V

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V

The Council of Justice

Lauder Bartholomew knew a man who was farming in Uganda. It was not remarkable that he should suddenly remember his friendвАЩs existence and call to mind a three yearsвАЩ old invitation to spend a winter in that part of Africa. Bartholomew had a club. It was euphemistically styled in all the best directories as вАЬSocial, Literary and Dramatic,вАЭ but knowing men about town called it by a shorter title. To them it was a вАЬnight club.вАЭ Poorly as were the literary members catered for, there were certain weeklies, the Times, and a collection of complimentary time tables to be obtained for the asking, and Bartholomew sought and found particulars of sailings. He might leave London on the next morning and overtake (via Brindisi and Suez) the German boat that would land him in Uganda in a couple of weeks.

On the whole he thought this course would be wise.

To tell the truth, the Red Hundred was becoming too much of a serious business; he had a feeling that he was suspect, and was more certain that the end of his unlimited financing was in sight. That much he had long since recognized, and had made his plans accordingly. As to the Four Just Men, they would come in with Menshikoff; it would mean only a duplication of treachery. Turning the pages of a Bradshaw, he mentally reviewed his position. He had in hand some seven hundred pounds, and his liabilities were of no account because the necessity for discharging them never occurred to him. Seven hundred poundsвБ†вАФand the red bean, and Menshikoff.

вАЬIf they mean business,вАЭ he said to himself, вАЬI can count on three thousand.вАЭ

The obvious difficulty was to get into touch with the Four. Time was everything and one could not put an advertisement in the paper: вАЬIf the Four Just Men will communicate with LвБ†вЄЇ BвБ†вЄЇ they will hear of something to their advantage.вАЭ

Nor was it expedient to make in the agony columns of the London press even the most guarded reference to Red Beans after what had occurred at the Council Meeting. The matter of the Embassy was simple. Under his breath he cursed the Four Just Men for their unbusinesslike communication. If only they had mentioned or hinted at some rendezvous the thing might have been arranged.

A man in evening dress asked him if he had finished with the Bradshaw. He resigned it ungraciously, and calling a club waiter, ordered a whisky and soda and flung himself into a chair to think out a solution.

The man returned the Bradshaw with a polite apology.

вАЬSo sorry to have interrupted, but IвАЩve been called abroad at a momentвАЩs notice,вАЭ he said.

Bartholomew looked up resentfully. This young manвАЩs face seemed familiar.

вАЬHavenвАЩt I met you somewhere?вАЭ he asked.

The stranger shrugged his shoulders.

вАЬOne is always meeting and forgetting,вАЭ he smiled. вАЬI thought I knew you, but I cannot quite place you.вАЭ

Not only the face but the voice was strangely familiar.

вАЬNot English,вАЭ was BartholomewвАЩs mental analysis, вАЬpossibly French, more likely SlavвБ†вАФwho the dickens can it be?вАЭ

In a way he was glad of the diversion, and found himself engaged in a pleasant discussion on fly fishing.

As the hands of the clock pointed to midnight, the stranger yawned and got up from his chair.

вАЬGoing west?вАЭ he asked pleasantly.

Bartholomew had no definite plans for spending the next hour, so he assented and the two men left the club together. They strolled across Piccadilly Circus and into Piccadilly, chatting pleasantly.

Through Half Moon Street into Berkeley Square, deserted and silent, the two men sauntered, then the stranger stopped.

вАЬIвАЩm afraid IвАЩve taken you out of your way,вАЭ he said.

вАЬNot a bit,вАЭ replied Bartholomew, and was conventionally amiable.

Then they parted, and the ex-captain walked back by the way he had come, picking up again the threads of the problem that had filled his mind in the earlier part of the evening.

Halfway down Half Moon Street was a motorcar, and as he came abreast, a man who stood by the curbвБ†вАФand whom he had mistaken for a waiting chauffeurвБ†вАФbarred his further progress.

вАЬCaptain Bartholomew?вАЭ he asked respectfully.

вАЬThat is my name,вАЭ said the other in surprise.

вАЬMy master wishes to know whether you have decided.вАЭ

вАЬWhatвБ†вАФ?вАЭ

вАЬIf,вАЭ went on his imperturbable examiner, вАЬif you have decided on the redвБ†вАФhere is the car, if you will be pleased to enter.вАЭ

вАЬAnd if I have decided on the black?вАЭ he asked with a little hesitation.

вАЬUnder the circumstances,вАЭ said the man without emotion, вАЬmy master is of opinion that for his greater safety, he must take steps to ensure your neutrality.вАЭ

There was no menace in the tone, but an icy matter-of-fact confidence that shocked this hardened adventurer.

In the dim light he saw something in the manвАЩs handвБ†вАФa thin bright something that glittered.

вАЬIt shall be red!вАЭ he said hoarsely.

The man bowed and opened the door of the car.

Bartholomew had regained a little of his self-assurance by the time he stood before the men.

He was not unused to masked tribunals. There had been one such since his elevation to the Inner Council.

But these four men were in evening dress, and the stagey setting that had characterized the Red HundredвАЩs Court of Justice was absent. There was no weird adjustment of lights, or tollings of bells, or partings of sombre draperies. None of the cheap trickery of the Inner Council.

The room was evidently a drawing-room, very much like a hundred other drawing-rooms he had seen.

The four men who sat at equal distance before him were sufficiently ordinary an appearance save for their masks. He thought one of them wore a beard, but he was not sure. This man did most of the speaking.

вАЬI understand,вАЭ he said smoothly, вАЬyou have chosen the red.вАЭ

вАЬYou seem to know a great deal about my private affairs,вАЭ replied Bartholomew.

вАЬYou have chosen the redвБ†вАФagain?вАЭ said the man.

вАЬWhyвБ†вАФagain?вАЭ demanded the prisoner.

The masked manвАЩs eyes shone steadily through the holes in the mask.

вАЬYears ago,вАЭ he said quietly, вАЬthere was an officer who betrayed his country and his comrades.вАЭ

вАЬThat is an old lie.вАЭ

вАЬHe was in charge of a post at which was stored a great supply of foodstuffs and ammunition,вАЭ the mask went on. вАЬThere was a commandant of the enemy who wanted those stores, but had not sufficient men to rush the garrison.вАЭ

вАЬAn old lie,вАЭ repeated Bartholomew sullenly.

вАЬSo the commandant hit upon the ingenious plan of offering a bribe. It was a risky thing, and in nine hundred and ninety-nine cases out of a thousand, it would have been a futile business. Indeed, I am sure that I am understating the proportionвБ†вАФbut the wily old commandant knew his man.вАЭ

вАЬThere is no necessity to continue,вАЭ said Bartholomew.

вАЬNo correspondence passed,вАЭ Manfred went on; вАЬour officer was too cunning for that, but it was arranged that the officerвАЩs answer should be conveyed thus.вАЭ

He opened his hand and Bartholomew saw two beans, one red and the other black, reposing in the palm.

вАЬThe black was to be a refusal, the red an acceptance, the terms were to be scratched on the side of the red bean with a needleвБ†вАФand the sum agreed was ¬£1,000.вАЭ

Bartholomew made no answer.

вАЬExactly that sum we offer you to place us from time to time in possession of such information as we require concerning the movements of the Red Hundred.вАЭ

вАЬIf I refuse?вАЭ

вАЬYou will not refuse,вАЭ replied the mask calmly; вАЬyou need the money, and you have even now under consideration a plan for cutting yourself adrift from your friends.вАЭ

вАЬYou know so muchвБ†вАФвАЭ began the other with a shrug.

вАЬI know a great deal. For instance, I know that you contemplate immediate flightвБ†вАФby the way, are you aware that the Lucus Woerhmann is in dock at Naples with a leaking boiler?вАЭ

Bartholomew started, as well he might, for nobody but himself knew that the Lucus Woerhmann was the ship he had hoped to overtake at Suez.

Manfred saw his bewilderment and smiled.

вАЬI do not ask credit for supernatural powers,вАЭ he said; вАЬfrankly, it was the merest guesswork, but you must abandon your trip. It is necessary for our greater success that you should remain.вАЭ

Bartholomew bit his lips. This scheme did not completely fall in with his plans. He affected a sudden geniality.

вАЬWell, if I must, I must,вАЭ he said heartily, вАЬand since I agree, may I ask whom I have the honour of addressing, and further, since I am now your confidential agent, that I may see the faces of my employers?вАЭ

He recognized the contempt in ManfredвАЩs laugh.

вАЬYou need no introduction to us,вАЭ said Manfred coldly, вАЬand you will understand we do not intend taking you into our confidence. Our agreement is that we share your confidence, not that you shall share ours.вАЭ

вАЬI must know something,вАЭ said Bartholomew doggedly. вАЬWhat am I to do? Where am I to report? How shall I be paid?вАЭ

вАЬYou will be paid when your work is completed.вАЭ Manfred reached out his hand toward a little table that stood within his reach.

Instantly the room was plunged into darkness.

The traitor sprang back, fearing he knew not what.

вАЬComeвБ†вАФdo not be afraid,вАЭ said a voice.

вАЬWhat does this mean?вАЭ cried Bartholomew, and stepped forward.

He felt the floor beneath him yield and tried to spring backwards, but already he had lost his balance, and with a scream of terror he felt himself falling, falling.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶

вАЬHere, wake up!вАЭ

Somebody was shaking his arm and he was conscious of an icy coldness and a gusty raw wind that buffeted his face.

He shivered and opened his eyes.

First of all he saw an iron camel with a load on its back; then he realized dimly that it was the ornamental support of a garden seat; then he saw a dull grey parapet of grimy stone. He was sitting on a seat on the Thames Embankment, and a policeman was shaking him, not ungently, to wakefulness.

вАЬCome along, sirвБ†вАФthis wonвАЩt do, ye know.вАЭ

He staggered to his feet unsteadily. He was wearing a fur coat that was not his.

вАЬHow did I come here?вАЭ he asked in a dull voice.

The policeman laughed good humouredly.

вАЬAh, thatвАЩs more than I can tell youвБ†вАФyou werenвАЩt here ten minutes ago, that IвАЩll swear.вАЭ

Bartholomew put his hand in his pocket and found some money.

вАЬCall me a taxi,вАЭ he said shakily and one was found.

He left the policeman perfectly satisfied with the result of his morningвАЩs work and drove home to his lodgings. By what extraordinary means had he reached the Embankment? He remembered the Four, he remembered the suddenly darkened room, he remembered fallingвБ†вАФPerhaps he lost consciousness, yet he could not have been injured by his fall. He had a faint recollection of somebody telling him to breathe and of inhaling a sweet sickly vapourвБ†вАФand that was all.

The coat was not his. He thrust his hands into both pockets and found a letter. Did he but know it was of the peculiar texture that had made the greenish-grey paper of the Four Just Men famous throughout Europe.

The letter was brief and to the point:

вАЬFor faithful service, you will be rewarded; for treachery, there will be no net to break your fall.вАЭ

He shivered again. Then his impotence, his helplessness, enraged him, and he swore softly and weakly.

He was ignorant of the locality in which the interview had taken place. On his way thither he had tried in vain to follow the direction the shuttered motorcar had taken.

By what method the Four would convey their instructions he had no idea. He was quite satisfied that they would find a way.

He reached his flat with his head swimming from the effects of the drug they had given him, and flung himself, dressed as he was, upon his bed and slept. He slept well into the afternoon, then rose stiff and irritable. A bath and a change refreshed him, and he walked out to keep an appointment he had made.

On his way he remembered impatiently that there was a call to the Council at five oвАЩclock. It reminded him of his old rehearsal days. Then he recollected that no place had been fixed for the council meeting. He would find the quiet Fran√Іois in Leicester Square, so he turned his steps in that direction.

Fran√Іois, patient, smiling, and as deferential as ever, awaited him. вАЬThe council was held at two oвАЩclock,вАЭ he said, вАЬand I am to tell you that we have decided on two projects.вАЭ He looked left and right, with elaborated caution.

вАЬThere is at GravesendвАЭвБ†вАФhe pronounced it вАЬGwayvse-endвАЭвБ†вАФвАЬa battleship that has put in for stores. It is the Grondovitch. It will be fresh in your mind that the captain is the nobleman SvardoвБ†вАФwe have no reason to love him.вАЭ

вАЬAnd the second?вАЭ asked Bartholomew.

Again Fran√Іois went through the pantomime that had so annoyed his companion before.

вАЬIt is no less than the Bank,вАЭ he said triumphantly.

Bartholomew was aghast.

вАЬThe BankвБ†вАФthe Bank of England! Why, youвАЩre madвБ†вАФyou have taken leave of your senses!вАЭ

Fran√Іois shrugged his shoulders tolerantly.

вАЬIt is the order,вАЭ he said; then, abruptly, вАЬAu revoir,вАЭ he said, and, with his extravagant little bow, was gone.

If BartholomewвАЩs need for cutting himself adrift from the Red Hundred existed before, the necessity was multiplied now a thousand times. Any lingering doubt he might have had, any remote twinge of conscience at the part he was playing, these vanished.

He glanced at his watch, and hurried to his destination.

It was the Red Room of the Hotel Larboune that he sought.

He found a table and ordered a drink.

The waiter was unusually talkative.

He stood by the solitary table at which Bartholomew sat, and chatted pleasantly and respectfully. This much the other patrons of the establishment noticed idly, and wondered whether it was racing or house property that the two had in common.

The waiter was talking.

вАЬвА¶¬†I am inclined to disbelieve the story of the Grondovitch, but the Embassy and the commander shall knowвБ†вАФwhen do you leave?вАЭ

вАЬJust as soon as I can,вАЭ said Bartholomew.

The waiter nodded and flicked some cigarette ash from the table with his napkin.

вАЬAnd the Woman of Gratz?вАЭ he asked.

Bartholomew made a gesture of doubt.

вАЬWhy not,вАЭ said the waiter, looking thoughtfully out of the window, вАЬwhy not take her with you?вАЭ

There had been the germ of such a thought in BartholomewвАЩs mind, but he had never given form to itвБ†вАФeven to himself.

вАЬShe is very beautiful, and, it occurred to me, not altogether indifferent to your attractionsвБ†вАФthat kind of woman has a penchant for your type, and frankly we would gladly see her out of the wayвБ†вАФor dead.вАЭ

M. Menshikoff was by no means vindictive, but there was obvious sincerity in his voice when he pronounced the last two words. M. Menshikoff had been right-hand man of the Grand Master of the Secret Police for too many years to feel any qualms at the project of removing an enemy to the system.

вАЬI thought we had her once,вАЭ he said meditatively; вАЬthey would have flogged her in the fortress of St.¬†Peter and Paul, but I stopped them. She was grateful I think, and almost humanвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ but it passed off.вАЭ

Bartholomew paid for his drink, and ostentatiously tipped the obsequious man before him. He remembered as he did so that Menshikoff was reputably a millionaire.

вАЬYour change, mвАЩsieur,вАЭ said Menshikoff gravely, and he handed back a few jingling coppers and two tightly folded banknotes for a hundred pounds. He was a believer in the principle of вАЬpay as you go.вАЭ Bartholomew pocketed the money carelessly.

вАЬGood day,вАЭ he said loudly.

вАЬAu revoir, mвАЩsieur, et bon voyage,вАЭ said the waiter.