The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories. Sapper
it was not very far. The main part of the problem had still to be solved. To draw a faked substitute was now an easy matter, but how was he going to utilise it to the best advantage when he had done so?
If it could possibly be avoided he did not want the other side to find out that he knew anything about the map. At the same time his whole scheme depended on the fact that the other half of the map should be seen. It was useless merely getting the fake to them by some method: that would give only a negative result to each side. He turned it over from every angle and at length the only possible way out occurred to him. It might fail, but he would have to take the risk. Judy Draycott was the person who must do it.
Whether Dresler and his bunch knew that half had been sent to her or not didn't matter. It would arouse no suspicions in their minds when they found she had it in her possession. And so, somehow or other, she would have to contrive to see the other piece for long enough to memorise it roughly. Presumably it would be as simple and crude as the half he had, and given a minute or so to study it in, she should be able to reproduce it sufficiently accurately for them to have something to go on.
One weak point lay in the fact that they might not let her see the other part. Another was the difficulty of her approaching them, so to speak, out of the blue. Why should she know anything about them at all? He did not even know if she and Barnet were acquaintances. Still those were minor difficulties: he was satisfied that the main idea was right. Judy Draycott was the only person who could do it, without giving things away. And if she did pull it off, and obtained a reasonable mental picture of the other half they would be in the pleasant position of having the truth, whilst the opponents possessed the map of an island, a large portion of which was completely imaginary. At which point in his reflections he turned into his club to find his cousin waiting for him with a worried look on his face.
"She's gone, Jim," he said briefly.
"Come on into the smoking-room," remarked Jim. "Now, then," he continued, after they had found two chairs, "what's this? You say she's gone. Where to?"
"Can't tell you, old lad," answered the other. "The house belongs to an ancient gorgon—Lady Somebody or other, with whom Judy is staying. Well, I blew in and asked for the girl, but the butler pushed me into the presence of the most devastating old ruin you've ever imagined. Shook me badly, laddie, I don't mind admitting."
"'Are you Mr. Maitland?' she boomed.
"I admitted the soft impeachment, and she inspected me through lorgnettes.
"'I confess I do not understand present-day mentality,' she went on, 'but Judy's brain must have left her temporarily. She said you were very good-looking and had a magnificent figure.'
"Well, I thought she might have put it a little differently, but the family spirit pulled me through.
"'That's where you scratch the wrong bite,' I said breezily. 'She alluded to my cousin who, I have been told, does bear a slight resemblance to me. He belongs to one of the cadet branches of our family.'"
"You blithering idiot," Jim grinned. "Get on with it."
"Apparently I'd said the wrong thing," continued Percy. "She sat there for quite a while with her mouth opening and shutting, and no noise occurred. I thought she'd slipped her uppers and was wondering what the devil to do if they zoomed into the hearth-rug, when she suddenly gave a harsh, croaking sound which turned after a while into semi-articulate speech.
"'Scratch! Wrong bite! You wretched young man—how dare you?'
"Well, I managed to pacify her: assured her it was a bit of modern slang, and at length, thank God! her breathing became normal again, and the deep magenta look left her face.
"'Now,' I said chattily, 'what about our little Judy? We both, I expect, have to do this and that before worrying the mid-day bone.'
"And little by little I extracted the account of the morning's doings. It appears Judy was giving the once over to the matutinal kipper by herself in the dining-room, when a woman called to see her. She couldn't tell me what sort of a woman as she herself does not shatter the morale of the house by appearing at breakfast. At any rate this woman had brought Judy a message from her brother."
"What's that?" cried Jim sitting up. "Her brother?"
"Just how I felt, old lad, when she said it," remarked Percy.
"You didn't give anything away, did you?"
"My face remained completely sphinx-like," said his cousin. "To continue. The result of the message was that Judy departed with this female, leaving a message for you to the effect that your proposed party at noon would have to be off."
"Did she say where she was going?" demanded Jim.
"Apparently not. At any rate not to the old trout. And I didn't quite like to ask to see her maid."
"And she said nothing as to when she intended to return?"
"Not a word. So having bowed to the Presence I left the house."
He lit a cigarette, and gave an order to a passing waiter for the necessary.
"So bringing the grey matter to work, Jim," he continued, "one thing becomes obvious. Either you made a mistake, or it is a trap."
"Exactly," agreed his cousin. "And since I did not make a mistake..."
He left the sentence uncompleted: how would this development affect his plan? That they contemplated doing any harm to the girl he dismissed from his mind: no possible object could be served by hurting her. Their object clearly was to get possession of her half of the map, and it therefore proved that they knew she had it. It further proved that they did not know she had sent it to him. But how long would they remain in ignorance of that fact? How long would it be before she told him?
He frowned thoughtfully: another point had struck him. What were they going to do about the brother? The girl having been lured away by what she took to be a message from him would naturally expect to see him. Moreover, she would become very suspicious if she did not. And as they could not show her his dead body with a bullet hole through the heart it became a little difficult to see what they were going to do.
He crossed to one of the writing-tables: the sooner he prepared the faked map the better. Things might eventuate at any moment, and he wanted to be prepared. For a while he again studied the map carefully: then he took one of the sheets of paper he had bought and picked up an indelible pencil.
"That ought to do the trick," he muttered to himself ten minutes later. He put the genuine one in an envelope, and sent it with a covering letter to his lawyer: the fake he put in his pocket-book. Then picking up an illustrated paper he threw himself into an armchair. There was nothing he could do but wait.
Just before lunch Percy returned from what he described as a cocktail date with a hen, and demanded the latest bulletin.
"That's deuced bright of you, Jim," said his cousin admiringly when he had explained his idea. "But now that Judy has actually gone to them it's going to make things a bit harder."
"You're right," agreed Jim. "We can only wait and see what happens. And since they haven't got what they wanted, something is bound to happen soon. She may tell 'em she sent the map to me: she may not. And until we know that, we're left guessing."
"They won't do her any harm, will they?"
"No," said Jim positively. "They'll guard her as the apple of their eye until they get the map And before they do that we step into the picture."
They lunched, and then began an interminable afternoon. Jim did not dare to get out of reach of the telephone: Percy refused to run any risk of missing the fun. And so, sternly dismissing from their minds the fact that Patsy Hendren had been sixty not out at the luncheon interval, they dozed.
The message came through just after five o'clock. A page roused them from their slumbers: Mr. Maitland was wanted on the telephone.
"You