Spy & Mystery Collection: Major-General Hannay Novels, Dickson McCunn Trilogy & Sir Edward Leithen Series (Complete Edition). Buchan John

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СКАЧАТЬ from a group of boulders adjoining. The gallant Archie had arrived, and my spirits lightened. I made good going down the hill, and, as I shouted, a figure like an Arctic explorer crawled out of the tent.

      ‘Hullo, Dick,’ it cried. ‘Any luck?’

      ‘Plenty,’ I said. ‘And you?’

      ‘Famous. Got here last night after a clinkin’ journey with the bus behavin’ like a lamb. Had an interesting evenin’ with the birds—Lord! such a happy huntin’-ground for ‘em. I’ve been doin’ sentry—go on the tops all mornin’ lookin’ for you, but the weather got dirty, so I returned to the wigwam. Lunch is nearly ready.’

      ‘What about the weather?’ I asked anxiously.

      ‘Pas si bête,’ he said, sniffing. ‘The wind is pretty sure to go down at sunset. D’you mind a night journey?’

      Archie’s imperturbable good humour cheered me enormously. I must say he was a born campaigner, for he had made himself very snug, and gave me as good a meal as I have ever eaten—a hot stew of tinned stuff and curry, a plum-pudding, and. an assortment of what he called ‘delicatessen.’ To keep out the cold we drank benedictine in horn mugs. He could talk about nothing but his blessed birds, and announced that he meant to come back to Flacksholm and camp for a week. He had seen a special variety—some kind of phalarope—that fairly ravished his heart. When I asked questions about the journey ahead of us, he scarcely deigned to answer, so busy he was with speculation on the feathered fauna of Norway.

      ‘Archie,’ I said, ‘are you sure you can get me across the North Sea?’

      ‘I won’t say “sure.” There’s always a lottery in this game, but with any luck we ought to manage it. The wind will die down, and besides it’s a ground wind, and may be quiet enough a few hundred feet up. We’ll have to shape a compass course anyhow, so that darkness won’t worry us.’

      ‘What about the machine?’ I asked. I don’t know why, but I felt horribly nervous.

      ‘A beauty. But of course you never know. if. we were driven much out of a straight course, our petrol might run short.’

      ‘What would that mean?’

      ‘Forced landin.”

      ‘But supposing we hadn’t reached land?’

      ‘Oh, then we’d be for it,’ said Archie cheerfully. He added, as if to console me: ‘We might be picked up by a passin’ steamer or a fishin’ smack. I’ve known fellows that had that luck.’

      ‘What are the chances of our getting over safely?’

      ‘Evens. Never better or worse than evens in this flyin’ business. But it will be all right. Dash it all, a woodcock makes the trip constantly in one flight.’

      After that I asked no more’ questions, for I knew I could not get him past the woodcock. I was not feeling happy, but Archie’s calm put me to shame. We had a very good tea, and then, sure enough, the wind began to die down, and the clouds opened to show clear sky. It grew perishing cold, and I was glad of every stitch of clothing, and envied Archie his heavy skin coat. We were all ready about nine, and in a dead calm cast loose, taxied over a stretch of turf, rose above the loch so as to clear the hill, and turned our faces to the west, which was like a shell of gold closing down upon the molten gold of the sea.

      Luck was with us that night, and all my qualms were belied. Apart from the cold, which was savage, I enjoyed every moment of trip, till in the early dawn we saw a crawling black line beneath us which was the coast of Aberdeen. We filled up with petrol at a place in Kincardine, and had an enormous breakfast at the local hotel. Everything went smoothly and it was still early in the day when I found we were crossing the Cheviots. We landed at York about noon, and, while Archie caught the London train, I got my car from the garage and started for Oxford. But first I wired to Mary asking her to wire to Medina in my name that I would reach London by the seven-fifteen. I had a pleasant run south, left the car at Oxford, and duly emerged on the platform at Paddington to find Medina waiting for me.

      His manner was almost tender.

      ‘My dear fellow, I do hope you are better?’

      ‘Perfectly fit again, thank you. Ready for anything.’

      ‘You look more sunburnt than when you left town.’

      ‘It’s the wonderful weather we’ve had. I’ve been lying basking on the veranda.’

      XIII.

       I VISIT THE FIELDS OF EDEN

       Table of Contents

      There was a change in Medina. I noticed it the following day when I lunched with him, and very particularly at the next dinner of the Thursday Club to which I went as his guest. It was a small change, which nobody else would have remarked, but to me, who was watching him like a lynx, it was clear enough. His ease of manner towards the world was a little less perfect, and when we were alone he was more silent than before. I did not think that he had begun to suspect any danger to his plans, but the day for their consummation was approaching, and even his cold assurance may have been flawed by little quivers of nervousness. As I saw it, once the big liquidation took place and he realised the assets which were to be the foundation of his main career, it mattered little what became of the hostages. He might let them go; they would wander back to their old world unable to give any account of their absence, and, if the story got out, there would be articles in the medical journals about these unprecedented cases of lost memory. So far I was certain that they had taken no lasting harm. But if the liquidation failed, God knew what their fate would be. They would never be seen again, for if his possession of them failed to avert disaster to his plans, he would play for safety, and, above all, for revenge. Revenge to a mind like his would be a consuming passion.

      The fact that I had solved one conundrum and laid my hand on one of the hostages put me in a perfect fever of restlessness.

      Our time was very short, and there were still two poor souls hidden in his black underworld. It was the little boy I thought most of, and perhaps my preoccupation with him made me stupid about other things. My thoughts were always on the Blind Spinner, and there I could not advance one single inch. Macgillivray’s watchers had nothing to report. It was no use my paying another visit to Madame Breda, and going through the same rigmarole. I could only stick to Medina and pray for luck. I had resolved that if he asked me again to take up my quarters with him in Hill Street I would accept, though it might be hideously awkward in a score of ways.

      I longed for Sandy, but no word came from him, and I had his strict injunctions not to try to reach him. The only friend I saw in those early days of May was Archie Roylance who seemed to have forgotten his Scotch greenshanks and settled down in London for the season. He started playing polo, which was not a safe game for a man with a crocked leg, and he opened his house in Grosvenor Street and roosted in a corner of it. He knew I was busy in a big game, and he was mad to be given a share in it, but I had to be very careful with Archie. He was the best fellow alive, but discretion had never been his strong point. So I refused to tell him anything at present, and I warned Turpin, who was an ancient friend of his, to do the same. The three of us dined together one night, and poor old Turpin was rallied by Archie on his glumness.

      ‘You’re a doleful bird, you know,’ he СКАЧАТЬ