"I must be going now," he said, and took her in his arms. "Gwen, dear, with any luck it'll all be over very soon, and we'll be able to forget it. I'll be back as soon as ever I can."
She kissed him. "God bless you. And be careful, my darling!"
He kissed her again, and went out singing blithely. The world was very bright for Jerry Stannard that morning.
But the girl listened to the cheerful slamming of the door with a little frown, for she was troubled with misgivings. It had all seemed so easy at the time, in the optimistic way in which he had told her the story, but reviewed in cold blood it presented dangers and difficulties in legion. She wished, for both their sakes, that he had been able to stay with her that day, and her fears were soon to be justified.
Half an hour after he had gone, when the breakfast things had been cleared away, and she was tidying herself to go out for a walk, there was a ring on the front door bell. She answered it; and when she saw that it was Edgar Hayn, after what Jerry had been able to tell her, she would have closed the door in his face. But he had pushed through before she could collect her wits. He led the way into the sitting-room, and she followed in mingled fear and anger. Then she saw that there were dark rings round his eyes, and his face was haggard. "What is it?" she asked coldly.
"The police," he said. "They're after me-and they're after you, too. I came to warn you."
"But why should they be after me?" she demanded blankly.
He was in a terrible state of nerves. His hands fidgeted with his umbrella all the time he was talking, and he did not meet her eyes. "Drugs!" he said gruffly. "Illicit drugs. Cocaine. You know what I mean! There's no harm in your knowing now-we're both in the same boat. They've been watching me, and they saw me with you yesterday and followed you."
"But how do you know?"
"I've got friends at Scotland Yard," he snapped. "It's necessary. Policeman aren't incorruptible. But my man let me down-he never gave me the tip till the last moment. They're going to raid this flat and search it this morning."
Her brain was like a maelstrom, but there was one solid fact to hold on to. "There's nothing for them to find."
"That's where you're wrong! Those things I gave you-one of our other boxes got mixed up in them. I've just found that out. That's why I'm here. There's six ounces of cocaine in this flat!"
She recoiled, wide-eyed. Her heart was thumping madly. It all seemed too impossible, too fantastic. . . . And yet it only bore out and amplified what Jerry had been able to tell her. She wondered frantically if the excuse of innocence would convince a jury. Hayn saw the thought cross her mind, and shattered it.
"You know how Jerry's lived," he said. "No one would believe that you weren't both in it!" He looked out of the window. She was impelled to follow his example, and she was in time to see two broad-shouldered men in bowler hats entering the house. "They're here!" said Hayn breathlessly. "But there may be a chance. I recognized one of the men-he's a friend of mine. I may be able to square him."
Outside, a bell rang.
Hayn was scribbling something on a card. "Take this," he muttered. "My car's outside. If I can get them away from you for a moment, slip out and show the card to the chauffeur. I've got a house at Hurley. He'll take you there, and I'll come down later and discuss how we're going to get you and Jerry out of the country."
The bell rang again, more urgently. Hayn thrust the pasteboard into the girl's hand. "What're you hesitating for?" he snarled. "Do you want to stand in the dock at the Old Bailey beside your lover?"
Hardly knowing what she did, she put the card in her bag.
"Go and open the door," Hayn commanded. "They'll break in if you don't." As he spoke, there came yet a more insistent ringing, and the flat echoed with the thunder of a knocker impatiently plied.
The girl obeyed, and at the same time she was thinking furiously. Jerry-or his chief, this man Templar-would know how to deal with the crisis; but for the moment there was no doubt that Hayn's plan was the only practicable one. Her one idea was to stay out of the hands of the police long enough to make sure that Jerry was safe, and to give them time to think out an escape from the trap in which Hayn had involved them.
The two broad-shouldered men entered without ceremony as she opened the door. "I am Inspector Baker, of Scotland Yard," said one of them formally, "and I have a warrant to search your flat. You are suspected of being in illegal possession of a quantity of cocaine."
The other man took her arm and led her into the sitting-room. Hayn came forward, frowning. "I must protest about this," he said. "Miss Chandler is a friend of mine."
"That's unlucky for you," was the curt reply.
"I'll speak to Baker about this," threatened Hayn hotly, and at that moment Baker came in.
He was carrying a small cardboard box with the label of Laserre. "Poudre Laserre," the label said; but the powder was white and crystalline. "I think this is all we need," said Baker, and stepped up to Gwen. "I shall take you into custody on a charge-"
Hayn came between them. "I should like a word with you first," he said quietly.
Baker shrugged. "If you must waste your time-"
"I'll take the risk," said Hayn. "In private, please."
Baker jerked his thumb.
"Take Chandler into another room, Jones."
"Jones had better stay," interrupted Hayn. "What I have to say concerns him also. If you let Miss Chandler leave us for a minute, I will guarantee that she will not attempt to escape."
There was some argument, but eventually Baker agreed. Hayn opened the door for the girl, and as she went out gave her an almost imperceptible nod. She went into her bedroom and picked up the telephone. It seemed an eternity before the paging system of the Splendide found Jerry. When he answered, she told him what had happened. "I'm going to Hayn's house at Hurley," she said. "It's the only way to get out at the moment. But tell Tremayne when he comes, and get hold of Templar, and do something quickly!"
He was beginning to object, to ask questions, but there was no time for that, and she hung up the receiver. She had no means of knowing what Hayn's methods of "squaring" were, or how long the negotiations might be expected to keep the detectives occupied.
She tiptoed down the hall, and opened the door.
From the window, Hayn, Baker and Jones watched her cross the pavement and enter the car.
"She's a peach, boss," said Baker enviously.
"You've said all I wanted you to say," Hayn returned shortly. "But it's worked perfectly. If I'd simply tried to kidnap her, she'd have been twice as much nuisance. As it is, she'll be only too glad to do everything I say."
Dicky Tremayne arrived two minutes after Hayn's car had driven off. He should have been there over an hour ago, but the cussedness of Fate had intervened to baulk one of the Saint's best-laid plans. A bus had skidded into Tremayne's car in Park Lane, the consequent policeman had delayed him interminably, the arrangements for the removal of his wrecked car had delayed him longer, and when at last he had got away in a taxi a series of traffic blocks had held him up at every crossing. Now he had to act on his own initiative. After a second's indecision, Tremayne realized that there was only one thing to do. If Hayn and his men were already in the flat, he must just blind in and hope for the best; if they had not yet arrived, no harm would be done.
He went straight into the building, and on the way up the stairs he met Hayn and two other men coming down. There was no time for deliberation or planning a move in advance. "You're the birds I'm looking for," Tremayne rapped, barring the way. "I'm Inspector Hancock, of Scotland Yard, and I shall arrest you-"
So far he got before Hayn lashed out at him. Tremayne ducked, and the next instant there was an automatic in his hand.
"Back up those stairs to the flat you've just left," he ordered, and the three men retreated before the menace of his gun.
They stopped at the door of the flat, and he told Hayn to ring. They waited. "There seems no reply," said Hayn sardonically.
"Ring again," Tremayne directed grimly.
Another minute passed. "There can't really be anyone at home," Hayn remarked.
Tremayne's eyes narrowed. It was something about the tone of Hayn's sneering voice. . . .
"You swine!" said Tremayne through his teeth. "What have you done with her?"
"With whom?" inquired Hayn blandly.
"With Gwen Chandler!"
Tremayne could have bitten his tongue off as soon as the words were out of his mouth. That fetal, thoughtless impetuosity which was always letting him down! He saw Hayn suddenly go tense, and knew that it was useless to try and bluff further.