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officials have big feet and small intelligence, but she could hardly believe
that even the flat-footed kind of oaf depicted by the novelist could be such a
flabbergasting imbecile.
Suddenly she saw the solution. The Tiger was in Baycombe, but with the
removal of his gold the reason for his stay was also taken away. That boat
must have been sent over to fetch him. The Tiger was even then being rowed out
to his ship the ship they were to capture.
Patricia drew a deep breath. Things were clearing up. All the widespread
threads of the tangled web of mystery and terror that had cast its shadow so
unexpectedly over her life and her home had been obligingly gathered up and
dumped down in the few hundred square yards of shining water below. The gold
was there; the Tiger was there; the Tiger Cubs were there. The gold was of
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secondary importance, and the Tiger Cubs, being nothing without their leader,
were of no importance whatever except as a dangerous obstacle to be overcome.
But the Tiger was the big prize in the Lucky Dip, and that was a gamble she
was relentlessly determined to win. There would be no more mystery about his
identity, once she was on board: he could only be one of two people. And then.
..
Orace loomed silently out of the dimness.
"Carn't see 'im," he said shortly, and with that he would have dismissed the
subject of Mr. Lomas-Coper. "Owda we get dahn this plurry precipyse, Miss
Patricia? I'd fergot we ain't got no rope ter speak of'ere."
"He was going to bring some," said the girl. I wonder if anything's happened
to him?"
She was at a loss to explain the defection of Algy. He had been so thrilled
with the adventure that she could not believe that he would deliberately let
her down, and she did not number cowardice among his failings. Had Bloem found
out that she had enlisted Algy? The possibility of a spy listening outside the
embrasure while she talked had not occurred to her, and the thought sent her
cold. If they had been overheard, the Tiger Cubs would be waiting for them,
and their plan was foredoomed to failure unless by some brilliant revision it
could be brought to bear from another angle.
Then she had an inspiration. If Algy had been returning punctually, he would
have passed by the quay about the time the boat she had seen was picking up
the Tiger himself. Algy knew all the facts, and if he had noticed anything
suspicious he would probably have stopped to investigate. Then, like the
impetuous ass he was, he'd have managed to drop several large bricks...
"They may have got him already," she said. "I've got a hunch what must have
happened. We'll go down and see."
Already she was heading down the hill, and Orace followed protestingly.
" 'E ain't werf it, miss, onestter Gawd, 'e ain't"
"He's two more men than we can afford to lose," Patricia retorted crisply.
"In any case, we've got to go this way. We must get some rope and see if
Carn's back I'd like to know that the police were going to chip in later, in
case we don't bring it off."
The quay, so called by courtesy, was no more than fifty yards by ten of rough
stone, littered with coils of rope, drying nets, lobster pots, and spars.
Behind it were tarred wooden huts used by the fishermen to repair their
things; and from one end of it a stone jetty ran out for no more than twenty
yards.
They stopped and looked round.
From a very little distance came a slithering sound and a low groan. Then a
weak whisper:
"Pat!''
Orace had thoughtfully brought his torch, but the girl stopped him using it,
aware that they could be seen from the ship if anyone happened to be looking
that way. She traced the voice, and almost at once came upon the man lying
against the wall. of one of the huts.
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"Is that you, Algy?"
"Right first go," he got out. "I'm a washout- to get pipped bang off like
this!"
She was supporting his head with her arm, and Orace was hovering
ineffectually around.
"How did they get you?" she asked. "Is it bad?"
"Think I'll pull round in a sec.," he muttered with an effort. "I'm not going
to die by a fluke."
At this news Orace, finding that he had not to play odd man out at a deathbed
scene, moved the girl aside and picked Algy up. He carried him round behind
the hut and then switched the torch on him. Blood was running down the side of
Algy's face from an ugly furrow which was scored from the outside end of his
eyebrow to the top of his ear, and there was a black cordite burn on his
temple.
"Point-blank," he said. "It stunned me. But I'll soon be as fit as a fiddle."
Orace had found a bucket, and in this he fetched water from the sea. Algy
heaved himself and plunged his head in the pail for three or four long
douches, coming up for breath in between. The salt water stung his wound
painfully, but his head was rapidly clearing.
While they tied a handkerchief round his head he told the story, and it was
much as the girl had surmised,
"So, like a little hero," he concluded ruefully, "I walked up and said 'Hands
up!' in the approved manner. And then I got this."
"Did you recognize anybody?"
"It was too dark to see their faces I didn't even see the jolly old
pea-shooter they used on me. But one of them was short and fat, which must
have been the Sausage-meat Sultan, and I'm blowed if another hadn't got
something doocid like the height and shape of Uncle Hans!"
"How many were there?"
"Three or four they stood in a group, so I can't be quite certain."
He was struggling to his feet, and he stood leaning against the wall of the
hut. The shock must have been worse than he admitted, for his face was white
and drawn.
"How do you feel now?" she asked.
"Fine," he said. "I feel as if the top of my head's breaking off, but
otherwise I'm absolutely O. K. Let's get along the string's where I dropped
it, round in front. Lead on!"
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