DETECTIVE CLEEK'S GOVERNMENT CASES (Vintage Mystery Series). Thomas W. Hanshew
of boats. Seeing that escape was impossible, the boat slackened her speed, then came to a dead stop and Mr. Narkom, with the officer, made his way on board.
To his keen delight, he was greeted by Count Irma himself, who was highly indignant and demanded explanations for the chase and the outrage of being overhauled.
To Mr. Narkom's supreme dismay, a systematic search revealed not the slightest trace of the two they sought. From deck to cabin, from end to end, every corner of the boat was subjected to closest scrutiny, but in vain; there was no sign of Cleek or of Dollops, nor was there any suspicious sight or sound. Indeed, it began to look as if they had been led on a wild-goose chase. The Count, who accompanied them, his dark face now darker still with anger, looked triumphant as they once more entered the gloomy little cabin, while the perspiration stood out in great beads on Mr. Narkom's forehead. Ailsa Lorne's face was tense with disappointment as they turned to go up once more to the deck.
His eyes gleaming, Count Irma raised a lantern, and proceeded to show his unwelcome guests up the companion-way. As its light flashed round, it lit on a familiar object, the very sight of which sent the blood coursing back to Ailsa's heart, and caused her fingers to grip feverishly on Mr. Narkom's arm.
The sight was no less than Dollops's precious telescope. With superhuman self-control she succeeded in drawing the attention of the Superintendent to it, at the same time motioning him to be silent. The effect on Mr. Narkom was instantaneous. He stopped short, and sucked in his breath, for he, too, realized what its presence meant. But it took all his caution to prevent him crying aloud in his relief and jubilation.
As it was, he strode up the narrow steps with jaunty mien, and rejoining the River Police on deck, delivered his ultimatum to the Count, who awaited him impatiently.
"Well, Count, we've made our search," he said in imperturbable tones, "and everything is quite all right. Still, my orders are very strict, and since you are merely in a hurry to catch up with the packet boat, you will have no objection, I feel assured, to taking our police launch, which is able, as you are now aware, to go even faster than this. I will return in this one to London Bridge."
Count Irma's face grew livid with rage, and he resented this fresh proposal with all the language at his command.
But Mr. Narkom remained obdurate. The launch and its owner were subject to the commands of the English law. His own boat was at the Count's command; a hasty signal from one of the officers brought the launch alongside again.
The Count was evidently nonplussed, to say the least of it, but seeing no chance of escape, he finally accompanied the River Police into their launch, leaving the beaming Superintendent and Ailsa Lorne to make the return journey alone.
The other boat had been barely set in motion when Mr. Narkom turned and plunged down the stairs again. Once more with Ailsa they made a detour of the boat, calling aloud the names of both Dollops and Cleek. It was Ailsa again who came to the rescue. Pulling aside a tarpaulin thrown carelessly down at the extreme end of the boat, she saw a series of newly drilled holes, and it did not need the sight of the boards, barely joined together, to tell her what they concealed.
She gave a little cry which brought Mr. Narkom to her side at one swift jump, and the two proceeded to tear up the boards. A few seconds, and the fast-fading light in the summer sky revealed the bound and gagged figures of the two they had sought so arduously.
The journey back was one in which very little was spoken, after the few words of praise for Dollops, whose quick-wittedness and apparent defection had been so successful.
"I reckon we're quits, you young monkey," said Cleek, stretching out a hand to his young henchman.
"Not in this life, Guv'nor, Gawd bless yer for all yer've done for me," was the fervent reply, and, at the pressure of Cleek's hand on his, he grew very, very still.
It was quite dark when they disembarked at London Bridge, and having seen the launch in the care of the River Police, made their way to the limousine, where Lennard waited. He gave a little whoop of delight as his eyes fell on Cleek and Dollops.
But it was not until after Cleek had seen Ailsa safe at an hotel, and he himself was on his way with Mr. Narkom to the riverside cottage that he referred to the subject which lay uppermost in their minds.
Then with a curious smile looping up one side of his face, he said quietly:
"This is but the first throw of the dice, old friend. Do not mistake. I am at the Yard's service now and henceforth, but our journeyings together will be accompanied by the hate of Irma, as well as the vengeance of Margot. This is but the beginning; the end, who shall say?"
A silent grip of the hand was all that Mr. Narkom gave in answer, for he, too, was alive to the danger which must now dog their footsteps. He did not rest content, therefore, until he had seen Cleek and Dollops safe in the cottage which served them for a temporary home. Then he returned to town through the soft coolness of the summer night, but though Cleek was once more within the reach of the protecting arm of the law, the Superintendent's heart was heavy within him.
CHAPTER II.
AFTER due reflection over the question of disguise, Cleek determined for the present to revive that of Lieutenant Deland, and it was as that smart young officer that he once more took up his quarters in Clarges Street, in a house not very far from that which had been wrecked by Margot and her gang of Apaches. That they, too, were on his track was ascertained by Dollops, who traced them down to their lairs of Soho like a bloodhound scenting his quarry.
Despite the danger which surrounded him, Cleek insisted on having the rest of their riverside holiday with Ailsa Lorne and Mrs. Hawkesley, who had returned from India on a short visit, in the interests of her little son, Lord Chepstow. Mrs. Hawkesley had been spending her summer on a houseboat with Ailsa Lorne, that friend who by enlisting the aid of Cleek had saved her son's life and given her her newly found married happiness by the sale of the sacred tooth.
Dollops then was the happiest of mortals when, having polished and repolished his beloved telescope, on their return from the riverside retreat, he was given the morning to polishing the mirrors in the great dining-room of Clarges Street. Now, if there was one thing he loved more than another, it was a liberal use of "elbow grease," next, of course, to that everpresent delight of satisfying his appetite, and it was with much relish that he set out to undertake the task. So it may be readily understood that his sensations were not those of unmixed delight when, just as he had got the mirrors thoroughly moist, an imperative postman's knock brought him to earth, literally as well as metaphorically. Tumbling down the high wooden step ladder, he flew to answer the door.
"Orl right, orl right!" he ejaculated, as a still more violent assault took place. "I'm not a blooming caterpillar; only got two legs, you know, like the rest of us."
"Bit of a hurry — I don't think," answered the postman sarcastically, as he handed in a brown cardboard box similar to those sent out by most florists, and marked with all the usual precautionary labels.
"Don't let the lieutenant's buttonhole fade before you take it to him, will you?" And with this parting shot the man departed, leaving Dollops for once too busy reading the half-obliterated stamp to give full rein to his usual gift of repartee.
"Lor' lumme!" he soliloquized, as he ascended the staircase, three steps at a time, and rapped at the study door. "Another flower from Miss Ailsa, bless er! An' won't 'e just jump at it ! "
And jump at it Cleek did. He was writing his usual morning letter to her, but at sight of Dollops's smiling countenance his face lit up, and he fairly snatched the box from him in his hurry.
Meanwhile Dollops, with commendable tact, turned to flick away a particle of imaginary dust on one of the picture frames, and smiled knowingly.
But only for a moment. Came suddenly the sound of a cry, half curse, half snarl, which sent the lad spinning round like a top, and the sight of Cleek's distorted