Read Online Mr. J. G. Reeder Returns by Edgar Wallace - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Edgar Wallace
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you?”
“No, it was quite dark, but I’ll know him again, and he’ll remember me for a long time. I carried a sword cane – one of those things you buy for a joke when you’re in Spain and never expect to use. As I wasn’t taking a gun because of my awful criminal record, I thought I’d be on the safe side and take that. Fortunately, I didn’t lose hold of it, and before he could give me a second blow I gave him two slashes with it that made him yap and bolt. I couldn’t see anything for blood, but I heard him smashing through a hedge. I don’t know how I got back to the car and how I got to London.”
“May I ask,” said Mr Reeder, “exactly why you went to Sevenways?”
“She asked me to see her last night – asked me in French; and she asked me in French because she didn’t want the chauffeur to hear her. That’s when she told me she wanted to see you. Her room is on the park side of the house – it’s called a castle, but it’s a Tudor house really – three windows on the right from the portico. As I say, the window was barred, so my plan came unstuck.”
“What on earth were you going to do?” asked J G.
“I was running away with her,” said Larry calmly. “It was her idea.”
Mr Reeder was a picture of amazement.
“You were running away with her?” he said incredulously.
“That was the idea. She asked me to take her away. It sounds mad, but there it is. She must have trusted me, or she was desperate. I think a little of each.”
Mr Reeder went out to telephone, Larry protesting.
“Really, I don’t want a doctor. A whack on the head is nothing.”
“A whack on the head that cuts four inches of skin and exposes the scalp is a very important matter,” said Mr Reeder, “and I am one of the few remaining people who believe in doctors.”
A surgeon came in half an hour and did a little fancy stitching. Mr Reeder insisted that Larry should stay in the house; a very unusual request, for he never encouraged visitors, and this was the first guest he had had within the memory of his housekeeper.
It was early in the afternoon when Mr Reeder reached Sevenways Castle. It stood in an extensive park and, as Larry had said, there was very little about it that had the appearance of a castle. Its architecture was Tudor, except that on one end there stuck out a rather ugly, modern addition which was built, it seemed, of dressed stone and visible from the drive. This must be the treasure house, he thought.
He had telephoned the hour he expected to arrive, and Major Olbude was waiting for him under the porch. He led him into the panelled library, where a red fire glowed on an open hearth.
“I’ve been trying to make up my mind whether I should wait for you to arrive or whether I should send for the local police. Some ruffian attacked a gamekeeper of mine with a sword last night. I’ve had to send him away to London to be medically treated. Really, Mr Reeder, the events of the past few days have made me so nervous that I felt it prudent to send my niece to Paris. With one of my guards killed and my gamekeeper attacked, it almost looks as though there is some attempt being organised against the treasure house, and if I were not bound by the terms of the will I should send the whole contents of the place to the strongroom of a London bank. It is very disconcerting. By the way, you will be relieved to learn that I made a very careful inspection of the vault today, and none of the containers has been touched; all the seals are intact, as of course I expected they would be. I need hardly tell you that I am a little relieved, though there was no real cause for worrying. The strongroom is impregnable and, unless Buckingham was the most expert of thieves, he could not have forced the door without it being instantly detected. The key never leaves me day or night. I carry it, as a matter of fact, on a silver chain around my neck.”
“And none of the containers has been touched?” asked Mr
“No, it was quite dark, but I’ll know him again, and he’ll remember me for a long time. I carried a sword cane – one of those things you buy for a joke when you’re in Spain and never expect to use. As I wasn’t taking a gun because of my awful criminal record, I thought I’d be on the safe side and take that. Fortunately, I didn’t lose hold of it, and before he could give me a second blow I gave him two slashes with it that made him yap and bolt. I couldn’t see anything for blood, but I heard him smashing through a hedge. I don’t know how I got back to the car and how I got to London.”
“May I ask,” said Mr Reeder, “exactly why you went to Sevenways?”
“She asked me to see her last night – asked me in French; and she asked me in French because she didn’t want the chauffeur to hear her. That’s when she told me she wanted to see you. Her room is on the park side of the house – it’s called a castle, but it’s a Tudor house really – three windows on the right from the portico. As I say, the window was barred, so my plan came unstuck.”
“What on earth were you going to do?” asked J G.
“I was running away with her,” said Larry calmly. “It was her idea.”
Mr Reeder was a picture of amazement.
“You were running away with her?” he said incredulously.
“That was the idea. She asked me to take her away. It sounds mad, but there it is. She must have trusted me, or she was desperate. I think a little of each.”
Mr Reeder went out to telephone, Larry protesting.
“Really, I don’t want a doctor. A whack on the head is nothing.”
“A whack on the head that cuts four inches of skin and exposes the scalp is a very important matter,” said Mr Reeder, “and I am one of the few remaining people who believe in doctors.”
A surgeon came in half an hour and did a little fancy stitching. Mr Reeder insisted that Larry should stay in the house; a very unusual request, for he never encouraged visitors, and this was the first guest he had had within the memory of his housekeeper.
It was early in the afternoon when Mr Reeder reached Sevenways Castle. It stood in an extensive park and, as Larry had said, there was very little about it that had the appearance of a castle. Its architecture was Tudor, except that on one end there stuck out a rather ugly, modern addition which was built, it seemed, of dressed stone and visible from the drive. This must be the treasure house, he thought.
He had telephoned the hour he expected to arrive, and Major Olbude was waiting for him under the porch. He led him into the panelled library, where a red fire glowed on an open hearth.
“I’ve been trying to make up my mind whether I should wait for you to arrive or whether I should send for the local police. Some ruffian attacked a gamekeeper of mine with a sword last night. I’ve had to send him away to London to be medically treated. Really, Mr Reeder, the events of the past few days have made me so nervous that I felt it prudent to send my niece to Paris. With one of my guards killed and my gamekeeper attacked, it almost looks as though there is some attempt being organised against the treasure house, and if I were not bound by the terms of the will I should send the whole contents of the place to the strongroom of a London bank. It is very disconcerting. By the way, you will be relieved to learn that I made a very careful inspection of the vault today, and none of the containers has been touched; all the seals are intact, as of course I expected they would be. I need hardly tell you that I am a little relieved, though there was no real cause for worrying. The strongroom is impregnable and, unless Buckingham was the most expert of thieves, he could not have forced the door without it being instantly detected. The key never leaves me day or night. I carry it, as a matter of fact, on a silver chain around my neck.”
“And none of the containers has been touched?” asked Mr
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