Terror Keep/Chapter 16

Margaret Belman recovered consciousness, she was in the open air, lying in a little recess, effectively hidden from the mouth of the cave. A man in a torn shirt and ragged trousers was standing by her side, looking down at her. As she opened her eyes she saw him put his finger to his mouth, as though to signal silence. His hair was unkempt; streaks of dried blood zigzagged down his face, and the hair above, she saw, was matted. Yet there was a certain kindliness in his disfigured face which reassured her, as he knelt down and, making a funnel of his hands, whispered:

"Be quiet! I'm sorry to have frightened you, but I was scared you'd shout if you saw me. I suppose I look pretty awful."

His grin was very reassuring.

"Who are you?" she answered in the same tone.

"My name's Brill, C.I.D."

"How did you get here?" she asked.

"I'd like to be able to tell you," he answered grimly. "You're Miss Belman, aren't you?"

She nodded. He lifted his head, listening, and, flattening himself against the rock, craned out slowly and peeped round the edge of his hiding place. He did not move for about five minutes, and by this time she had risen to her feet. Her knees were dreadfully shaky; she felt physically sick; her mouth was dry and parched.

Apparently satisfied, he crept back to her side.

"I was left on duty in Reeder's room. I thought I heard him calling from the window—you can't distinguish voices when they whisper—asking me to come out quick as he wanted me. I'd hardly dropped to the ground before—!" He touched his head gingerly and winced. "That's all I remember till I woke up and found myself drowning. I've been in the cave all the morning—naturally."

"Why naturally?" she whispered.

"Because the beach is covered with water at high tide and the cave's the only place. It is a little too densely populated for me just now."

She stared at him in amazement.

"Populated? What do you mean?"

"Whisper!" he warned her, for she had raised her voice.

Again he listened.

"I'd like to know how they get down—Daver and that old devil."

She felt herself going white.

"You mean ... Flack?"

He nodded.

"Flack's only been here about an hour, and how he got down, God knows. I suppose our fellows are patrolling the house?"

"The police?" she asked in astonishment.

"Flack's headquarters—didn't you know it? I suppose you wouldn't. I thought Reeder—I mean Mr. Reeder— told you everything."

He was rather a talkative young man, more than a little exuberant at finding himself alive, and with good reason.

"I've been dodging in and out the cave all the morning. They've got a sentry on duty up there"—he nodded toward Siltbury. "It's a marvellous organisation. They held up a gold convoy this morning and got away with it—I heard the old man telling his daughter. The strange thing is that, though he wasn't there to superintend the steal, his plan worked out like clockwork. It's a curious thing, any crook will work for old Flack. He's employed the cleverest people in the business, and Ravini is the only man that ever sold him."

"Do you know what has happened to Mr. Ravini?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"He's dead, I expect. There are a lot of things in the cave that I haven't seen, and some that I have. They've got a petrol boat inside ... as big as a church! ... the boat, I mean ... hush!"

Again he shrank against the cliff. Voices were coming nearer and nearer. Perhaps it was the peculiar acoustics of the cave which gave him the illusion that the speakers were standing almost at their elbow. Brill recognised the thin, harsh voice of the old man and grinned again, but it was not a pleasant smile to see.

"There's something wrong, something damnably wrong. What is it, Olga?"

"Nothing, Father."

Margaret recognised the voice of Olga Crewe.

"You have been very good and very patient, my love, and I would not have planned to come out, but I wanted to see you settled in life. I am very ambitious for you, Olga."

A pause, and then:

"Yes, Father."

Olga Crewe's voice was a little dispirited, but apparently the old man did not notice this.

"You are to have the finest husband in the land, my dear. You shall have a house that any princess would envy. It shall be of white marble with golden cupolas ... you shall be the richest woman in the land, Olga. I have planned this for you. Night after night as I lay in bed in that dreadful place I said to myself: 'I must go out and settle Olga's future.' That is why I came out—only for that reason. All my life I have worked for you."

"Mother says" began the girl.

"Pah!" Old John Flack almost spat the word. "An unimaginative commoner with the soul of a housekeeper! She has looked after you well? Good. All the better for her. I would never have forgiven her if she had neglected you. And Daver? He has been respectful? He has given you all the money you wanted?"

"Yes, father."

Margaret thought she detected a catch in the girl's voice.

"Daver is a good servant. I will make his fortune. The scum of the gutter—but faithful. I told him to be your watch-dog. I am pleased with him. Be patient a little while longer. I am going to see all my dreams come true."

The voice of the madman was tender, so transfigured by love and pride that it seemed to be a different man who was speaking. Then his voice changed again.

"The Colonel will be back to-night. He is a trustworthy man ... Gregory also. They shall be paid like ambassadors. You must bear with me a little while longer, Olga. All these unpleasant matters will be cleared up. Reeder we shall dispose of. To-morrow at high tide we leave..."

The sound of the voices receded until they became an indistinguishable murmur. Brill looked round at the girl and smiled again.

"Can you beat him?" he whispered admiringly. "Crazy as a barn coot! But he has the cleverest brain in London: even Reeder says that. God! I'd give ten years' salary and all my chance of promotion for a gun!"

"What shall we do?" she asked after a long silence.

"Stay here till the tide turns, then we'll have to take our chance in the cave. We'd be smashed to pieces if we waited on the beach."

"There's no way up the cliff?"

He shook his head.

"There's a way out through the cave if we can only find it," he said. "One way? A dozen! I tell you that this cliff is like a honeycomb. One of these days it will collapse like froth on a glass of beer! I heard Daver say so, and the mad fellow agreed. Mad? I wish I had his brain! He's going to dispose of Reeder, is he? The cemeteries are full of people who've tried to dispose of Reeder!"