of the Thames."
Darting down into a cabin, he closed the door, and a few minutes later Mr. Narkom knew that the chase was practically over. The launch would be overhauled by the police boats at the mouth of the river.
Summoning as much patience as it was possible, Mr. Narkom prepared for the wait, with Miss Lorne at his side.
The launch was still in sight when they came up at Gravesend, and from both sides of the shore there came a little fleet