The Sins of Severac Bablon Part 53

His voice was calm again. He was quite in his element now. A criminal had to be apprehended, and the circ.u.mstances, though difficult, were not unfamiliar. But strategy was called for; there must be no hot-headed blundering.

"Yes? What is it?" demanded the Home Secretary excitedly.

"It's this, sir: he'll give us the slip yet, if we don't go slow! Now, you take charge of the grey car. That's your post, sir. Here--have my revolver. Step out into the lane there, and see n.o.body rushes the car!"

"Good--I agree!" cried Mr. Belford, and took the revolver.

"You, young fellow," continued the inspector, addressing the chauffeur, "may know something of the ins and outs of this place. Do you know if there's a back door to the main building?"

"There is--yes--down behind that barn."

"Then pull out a big spanner, or anything handy, and go round there.

When you reach the door, whistle. Stop there unless you hear my whistle inside or till I come through and join you. If he's not in the main building we can start on the outhouses. But his escape is cut off all the time by Mr. Belford--see?"

"Quite right, inspector! Quite right!" cried Mr. Belford. "Go ahead! I will get to the car! Go ahead!"

Off ran the agile politician to his appointed post; and the chauffeur, armed with a heavy spanner, disappeared in the shadow of the barn.

Sheffield, taking from his breast-pocket an electric torch, strode up to the doorless entrance of the abandoned farm, and waited.

CHAPTER XXVI

GRIMSd.y.k.e

Not a sound disturbed the silence of the deserted place, save when the slight breeze sighed through the trees of the adjoining coppice, and swayed some invisible shutter which creaked upon its rusty hinges.

An owl hooted, and the detective was on the alert in a moment. It was a well-known signal. Was the owl a feathered one or a human mimic?

No other sound followed, until the breeze came again, whispered in the coppice, and shook the shutter.

Then the chauffeur's whistle came, faintly, and with something tremulous in its note; for the adventure, though it offered little novelty to the experience of the Scotland Yard man, was dangerously unique from the mechanic's point of view. But where the Right Hon. Walter Belford led it was impolitic, if not impossible, to decline to follow. Yet, the whistle spoke of a man not over-confident. "Severac Bablon" was a disturbing name!

Sheffield pressed the k.n.o.b of the torch and stepped into the bare and dirty room beyond.

The beam of the torch swept the four walls, with faded paper peeling in strips from the damp plaster; showed a grate full of rubbish, a battered pail, and a bare floor littered with debris of all sorts, great cavities gaping between many of the planks. A cupboard was searched, and proved to contain a number of empty cans and bottles--nothing else.

Into the next room went the investigator, to meet with no better fortune. The third was a big kitchen, empty; the fourth a paved scullery, also empty--with the chauffeur at the door, holding his spanner in readiness for sudden a.s.sault.

"Upstairs!" said Sheffield shortly.

Up the creaking stairs they pa.s.sed, their footsteps filling the place with ghostly echoes.

A square landing offered four doors, all closed, to their consideration.

Sheffield paused, and listened.

The owl had hooted again.

He directed the ray of the torch upon the door on the immediate right of the stairhead.

"We're short-handed for this!" he muttered; "but it has to be risked now. Stay where you are and be on the alert. Watch those other doors."

He tried the handle.

The door was locked.

To the next one he pa.s.sed without hesitation. It yielded to his hand, and he flashed the light about a bare room, with half of the ceiling sloping down to the window. In the corner beyond this window a second door was partly concealed by the recess. The inspector stepped across the floor and threw the door open.

Then events moved rapidly.

Someone literally shot into the room behind him, falling with a crash that shook the place like thunder. _Bang!_ sounded through the house, and a key turned in a lock!

Sheffield spun round like an unwieldy top, and saw the chauffeur struggling to his feet and rubbing his head vigorously.

The detective made no outcry, nor did he waste energy by trying a door he knew to be locked. He stood, keenly alert, and listened.

Footsteps rapidly receded down the stairs.

"Who did it? How did he get behind me?" muttered the dazed chauffeur.

"Out of one of the other rooms! I told you to watch them!"

Inspector Sheffield was angry, but he had not lost his presence of mind.

"We must get out--quick! The window!"

He leapt to the low window, throwing it open.

"Too far to drop! We've got to smash the door! Perhaps they've left the key in the lock! Set to on the panel with that bit of iron of yours!"

The man began a vigorous a.s.sault upon the woodwork. It was old, but very tough, and yielded tardily to the blows of the instrument. Then a big crack appeared as the result of a stroke shrewdly planted.

"Stand away!" directed Sheffield; and leaning back upon his left foot, he dashed his right upon the broken panel, shattering it effectually.

At the moment that the chauffeur thrust his hand through the jagged aperture to seek for the key, _thud! thud! thud!_ came from the lane below.

"That's the car!" cried the inspector. "My G.o.d! what have they done to Mr. Belford?"

The other paused and listened intently.

"It's the grey car," he said. "Why didn't they take the guv'nor's?"

"Open the door!" cried Sheffield impatiently. "Is the key there?"

"Yes," was the reply; "here we are!" And the door was opened.

Sheffield started down the stairs with noisy clatter, and, the chauffeur a good second, raced through the rooms below and out into the yard.