June 9, 2025 • 37 mins
Imagine pulling over 26 miles outside Bordeaux and having your life transform forever. This is exactly what happens to Seymour Merriman. His ordinary halt spirals him into a whirlwind of mystery, illicit smuggling, chilling murder, and unexpected romance. With the clock ticking, two amateur sleuths scramble to solve the baffling enigma of alternating number plates and the dangerous dealings of the pit prop syndicate. If they fail, the notorious Inspector Willis from Scotland Yard will take over. Dive into this riveting narrative and see where the journey takes you.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter eleven of the Pitt prop Syndicate by Freeman Wills Crofts.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, Chapter eleven
an unexpected ally. For several days, Merriman, sicket heart and
shaken in body, remained on at Bordeaux, too numbed by
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the blow which had fallen on him to take any
decisive action. He now understood that Madeline Coburn had refused
him because she loved him, and he vowed he would
rest neither day nor night till he had seen her
and obtained a reversal of her decision. But for the
moment his energy had departed, and he spent his time
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smoking in the jardine and brooding over his troubles. It
was true that on three separate occasions he had called
at the manager's house, only to be told that mister
and Miss Cockburn were still from home, and neither there
nor from the foreman at the works could he learn
their addresses or the date of their return. He had
also written a couple of scrappy notes to Hilliard, merely
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saying he was on a fresh scent and to make
no move in the matter until he heard further of
the pit prop syndicate as apart from Madeline. He was
now profoundly wearied, and he wished for nothing more than
never again to hear its name mentioned. But after a
week of depression and self pity, his natural good sense
reasserted itself, and he began seriously to consider his position.
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He honestly believed that Madeline's happiness could best be brought
about by the fulfillment of his own, in other words,
by their marriage. He appreciated the motives which had caused
her to refuse him, but he hoped that by his
continued persuasion he might be able, as he put it
to himself, to talk her round her very flight from him.
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For such, he believed her absence to be seemed indicate
that she herself was doubtful of her power to hold
out against him, And to this extent he drew comfort
from his immediate difficulty. He concluded, before trying any new plan,
to call once again at the clearing, in the hope
that mister Coburn at least might have returned. The next
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afternoon therefore saw him driving out along the now familiar road.
It was still hot, with a heavy enervating heat of
air held stagnant by the trees. The freshness of early
summer had gone, and there was a hint of approaching
autumn in the darker greenery of the firs, and the
overmaturity of such shrubs and wild flowers as could find
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along the edge of the road a precarious root hold
on the patches of ground not covered by pine needles.
Merriman gazed unceasingly ahead at the straight white ribbon of
the road as he pondered the problem of what he
should do if, once again he should be disappointed in
his quest. Madeleine could not, he thought, remain indefinitely away.
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Mister Cockburn at all events would have to return to
his work, and it would be a strange thing if
he could not obtain from the father some indication of
his daughter's whereabouts. But his call at the manager's house
was as fruitless on this occasion as on those proceeding.
The woman from whom he had received the note opened
the door and repeated her former statement mister and miss
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Cockburn were still from home. Merriman turned away disconsolately and
walked slowly back across the clearing and down the lane.
Though he told himself he had expected nothing from the visit,
he was nevertheless bitterly disappointed with its result. And worse
than his disappointment was his inability to see his next step,
or even to think of any scheme which might lead
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him to the object of his hopes. He trudged on
down the lane, his head sunk and his brows knitted,
only half conscious of his surroundings, looking up listlessly. As
he rounded a bend, he stopped suddenly, as if turned
to stone, while his heart first stood still, then began
thumping wildly, as if to choke him. A few yards away,
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and coming to meet him was Madeline. She caught sight
of him at the same instant and stopped with a cry,
while an expression of dread came over her face. So
for an appreciable time they stood looking at one another.
Then Merriman, regaining the power of motion, sprang forward and
seized her hands. Madeline, Madeline. He cried, brokenly, my own one,
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my beloved. He almost sobbed as he attempted to strain
her to his heart, but she wrenched herself from him. No, no,
she gasped, you must not. I told you it cannot be.
He pleaded with her fiercely, passionately and at last despairingly,
but he could not move her. Always she repeated that
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it could not be At least tell me this, he begged,
at last, would you marry me if this syndicate did
not exist, I mean, if mister Cockburn was not mixed
up with it. At first, she would not answer, but
presently overcome by his persistence, she burst once again into
tears and admit that her fear of disgrace arising through
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discovery of the syndicate's activities was her only reason for refusal. Then,
said Merriman resolutely, I will go back with you now
and see mister Cockburn, and we will talk over what
is to be done. At this, her eyes dilated with terror. No, no,
she cried again. He would be in danger. He would
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try something that might offend the others, and his life
might not be safe. I tell you I don't trust
Captain Beamish and mister Bullah. I don't think they would
stop at anything to keep their secret. He is trying
to get out of it, and he must not be hurried.
He will do what he can. But my dearest Merriman
remonstrated it could do no harm to talk the matter
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over with him that would commit him to nothing. But
she would not hear of it. If he thought my
happiness depended upon it, she declared, he would break with
them at all costs. I could not risk it. You
must go, oh, my dear, you must go, Go, go,
she entreated, almost hysterically. It will be best for us both. Merriman,
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though beside himself with suffering, felt he could no longer
disregard her. I shall go, he answered, sadly, since you
require it. But I will never give you up, not
until one of his is dead or you marry some
one else. I will never give you up. Oh Madeline,
have pity and give me some hope, something to keep
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me alive till this trouble is over. She was beginning
to reply when she stopped suddenly and stood listening the lory.
She cried, go go. Then, pointing wildly in the direction
of the road, she turned and fled rapidly back towards
the clearing. Merriman gazed after her until she passed round
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a corner of the lane and was lost to sight
among the trees. Then, with a weight of hopeless despair
on his heart, he began to walk towards the road,
the Lory, driven by Henri, passed him at the next bend,
and Henri, though he saluted with a show of respect,
smiled sardonically as he noted the other's woebegone appearance. But
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Merriman neither knew nor cared what the driver thought. Almost
physically sick with misery and disappointment, he regained his taxi
and was driven back to Bordeaux. The next few days
seemed to him like a nightmare of hideous reality and permanence.
He moved as a man in a dream, living under
a shadow of almost tangible weight, as a criminal must
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do who has been sentenced to early execution. The longing
to see Madeleine again, to hear the sound of her voice,
to feel her presence, was so intense as to be
almost unendurable. Again and again he said to himself that
had she cared for another, had she even told him
that she could not care for him, he would have
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taken his dismissal as irrevocable and gone to try and
drag out the remainder of his life elsewhere as best
he could. But he was maddened to think that the
major difficulty, the overwhelming, insuperable difficulty of his suit had
been overcome. She loved him miraculous and incredible. Though it
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might seem though it was, it was the amazing truth.
And that being so, it was beyond bearing that a
mere truckling to convention should be allowed to step in
and snatch away the ecstasy of happiness that was within
his grasp. And worse still, this truckling to convention was
to save him. What he asked himself, did it matter
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about him? Even if the worst happened and she suffered
shame through her father? Wasn't all he wanted to be
allowed to share it with her? And if narrow, stupid
folks did talk, what matter they could do without their companionship.
Fits of wild rage alternated with periods of cold and
numbing despair. But as day succeeded day, the desire to
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be near her grew until it could no longer be denied.
He dared not again attempt to force himself into her presence,
lest she should be angry and shatter irrevocably the hope
to which he still clung with desperation. But he might,
without fear of disaster, be nearer to her. For a
time he hired a bicycle, and after dark had fallen
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that evening, he rode out to the lane, and, leaving
his machine on the road, walked to the edge of
the clearing. It was a perfect night, calm and silent,
though with a slight touch of chill in the air.
A crescent moon shone soft and silvery, lighting up pallidly
the open space, gleaming on the white wood of the
freshly cut stumps, and throwing black shadows from the ghostly
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looking buildings. It was close on midnight, and Merriman looked
eagerly across the clearing to the manager's house. He was
not disappointed. There in the window that he knew belonged
to her room shone a light. He slowly approached, keeping
on the fringe of the clearing, and beneath the shadow
of the trees. Some shrubs had taken root on the
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open ground, and behind a clump of these, not far
from the door, he lay down, filled his pipe and
gave himself up to his dreams. The light still showed
in the window, but even as he looked, it went out,
leaving the front of the house dark, and as it
seemed to him, unfriendly and forbidding. Perhaps she'll look out
before going to bed, he thought, as he gazed disconsolately
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at the blank, unsympathetic opening, but he could see no
movement Therein he lost count of time as he lay,
dreaming of the girl whose existence had become more to
him than his very life. And it was not until
he suddenly realized that he had become stiff and cramped
from the cold that he looked at his watch nearly two.
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Once more, he glanced sorrowfully at the window, realizing that
no comfort was to be obtained therefrom and decided he
might as well make his way back, for all the
ease of mind he was getting. He turned slowly to
get up, but just as he did so, he noticed
a slight movement at the side of the house before him,
and he remained motionless, gazing intently forward. Then spellbound, he
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watched mister Coburn leave by the side door, walk quickly
to the shed, unlock a door, and disappear within. There
was something so secretive in the way the manager looked
around before venturing into the open, and so stealthy about
his whole walk and bearing that Merriman's heart beat more
quickly as he wondered if he was now on the
threshold of some revelation of the mystery of that outwardly
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innocent place. Obeying a sudden instinct, he rose from his
hiding place in the bushes and crept silently across the
sward to the door by which the other had entered.
It was locked, and the whole place was dark and silent.
Were it not for what he had just seen, Merriman
would have believed it deserted. But it was evident that
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some secret and perhaps sinister activity was in progress within,
and for the moment he forgot even Madeline in his
anxiety to learn its nature. He crept silently round the shed,
trying each door and peering into each window, but without result.
All remained fast and in darkness, and though he listened
with the utmost intentness of which he was capable, he
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could not catch any sound. His round of the building completed,
he paused in doubt. Should he retire while there was
time and watch for mister Coburn's reappearance with perhaps some
of his accomplices, or should he wait at the door
and tackle him on the matter when he came out.
His first preference was for the latter course, But as
he thought it over, he felt it would be better
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to reserve his knowledge, and he turned to make for cover.
But even as he did so, he heard the manager say,
in low, harsh tones, hands up now, or I fire,
And swinging round, he found himself gazing into the bore
of a small, deadly looking, repeating pistol. Automatically, he raised
his arms, and for a few moments both men stood motionless,
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staring perplexedly at one another. Then mister Coburn lowered the
pistol and attempted a laugh. A laugh nervous, shaky, and
without merriment. His lips smiled, but his eyes remained cold
and venomous. Good Heavens, Merriman, But you did give me
a start, he cried, making an evident effort to be jocular.
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What in all the world are you doing here at
this hour? Sorry for my greeting, but one has to
be careful here, you know. The district is notorious for brigands.
Merriman was not usually very prompt to meet emergencies. He
generally realized when it was too late what he ought
to have said or done in any given circumstances. But
on this occasion, a flash of veritable inspiration revealed a
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way by which he might, at one and the same
time account for his presence, disarmed the manager's suspicions and
perhaps even gain his point with regard to Madeline. He
smiled back at the other, Sorry for startling you, mister Coburn.
I have been looking for you for some days to
discuss a very delicate man, and I came out late
this evening in the hope of attracting your attention after
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Miss Coburn had retired, so that our chat could be
quite confidential. But in the darkness I fell and hurt
my knee, and I spent so much time in waiting
for it to get better that I was ashamed to
go to the house. Imagine my delight when just as
I was turning to leave, I saw you coming down
to the shed, and I followed with the object of
trying to attract your attention. He hardly expected that mister
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Cockburn would have accepted his statement, but whatever the manager
believed privately, he gave no sign of suspicion. I'm glad
your journey was not fruitless, he answered, courteously. As a
matter of fact, my neuralgia kept me from sleeping, and
I found I had forgotten my bottle of aspirin down here,
where I had brought it for the same purpose this morning.
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It seemed worth the trouble of coming for it, and
I came. As he spoke, mister Coburn took from his
pocket and held up for Merriman's inspection a tiny file
half full of white tablets. It was now Merriman's turn
to be skeptical, but he murmured polite reco threats, and
as convincing away as he was able. Let's go back
to my office, the manager continued. If you want a
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private chat, you could have it there. He unlocked the door,
and passing in first lit a reading lamp on his desk,
then re locking the door behind his visitor and unostentatiously
slipping the key into his pocket. He sat down at
the desk, waved Merriman to a chair, and, producing a
box of cigars, passed it across The windows. Merriman noticed
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were covered by heavy blinds, and it was evident that
no one could see into the room, nor could the
light be observed from without. The door behind him was
locked and in mister Coburn's pocket was the key as
well as a revolver, while Merriman was unarmed. Moreover, mister
Coburn was the larger and heavier, if not the stronger, man,
of the two. It was true his words and manner
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were those of a friend, but the cold hatred in
his eyes revealed his purpose. Merriman instantly realized he was
in very real personal danger, and it was borne in
on him that if he was to get out of
that room alive, it was to his own wits he
must trust. But he was no coward, and he did
not forget to limp as he crossed the room, nor
did his hand shake as he stretched it out to
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take a cigar. When he came within the radius of
the lamp, he noticed with satisfaction that his coat was
covered with fragments of moss and leaves, and he rather
ostentatiously brushed these away, partly to prove to the other
his calmness, and partly to draw attention to them, in
the hope that they would be accepted as evidence of
his fall. Fearing lest if they began a desultory conversation,
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he might be tricked by his astute opponent into giving
himself away, he left the latter no opportunity to make
a remark, but plunged at once into his subject. I
feel myself, mister Cockburn, he began not a little in
your debt for granting me this interview. But the matter
in which I wished to speak to you is so
delicate and confidential that I think you will agree that
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any precautions against eavesdroppers are justifiable. He spoke at first
somewhat formally, but as interest in his subject quickened, he
gradually became more conversational. The first thing I have come
to tell you, he went on, may not be very
pleasant hearing to you, but it is a matter of
almost life and death importance to me. I have come,
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mister Coburn, very deeply and sincerely, to love your daughter.
Mister Coburn frowned slightly, but he did not seem surprised,
nor did he reply except by a slight bow. Merriman
continued that in itself need not necessarily be of interest
to you, But there is more to tell, and it
is in the second point that the real importance of
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my statement lies, and on Aunt hinges everything that I
have to say to you, Madeline, Sir has given me
a definite assurance that my love for her is returned. Still,
mister Coburn made no answer, save then by another slight
inclination of his head, but his eyes had grown anxious
and troubled. Not unnaturally, Merriman resumed. I begged her to
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marry me, but she saw fit to decline in view
of the admission she had just made. I will somewhat
surprised that her refusal was so vehement. I pressed her
for the reason, but she utterly declined to give it.
Then an idea struck me, and I asked her if
it was because she feared that your connection with this
syndicate might lead to unhappiness. At first she would not
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reply nor give me any satisfaction. But at last, by
persistent questioning, and only when she saw I knew a
great deal more about the business than she did herself,
she admitted that that was indeed the barrier. Not to
put too fine a point on it. It is better,
is it, not, sir, to be perfectly candid. She is
living in terror and dread of your arrest, and she
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won't marry me for fear that if it were to happen,
she might bring disgrace on me. Mister Coburn had not
moved during this speech, except that his face had become paler,
and the look of cold menace in his eyes seemed
charged with a still more vindictive hatred. Then he answered slowly,
I can only assume, mister Merriman, that your mind has
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become temporarily unhinged. But even with such an excuse, you
cannot really believe that I am going to wait here
and listen to you making such statements. Merriman bent forward, Sir,
he said, earnestly, I give you my word of honor,
and earnestly ask you to believe that I am approaching
you as a friend. I am myself an interested party.
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I have sought this interview for Madeleine's sake, for her sake,
and for her sake only, I have come to ask
you to discuss with me the best way out of
the difficulty. Mister Coburn rose abruptly. The best way out
of the difficulty, he declared, no longer attempting to disguise
the hatred he felt, is for you to take yourself
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off and never to show your face here again. I
am amazed at you. He took his automatic pistol out
of his pocket. Don't you know that you are completely
in my power? If I chose, I could shoot you
like a dog and sink your body in the river,
and no one would ever know what had become of you.
Merriman's heart was beating rapid. He had the uncomfortable suspicion
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that he had only to turn his back to get
a bullet into it. He assumed a confidence he was
far from feeling. On the contrary, mister Cockburn, he said, quietly,
it is you who are in our power. I'm afraid
you don't quite appreciate the situation. It is true you
could shoot me now, but if you did, nothing could
save you. It would be the rope for you, and
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prison for your confederates, and what about your daughter? Then
I tell you, sir, I'm not such a fool as
you take me for knowing what I do. Do you
think it likely I should put myself in your power
unless I knew I was safe. His assurance was not
without its effect. The other's face grew paler, and he
sat heavily down in his chair. I'll hear what you
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have to say, he said, harshly, though without letting go
his weapon. Then let me begin at the beginning. You
remember that first evening when I was here, when you
so kindly supplied me with petrol. Sir, you were correct
when you told Captain Beamish and mister Bullah that I
had noticed the changing of the lory number plate I had.
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Mister Coburn started slightly, but he did not speak, and
Merriman went on. I was interested that the thing conveyed
nothing to me, But some time later I mentioned it casually,
and Hilliard, who has a mania for puzzles, overheard. He
suggested my joining him on his trip and calling to
see if we could solve it. You, mister Coburn, said
another thing to your friends that though I might have
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noticed about the lory, you are certain neither Hilliard nor
I had seen anything suspicious at the clearing there. Sir,
you were wrong. Though at that time we could not
tell what was going on, we knew it was something illegal.
Coburn was impressed. At last. He sat motionless, staring at
the speaker. As Merriman remained silent. He moved. Go on,
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he said, hoarsely, licking his dried lips. I would ask
you please to visualize the situation when we left. Hilliard
believed he was on the track of a criminal organization
carrying on illicit operations on a large scale. He believed
that by lodging with the police the information he had gained,
the break up of the organization and the capture of
its members would be assured, and that he would stand
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to gain much kudos. But he did not know what
the operations were, and he hesitated to come forward, lest
by not waiting and investigating further, he should destroy his
chance of handing over to the authorities a complete case.
He was therefore exceedingly keen that we should carry on
inquiries at what I may call the English end of
the business. Such was Hilliard's attitude. I trust, I make
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myself clear again, Cobert nodded, without speaking. My position was different.
I had by that time come to care for Madeline,
and I saw the effect any disclosure must have on her.
I therefore wished things kept secret, and I urged Hilliard
to carry out his second idea and investigate further so
as to make his case complete. He made my assistance
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a condition of agreement, and I therefore consented to help him.
Mister Coburn was now ghastly and was listening with breathless
earnestness to his visitor. Merriman realized what he had always suspected,
that the man was weak and a bit of a coward,
and he began to believe his bluff would carry him through.
I need not trouble you. He went on with all
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the details of our search. It is enough to say
that we found out what we wanted. We went to Hull,
discovered the wharf at Ferraby, made the acquaintance of Benson,
and witness what went on there. We know all about
Archer and how he plants your stuff, and Morton, who
had us under observation, and whom we properly tricked. I
don't claim any credit for it. All that belongs to Hilliard,
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and I admit we did not learn certain small details
of your scheme, but the main points are clear, clear
enough to get convictions anyway. After a pause to let
his words create their full effect, Merriman continued, then arose
the problem that had bothered us before. Hilliard was wild
to go to the authorities with his story on Madeline's account,
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I still wanted it kept quiet. I needn't recount our argument,
suffice it to say that at last we compromised, Hilliard
agreed to wait for a month for the sake of
our friendship and the help I had given him. He
undertook to give me a month to settle something about Madeline.
Mister Coburn, nearly half that month is gone, and I
am not one step farther on. The manager wiped the
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drops of sweat from his pallid brow. Merriman's quiet, confident manner,
with its apparent absence of bluff or threat, had had
its effect on him. He was evidently thoroughly frightened, and
seemed to think it no longer worth while to plead ignorance,
as Merriman had hoped and intended. He appeared to conclude
that conciliation would be his best chance. Then, no one
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but you two know so far, he asked, a shifty,
sly look passing over his face. Merriman read his thoughts
and bluffed again. Yes and no, he answered, No one
but we too know at present. On the other we
have naturally taken all reasonable precautions. Hilliard prepared a full
statement of the matter, which we both signed, and thus
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he sent to his banker with a request that unless
he claimed it in person before the given date the
banker was to convey it to Scotland Yard. If anything
happens to me here, Hilliard will go at once to
the yard, and if anything happens to him, our document
will be sent there. And in it we have suggested
that if either of us disappear, it will be equivalent
to adding murder to the other charges made. It was enough.
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Mister Cockburn sat broken and completely cowed to Merriman. He
seemed suddenly to have become an old man. For several minutes,
silence reigned, and then at last the other spoke. What
do you want me to do? He asked, in a
tremulous voice, hardly louder than a whisper. Merriman's heart leaped.
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To consider your daughter, mister Cockburn, he answered promptly. All
I want is to marry Madeline, and for her sake,
I want you to get out of this thing before
the crash comes. Mister Coburn once more wiped the drops
of sweat from his forehead. Good Lord, he cried hoarsely.
Ever since it started, I have been trying to get
out of it. I was forced into it against my will,
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and I would give my soul if I could do
as you say, and get free. But I can't. I can't.
He buried his head in his hands and sat motionless,
leaning on his desk. But your daughter, mister Coburn, Merriman persisted,
for her sake, something must be done. Mister Coburn shook
his clenched fists in the air. Damn Nation, take you,
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he cried, with a sudden access of rage. Do you
think I care about myself? Do you think I'd sit
here and listen to you talking as you've done if
it wasn't for her. I tell you, i'd shoot you
as you sit if I didn't know from my own
observation that she is fond of you. I swear it's
the only thing that has saved you. He rose to
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his feet and began pacing jerkily to and fro See here,
he continued wildly. Go away from here before I do it.
I can't stand any more of you at present. Go
now and come back on Friday night at the same time,
and I'll tell you of my decision. Here's the key,
he threw it down on the desk. Get out quick
before I do for you. Merriman was for a moment
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inclined to stand his ground. But realizing that not only
had he carried his point as far as he could
have expected, but also that his companion was in so
excited a condition as hardly to be accountable for his actions,
he decided discretion was the better part, and merely saying
very well Friday night, he unlocked the door and took
his leave. On the whole He was well pleased with
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his interview. In the first place, he had, by his readiness,
escaped in imminent personal danger. What was almost as important,
he had broken the ice with mister Coburn about Madeline,
and the former had not only declared that he was
aware of the state of his daughter's feelings, but he
had expressed no objection to the proposed match. Further, and
understanding as to mister Coburn's own position had been come
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to He had practically admitted that the syndicate was a
felonious conspiracy, and had stated that he would do almost
anything to get out of it. Finally, he had promised
a decision on the whole question in three days time,
quite a triumph, Merriman thought. On the other hand, he
had given the manager a warning of the danger which
the latter might communicate to his fellow conspirators, with the
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result that all of them might escape from the net
in which Hilliard, at any rate wished to enmesh them.
And just to this extent he had become a co
partner in their crime. And though it was true that
he had escaped from his immediate peril, he had undoubtedly
placed himself and Hilliard in very real danger. It was
by no means impossible that the gang would decide to
murder both of the men whose knowledge threatened them, in
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the hope of bluffing the bank manager out of the
letter which they would believe he held. Merriman had invented
this letter on the spur of the moment, and he
would have felt a good deal happier if he knew
that it really existed. Decided that he would write to
Hilliard immediately and get him to make it a reality.
A great deal, he thought, depended on the character of Cockburn.
(29:08):
If he was weak and cowardly, he would try to
save his own skin and let the others walk into
the net. Particularly might he do this if he had
suffered at their hands in the way he suggested. On
the other hand, a strong man would undoubtedly consult his
fellow conspirators, and see that a pretty determined fight was
made for their liberty and their source of gain. He
had thought of all this when it suddenly flashed into
(29:30):
his mind that mister Colburn's presence in the shed at
two in the morning in itself required a lot of explanation.
He did not for a moment believe the aspirin story.
The man had looked so shifty while he was speaking
that even at the time Merriman had decided he was lying.
What then, could he have been doing? He puzzled over
the questions, but without result. Then it occurred to him that,
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as he was doing nothing that evening, he might as
well write out again to the clearing to see if
any nocturnal activities were undertaken. Midnight therefore, or found him
once more ensconced behind a group of shrubs, in full
view of both the house and the shed. It was
again a perfect night, and again he lay dreaming of
the girl who was so near in body and spirit,
and yet so infinitely far beyond his reach. Time passed slowly,
(30:15):
but the hours wore gradually round until his watch showed
two o'clock. Then, just as he was thinking that he
need hardly wait much longer. He was considerably thrilled to
see mister Coburn once more appear at the side door
of the house, and in the same stealthy, secretive way
as on the previous night, walk hurriedly to the shed
and let himself in by the office door. At first,
(30:36):
Merriman thought of following him again in the hope of
learning the nature of these strange proceedings, but a moment's
thought showed him he must run no risk of discovering.
If Coburn learned that he was being spied on, he
would at once doubt Merriman's statement that he knew the
syndicate's secret. It would be better therefore to lie low
and await events. But the only other interesting event that
(30:57):
happened was that some fifteen minutes later, the man left
the shed and with the same show of secrecy, returned
to his house, disappearing into the side door. So intrigued
was Merriman by the whole business that he determined to
repeat his visit the following night also. He did so,
and once again witnessed mister Coburn's stealthy walk to the
shed at two a m. And his equally stealthy return
(31:19):
at two fifteen. Rack his brains as he would over
the problem of these nocturnal visits. Merriman could think of
no explanation. What for three consecutive nights could bring the
manager down to the sawmill, He could not imagine, but
he was clear it was not the pit prop industry.
If the Girondine had been in he would have once
(31:40):
more suspected smuggling, but she was then at Farrabee. No,
it certainly did not work in with the smuggling. Still
less did it suggest false note printing unless Merriman's heart
beat more quickly as a new idea entered his mind.
Suppose the notes were printed there at the mill. Supposed
there was a seller under the engine house, and suppose
the work was done at night. It was true they
(32:02):
had not seen signs of a seller, but if this
surmise was correct, it was not likely they would. At
first sight, this theory seemed a real advance, but a
little further thought showed it had serious objections. Firstly, it
did not explain Coburn's nightly visits. If the manager had
spent some hours in the works, it might have indicated
the working of a press but what in that way
(32:23):
could be done in fifteen minutes Further, and this seemed
to put the idea quite out of court. If the
notes were being produced at the clearing, why the changing
of the lorry numbers that would then be a part
of the business quite unconnected with illicit traffic. After much thought,
Merriman had to admit to himself that here was one
more of the series of insoluble puzzles with which they
(32:44):
found themselves faced. The next night was Friday, and in
accordance with the arrangement made with mister Coburn, Merriman once
again went out to the clearing, presenting himself at the
work's door at two in the morning. Mister Coburn at
once opened to his knock, and after locking the door,
led the way to his office. There he wasted no
time in preliminaries. I've thought this over, Merriman, he said,
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and his manner was very different from that of the
previous interview. And I'm bound to say that I've realized that,
though interested, your actions toward me has been correct, not
to say generous. Now I've made up my mind what
to do, and I trust you will see your way
to fall in with my ideas. There is a meaning
of the syndicate on Thursday week, I should have been
present in any case, and I have decided that whatever
(33:29):
may be the result, I will tell them that I
am going to break with them. I will give ill
health as my reason for this step, and fortunately or unfortunately,
I can do this with truth. As my heart is
seriously diseased. I can easily provide the necessary doctor's certificates.
If they accept my resignation well and good, I will
emigrate to my brother in South America, and you and
(33:50):
Madeline can be married. If they decline well, mister Cockburn
shrugged his shoulders. Your embarrassment will be otherwise removed, he paused.
Merriman would have spoken, but mister Cowburn held up his
hand for silence and went on. I confess I have
been terribly upset for the last three days to discover
my wisest course, and even now I am far from
(34:13):
certain that my decision is best. I do not want
to go back on my former friends, and on account
of Madeleine, I cannot go back on you. Therefore I
cannot warn the others of their danger. But on the
other hand, I won't give your life into their hands,
for if they knew what I know now, you and
Hilliard would be dead men. Inside twenty four hours. Mister
Coburn spoke simply and with a certain dignity, and Merriman
(34:35):
found himself disposed not only to believe what he had heard,
but even to understand and sympathize with the man in
the embarrassing circumstances in which he found himself that his
difficulties were of his own making. There could be but
little doubt but how far he had put himself in
the power of his associates through deliberate evil doing, and
how far through mistakes or weaknesses. There was, of course
(34:58):
no way of learning. At the end of an hour's discussion,
mister Coburn had agreed at all costs to sever his
connection with the syndicate, to emigrate to his brother in Chile,
and to do his utmost to induce his daughter to
remain in England to marry Merriman. On his side, Merriman
undertook to hold back the lodging of information at Scotland
Yard for one more week to enable the other's arrangements
(35:19):
to be carried out, there being nothing to keep him
in Bordeaux. Merriman left for London that day, and the
next evening he was closeted with Hilliard in the latter's
room discussing the affair. Hilliard at first was most unwilling
to postpone their visit to the yard, but he agreed
on Merriman's explaining that he had pledged himself to the delay.
So the days for Merriman, heavily waited with anxiety and suspense,
(35:42):
began slowly to drag by. His fate and the fate
of the girl he loved, hung in the balance, and
not the least irksome feature of his position was his
own utter impotence. There was nothing that he could do,
no action which would take him out of himself and
ease the tension of his thoughts. As day exceeded day
and the silence remained unbroken, he became more and more upset.
(36:04):
At the end of a week, he was almost beside
himself with worry and chagrin, so much so that he
gave up attending his office altogether, and was only restrained
from rushing back to Bordeaux by the knowledge that to
force himself once more on Madeleine might be to destroy
once and forever any hopes he might otherwise have had.
It was now four days since the Thursday on which
(36:26):
mister Coburn had stated that the meeting of the Syndicate
was to have been held, and only three days to
the date on which the friends had agreed to tell
their story at Scotland Yard. What if he received no
news during those three days, would Hilliard agree to a
further postponement. He feared not, and he was racked with
anxiety as to whether he should cross that day to
France and seek another interview with mister Coburn. But even
(36:50):
as he sat with the morning paper in his hand,
news was nearer than he imagined. Listlessly, he turned over
the sheets, glancing with but scant attention to the headlines,
automatically running his eyes over the paragraphs, and when he
came to one headed Mystery of a Taxi Cab, he
absent mindedly began to read it also, But he had
not gone very far when his manner changed. Starting to
(37:12):
his feet, he stared at the column with horror stricken eyes,
while his face grew pallid and his pipe dropped to
the floor from his open mouth. With the newspaper still
tightly grasped in his hand, he ran three steps at
a time down the stairs of his flat, and, calling
a taxi, was driven to Scotland Yard. End of Chapter eleven.
Chapter eleven of the Pitt prop Syndicate by Freeman Wills Crofts.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, Chapter eleven
an unexpected ally. For several days, Merriman, sicket heart and
shaken in body, remained on at Bordeaux, too numbed by
(00:21):
the blow which had fallen on him to take any
decisive action. He now understood that Madeline Coburn had refused
him because she loved him, and he vowed he would
rest neither day nor night till he had seen her
and obtained a reversal of her decision. But for the
moment his energy had departed, and he spent his time
(00:42):
smoking in the jardine and brooding over his troubles. It
was true that on three separate occasions he had called
at the manager's house, only to be told that mister
and Miss Cockburn were still from home, and neither there
nor from the foreman at the works could he learn
their addresses or the date of their return. He had
also written a couple of scrappy notes to Hilliard, merely
(01:05):
saying he was on a fresh scent and to make
no move in the matter until he heard further of
the pit prop syndicate as apart from Madeline. He was
now profoundly wearied, and he wished for nothing more than
never again to hear its name mentioned. But after a
week of depression and self pity, his natural good sense
reasserted itself, and he began seriously to consider his position.
(01:28):
He honestly believed that Madeline's happiness could best be brought
about by the fulfillment of his own, in other words,
by their marriage. He appreciated the motives which had caused
her to refuse him, but he hoped that by his
continued persuasion he might be able, as he put it
to himself, to talk her round her very flight from him.
(01:49):
For such, he believed her absence to be seemed indicate
that she herself was doubtful of her power to hold
out against him, And to this extent he drew comfort
from his immediate difficulty. He concluded, before trying any new plan,
to call once again at the clearing, in the hope
that mister Coburn at least might have returned. The next
(02:09):
afternoon therefore saw him driving out along the now familiar road.
It was still hot, with a heavy enervating heat of
air held stagnant by the trees. The freshness of early
summer had gone, and there was a hint of approaching
autumn in the darker greenery of the firs, and the
overmaturity of such shrubs and wild flowers as could find
(02:29):
along the edge of the road a precarious root hold
on the patches of ground not covered by pine needles.
Merriman gazed unceasingly ahead at the straight white ribbon of
the road as he pondered the problem of what he
should do if, once again he should be disappointed in
his quest. Madeleine could not, he thought, remain indefinitely away.
(02:50):
Mister Cockburn at all events would have to return to
his work, and it would be a strange thing if
he could not obtain from the father some indication of
his daughter's whereabouts. But his call at the manager's house
was as fruitless on this occasion as on those proceeding.
The woman from whom he had received the note opened
the door and repeated her former statement mister and miss
(03:10):
Cockburn were still from home. Merriman turned away disconsolately and
walked slowly back across the clearing and down the lane.
Though he told himself he had expected nothing from the visit,
he was nevertheless bitterly disappointed with its result. And worse
than his disappointment was his inability to see his next step,
or even to think of any scheme which might lead
(03:32):
him to the object of his hopes. He trudged on
down the lane, his head sunk and his brows knitted,
only half conscious of his surroundings, looking up listlessly. As
he rounded a bend, he stopped suddenly, as if turned
to stone, while his heart first stood still, then began
thumping wildly, as if to choke him. A few yards away,
(03:53):
and coming to meet him was Madeline. She caught sight
of him at the same instant and stopped with a cry,
while an expression of dread came over her face. So
for an appreciable time they stood looking at one another.
Then Merriman, regaining the power of motion, sprang forward and
seized her hands. Madeline, Madeline. He cried, brokenly, my own one,
(04:18):
my beloved. He almost sobbed as he attempted to strain
her to his heart, but she wrenched herself from him. No, no,
she gasped, you must not. I told you it cannot be.
He pleaded with her fiercely, passionately and at last despairingly,
but he could not move her. Always she repeated that
(04:41):
it could not be At least tell me this, he begged,
at last, would you marry me if this syndicate did
not exist, I mean, if mister Cockburn was not mixed
up with it. At first, she would not answer, but
presently overcome by his persistence, she burst once again into
tears and admit that her fear of disgrace arising through
(05:02):
discovery of the syndicate's activities was her only reason for refusal. Then,
said Merriman resolutely, I will go back with you now
and see mister Cockburn, and we will talk over what
is to be done. At this, her eyes dilated with terror. No, no,
she cried again. He would be in danger. He would
(05:23):
try something that might offend the others, and his life
might not be safe. I tell you I don't trust
Captain Beamish and mister Bullah. I don't think they would
stop at anything to keep their secret. He is trying
to get out of it, and he must not be hurried.
He will do what he can. But my dearest Merriman
remonstrated it could do no harm to talk the matter
(05:45):
over with him that would commit him to nothing. But
she would not hear of it. If he thought my
happiness depended upon it, she declared, he would break with
them at all costs. I could not risk it. You
must go, oh, my dear, you must go, Go, go,
she entreated, almost hysterically. It will be best for us both. Merriman,
(06:10):
though beside himself with suffering, felt he could no longer
disregard her. I shall go, he answered, sadly, since you
require it. But I will never give you up, not
until one of his is dead or you marry some
one else. I will never give you up. Oh Madeline,
have pity and give me some hope, something to keep
(06:30):
me alive till this trouble is over. She was beginning
to reply when she stopped suddenly and stood listening the lory.
She cried, go go. Then, pointing wildly in the direction
of the road, she turned and fled rapidly back towards
the clearing. Merriman gazed after her until she passed round
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a corner of the lane and was lost to sight
among the trees. Then, with a weight of hopeless despair
on his heart, he began to walk towards the road,
the Lory, driven by Henri, passed him at the next bend,
and Henri, though he saluted with a show of respect,
smiled sardonically as he noted the other's woebegone appearance. But
(07:12):
Merriman neither knew nor cared what the driver thought. Almost
physically sick with misery and disappointment, he regained his taxi
and was driven back to Bordeaux. The next few days
seemed to him like a nightmare of hideous reality and permanence.
He moved as a man in a dream, living under
a shadow of almost tangible weight, as a criminal must
(07:34):
do who has been sentenced to early execution. The longing
to see Madeleine again, to hear the sound of her voice,
to feel her presence, was so intense as to be
almost unendurable. Again and again he said to himself that
had she cared for another, had she even told him
that she could not care for him, he would have
(07:55):
taken his dismissal as irrevocable and gone to try and
drag out the remainder of his life elsewhere as best
he could. But he was maddened to think that the
major difficulty, the overwhelming, insuperable difficulty of his suit had
been overcome. She loved him miraculous and incredible. Though it
(08:16):
might seem though it was, it was the amazing truth.
And that being so, it was beyond bearing that a
mere truckling to convention should be allowed to step in
and snatch away the ecstasy of happiness that was within
his grasp. And worse still, this truckling to convention was
to save him. What he asked himself, did it matter
(08:39):
about him? Even if the worst happened and she suffered
shame through her father? Wasn't all he wanted to be
allowed to share it with her? And if narrow, stupid
folks did talk, what matter they could do without their companionship.
Fits of wild rage alternated with periods of cold and
numbing despair. But as day succeeded day, the desire to
(09:00):
be near her grew until it could no longer be denied.
He dared not again attempt to force himself into her presence,
lest she should be angry and shatter irrevocably the hope
to which he still clung with desperation. But he might,
without fear of disaster, be nearer to her. For a
time he hired a bicycle, and after dark had fallen
(09:21):
that evening, he rode out to the lane, and, leaving
his machine on the road, walked to the edge of
the clearing. It was a perfect night, calm and silent,
though with a slight touch of chill in the air.
A crescent moon shone soft and silvery, lighting up pallidly
the open space, gleaming on the white wood of the
freshly cut stumps, and throwing black shadows from the ghostly
(09:42):
looking buildings. It was close on midnight, and Merriman looked
eagerly across the clearing to the manager's house. He was
not disappointed. There in the window that he knew belonged
to her room shone a light. He slowly approached, keeping
on the fringe of the clearing, and beneath the shadow
of the trees. Some shrubs had taken root on the
(10:04):
open ground, and behind a clump of these, not far
from the door, he lay down, filled his pipe and
gave himself up to his dreams. The light still showed
in the window, but even as he looked, it went out,
leaving the front of the house dark, and as it
seemed to him, unfriendly and forbidding. Perhaps she'll look out
before going to bed, he thought, as he gazed disconsolately
(10:26):
at the blank, unsympathetic opening, but he could see no
movement Therein he lost count of time as he lay,
dreaming of the girl whose existence had become more to
him than his very life. And it was not until
he suddenly realized that he had become stiff and cramped
from the cold that he looked at his watch nearly two.
(10:48):
Once more, he glanced sorrowfully at the window, realizing that
no comfort was to be obtained therefrom and decided he
might as well make his way back, for all the
ease of mind he was getting. He turned slowly to
get up, but just as he did so, he noticed
a slight movement at the side of the house before him,
and he remained motionless, gazing intently forward. Then spellbound, he
(11:11):
watched mister Coburn leave by the side door, walk quickly
to the shed, unlock a door, and disappear within. There
was something so secretive in the way the manager looked
around before venturing into the open, and so stealthy about
his whole walk and bearing that Merriman's heart beat more
quickly as he wondered if he was now on the
threshold of some revelation of the mystery of that outwardly
(11:34):
innocent place. Obeying a sudden instinct, he rose from his
hiding place in the bushes and crept silently across the
sward to the door by which the other had entered.
It was locked, and the whole place was dark and silent.
Were it not for what he had just seen, Merriman
would have believed it deserted. But it was evident that
(11:54):
some secret and perhaps sinister activity was in progress within,
and for the moment he forgot even Madeline in his
anxiety to learn its nature. He crept silently round the shed,
trying each door and peering into each window, but without result.
All remained fast and in darkness, and though he listened
with the utmost intentness of which he was capable, he
(12:16):
could not catch any sound. His round of the building completed,
he paused in doubt. Should he retire while there was
time and watch for mister Coburn's reappearance with perhaps some
of his accomplices, or should he wait at the door
and tackle him on the matter when he came out.
His first preference was for the latter course, But as
he thought it over, he felt it would be better
(12:37):
to reserve his knowledge, and he turned to make for cover.
But even as he did so, he heard the manager say,
in low, harsh tones, hands up now, or I fire,
And swinging round, he found himself gazing into the bore
of a small, deadly looking, repeating pistol. Automatically, he raised
his arms, and for a few moments both men stood motionless,
(12:59):
staring perplexedly at one another. Then mister Coburn lowered the
pistol and attempted a laugh. A laugh nervous, shaky, and
without merriment. His lips smiled, but his eyes remained cold
and venomous. Good Heavens, Merriman, But you did give me
a start, he cried, making an evident effort to be jocular.
(13:20):
What in all the world are you doing here at
this hour? Sorry for my greeting, but one has to
be careful here, you know. The district is notorious for brigands.
Merriman was not usually very prompt to meet emergencies. He
generally realized when it was too late what he ought
to have said or done in any given circumstances. But
on this occasion, a flash of veritable inspiration revealed a
(13:42):
way by which he might, at one and the same
time account for his presence, disarmed the manager's suspicions and
perhaps even gain his point with regard to Madeline. He
smiled back at the other, Sorry for startling you, mister Coburn.
I have been looking for you for some days to
discuss a very delicate man, and I came out late
this evening in the hope of attracting your attention after
(14:03):
Miss Coburn had retired, so that our chat could be
quite confidential. But in the darkness I fell and hurt
my knee, and I spent so much time in waiting
for it to get better that I was ashamed to
go to the house. Imagine my delight when just as
I was turning to leave, I saw you coming down
to the shed, and I followed with the object of
trying to attract your attention. He hardly expected that mister
(14:25):
Cockburn would have accepted his statement, but whatever the manager
believed privately, he gave no sign of suspicion. I'm glad
your journey was not fruitless, he answered, courteously. As a
matter of fact, my neuralgia kept me from sleeping, and
I found I had forgotten my bottle of aspirin down here,
where I had brought it for the same purpose this morning.
(14:45):
It seemed worth the trouble of coming for it, and
I came. As he spoke, mister Coburn took from his
pocket and held up for Merriman's inspection a tiny file
half full of white tablets. It was now Merriman's turn
to be skeptical, but he murmured polite reco threats, and
as convincing away as he was able. Let's go back
to my office, the manager continued. If you want a
(15:06):
private chat, you could have it there. He unlocked the door,
and passing in first lit a reading lamp on his desk,
then re locking the door behind his visitor and unostentatiously
slipping the key into his pocket. He sat down at
the desk, waved Merriman to a chair, and, producing a
box of cigars, passed it across The windows. Merriman noticed
(15:27):
were covered by heavy blinds, and it was evident that
no one could see into the room, nor could the
light be observed from without. The door behind him was
locked and in mister Coburn's pocket was the key as
well as a revolver, while Merriman was unarmed. Moreover, mister
Coburn was the larger and heavier, if not the stronger, man,
of the two. It was true his words and manner
(15:48):
were those of a friend, but the cold hatred in
his eyes revealed his purpose. Merriman instantly realized he was
in very real personal danger, and it was borne in
on him that if he was to get out of
that room alive, it was to his own wits he
must trust. But he was no coward, and he did
not forget to limp as he crossed the room, nor
did his hand shake as he stretched it out to
(16:09):
take a cigar. When he came within the radius of
the lamp, he noticed with satisfaction that his coat was
covered with fragments of moss and leaves, and he rather
ostentatiously brushed these away, partly to prove to the other
his calmness, and partly to draw attention to them, in
the hope that they would be accepted as evidence of
his fall. Fearing lest if they began a desultory conversation,
(16:30):
he might be tricked by his astute opponent into giving
himself away, he left the latter no opportunity to make
a remark, but plunged at once into his subject. I
feel myself, mister Cockburn, he began not a little in
your debt for granting me this interview. But the matter
in which I wished to speak to you is so
delicate and confidential that I think you will agree that
(16:51):
any precautions against eavesdroppers are justifiable. He spoke at first
somewhat formally, but as interest in his subject quickened, he
gradually became more conversational. The first thing I have come
to tell you, he went on, may not be very
pleasant hearing to you, but it is a matter of
almost life and death importance to me. I have come,
(17:11):
mister Coburn, very deeply and sincerely, to love your daughter.
Mister Coburn frowned slightly, but he did not seem surprised,
nor did he reply except by a slight bow. Merriman
continued that in itself need not necessarily be of interest
to you, But there is more to tell, and it
is in the second point that the real importance of
(17:31):
my statement lies, and on Aunt hinges everything that I
have to say to you, Madeline, Sir has given me
a definite assurance that my love for her is returned. Still,
mister Coburn made no answer, save then by another slight
inclination of his head, but his eyes had grown anxious
and troubled. Not unnaturally, Merriman resumed. I begged her to
(17:54):
marry me, but she saw fit to decline in view
of the admission she had just made. I will somewhat
surprised that her refusal was so vehement. I pressed her
for the reason, but she utterly declined to give it.
Then an idea struck me, and I asked her if
it was because she feared that your connection with this
syndicate might lead to unhappiness. At first she would not
(18:15):
reply nor give me any satisfaction. But at last, by
persistent questioning, and only when she saw I knew a
great deal more about the business than she did herself,
she admitted that that was indeed the barrier. Not to
put too fine a point on it. It is better,
is it, not, sir, to be perfectly candid. She is
living in terror and dread of your arrest, and she
(18:36):
won't marry me for fear that if it were to happen,
she might bring disgrace on me. Mister Coburn had not
moved during this speech, except that his face had become paler,
and the look of cold menace in his eyes seemed
charged with a still more vindictive hatred. Then he answered slowly,
I can only assume, mister Merriman, that your mind has
(18:58):
become temporarily unhinged. But even with such an excuse, you
cannot really believe that I am going to wait here
and listen to you making such statements. Merriman bent forward, Sir,
he said, earnestly, I give you my word of honor,
and earnestly ask you to believe that I am approaching
you as a friend. I am myself an interested party.
(19:20):
I have sought this interview for Madeleine's sake, for her sake,
and for her sake only, I have come to ask
you to discuss with me the best way out of
the difficulty. Mister Coburn rose abruptly. The best way out
of the difficulty, he declared, no longer attempting to disguise
the hatred he felt, is for you to take yourself
(19:40):
off and never to show your face here again. I
am amazed at you. He took his automatic pistol out
of his pocket. Don't you know that you are completely
in my power? If I chose, I could shoot you
like a dog and sink your body in the river,
and no one would ever know what had become of you.
Merriman's heart was beating rapid. He had the uncomfortable suspicion
(20:02):
that he had only to turn his back to get
a bullet into it. He assumed a confidence he was
far from feeling. On the contrary, mister Cockburn, he said, quietly,
it is you who are in our power. I'm afraid
you don't quite appreciate the situation. It is true you
could shoot me now, but if you did, nothing could
save you. It would be the rope for you, and
(20:23):
prison for your confederates, and what about your daughter? Then
I tell you, sir, I'm not such a fool as
you take me for knowing what I do. Do you
think it likely I should put myself in your power
unless I knew I was safe. His assurance was not
without its effect. The other's face grew paler, and he
sat heavily down in his chair. I'll hear what you
(20:44):
have to say, he said, harshly, though without letting go
his weapon. Then let me begin at the beginning. You
remember that first evening when I was here, when you
so kindly supplied me with petrol. Sir, you were correct
when you told Captain Beamish and mister Bullah that I
had noticed the changing of the lory number plate I had.
(21:05):
Mister Coburn started slightly, but he did not speak, and
Merriman went on. I was interested that the thing conveyed
nothing to me, But some time later I mentioned it casually,
and Hilliard, who has a mania for puzzles, overheard. He
suggested my joining him on his trip and calling to
see if we could solve it. You, mister Coburn, said
another thing to your friends that though I might have
(21:26):
noticed about the lory, you are certain neither Hilliard nor
I had seen anything suspicious at the clearing there. Sir,
you were wrong. Though at that time we could not
tell what was going on, we knew it was something illegal.
Coburn was impressed. At last. He sat motionless, staring at
the speaker. As Merriman remained silent. He moved. Go on,
(21:51):
he said, hoarsely, licking his dried lips. I would ask
you please to visualize the situation when we left. Hilliard
believed he was on the track of a criminal organization
carrying on illicit operations on a large scale. He believed
that by lodging with the police the information he had gained,
the break up of the organization and the capture of
its members would be assured, and that he would stand
(22:13):
to gain much kudos. But he did not know what
the operations were, and he hesitated to come forward, lest
by not waiting and investigating further, he should destroy his
chance of handing over to the authorities a complete case.
He was therefore exceedingly keen that we should carry on
inquiries at what I may call the English end of
the business. Such was Hilliard's attitude. I trust, I make
(22:37):
myself clear again, Cobert nodded, without speaking. My position was different.
I had by that time come to care for Madeline,
and I saw the effect any disclosure must have on her.
I therefore wished things kept secret, and I urged Hilliard
to carry out his second idea and investigate further so
as to make his case complete. He made my assistance
(22:59):
a condition of agreement, and I therefore consented to help him.
Mister Coburn was now ghastly and was listening with breathless
earnestness to his visitor. Merriman realized what he had always suspected,
that the man was weak and a bit of a coward,
and he began to believe his bluff would carry him through.
I need not trouble you. He went on with all
(23:19):
the details of our search. It is enough to say
that we found out what we wanted. We went to Hull,
discovered the wharf at Ferraby, made the acquaintance of Benson,
and witness what went on there. We know all about
Archer and how he plants your stuff, and Morton, who
had us under observation, and whom we properly tricked. I
don't claim any credit for it. All that belongs to Hilliard,
(23:39):
and I admit we did not learn certain small details
of your scheme, but the main points are clear, clear
enough to get convictions anyway. After a pause to let
his words create their full effect, Merriman continued, then arose
the problem that had bothered us before. Hilliard was wild
to go to the authorities with his story on Madeline's account,
(24:00):
I still wanted it kept quiet. I needn't recount our argument,
suffice it to say that at last we compromised, Hilliard
agreed to wait for a month for the sake of
our friendship and the help I had given him. He
undertook to give me a month to settle something about Madeline.
Mister Coburn, nearly half that month is gone, and I
am not one step farther on. The manager wiped the
(24:23):
drops of sweat from his pallid brow. Merriman's quiet, confident manner,
with its apparent absence of bluff or threat, had had
its effect on him. He was evidently thoroughly frightened, and
seemed to think it no longer worth while to plead ignorance,
as Merriman had hoped and intended. He appeared to conclude
that conciliation would be his best chance. Then, no one
(24:45):
but you two know so far, he asked, a shifty,
sly look passing over his face. Merriman read his thoughts
and bluffed again. Yes and no, he answered, No one
but we too know at present. On the other we
have naturally taken all reasonable precautions. Hilliard prepared a full
statement of the matter, which we both signed, and thus
(25:07):
he sent to his banker with a request that unless
he claimed it in person before the given date the
banker was to convey it to Scotland Yard. If anything
happens to me here, Hilliard will go at once to
the yard, and if anything happens to him, our document
will be sent there. And in it we have suggested
that if either of us disappear, it will be equivalent
to adding murder to the other charges made. It was enough.
(25:31):
Mister Cockburn sat broken and completely cowed to Merriman. He
seemed suddenly to have become an old man. For several minutes,
silence reigned, and then at last the other spoke. What
do you want me to do? He asked, in a
tremulous voice, hardly louder than a whisper. Merriman's heart leaped.
(25:52):
To consider your daughter, mister Cockburn, he answered promptly. All
I want is to marry Madeline, and for her sake,
I want you to get out of this thing before
the crash comes. Mister Coburn once more wiped the drops
of sweat from his forehead. Good Lord, he cried hoarsely.
Ever since it started, I have been trying to get
out of it. I was forced into it against my will,
(26:14):
and I would give my soul if I could do
as you say, and get free. But I can't. I can't.
He buried his head in his hands and sat motionless,
leaning on his desk. But your daughter, mister Coburn, Merriman persisted,
for her sake, something must be done. Mister Coburn shook
his clenched fists in the air. Damn Nation, take you,
(26:37):
he cried, with a sudden access of rage. Do you
think I care about myself? Do you think I'd sit
here and listen to you talking as you've done if
it wasn't for her. I tell you, i'd shoot you
as you sit if I didn't know from my own
observation that she is fond of you. I swear it's
the only thing that has saved you. He rose to
(26:57):
his feet and began pacing jerkily to and fro See here,
he continued wildly. Go away from here before I do it.
I can't stand any more of you at present. Go
now and come back on Friday night at the same time,
and I'll tell you of my decision. Here's the key,
he threw it down on the desk. Get out quick
before I do for you. Merriman was for a moment
(27:19):
inclined to stand his ground. But realizing that not only
had he carried his point as far as he could
have expected, but also that his companion was in so
excited a condition as hardly to be accountable for his actions,
he decided discretion was the better part, and merely saying
very well Friday night, he unlocked the door and took
his leave. On the whole He was well pleased with
(27:42):
his interview. In the first place, he had, by his readiness,
escaped in imminent personal danger. What was almost as important,
he had broken the ice with mister Coburn about Madeline,
and the former had not only declared that he was
aware of the state of his daughter's feelings, but he
had expressed no objection to the proposed match. Further, and
understanding as to mister Coburn's own position had been come
(28:04):
to He had practically admitted that the syndicate was a
felonious conspiracy, and had stated that he would do almost
anything to get out of it. Finally, he had promised
a decision on the whole question in three days time,
quite a triumph, Merriman thought. On the other hand, he
had given the manager a warning of the danger which
the latter might communicate to his fellow conspirators, with the
(28:25):
result that all of them might escape from the net
in which Hilliard, at any rate wished to enmesh them.
And just to this extent he had become a co
partner in their crime. And though it was true that
he had escaped from his immediate peril, he had undoubtedly
placed himself and Hilliard in very real danger. It was
by no means impossible that the gang would decide to
murder both of the men whose knowledge threatened them, in
(28:48):
the hope of bluffing the bank manager out of the
letter which they would believe he held. Merriman had invented
this letter on the spur of the moment, and he
would have felt a good deal happier if he knew
that it really existed. Decided that he would write to
Hilliard immediately and get him to make it a reality.
A great deal, he thought, depended on the character of Cockburn.
(29:08):
If he was weak and cowardly, he would try to
save his own skin and let the others walk into
the net. Particularly might he do this if he had
suffered at their hands in the way he suggested. On
the other hand, a strong man would undoubtedly consult his
fellow conspirators, and see that a pretty determined fight was
made for their liberty and their source of gain. He
had thought of all this when it suddenly flashed into
(29:30):
his mind that mister Colburn's presence in the shed at
two in the morning in itself required a lot of explanation.
He did not for a moment believe the aspirin story.
The man had looked so shifty while he was speaking
that even at the time Merriman had decided he was lying.
What then, could he have been doing? He puzzled over
the questions, but without result. Then it occurred to him that,
(29:51):
as he was doing nothing that evening, he might as
well write out again to the clearing to see if
any nocturnal activities were undertaken. Midnight therefore, or found him
once more ensconced behind a group of shrubs, in full
view of both the house and the shed. It was
again a perfect night, and again he lay dreaming of
the girl who was so near in body and spirit,
and yet so infinitely far beyond his reach. Time passed slowly,
(30:15):
but the hours wore gradually round until his watch showed
two o'clock. Then, just as he was thinking that he
need hardly wait much longer. He was considerably thrilled to
see mister Coburn once more appear at the side door
of the house, and in the same stealthy, secretive way
as on the previous night, walk hurriedly to the shed
and let himself in by the office door. At first,
(30:36):
Merriman thought of following him again in the hope of
learning the nature of these strange proceedings, but a moment's
thought showed him he must run no risk of discovering.
If Coburn learned that he was being spied on, he
would at once doubt Merriman's statement that he knew the
syndicate's secret. It would be better therefore to lie low
and await events. But the only other interesting event that
(30:57):
happened was that some fifteen minutes later, the man left
the shed and with the same show of secrecy, returned
to his house, disappearing into the side door. So intrigued
was Merriman by the whole business that he determined to
repeat his visit the following night also. He did so,
and once again witnessed mister Coburn's stealthy walk to the
shed at two a m. And his equally stealthy return
(31:19):
at two fifteen. Rack his brains as he would over
the problem of these nocturnal visits. Merriman could think of
no explanation. What for three consecutive nights could bring the
manager down to the sawmill, He could not imagine, but
he was clear it was not the pit prop industry.
If the Girondine had been in he would have once
(31:40):
more suspected smuggling, but she was then at Farrabee. No,
it certainly did not work in with the smuggling. Still
less did it suggest false note printing unless Merriman's heart
beat more quickly as a new idea entered his mind.
Suppose the notes were printed there at the mill. Supposed
there was a seller under the engine house, and suppose
the work was done at night. It was true they
(32:02):
had not seen signs of a seller, but if this
surmise was correct, it was not likely they would. At
first sight, this theory seemed a real advance, but a
little further thought showed it had serious objections. Firstly, it
did not explain Coburn's nightly visits. If the manager had
spent some hours in the works, it might have indicated
the working of a press but what in that way
(32:23):
could be done in fifteen minutes Further, and this seemed
to put the idea quite out of court. If the
notes were being produced at the clearing, why the changing
of the lorry numbers that would then be a part
of the business quite unconnected with illicit traffic. After much thought,
Merriman had to admit to himself that here was one
more of the series of insoluble puzzles with which they
(32:44):
found themselves faced. The next night was Friday, and in
accordance with the arrangement made with mister Coburn, Merriman once
again went out to the clearing, presenting himself at the
work's door at two in the morning. Mister Coburn at
once opened to his knock, and after locking the door,
led the way to his office. There he wasted no
time in preliminaries. I've thought this over, Merriman, he said,
(33:06):
and his manner was very different from that of the
previous interview. And I'm bound to say that I've realized that,
though interested, your actions toward me has been correct, not
to say generous. Now I've made up my mind what
to do, and I trust you will see your way
to fall in with my ideas. There is a meaning
of the syndicate on Thursday week, I should have been
present in any case, and I have decided that whatever
(33:29):
may be the result, I will tell them that I
am going to break with them. I will give ill
health as my reason for this step, and fortunately or unfortunately,
I can do this with truth. As my heart is
seriously diseased. I can easily provide the necessary doctor's certificates.
If they accept my resignation well and good, I will
emigrate to my brother in South America, and you and
(33:50):
Madeline can be married. If they decline well, mister Cockburn
shrugged his shoulders. Your embarrassment will be otherwise removed, he paused.
Merriman would have spoken, but mister Cowburn held up his
hand for silence and went on. I confess I have
been terribly upset for the last three days to discover
my wisest course, and even now I am far from
(34:13):
certain that my decision is best. I do not want
to go back on my former friends, and on account
of Madeleine, I cannot go back on you. Therefore I
cannot warn the others of their danger. But on the
other hand, I won't give your life into their hands,
for if they knew what I know now, you and
Hilliard would be dead men. Inside twenty four hours. Mister
Coburn spoke simply and with a certain dignity, and Merriman
(34:35):
found himself disposed not only to believe what he had heard,
but even to understand and sympathize with the man in
the embarrassing circumstances in which he found himself that his
difficulties were of his own making. There could be but
little doubt but how far he had put himself in
the power of his associates through deliberate evil doing, and
how far through mistakes or weaknesses. There was, of course
(34:58):
no way of learning. At the end of an hour's discussion,
mister Coburn had agreed at all costs to sever his
connection with the syndicate, to emigrate to his brother in Chile,
and to do his utmost to induce his daughter to
remain in England to marry Merriman. On his side, Merriman
undertook to hold back the lodging of information at Scotland
Yard for one more week to enable the other's arrangements
(35:19):
to be carried out, there being nothing to keep him
in Bordeaux. Merriman left for London that day, and the
next evening he was closeted with Hilliard in the latter's
room discussing the affair. Hilliard at first was most unwilling
to postpone their visit to the yard, but he agreed
on Merriman's explaining that he had pledged himself to the delay.
So the days for Merriman, heavily waited with anxiety and suspense,
(35:42):
began slowly to drag by. His fate and the fate
of the girl he loved, hung in the balance, and
not the least irksome feature of his position was his
own utter impotence. There was nothing that he could do,
no action which would take him out of himself and
ease the tension of his thoughts. As day exceeded day
and the silence remained unbroken, he became more and more upset.
(36:04):
At the end of a week, he was almost beside
himself with worry and chagrin, so much so that he
gave up attending his office altogether, and was only restrained
from rushing back to Bordeaux by the knowledge that to
force himself once more on Madeleine might be to destroy
once and forever any hopes he might otherwise have had.
It was now four days since the Thursday on which
(36:26):
mister Coburn had stated that the meeting of the Syndicate
was to have been held, and only three days to
the date on which the friends had agreed to tell
their story at Scotland Yard. What if he received no
news during those three days, would Hilliard agree to a
further postponement. He feared not, and he was racked with
anxiety as to whether he should cross that day to
France and seek another interview with mister Coburn. But even
(36:50):
as he sat with the morning paper in his hand,
news was nearer than he imagined. Listlessly, he turned over
the sheets, glancing with but scant attention to the headlines,
automatically running his eyes over the paragraphs, and when he
came to one headed Mystery of a Taxi Cab, he
absent mindedly began to read it also, But he had
not gone very far when his manner changed. Starting to
(37:12):
his feet, he stared at the column with horror stricken eyes,
while his face grew pallid and his pipe dropped to
the floor from his open mouth. With the newspaper still
tightly grasped in his hand, he ran three steps at
a time down the stairs of his flat, and, calling
a taxi, was driven to Scotland Yard. End of Chapter eleven.
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