The British Mysteries Edition: 14 Novels & 70+ Short Stories. Sapper
open a door: the room beyond it was pitch dark.
"'Ah! my dear fellow,' he cried, 'good news for you—joyous news. Your charming sister has arrived.'
"I could see a man dimly in the darkness, whose face was covered with bandages.
"'Arthur, old boy,' I cried, 'what rotten luck.'
"'Hullo! Judy,' he said querulously, 'how are you? Have you got the letter? Have you brought it?'"
The girl paused for a moment, and neither man spoke.
"How I didn't scream," she went on, "I don't know. I'd suspected a lot before, but never this. The man with the bandaged face wasn't Arthur at all. It was just conceivable that the voice might have passed muster, but Arthur has never called me Judy."
"'Humour him, please,' whispered the doctor to me, and then turned to the man. 'All right, my dear chap, your sister has got it. She's just going to give it to you.'
"'The letter. I want the letter, Judy.'
"My hands were trembling so much I could hardly open my bag. But one thing I realised—whatever happened I mustn't let them suspect that I knew it wasn't Arthur.
"'Here it is, old boy,' I said, and then turned horror-struck to the doctor. 'Good heavens! Doctor Phillips,' I whispered. 'I forgot to put it in.'
"And just for a moment I thought he was going to murder me.
"'Forgot to put it in?' he snarled, and I saw the woman nudge him in the ribs. He pulled himself together.
"'Forgive me, Miss Draycott,' he said, 'but a shock like that to my patient is very dangerous indeed.'
"He turned back into the room.
"'Now, old fellow,' he said, 'your sister, naughty girl, was so overjoyed at the prospect of seeing you again that she forgot to bring the letter. Don't let it worry you: don't let it excite you: I know she will go back to London at once and get it. Won't you, Miss Draycott?'
"'Of course I will, Arthur,' I said. 'I'm sorry I was so stupid.'
"'Yes, get it, Judy, at once,' he answered. 'It's important.'
"And then the so-called doctor hustled me out of the room and down the stairs.
"'A most unfortunate mistake, Miss Draycott,' he said gravely. 'Had I suspected for a moment that you had not got the letter in your possession, nothing would have induced me to allow you to see your brother. We can only hope that the effect will not be serious. But I must beg of you to remedy it as quickly as possible. The car is there. Fly back to London in it, and return as soon as you can. As you see for yourself, he is in a most excitable condition, and he must not be worried in any way.'
"So I started off alone in the car, and then came a real stroke of luck. The car broke down, and so I got rid of the chauffeur and came back by train. And now, Mr. Maitland, what I want to know is why they are keeping a man who isn't my brother in a nursing home that isn't a nursing home? And where is Arthur? And what does it all mean?"
For a moment or two Jim hesitated. He realised that the time had come when she would have to be told the truth about her brother, and he did not exactly relish the prospect.
"It's pretty clear, I'm afraid, Miss Draycott," he said gravely. "You realise, don't you, that your brother sent you half the map and kept the other half himself? He did it for safety, in case anything happened to him. And I'm very sorry to have to tell you that something has happened to him."
"You mean he's hurt?" she whispered.
"Worse than that, I fear. Miss Draycott, it's going to be the devil of a shock; but your brother is dead."
She gave a little cry, and the two men rose and stood with their backs to her staring out of the window. And for a space there was silence in the room.
"Do you mean he was killed?" she asked at length, and Jim nodded.
"How do you know all this, Mr. Maitland?" she continued steadily.
Briefly he told her the whole story. And when he had finished her eyes were bright and defiant: of the tears he had expected there was no trace.
"Just tell me what you want me to do," she said, and Jim looked at her approvingly.
"Great girl," he cried. "I knew you'd feel that way. Now this is how the land lies. The gang we are up against have in their possession the half of the map that your brother carried. What they are trying to get is the half he sent to your bank, and which you sent on to me. Evidently he must have told them what he had done: hence this elaborate scheme of to-day. And I think you can be extremely thankful, Miss Draycott, that you kept your head when you realised the man with his face bandaged was an impostor. Our opponents are not people who stick at trifles. Had you given yourself away then, I am more than doubtful if you'd be here now. However, that is by the way. You bluffed it through magnificently, and I want you to carry on the good work."
"I'll do anything you say," she said, and once again he gave her a quick look of admiration.
"You may remember I rather laughed at you when you first told me the hidden treasure story," he went on. "I'm not laughing now at all: I honestly believe there may be something in it. And if that is so you see where we stand: we must get their half. That is where you come in—if you feel like it."
"Of course I feel like it!" she cried.
"You know," he said doubtfully, "I must make it clear that if you care to you can go to the police and tell them what has happened to you."
"What will occur if I do?"
"I should think you would find that the birds have flown," said Jim. "And in addition to that we shall have given ourselves away to the other side. It will be a case of stalemate: each side will have one half of the map. And I want..."
He broke off and lit a cigarette.
"So do I, Mr. Maitland. Let's wash out the police."
Jim grinned.
"Good for you. We'll wash out the police as you say. Now I don't suppose for a moment we'll be able to get their half, but with a little diplomacy we might get a good look at it. Perhaps even..."
He paused, and a sudden gleam of ecstatic joy came into his eyes, a gleam that many men had seen to their cost.
"However, that's my palaver," he continued. "Now I'm gambling on one fact. They expect you to go back there to-night—and you're going. Percy is going to drive you down. And you will take with you—this."
He gave her the faked map, and she stared at it.
"But this is different to what I sent you," she said.
"Very different," he agreed. "I drew it myself. The genuine one is at my lawyers. But that one joins on to the other half. Which brings me up to the point I'm gambling on. They are not the sort of gentlemen who leave anything to chance, and I'm banking on them having their half there, to make sure on the spot, that you haven't sold them a pup."
"So that I can get a look at it," she cried. "I see: I'll do it."
"Supposing it doesn't come off we are no worse off than we were before. Leave them that: it's useless to them. They've got an island inspired by my second pink gin. We shall just have to try something else."
"But where do you come in, old lad?" demanded Percy.
"I don't," said Jim happily. "I shall remain outside the nursing home. Unless—I see an opportunity of entering with advantage. In which case I shall enter, and you, Miss Draycott, will exit. So should you hear two short blasts on Percy's klaxon, hop it like blazes in the car and leave me to my own sweet devices."
CHAPTER VI
"YOU'RE a damned bungler, Waterlow. The girl isn't an imbecile, and this place looks