Wallace of the Secret Service (4 page)

‘It is a wonder you are not under suspicion, Achmet,’ commented Wallace. ‘From what I was told last night, I understand that a close watch was being kept on all Englishmen landing in Port Said, as the Nationalists expected men from my department to come out. Probably Henderson was under surveillance from the time he arrived, and he must have been seen to meet you, go with you to your house, and emerge disguised.’

The Arab shook his head.

‘Not so, effendi,’ he replied. ‘Mr Henderson awaited me on the ship whither I went in my capacity as a seller of Turkish delight. It was not difficult to slip down to his cabin, the number of which he had included in the code wireless I had received from him when he was at sea. There I handed him the clothing he had requested, helped to darken his face and hands and afix a moustache, received his instructions, and returned to my goods. He went ashore by himself, and left for Cairo immediately. He had already given instructions for his luggage to be sent to the office of the steamship’s agents, there to await him.’

‘I see.’ Sir Leonard rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘That sounds as though he took precautions enough. I am afraid I did him the injustice of thinking he had been careless.’

A sound from the bed caused them both to turn in that direction. Henderson was awake and, although his face was terribly emaciated, he looked better than he had done on his arrival. Wallace hastened to his side, and fed him with toast soaked in tea until he could eat no more. Already a little colour was stealing through the mixture of grime and stain on his cheeks.

‘Had a bad time, old chap?’ asked Sir Leonard.

‘Pretty bad, sir,’ was the whispered reply. ‘They were starving me to – to force me to tell them what I knew.’

‘So Achmet has told me,’ nodded his chief. ‘Do you feel strong enough to tell me what happened?’

Henderson slowly nodded his head.

‘When I came to Cairo,’ he began in such a low voice that Wallace had to lean towards him to hear what he said, ‘I went straight to the house of Achmet’s friend. There by careful inquiries I learnt the names of the ruling spirits of the extreme Nationalist party, and was able to get in touch with one of them. I posed as a merchant from Wady Halfa who had come to Cairo on business, and pretended that I had a deep hatred of the British. I was invited to my new friend’s house, and there was subjected to a thorough cross-examination. My knowledge of the country, and the fluency with which I speak the language, enabled me to answer all questions with ease, and I am convinced I lulled any suspicions he may have had. He refused to discuss the political situation with me, however, but another man called while I was there, and the two of them held a whispered conversation in a
corner of the room remote from me. That is where my ability to lip-read came in useful, sir. I saw that they were arranging a big meeting for the following night in that house, and I made up my mind to be present.’

He paused, and Wallace held a cup of tea to his lips. When he had drunk a few drops he pushed the cup away, and continued.

‘The following afternoon I called at the house with the intention of secreting myself there if possible, for I knew that I would stand no chance at night of getting anywhere near it. I was admitted, but told that my friend was out. After waiting for some time I pretended to leave but hid myself in the garden, and reentered the house as soon as I felt sure that I could do so safely. In the room where the meeting was to be held was a large carved chest, and in it I concealed myself and awaited events.

‘It was a most uncomfortable ordeal. I was in that box for nearly six hours before the meeting took place, and by that time my limbs were so cramped that practically all feeling had left them. But I forgot my disabilities when the conspirators arrived. There must have been twenty or thirty of them, and they discussed plans for a great demonstration against the British, including the mutiny of Egyptian troops in the Sudan and the massacre of all British officials and advisers. The owner of the house was apparently the leading spirit, and in his possession I learnt was a book containing the names of every important member of the extreme party with a description of the duty allotted to him when the uprising occurs.

‘The book was kept in a safe in that room I heard and at the suggestion of somebody, was brought out, and the names and duties read over. It was then returned to its receptacle, a date was fixed for the demonstration, and the meeting broke up.’

‘What is the date?’ asked Wallace sharply.

‘The first of September, sir.’

‘Three weeks from today,’ calculated Sir Leonard quickly. ‘Go on!’

‘I made up my mind to obtain the book,’ continued Henderson, ‘and waited in that awful chest for another half hour. Then I tried to get out, but I was so numbed that I could hardly move. After some time I managed, with much effort, and by gradual stages, to push up the heavy lid, but my arms were almost nerveless, and it crashed down again with noise enough to rouse the dead. Almost at once I heard two or three people running into the room, the chest was opened, and I was discovered. There is not much more to tell, sir. They hauled me out; I could not stand, and was unable to make a fight for it. At first they were inclined to kill me, but the owner of the house decided to keep me alive, and force me to tell what I knew. It was useless to keep up the pretence that I was an Egyptian myself. Indeed he immediately guessed I was an Englishman, for he tore off the false moustache I was wearing, and rubbed some of the stain from my face. I was thrown into an underground, evil-smelling cellar full of rubbish, and without an article of furniture. Every day I was brought up and questioned, either by the fellow himself, or his friends. They occasionally gave me water, but nothing to eat. Then at last, I was released and brought here. I don’t know how you managed it, sir, but I owe you my life.’

Sir Leonard explained how he had been able to obtain Henderson’s freedom, then ordered the latter to try and sleep again.

‘I will look after you myself until you can get about,’ he declared. ‘You must stay here for today. Tomorrow, if you are
better, I’ll engage another room close by. It’s beef-tea and sleep for you, Henderson, for today anyway. Now, Achmet,’ he turned to the Arab, who had followed Henderson’s story with deep interest, ‘you and I are going to find our way into that house, and obtain the book – the sooner the better.’

A gleam came into Achmet’s eyes, but Henderson looked alarmed.

‘Don’t you think they’ll expect something like that, and be waiting for you?’ he asked.

‘We’ll have to risk it,’ was the calm reply.

‘I wish I could come with you, sir.’

‘My dear chap, you’ve done your share. Achmet and I will manage all right. Will you describe to him the house, and the way to get to it?’

Henderson did so; then Sir Leonard told the Arab to go, and meet him at ten that night by the bridge. Achmet seemed to think that the hour was too early, but Wallace explained that he wanted to inspect the place before attempting to enter it.

‘When you go down now,’ he added, ‘look as disgruntled as you like, call me the worst names you can think of, and let it be known that, after ordering your attendance and arranging for a
dahabeeyah
, I have changed my mind and dismissed you. That ought to keep suspicion from you. Do you think you can find the house from Mr Henderson’s description?’

The grinning man declared that he could, and departed. Sir Leonard shaved, bathed, and dressed, then interviewed the manager, as a result of which no servants went near his room all day, except to hand in bowls of beef-tea. No doubt this caused a certain amount of mystification – the manager himself was puzzled, for he had been told very little – but
Wallace did not mind very much. By evening Henderson’s condition had greatly improved, and he was able to have a bath and shave, which made an extraordinary difference to his appearance.

After dinner Wallace took some garments from a suitcase, changed into them, then stained his face, neck and right arm a deep brown. He smiled rather ruefully at the other – an artificial arm does not require any stain to make it brown, especially when the hand is covered by a glove of that colour. He had completed the transformation, and was examining himself critically in a mirror, when Henderson, who had been sleeping, awoke. The latter, to his astonishment and dismay, saw a typical fellah standing before him and demanded to know what he was doing there. Sir Leonard laughed and announced himself, whereupon the other whistled with amazement.

‘It’s a great disguise, Sir Leonard,’ he remarked.

‘Glad you like it,’ returned his chief shortly. ‘Now, as soon as I’ve gone, lock yourself in, and open the door for no one until you hear my voice. I’ve bolted both the windows, though I doubt if anybody could get in that way; and here is a revolver. Put it under your pillow.’

He handed his subordinate the weapon, and secreted another in his clothing in handy proximity to the wicked-looking knife already stuck in his girdle, then went quietly to the door.

‘Good luck, Sir Leonard,’ said Henderson.

Wallace nodded his thanks, and the next moment was looking cautiously up and down the corridor. Nobody was about, and he slipped out, made his way to the service stairs, and quietly descended. Twice he was compelled to hide to avoid running into servants, but eventually was out of the hotel
walking swiftly to the bridge. He heard a clock strike ten just as he reached it to find Achmet leaning on the parapet gazing down at the
feluccas
riding at anchor below. He tapped him on the shoulder, but Achmet looked him up and down without recognition until Wallace quietly announced himself, then a similar look of surprise came on the Arab’s face to that which had been on Henderson’s.

‘It is wonderful,’ he breathed.

‘Not very appropriate, I’m afraid,’ muttered Sir Leonard, ‘but a good disguise.’

He chuckled to himself as he remembered that the last time he had worn it had been at a Covent Garden ball.

Without another word Achmet set off, with the other in close attendance. Before long they had plunged into a district of narrow streets and labyrinthine alleys, where the old buildings huddled together, and the latticed windows above appeared to lean over and almost touch each other. Although late, the tortuous streets were crowded with water carriers, merchants, peddlers, closely-veiled women, beggars, donkeys, horses, goats and, here and there, camels. After walking for some time they reached a slightly wider, almost deserted, thoroughfare containing houses of a better class. Before one, surrounded by a high wall, Achmet stopped.

‘This is the place, Excellency,’ he announced simply.

Walking on a dozen yards, Sir Leonard squatted down in the deeper shadows on the opposite side of the road with his companion beside him. For a long time he contemplated the building in silence, then whistled softly to himself.

‘It is going to be a bigger job to enter that place than I imagined,’ he murmured at last. ‘I thought we might have been able to climb the wall and get into the garden easily enough, but it’s too high.
There is only one thing for it, and that is to knock at the gate, overcome the man who opens it, and truss him up somewhere where he won’t be discovered until we have finished our job. Once in the garden, the rest shouldn’t be too difficult.’

Achmet nodded but made no comment, and the two continued to squat where they were for another half hour. Then Wallace rose. Ten minutes before, a belated string of camels had passed, moving with stately deliberation towards the bazaar. Since then not a human being, or an animal of any sort, had been seen, and it seemed safe enough to make the attempt.

‘As soon as the gate opens,’ he whispered, ‘push your way in with me, and shut it directly we are inside. Don’t bother about the gatekeeper, I’ll deal with him.’

In response to his knock a little grill opened, and he could dimly see the outlines of a dark face beyond.

‘What dost thou require?’ a voice asked.

‘We have a message for the Lord,’ replied Achmet promptly.

The heavy wooden door swung open, and Wallace entered immediately, pushing back the man who stood before him. Achmet followed, and closed the barrier. The gatekeeper commenced to utter protests, but Wallace produced his revolver, and brought down the butt on his head. He collapsed without a sound, the Englishman catching him as he fell, and lowering him to the ground. Looking round the small garden, Wallace noticed the dim outlines of a well, and thither he and his companion conveyed the unconscious form of their victim. Once there, they tore strips from his own clothing, and gagged and bound him, leaving him lying well hidden behind the wheel. The first part of their task had been easy, now it remained for them to get into the house, which was in complete darkness, as though the inmates
had gone to bed. Henderson’s description of the interior had left a picture in Sir Leonard’s mind, and once inside he felt he could not go wrong.

It was a peculiar building, half ancient, half modern, part of it having obviously been pulled down and rebuilt. Wallace studied it in silence for some minutes, endeavouring to calculate where the room, which was his objective, could be. He was not long making up his mind, and crept towards a low balcony followed by his assistant. He could just reach it, and with remarkable agility, considering he was only able to use one arm, which brought a low grunt of admiration from Achmet, swung himself up. The Arab was soon standing by his side, and they found their further progress barred by two French windows. But to a man who had studied the intricacies of safe-breaking, the opening of a locked window presented little difficulty. He produced a bunch of small steel instruments from somewhere among the folds of his clothing, and worked silently at top and bottom where the bolts were sheathed. In five minutes they were in the room, listening intently. No sound disturbed the silence, and presently a thin ray of light shot out, circled quickly round, and was gone. Sir Leonard Wallace had taken his bearings, found also that his calculations had been correct; he and Achmet had undoubtedly come to the right apartment. In his rapid survey he had glimpsed the chest in which Henderson had crouched for so long, the table round which the conspirators must have sat, the safe remote in a corner which probably contained the precious book. He had noticed also that there was only one entrance apart from the windows.