3. His time doth take.
4. // of life you keep a care,
5. Shake off slumber, and beware:
6. Awake, awake!
4. ActV. Scene I.
1. Where the bee sucks there suck I:
2. In a cowslip's bell I lie;
3. There do couch when owls do cry.
4. On a bat's back I do fly
5, After summer, merrily.
6. Merrily, merrily shall I live now
7. Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
On taking out the lines, in accordance with the numbers in the telegram, he arrived at the following:
(Song 4, line 1). 'Where the bee sucks, there suck I.' (Song 4, line 4). 'On the bat's wing I do fly.' (Song 1, line 1). 'Come unto these yellow sands' (Song 1, line 5). 'Foot it featly here and there.' (Song 4, line 6). 'Merrily, merrily shall I live now.' (Song 4, line 3). 'There do couch where owls do cry.' (Song 4, line 7). 'Under the blossom that hangs on the
bough.'
(Song 4, line 3). 'There do couch where owls do cry.' (Song 4, line 7). 'Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.'
This little collection seemed by far the most hopeful he had achieved yet. There was a reference to 'yellow sands' and another to 'owls', which suggested the Brown Owl Inn. The words 'foot it featly', too, immediately conjured up in his mind a vision of long dancing limbs clad in silk stockings.
Bearing in mind that the first four lines referred to the sixth of August, when he had witnessed the smugglers' operations at Calais, he went over them again. 'Where the bee sucks, there suck I', seemed to suggest the depot at Calais, from which the smugglers drew their supplies. He did not know where they had landed on that occasion but, now that he was acutely conscious of the vast stretch of yellow sands at Pegwell Bay and their base a little way inland from it at Ash Level, it looked as though that was the spot where the smugglers had dropped their cargo on the night of the SIXTH.
Going on to the seventh, the Brown Owl Inn on Romney Marshes was plainly indicated, as he knew that they had landed there that night, and the repetition of it for the eighth, when they had landed there again, confirmed his guess.
He was puzzled for a moment about the line 'Under the blossom that hangs on the bough', but, in view of the fact that they had discovered tobacco in Mitbloom and Allison's warehouse, he soon decided that the inference must be to leaves, and that both the cargoes he had seen landed at Romney on the two previous nights were shipments of tobacco. When he had finally redrafted the telegram on these assumptions, it read:
COROT, CAFE DE LA CLOCHE, CALAIS. SIXTH. / AM COLLECTING SUPPLIES FROM OUR BASE AT CALAIS. THEY WILL BE DESPATCHED BY PLANE TO PEGWELL BAY AND THE FREIGHT ON THIS OCCASION WILL BE A CONSIGNMENT OF SILKS. THENCE I SHALL PROCEED TO THE CARLTON AND ON THE SEVENTH A FURTHER CONSIGNMENT WILL BE LANDED AT THE BROWN OWL INN ON ROMNEY MARSHES CON SISTING OF TOBACCO. ON THE EIGHTH THE LAST OPERATION WILL BE REPEATED AND WE SHALL LAND AT THE BROWN OWL INN AGAIN WITH A FURTHER CARGO OF TOBACCO.
'There you are he pushed it over to Wells and the Superintendent, 'that all fits in doesn't it?'
The Superintendent nodded. 'Good work, sir. If you're ever out of a job I think we could find you a billet. Unfortunately, though, this telegram only carries us up to the night of the eighth and it's already the ninth, or rather the morning of the tenth I should say now, so we are stuck again. Otherwise, if I could only catch them red-handed landing a cargo, I'd bring them in now we've got on to Quex Park, Ash Level, Romney Marshes, Calais and at least one of their London depots.'
'Yes, we're at a bit of a dead end now,' Gregory confessed and the new moon's due in two days' time. They'll stop operations then until the dark period in September unless I'm much mistaken, I've a hunch, though, they'll put another lot of stuff over tonight and on the eleventh so if you get your people to cover their three known landing grounds you ought to be able to catch them at it and capture their fleet tonight or tomorrow night.'
'Well, I'm for bed,' said the Superintendent. 'I was up all night last night chasing down into Kent, after Sir Pellinore got on to me to pull the two of you out of the mess you'd landed yourselves in, and you've, both had a pretty sticky time, too. I think we'd best meet again here and talk things over later in the morning. How will eleven o'clock suit you?'
'Fine,' Gregory agreed. 'I got in a good sleep today at Ramsgate, but my chest's still devilish painful from the gruelling I had with that lifeline, so a few hours in bed wouldn't do me any harm. I expect Wells feels much the same' way.'
The Inspector drew himself up but winced as the bandages under his armpits pulled at the raw skin. 'I'm game to go on,' he said, 'but there doesn't seem anything to go on with at the moment, so I think you're right, sir. We'd best pack up for the night.'
A taxi carried Gregory swiftly through the deserted streets to Kensington. It was just four o'clock as he inserted the spare key he had telephoned Rudd to send up to the Yard in the side door of No. 272 Gloucester Road and let himself in. The terrifying experience through which he had been had taken a lot out of him and he wearily mounted the stairs covered by their worn carpet.
In his sitting room Rudd had left, as usual, drinks and biscuits set out on a tray. He mixed himself a badly needed whisky and soda, threw off his coat, and drank it slowly.
His thoughts had turned to Sabine. The police net was closing upon Lord Gavin's organisation. She was still at Quex Park sleeping all unperturbed and unconscious, no doubt, of the approaching danger. By telephoning Sir Pellinore on the previous night she had undoubtedly saved the lives of
Wells and himself, but how much would the police let that weigh in her favour when they came to pull her in as one of the gang. And what was Wells's promise worth, when he had said that he would do his best for her, two nights previously, as Gregory had gone overboard from the aeroplane, trusting in the parachute to save his neck.
The police would have to charge her. They couldn't avoid doing that; and when she came before a court she would certainly be sentenced. The authorities could do no more than state that she had saved the lives of Wells and himself by giving timely information of their intended murder. It would reduce her sentence very considerably, no doubt, but she would be sentenced all the same, because she had refused to turn King's evidence when he had asked her to. She would be sent to prison and be faced with a hideous company of female gaol birds. Somehow or other he had got to save her from that.
For a moment he contemplated getting out his car and running straight down to Quex Park again, throwing the police overboard, telling her everything, and getting her out of the country by aeroplane if necessary, before they decided to arrest her. Yet if he did that, the whole of the police campaign would fall in ruins; all the work and risks taken by Wells and himself would go for nothing.
That did not matter so much, but the terrible thing was that Lord Gavin would escape and his secret organisation remain unbroken. He would create new bases farther north, perhaps upon the Essex coast, and start the game all over again. Soon, when the time was ripe, agitators and saboteurs would be landing there from his planes to pass unsuspected into the great industrial areas where they would ferment strikes and engineer every sort of trouble. He couldn't let that happen just because he was in love. Sabine was at Quex Park and she must take her chance that he would be able to get her out when the police made their general clear up.