Wallace Edgar
The Green Rust
CHAPTER XXII
HILDA GLAUM LEADS THE WAY
Beale had a long consultation with McNorton at Scotland Yard, and on his return to the hotel, had his dinner sent up to Kitson's private room and dined amidst a litter of open newspapers. They were representative journals of the past week, and he scanned their columns carefully. Now and again he would cut out a paragraph and in one case half a column.
Kitson, who was dining with a friend in the restaurant of the hotel, came up toward nine o'clock and stood looking with amusement at the detective's silent labours.
"You're making a deplorable litter in my room," he said, "but I suppose there is something very mysterious and terrible behind it all. Do you mind my reading your cuttings?"
"Go ahead," said Beale, without raising his eyes from his newspaper.
Kitson took up a slip and read aloud:
"The reserves of the Land Bank of the Ukraine have been increased by ten million roubles. This increase has very considerably eased the situation in Southern Ukraine and in Galicia, where there has been considerable unrest amongst the peasants due to the high cost of textiles."
"That is fascinating news," said Kitson sardonically. "Are you running a scrap-book on high finance?"
"No," said the other shortly, "the Land Bank is a Loan Bank. It finances peasant proprietors."
"You a shareholder?" asked Mr. Kitson wonderingly.
"No."
Kitson picked up another cutting. It was a telegraphic dispatch dated from Berlin:
"As evidence of the healthy industrial tone which prevails in Germany and the rapidity with which the Government is recovering from the effects of the war, I may instance the fact that an order has been placed with the Leipzieger Spoorwagen Gesselshaft for 60,000 box cars. The order has been placed by the L.S.G. with thirty firms, and the first delivery is due in six weeks."
"That's exciting," said Kitson, "but why cut it out?"
The next cutting was also dated "Berlin" and announced the revival of the "War Purchase Council" of the old belligerent days as "a temporary measure."
"It is not intended," said the dispatch, "to invest the committee with all its old functions, and the step has been taken in view of the bad potato crop to organize distribution."
"What's the joke about that?" asked Kitson, now puzzled.
"The joke is that there is no potato shortage—there never was such a good harvest," said Beale. "I keep tag of these things and I know. The Western Mail had an article from its Berlin correspondent last week saying that potatoes were so plentiful that they were a drug on the market."
"H'm!"
"Did you read about the Zeppelin sheds?" asked Beale. "You will find it amongst the others. All the old Zepp. hangars throughout Germany are to be put in a state of repair and turned into skating-rinks for the physical development of young Germany. Wonderful concrete floors are to be laid down, all the dilapidations are to be made good, and the bands will play daily, wet or fine."
"What does it all mean?" asked the bewildered lawyer.
"That The Day—the real Day is near at hand," said Beale soberly.
"War?"
"Against the world, but without the flash of a bayonet or the boom of a cannon. A war fought by men sitting in their little offices and pulling the strings that will choke you and me, Mr. Kitson. To-night I am going after van Heerden. I may catch him and yet fail to arrest his evil work—that's a funny word, 'evil,' for everyday people to use, but there's no other like it. To-morrow, whether I catch him or not, I will tell you the story of the plot I accidentally discovered. The British Government thinks that I have got on the track of a big thing—so does Washington, and I'm having all the help I want."
"It's a queer world," said Kitson.
"It may be queerer," responded Beale, then boldly: "How is my wife?"
"Your—well, I like your nerve!" gasped Kitson.
"I thought you preferred it that way—how is Miss Cresswell?"
"The nurse says she is doing famously. She is sleeping now; but she woke up for food and is nearly normal. She did not ask for you," he added pointedly.
Beale flushed and laughed.
"My last attempt to be merry," he said. "I suppose that to-morrow she will be well."
"But not receiving visitors," Kitson was careful to warn him. "You will keep your mind off Oliva and keep your eye fixed on van Heerden if you are wise. No man can serve two masters."
Stanford Beale looked at his watch.
"It is the hour," he said oracularly, and got up.
"I'll leave this untidiness for your man to clear," said Kitson. "Where do you go now?"
"To see Hilda Glaum—if the fates are kind," said Beale. "I'm going to put up a bluff, believing that in her panic she will lead me into the lion's den with the idea of van Heerden making one mouthful of me. I've got to take that risk. If she is what I think she is, she'll lay a trap for me—I'll fall for it, but I'm going to get next to van Heerden to-night."
Kitson accompanied him to the door of the hotel.
"Take no unnecessary risks," he said at parting, "don't forget that you're a married man."
"That's one of the things I want to forget if you'll let me," said the exasperated young man.
Outside the hotel he hailed a passing taxi and was soon speeding through Piccadilly westward. He turned by Hyde Park Corner, skirted the grounds of Buckingham Palace and plunged into the maze of Pimlico. He pulled up before a dreary-looking house in a blank and dreary street, and telling the cabman to wait, mounted the steps and rang the bell.
A diminutive maid opened the door.
"Is Miss Glaum in?" he demanded.
"Yes, sir. Will you step into the drawing-room. All the other boarders are out. What name shall I say?"
"Tell her a gentleman from Krooman Mansions," he answered diplomatically.
He walked into the tawdry parlour and put down his hat and stick, and waited. Presently the door opened and the girl came in. She stopped open-mouthed with surprise at the sight of him, and her surprise deepened to suspicion.
"I thought–" she began, and checked herself.
"You thought I was Doctor van Heerden? Well, I am not."
"You're the man I saw at Heyler's," she said, glowering at him.
"Yes, my name is Beale."
"Oh, I've heard about you. You'll get nothing by prying here," she cried.
"I shall get a great deal by prying here, I think," he said calmly. "Sit down, Miss Hilda Glaum, and let us understand one another. You are a friend of Doctor van Heerden's?"
"I shall answer no questions," she snapped.
"Perhaps you will answer this question," he said, "why did Doctor van Heerden secure an appointment for you at Punsonby's, and why, when you were there, did you steal three registered envelopes which you conveyed to the doctor?"
Her face went red and white.
"That's a lie!" she gasped.
"You might tell a judge and jury that and then they wouldn't believe you," he smiled. "Come, Miss Glaum, let us be absolutely frank with one another. I am telling you that I don't intend bringing your action to the notice of the police, and you can give me a little information which will be very useful to me."
"It's a lie," she repeated, visibly agitated, "I did not steal anything. If Miss Cresswell says so–"
"Miss Cresswell is quite ignorant of your treachery," said the other quietly; "but as you are determined to deny that much, perhaps you will tell me this, what business brings you to Doctor van Heerden's flat in the small hours of the morning?"
"Do you insinuate–?"
"I insinuate nothing. And least of all do I insinuate that you have any love affair with the doctor, who does not strike me as that kind of person."
Her eyes narrowed and for a moment it seemed that her natural vanity would overcome her discretion.
"Who says I go to Doctor van Heerden's?"
"I say so, because I have seen you. Surely you don't forget that I live opposite the amiable doctor?"
"I am not going to discuss my business or his," she said, "and I don't care what you threaten me with or what you do."
"I will do something more than threaten you," he said ominously, "you will not fool me, Miss Glaum, and the sooner you realize the fact the better. I am going all the way with you if you give me any trouble, and if you don't answer my questions. I might tell you that unless this interview is a very satisfactory one to me I shall not only arrest Doctor van Heerden to-night but I shall take you as an accomplice."
"You can't, you can't." She almost screamed the words.
All the sullen restraint fell away from her and she was electric in the violence of her protest.
"Arrest him! That wonderful man! Arrest me? You dare not! You dare not!"
"I shall dare do lots of things unless you tell me what I want to know."
"What do you want to know?" she demanded defiantly.
"I want to know the most likely address at which your friend the doctor can be found—the fact is, Miss Glaum, the game is up—we know all about the Green Rust."
She stepped back, her hand raised to her mouth.
"The—the Green Rust!" she gasped. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that I have every reason to believe that Doctor van Heerden is engaged in a conspiracy against this State. He has disappeared, but is still in London. I want to take him quietly—without fuss."
Her eyes were fixed on his. He saw doubt, rage, a hint of fear and finally a steady light of resolution shining. When she spoke her voice was calm.
"Very good. I will take you to the place," she said.
She went out of the room and came back five minutes later with her hat and coat on.
"It's a long way," she began.
"I have a taxi at the door."
"We cannot go all the way by taxi. Tell the man to drive to Baker Street," she said.
She spoke no word during the journey, nor was Beale inclined for conversation. At Baker Street Station they stopped and the cab was dismissed. Together they walked in silence, turning from the main road, passing the Central Station and plunging into a labyrinth of streets which was foreign territory to the American.
It seemed that he had passed in one step from one of the best-class quarters of the town to one of the worst. One minute he was passing through a sedate square, lined with the houses of the well-to-do, another minute he was in a slum.
"The place is at the end of this street," she said.
They came to what seemed to be a stable-yard. There was a blank wall with one door and a pair of gates. The girl took a key from her bag, opened the small door and stepped in, and Beale followed.
They were in a yard littered with casks. On two sides of the yard ran low-roofed buildings which had apparently been used as stables. She locked the door behind her, walked across the yard to the corner and opened another door.
"There are fourteen steps down," she said, "have you a light of any kind?"
He took his electric torch from his pocket.
"Give it to me," she said, "I will lead the way."
"What is this place?" he asked, after she had locked the door.
"It used to be a wine merchant's," she said shortly, "we have the cellars."
"We?" he repeated.
She made no reply. At the bottom of the steps was a short passage and another door which was opened, and apparently the same key fitted them all, or else as Beale suspected she carried a pass key.
They walked through, and again she closed the door behind them.
"Another?" he said, as her light flashed upon a steel door a dozen paces ahead.
"It is the last one," she said, and went on.
Suddenly the light was extinguished.
"Your lamp's gone wrong," he heard her say, "but I can find the lock."
He heard a click, but did not see the door open and did not realize what had happened until he heard a click again. The light was suddenly flashed on him, level with his eyes.
"You can't see me," said a mocking voice, "I'm looking at you through the little spy-hole. Did you see the spy-hole, clever Mr. Beale? And I am on the other side of the door." He heard her laugh. "Are you going to arrest the doctor to-night?" she mocked. "Are you going to discover the secret of the Green Rust—ah! That is what you want, isn't it?"
"My dear little friend," said Beale smoothly, "you will be very sensible and open that door. You don't suppose that I came here alone. I was shadowed all the way."
"You lie," she said coolly, "why did I dismiss the cab and make you walk? Oh, clever Mr. Beale!"
He chuckled, though he was in no chuckling mood.
"What a sense of humour!" he said admiringly, "now just listen to me!"
He made one stride to the door, his revolver had flicked out of his hip-pocket, when he heard the snap of a shutter, and the barrel that he thrust between the bars met steel. Then came the grind of bolts and he pocketed his gun.
"So that's that," he said.
Then he walked back to the other door, struck a match and examined it. It was sheathed with iron. He tapped the walls with his stick, but found nothing to encourage him. The floor was solidly flagged, the low roof of the passage was vaulted and cased with stone.
He stopped in his search suddenly and listened. Above his head he heard a light patter of feet, and smiled. It was his boast that he never forgot a voice or a footfall.
"That's my little friend on her way back, running like the deuce, to tell the doctor," he said. "I have something under an hour before the shooting starts!"
CHAPTER XXIII
AT THE DOCTOR'S FLAT
Dr. van Heerden did not hurry his departure from his Staines house. He spent the morning following Oliva's marriage in town, transacting certain important business and making no attempt to conceal his comings and goings, though he knew that he was shadowed. Yet he was well aware that every hour that passed brought danger nearer. He judged (and rightly) that his peril was not to be found in the consequences to his detention of Oliva Cress well.
"I may have a week's grace," he said to Milsom, "and in the space of a week I can do all that I want."
He spent the evening superintending the dismantling of apparatus in the shed, and it was past ten o'clock on Tuesday before he finished.
It was not until he was seated by Milsom's side in the big limousine and the car was running smoothly through Kingston that he made any further reference to the previous afternoon.
"Is Beale content?" he asked.
"Eh?"
Milsom, dozing in the corner of the car, awoke with a start.
"Is Beale content with his prize—and his predicament?" asked van Heerden.
"Well, I guess he should be. That little job brings him a million. He shouldn't worry about anything further."
But van Heerden shook his head.
"I don't think you have things quite right, Milsom," he said. "Beale is a better man than I thought, and knows my mind a little too well. He was astounded when Homo claimed to be a priest—I never saw a man more stunned in my life. He intended the marriage as a bluff to keep me away from the girl. He analysed the situation exactly, for he knew I was after her money, and that she as a woman had no attraction for me. He believed—and there he was justified—that if I could not marry her I had no interest in detaining her, and engaged Homo to follow him around with a special licence. He timed everything too well for my comfort."
Milsom shifted round and peered anxiously at his companion.
"How do you mean?" he asked. "It was only by a fluke that he made it in time."
"That isn't what I mean. It is the fact that he knew that every second was vital, that he guessed I was keen on a quick marriage and that to forestall me he carried his (as he thought) pseudo-clergyman with him so that he need not lose a minute: these are the disturbing factors."
"I don't see it," said Milsom, "the fellow's a crook, all these Yankee detectives are grafters. He saw a chance of a big rake off and took it, fifty-fifty of a million fortune is fine commission!"
"You're wrong. I'd like to think as you do. Man! Can't you see that his every action proves that he knows all about the Green Rust?"
"Eh?"
Milsom sat up.
"How—what makes you say that?"
"It's clear enough. He has already some idea of the scheme. He has been pumping old Heyler; he even secured a sample of the stuff—it was a faulty cultivation, but it might have been enough for him. He surmised that I had a special use for old Millinborn's money and why I was in a hurry to get it."
The silence which followed lasted several minutes.
"Does anybody except Beale know? If you settled him…?"
"We should have to finish him to-night" said van Heerden, "that is what I have been thinking about all day."
Another silence.
"Well, why not?" asked Milsom, "it is all one to me. The stake is worth a little extra risk."
"It must be done before he finds the Paddington place; that is the danger which haunts me." Van Heerden was uneasy, and he had lost the note of calm assurance which ordinarily characterized his speech. "There is sufficient evidence there to spoil everything."
"There is that," breathed Milsom, "it was madness to go on. You have all the stuff you want, you could have closed down the factory a week ago."
"I must have a margin of safety—besides, how could I do anything else? I was nearly broke and any sign of closing down would have brought my hungry workers to Krooman Mansions."
"That's true," agreed the other, "I've had to stall 'em off, but I didn't know that it was because you were broke. It seemed to me just a natural reluctance to part with good money."
Further conversation was arrested by the sudden stoppage of the car. Van Heerden peered through the window ahead and caught a glimpse of a red lamp.
"It is all right," he said, "this must be Putney Common, and I told Gregory to meet me with any news."
A man came into the rays of the head-lamp and passed to the door.
"Well," asked the doctor, "is there any trouble?"
"I saw the green lamp on the bonnet," said Gregory (Milsom no longer wondered how the man had recognized the car from the score of others which pass over the common), "there is no news of importance."
"Where is Beale?"
"At the old man's hotel. He has been there all day."
"Has he made any further visits to the police?"
"He was at Scotland Yard this afternoon."
"And the young lady?"
"One of the waiters at the hotel, a friend of mine, told me that she is much better. She has had two doctors."
"And still lives?" said the cynical Milsom. "That makes four doctors she has seen in two days."
Van Heerden leant out of the car window and lowered his voice.
"The Fräulein Glaum, you saw her?"
"Yes, I told her that she must not come to your laboratory again until you sent for her. She asked when you leave."
"That she must not know, Gregory—please remember."
He withdrew his head, tapped at the window and the car moved on.
"There's another problem for you, van Heerden," said Milsom with a chuckle.
"What?" demanded the other sharply.
"Hilda Glaum. I've only seen the girl twice or so, but she adores you. What are you going to do with her?"
Van Heerden lit a cigarette, and in the play of the flame Milsom saw him smiling.
"She comes on after me," he said, "by which I mean that I have a place for her in my country, but not–"
"Not the sort of place she expects," finished Milsom bluntly. "You may have trouble there."
"Bah!"
"That's foolish," said Milsom, "the convict establishments of England are filled with men who said 'Bah' when they were warned against jealous women. If," he went on, "if you could eliminate jealousy from the human outfit, you'd have half the prison warders of England unemployed."
"Hilda is a good girl," said the other complacently, "she is also a good German girl, and in Germany women know their place in the system. She will be satisfied with what I give her."
"There aren't any women like that," said Milsom with decision, and the subject dropped.
The car stopped near the Marble Arch to put down Milsom, and van Heerden continued his journey alone, reaching his apartments a little before midnight. As he stepped out of the car a man strolled across the street. It was Beale's watcher. Van Heerden looked round with a smile, realizing the significance of this nonchalant figure, and passed through the lobby and up the stairs.
He had left his lights full on for the benefit of watchers, and the hall-lamp glowed convincingly through the fanlight. Beale's flat was in darkness, and a slip of paper fastened to the door gave his address.
The doctor let himself into his own rooms, closed the door, switched out the light and stepped into his bureau.
"Hello," he said angrily, "what are you doing here?—I told you not to come."
The girl who was sitting at the table and who now rose to meet him was breathless, and he read trouble in her face. He could have read pride there, too, that she had so well served the man whom she idolized as a god.
"I've got him, I've got him, Julius!"
"Got him! Got whom?" he asked, with a frown.
"Beale!" she said eagerly, "the great Beale!"
She gurgled with hysterical laughter.
"He came to me, he was going to arrest me to-night, but I got him."
"Sit down," he said firmly, "and try to be coherent, Hilda. Who came to you?"
"Beale. He came to my boarding-house and wanted to know where you had taken Oliva Cresswell. Have you taken her?" she asked earnestly.
"Go on," he said.
"He came to me full of arrogance and threats. He was going to have me arrested, Julius, because of those letters which I gave you. But I didn't worry about myself, Julius. It was all for you that I thought. The thought that you, my dear, great man, should be put in one of these horrible English prisons—oh, Julius!"
She rose, her eyes filled with tears, but he stood over her, laid his hands on her shoulders and pressed her back.
"Now, now. You must tell me everything. This is very serious. What happened then?"
"He wanted me to take him to one of the places."
"One of what places?" he asked quickly.
"I don't know. He only said that he knew that you had other houses—I don't even know that he said that, but that was the impression that he gave me, that he knew you were to be found somewhere."
"Go on," said the doctor.
"And so I thought and I thought," said the girl, her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes looking up into his, "and I prayed God would give me some idea to help you. And then the scheme came to me, Julius. I said I would lead him to you."
"You said you would lead him to me?" he said steadily, "and where did you lead him?"
"To the factory in Paddington," she said.
"There!" he stared at her.
"Wait, wait, wait!" she said, "oh, please don't blame me! I took him into the passage with the doors. I borrowed his light, and after we had passed and locked the second door I slipped through the third and slammed it in his face."
"Then–"
"He is there! Caught! Oh, Julius, did I do well? Please don't be angry with me! I was so afraid for you!"
"How long have you been here?" he asked.
"Not ten minutes, perhaps five minutes, I don't know. I have no knowledge of time. I came straight back to see you."
He stood by the table, gnawing his finger, his head bowed in concentrated thought.
"There, of all places!" he muttered; "there, of all places!"
"Oh, Julius, I did my best," she said tearfully.
He looked down at her with a little sneer.
"Of course you did your best. You're a woman and you haven't brains."
"I thought–"
"You thought!" he sneered. "Who told you you could think? You fool! Don't you know it was a bluff, that he could no more arrest me than I could arrest him? Don't you realize—did he know you were in the habit of coming here?"
She nodded.
"I thought so," said van Heerden with a bitter laugh. "He knows you are in love with me and he played upon your fears. You poor little fool! Don't cry or I shall do something unpleasant. There, there. Help yourself to some wine, you'll find it in the tantalus."
He strode up and down the room.
"There's nothing to be done but to settle accounts with Mr. Beale," he said grimly. "Do you think he was watched?"
"Oh no, no, Julius"—she checked her sobs—"I was so careful."
She gave him a description of the journey and the precautions she had taken.
"Well, perhaps you're not such a fool after all."
He unlocked a drawer in his desk and took out a long-barrelled Browning pistol, withdrew the magazine from the butt, examined and replaced it, and slipped back the cover.
"Yes, I think I must settle accounts with this gentleman, but I don't want to use this," he added thoughtfully, as he pushed up the safety-catch and dropped the weapon in his pocket; "we might be able to gas him. Anyway, you can do no more good or harm," he said cynically.
She was speechless, her hands, clasped tightly at her breast, covered a damp ball of handkerchief, and her tear-stained face was upturned to his.
"Now, dry your face." He stooped and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Perhaps what you have done is the best after all. Who knows? Anyway," he said, speaking his thoughts aloud, "Beale knows about the Green Rust and it can't be very long before I have to go to earth, but only for a little time, my Hilda." He smiled, showing his white teeth, but it was not a pleasant smile, "only for a little time, and then," he threw up his arms, "we shall be rich beyond the dreams of Frankfurt."
"You will succeed, I know you will succeed, Julius," she breathed, "if I could only help you! If you would only tell me what you are doing! What is the Green Rust? Is it some wonderful new explosive?"
"Dry your face and go home," he said shortly, "you will find a detective outside the door watching you, but I do not think he will follow you."
He dismissed the girl and followed her after an interval of time, striding boldly past the shadow and gaining the cab-stand in Shaftesbury Avenue without, so far as he could see, being followed. But he dismissed the cab in the neighbourhood of Baker Street and continued his journey on foot. He opened the little door leading into the yard but did not follow the same direction as the girl had led Stanford Beale. It was through another door that he entered the vault, which at one time had been the innocent repository of bubbling life and was now the factory where men worked diligently for the destruction of their fellows.
