Our trio made for that area too but without even pausing at the Yacht Station or glancing at the lighted windows of the small hotels and guest houses on the other side of the road, continued along the tow-path in the Yarmouth direction. The faint beat of a motor-launch came to us down wind.
“Should they be moving at this time of night, Pons?” I asked.
My companion shook his head.
“My guess is, no. All Broadland craft are obliged to tie up at dusk. It is forbidden to move at night without proper navigation lights and hired holiday craft do not have them.”
He frowned.
“As their launch is the only craft moving it should not be too difficult to pick them up again. I think we will take to the road, Parker. According to the maps I have studied there should be another bridge a little farther down.”
I hurried after him up the steps at the side of the tow-path and we walked along a well-lit, metalled road.
“Lack of navigation lights will make it difficult for us to pick them up, Pons,” I said.
“True, Parker,” my companion agreed. “But you forget that no part of the Broads is more than an hour away by car. There is ample time to cut them off when we give Heathfield the word to move. We want all four, on board, and with the money.”
I glanced at my companion’s tense, aquiline face.
“You think they are making for Great Yarmouth, then?”
“Undoubtedly that direction, Parker. The police are watching the roads about Norwich and the launch is their only way out. I have no doubt they intend to transfer to a motor vehicle when they reach some pre-arranged lonely spot. Now we must be sparing of talk as we have some stiff walking ahead of us.”
He said nothing more as we walked briskly along the road, following the course of the broad, sluggish river; we could hear the launch clearly but as we had left the tow-path which the three men had taken, they were no longer in view. The noise of the launch was clearer now, the slow beat of its motor echoing back from the banks.
Then it increased and as the throttle opened it settled into the familiar rhythm of a motor vessel under way. Pons glanced at his watch as we passed under a street-lamp. His face expressed satisfaction.
“All four safely aboard, Parker,” he said. “I think we might make our move now, before they get too far down-river.”
“You are showing remarkable knowledge of the locality, Pons,” I commented.
My companion chuckled.
“I have not wasted my time and this afternoon I studied a large-scale map of the area. Unless I am much mistaken, there is a bridge about a mile ahead which will do very nicely.”
I tucked my arms into my sides for the lean, athletic figure had increased its pace and I am afraid I was a little blown before we had reached our destination. The river twisted here, for the sound of the launch was fainter, though we had evidently gained upon it, for I could see the faint cabin lights between the trees down below. The road, of course, ran straight, taking no account of the river, which veered away at this point and in remarkably quick time we had come to a broad road-bridge across, guarded by a low parapet topped by iron railings.
Pons had reached it first and stood awaiting me impatiently, his eyes dancing with excitement. He still carried the heavy stick and his keen eyes were fixed on the bend of the river behind us.
“I think this will do nicely, Parker. The bridge is low and sloping so that they will have to keep in the centre of the stream. The cabin top should not be more than four feet below the arch at this point.”
“Good heavens, Pons,” I mumbled. “You surely do not intend to drop on to the vessel?”
“That is exactly my intention, Parker. But if you do not feel up to it, I shall quite understand. In which case I should be grateful if you would remain as an observer and sound this police whistle once I am aboard.”
He slipped the chain of the whistle about my neck as he spoke but I shook my head.
“I would not dream of remaining, Pons. Where you go I shall follow.”
Solar Pons smiled thinly.
“Excellent, Parker. I knew I could rely on you. We must drop quite accurately and make sure we do not get in each other’s way. Timing is all important and you must drop three seconds after me. I shall land in the bow and you on the cabin-top that way.”
“You seem to have worked it out in a good deal of detail, Pons,” I said, looking back at the small circular blobs of light from the launch portholes which were now coming broadside on to us at the far bend.
“It is hastily improvised, Parker, but I fancy it will do,” he said casually.
We were quite alone on the bridge and the nearest street light was at the far end, so that we were in shadow here. Pons went over to the other side of the bridge and stepped on to the low wall. He seized the iron railing and eased over. He disappeared and a few moments later I heard his voice echoing upwards above the beat of the launch engine.
“It will not be difficult, Parker. There is a brick groyne here which gives excellent footing and one can hold on to the iron bolts of the railings.”
I looked down over the coping and saw that he had spoken the truth; he held the stick under his left arm and balanced himself easily on the brickwork holding on to a long, protruding iron bolt with his right hand.
“It is just a question of timing. Pray go to the far parapet and run back to me as soon as the bow of the craft reaches the bridge. Then we have only to wait until the Moorhen appears beneath us. I estimate she is travelling at only some five knots.”
I did as Pons ordered, running swiftly to the far parapet. The dim shape of the launch was already a hundred yards away, the chug of its engine sounding exceptionally loud in the still summer air. As Pons had said she carried no navigation lights but someone had made an attempt to duplicate the green port and red starboard markings by affixing electric torches to the cabin top on either side and fastening coloured mica strips across them.
There was no-one visible aboard but there was a dim light from the steering well and I crouched down, carefully calculating the vessel’s progress as she cleaved the dark brown water, briefly turned to silver in the moonlight.
“She is beneath the arch now, Pons!”
I ran swiftly back, my heart thumping and scrambled down next to Pons. He smiled at me encouragingly.
“Three seconds, Parker. No more or you will overshoot.”
“I understand, Pons.”
The words were no sooner out of my mouth than the bow of the vessel appeared from beneath the bridge, directly underneath us. Pons was already gone, dropping cat-like on to the bow. I finished my counting and was in the air; the cabin-top looked as small as a postage stamp but I landed safely, slithering sideways for one sickening moment, before I managed to steady myself by catching hold of a wire cable which helped to support the short mast of the launch.
The bang I made on the cabin top roused cries of alarm from the interior and I was reassured to see Pons appear beside me; he looked alert and formidable as he brandished the heavy walking-stick.
“I hope this is the right launch, Pons,” I said, “or we shall have a suit for assault on our hands.”
Pons laughed, his keen feral face clear-minted in the moonlight.
“You never cease to entertain me, my dear fellow. Ah, here they come.”
He lashed out as a burly figure flailed its way from the cabin. There was a howl of pain as the heavy cane descended and the big man in the tarpaulin coat backed away. Two men appeared to have collided in the cabin doorway and I leaned over and got in a smart blow at the neck of one of them. A search-light suddenly stabbed out across the water in front of us and the chugging of another launch was heard.