21: Mrs. Brampton

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MRS. Brampton's sister put down the telephone as her husband let himself into the flat in Palace Gardens Terrace.

"Bertie! Bertie, I've just had the most amazing news from Lena! Aylwin is in London!"

"God bless my soul! In London? How the devil did he get here?"

"He's been repatriated. He's----"

"Is he at her flat?"

"No. A man came to see her---she was so excited she couldn't explain properly---a brother officer, apparently. Poor Aylwin was taken ill on the journey so this man put him in an hotel to rest, while he came to see if Lena was in town. So she's rushed off to the hotel to see him----"

"Just a minute, just a minute. How long has Brampton been in England?"

"They've just arrived. Or so I gathered."

"But there haven't been any prisoners-of-war repatriated lately. There's another ship due to leave Lisbon in a fortnight's time."

"They didn't come via Lisbon, she told me that. They flew from Sweden."

"Now listen, Cecily. Repatriated prisoners don't just drop in by air from Sweden at any odd time. You must know that. This is a ridiculous story."

"But, Bertie----"

"Did she know this fellow--the brother officer wallah?"

"I---I don't know. I rather think not. She said he was 'a Captain Vincent,' and one doesn't say 'a Mr. So-and-so' when it's someone one knows. Oh, Bertie!"

"Lena's a fool," said the Colonel. "Headstrong idiot. You know what all this is about, don't you?"

"No," faltered his wife. "I haven't the least idea."

"Flat robbery, that's what. She's been decoyed away leaving that poor silly Eliza on her own. Then the bell will ring, Eliza will open the door, get knocked on the head, and bang go the Brampton rubies. Dam' fool," said the Colonel, diving at the telephone. "I'll ring her up." He dialled Mrs. Brampton's number and waited. Eliza always hated answering the telephone.

"There you are," said the Colonel, screwing his head round with the receiver still at his ear, "no reply. They are already there, no doubt. Eliza is tied up and they are opening the safe. I'd have done better to ring up the---Hallo! That you, Eliza? Colonel Dadgworthy here. Don't open the door to anyone on any account, unless you recognize their voice through the door. And not then, unless you're absolutely sure. Make 'em stoop down so's you can see their faces through the letter-box. Understand? Your mistress has been decoyed away and an attempt will probably be made to rob the flat."

"Oh, Bertie," said his wife, "you'll terrify the poor woman."

"I can't help that," said the Colonel, and paused to listen to squeaks from the telephone. "No, I shouldn't ring up the police yet, Eliza. Leave it to me, I'll see to it. You just keep quiet and put the chain up on the door. Right."

He put down the receiver. "Did Lena have the sense to tell you what hotel it was?"

"The Dun----. Just a moment. Dunara, that's it. Near Victoria."

"Dunara? Never heard of it. Don't suppose there is such a place."

"Look it up in the Directory."

The Colonel did so, muttering.

"Donaldson's. Duncansby. Dunara, here it is."

"Perhaps it's all right, then, Bertie."

"Perhaps it's all wrong. Put your hat on while I call a taxi. What it is," said the Colonel bitterly, "to have a fool for a sister-in-law. Tiresome woman, Lena. Always was. Always will be. Poor Brampton----"

The Dunara Hotel consisted of a couple of floors over shops in a side street behind the station, the hotel entrance was a narrow doorway with a stair running straight up inside it and a notice saying, "Please walk up." The Colonel snorted and walked up, with Mrs. Dadgworthy following timidly behind. At the top there was a landing (oilcloth with palms) and a large firm manageress.

"Major Brampton here?"

"Not staying here, no. We have no one of that name, I'm sorry. Unless you mean someone who has come to call on one of the guests."

"No, I meant---what did she say, Cecily?"

"Did an officer come here to-day," said Mrs. Dadgworthy, "bringing another wounded officer who had been taken ill in the train? He was to stay here and rest until his wife came."

The manageress shook her head.

"I'm sorry, madam. Nothing like that has happened here to-day. I haven't had a wounded officer here for more than eight months, the last was Sub-Lieutenant----"

"This was an Army officer, a Major."

"No, madam. I'm sorry. There must have been some mistake. There are many hotels in this district, no doubt it was one of the others."

"Thank you," said the Colonel. "Much obliged. Come on, Cecily."

"What shall we do now?" said his wife, when they were outside on the pavement again. "Poor Lena----"

"Get into the taxi. To the nearest police station! Poor Lena, my foot."

Almost before the taxi stopped at the police station, the Colonel leapt out and rushed inside. By the time his wife was able to join him he was already explaining matters to the desk sergeant.

"If you will send a squad of men at once to six Campden Hill Brow, you will prevent a jewel robbery and probably murder."

The desk sergeant raised his eyebrows and reached for his note-pad.

"Number six, Campden Hill Brow. You have reason to believe a jewel robbery is about to be attempted?"

"Of course, I said so. The----"

"But, Bertie," said Mrs. Dadgworthy.

"May I have your name and address, please?"

The Colonel gave them. "The lady who lives there has been decoyed away, leaving only a fool of a maid in the house. There are rubies there, well-known rubies."

"How do you know the lady has been decoyed away?"

"She rang up my wife---she's her sister---and told a cock-and-bull story about a man coming to say that her husband had just arrived in London and was ill at an hotel. So she rushed off to meet him. I, of course, realized that the story was ridiculous, and my wife and I went to the hotel. Of course they were not there."

"You are quite sure you went to the right hotel?"

The Colonel spluttered, and his wife said, "Quite sure, officer."

"What made you think the story ridiculous?"

"Prisoners-of-war don't arrive unannounced at odd times in twos and threes by air from Sweden."

"No, sir."

"And that's what she said. If only I'd been in when she telephoned I would have handled the matter. About the jewel robbery----"

"What," said the desk sergeant patiently, "makes you so sure that a jewel robbery was planned?"

"Bertie," said Mrs. Dadgworthy, "you don't know they are after the rubies. You only assumed that."

"Why," said the Colonel, "what else could it be?"

The desk sergeant sighed and tried again.

"As regards the actual facts in your possession," he said, "all we have to go on so far is that the lady telephoned to say that her husband, who was a prisoner-of-war, had unexpectedly arrived in London and was ill at an hotel. Some man brought the message----"

"A brother officer," said Mrs. Dadgworthy. "A Captain Vincent."

"Do you know him? No? Did she?"

"I don't think so, by the way she spoke. I've never heard the name before."

"I see. Then having reason to think the lady had been hoaxed, you went to the hotel she mentioned."

"And they were not there," said the Colonel. "Never had been there. Dunara Hotel. Saw the manageress."

"I see. You don't think that when the lady found her husband was not there she just went home again?"

"Ring up and see," said the Colonel, and gave the number. The sergeant dialled the number and Eliza answered promptly at once. No, her mistress had not returned and nobody had come to the flat. The sergeant replaced the receiver.

"What time was it when the lady telephoned you, madam?"

"About half-past five."

"Oh. And it's now twenty past six. Not much time wasted. She might have gone somewhere else on the way home."

The Colonel could not deny the possibility. "But I don't believe it," he added.

"But why," wailed Mrs. Dadgworthy, "should anyone wish to abduct poor Lena?"

The desk sergeant, not knowing the lady, had no suggestions to offer. "If you will give me full particulars," he said, "we will make enquiries, and in the meantime please keep me informed if you hear any news of her. Her name, please?"

"Brampton."

The sergeant looked up suddenly. "Brampton?"

The Colonel spelt it. "Mrs. Lena Brampton."

"And her husband's name?"

"Major Aylwin Brampton."

"Excuse me a moment," said the sergeant, and left the room to consult with his Superintendent.

"That Major Aylwin Brampton the Special Branch asked us to look out for, sir," he said.

Bagshott had issued a general instruction that anyone giving either the name of Aylwin Brampton or Henry Gwynne Bilston should at all times be given any aid or comfort of which he appeared to stand in need.

"Well?" said the Superintendent.

"There's a report just come in that his wife's been decoyed away from her flat." The desk sergeant repeated the story.

"Curious," said the Superintendent. "Very curious. I think I'd better pass that on to the Special Branch. I don't know whether they're interested in his wife as well as in him; that's for them to say. Get a full description of her, Wilkes, and all particulars, while I ring up."

The Superintendent rang up Bagshott and told him the tale. Bagshott instructed him to take the matter seriously, with all the action that implied, and then telephoned to Tommy Hambledon.

"An odd thing has just happened," said Bagshott, "It's been reported that Mrs. Brampton has been decoyed away from her flat."

"Mrs. Brampton?" said Tommy. "What for?"

"Heaven knows." Bagshott told him all the details, and added, "I've told the police to take the matter seriously, though of course it may all be a mare's nest. Or perhaps there really is somebody after those rubies, if there are any."

"Serve her right for keeping them in a London flat," said Hambledon callously. "That is, if it is the rubies they're after."

"If it isn't," said Bagshott, "what is it?"

"I wish I knew," said Tommy, rather anxiously. "I don't understand it, and I don't like things I don't understand. Let me know what transpires, won't you?"

He rang off and thought things over. It was impossible to hear the name Brampton without thinking of Colemore, but the connection was not very obvious. There was no reason to suppose that the gang with whom Colemore was working had anything to do with it. Very unlikely, in fact. The last thing they would want would be for anyone to recognize their Major Brampton. Coincidence, probably. Nevertheless, Tommy picked up the telephone again and rang Colemore's hotel, asking to speak to him. A voice at the other end regretted that Mr. Bilston had gone out a quarter of an hour earlier. Could any message be taken?

"No, thanks," said Hambledon. "It's not really important. I'll ring again later."

---

Earlier during this same day, Symes rang up Colemore and asked him to remain indoors within reach of the telephone.

"What, all day?"

"I am sorry," said Symes smoothly. "There is someone whom I want you to meet, but I am not sure yet of the time. That's all."

Anthony immediately jumped to the conclusion that the someone was Our Leader, as Symes meant him to do. A certain degree of enthusiasm seemed to be indicated.

"Oh, ah! Yes, of course I'll wait in. I was going out, but it doesn't matter a bit. Thanks, old chap."

"A pleasure," said Symes, and rang off.

Just before six in the evening, the hotel telephone rang again and the porter called to Colemore, who was sitting in the lounge reading "Lorna Doone."

"Wanted on the 'phone, sir, please."

This time the voice at the other end was Newman's.

"That you, Bilston?"

"Speaking."

"Newman here. I want you to lend me a hand, please. Do you know Moscow Road?"

"Quite near here?" said Colemore. "Yes, of course I do."

"Come to the end nearest you, I am waiting there with the cab."

"I'll come at once. Oh, by the way. I was waiting in for a call from Symes, will that----"

"That's all right," said Newman with a laugh, and rang off.

When Colemore turned the corner of Moscow Road he saw Newman standing by the taxi. He was smiling as Colemore hurried up, and came a few paces to meet him.

"There's a lady in the cab," he said, and turned back towards it. "She's been taken a bit faint." He opened the door and Colemore looked in. There was indeed, a lady leaning back in the corner.

"Who is she, d'you know?" said Colemore innocently.

There was only the most momentary pause before Newman said, "Why do you ask that?"

"I beg your pardon," said Anthony hastily. "I thought she was just an ordinary fare, you know, and you wanted me to help you take her home. And it would have been a help to know where she lived, wouldn't it?"

"So I do," said the taxi-driver cheerfully. "Hop in with her, will you?"

Colemore obeyed, and the taxi drove off. The glass partition was open between the passengers and the driver; Newman spoke over his shoulder.

"Open the windows, will you? Fresh air's good for faints."

Anthony did so at once, though he did not believe the lady had fainted. She wasn't pale enough, for one thing, and she was breathing much too deeply. The air blowing upon her from the open windows had a good effect almost at once. She began to move, opened her eyes with an effort, shut them again and murmured something.

"She's coming round," said Anthony.

"Good," said Newman. "Don't hurry her. Tell her to keep quiet and not try to talk, and she'll be all right."

He drove through Pembridge Square, turned down Pembridge Gardens, and was waiting to cross Notting Hill when the invalid roused herself again. She opened her eyes wide this time and stared at him.

"You're all right," said Colemore. "You fainted, but you're feeling better now. Just sit still and don't try to talk. Everything's all right."

She looked at him distrustfully, but her eyes closed once more.

The taxi shot across Notting Hill, turned right, and then left down Campden Hill. Left again, into one of the narrow old turnings leading to Silver Street, and stopped outside a public-house. Newman jumped out--he could jump when he liked--opened the door and spoke in Colemore's ear.

"Take her in there," he said sharply. "Saloon bar. Sit her in a chair in a corner, buy her a brandy. Tell the barmaid the lady's been took faint and you'll just pay off the taxi and come back. Then come out again. Now then, lady! You gets out 'ere," he went on in a louder voice. "Let the gentleman 'elp you."

She got out of the taxi and across the pavement much more easily than Colemore had expected; she leaned heavily on his arm but she walked steadily enough. He led her in through the swing-door and found a quiet corner without difficulty; the place had just opened and there were only two or three customers there. They looked round with mild interest.

Anthony went to the bar, said his piece and obtained the brandy; the barmaid was sympathetic.

"Should I fetch the manageress?"

"No, no. She'll be all right in a minute. I'll just pay off the taxi and be back."

He carried the glass across to his patient and said, "Drink this." She sipped it, made a grimace, and then looked up at him.

"You're not Captain Vincent."

"Never mind, you're all right now. Just a moment," said Colemore, and made his escape.

Newman was still waiting with the car door ajar. He signed to Colemore to get in and drove hastily away.

When they had gone some distance Colemore leaned forward and said, "She'll be all right. The barmaid will see to her."

"Did she say anything more?"

"Only said I wasn't Captain Vincent."

Newman began to laugh. "No, you're not Captain Vincent, are you? No." He seemed thoroughly to be enjoying some private joke, and Colemore leaned back in his seat. There always was, he thought, something faintly sinister about this taxi-driver's laughter, jolly as it seemed; on this occasion it sounded more unpleasant than usual.

---

Bagshott's telephone rang, and Notting Hill Police Station reported that Mrs. Brampton had been found in a public-house near her home. In a turning off Silver Street, to be exact. She had been taken there by a man who bought her some brandy, dashed out again to pay off a taxi---so he said---and did not return. Mrs. Brampton seemed very unwell, so the manageress of the place had called the police. Mrs. Brampton had told them her name, besides, she was wearing an identity disc. The police had summoned a doctor, who had taken her home.

"What's the matter with her?"

Doped, the doctor said. Nothing serious, and she would be perfectly well again after a night's rest.

Bagshott asked the name of the public-house and then rang up Tommy Hambledon.

"Did you get a description of the man who dumped her there?" asked Hambledon.

"No. I didn't wait, besides, I thought you might like to interview the barmaid yourself and get it at first hand."

"I am all for interviewing barmaids," said Tommy. "Let's go now--are you coming?"

"I'll pick you up," said Bagshott, "in three minutes from now."

The police car swept through the streets and Hambledon got his interview. The barmaid was an intelligent and observant woman; when asked to describe the man who had brought in the lady she gave an unmistakable word-picture of Anthony Colemore.

Hambledon and Bagshott looked at each other as the light of understanding dawned upon both at once. They hurriedly thanked the barmaid and returned to their car in haste.

"You've got it, haven't you?" said Hambledon. "She was drugged----"

"So that she wouldn't recognize him if he were Brampton," said Bagshott. "Whereas he----"

"Didn't recognize her, how should he? So now they know he's not Brampton----"

"And the balloon is about to ascend," finished Bagshott, and snapped an order at the police driver which took them back to Whitehall even faster than they had come.

"The next step," said Hambledon, "is to find out what they've done with Colemore. If they haven't murdered him already they'll take him to Willowmore Road, I expect. If so, we raid that house to-night. If they've taken him somewhere else we will discover where, and raid that instead."

"And if they've already bumped him off?"

"Then they'll all be hanged at Pentonville instead of being shot at the Tower," said Tommy. "Except, of course on Colemore's account, I don't really mind which."