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The Yellow Streak

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"After you!" he said.

He had placed himself so close to the doorway that the black fox about
her neck brushed his face as she passed. Suddenly a warm, sickly whiff
of some sweet-smelling odour came to her. She stopped on the instant,
irresolute, alarmed. Then a dank hand was clapped on her face, covering
nostrils and mouth with a soft cloth reeking with a horrible cloying
drug. An arm with muscles like steel was passed round her waist and held
her in a vice-like grip against which she struggled in vain. She felt
her senses slipping, slipping ...




CHAPTER XXIII


TWO'S COMPANY ...

On the pavement opposite the post-office stood one of those high pillars
which are commonly used in Continental cities for the display of theatre
and concert advertisements. Robin instantly stepped behind it. It was
not that he wished to avoid being seen by Jeekes as much as that he had
not decided in his mind what course he had best pursue. From behind the
cover of the pillar he mustered his man.

The little secretary looked strange and unfamiliar in a sporting sort of
travelling ulster of a tawny brown hue and a cap of the same stuff. But
there was no mistaking the watery eyes, the sharp nose, the features. He
had obviously not seen Robin. His whole attention was rivetted on the
street. He kept peering nervously to right and left as though expecting
some one.

Suddenly he stepped forward quickly to the kerb. Then Robin saw an open
car detach itself from the press of traffic in the square and, driven
very fast, approach the post-office. It was a large car with a grey
body; a sallow man wearing a black felt hat sat at the wheel. The car
drew up at the kerb and halted within a few feet of the advertisement
pillar. Robin backed hastily round it to escape observation. He had
resolved to do nothing until he had ascertained who Jeekes's friend was
and what business the secretary had with him.

"It's all right," Robin heard the man in the car say in English; "I
telephoned the girl and she's coming. What a piece of luck, eh?"

Robin heard the click of the car door as it swung open.

"... better get along out there at once," he heard the man in the car
say, "I'm sending Jan in the car for her at ..."

Then Robin stepped out unexpectedly from behind his pillar and cannoned
into Mr. Jeekes, who was just entering the car.

"Good-morning," said Robin with easy assurance; "I'm delighted to hear
that you've found Miss Trevert, Jeekes, for, to tell the truth, I was
feeling somewhat uneasy about her ..."

The secretary's face was a study. The surprise of seeing Robin, who had
dropped, it seemed to him, out of the clouds into the city of Rotterdam,
deprived him of speech for an instant. He blinked his eyes, looked this
way and that, and finally, with a sort of blind gesture, readjusted his
_pince-nez_ and glared at the intruder.

Then, without a word, he got into the car. But Robin, with a firm hand,
stayed the door which Jeekes would have closed behind him.

"Excuse me," Robin remarked decidedly, "but I'm coming with you if your
friend"--at this he looked at the man in the driving-seat--"has no
objection ..."

Mr. Jeekes cast a frightened glance at the sallow man.

The latter said impatiently:

"We're wasting time, Jeekes. Who is this gentleman?"

"This is Mr. Greve," said the little secretary hurriedly, "a friend of
Mr. Parrish and Miss Trevert. He was staying in the house at the time of
the tragedy. He has, I understand, taken a prominent part in the
investigations as to the motive of our poor friend's sad end ..."

Mr. Jeekes looked to Robin as he said this as though for confirmation.
The man at the driving-wheel turned and gave the little secretary a
quick glance. Then he mustered Robin with a slow, insolent stare. He had
a yellow face and small black eyes quick and full of intelligence.

Then he bowed.

"My name is Victor," he said. "The sad news about Mr. Parrish was a
great shock to me. I met him several times in London. Were you anxious
to see Miss ... er ... Trevert? She has come to Rotterdam (so my friend
Jeekes tells me) to look into certain important business transactions
which the late Mr. Parrish had in hand at the time of his death. Did I
understand you to say that you were uneasy about this lady? Is there any
mystery about her journey?..."

For the moment Robin felt somewhat abashed. The question was rather a
poser. Was there, in effect, any mystery about Mary's trip to Rotterdam
accompanied by her cousin? She had acquainted her people at Harkings
with her plans. What if, after all, everything was open and above-board,
and she had merely come to Rotterdam on business? It seemed difficult to
believe. Surely in such a case the solicitor, Bardy, would have been the
more suitable emissary ...

"You'll forgive us, I'm sure," the yellow-faced man remarked suavely,
"but we're in a great hurry. Would you mind closing that door?..."

Robin closed the door. But he got into the car first. As he had stood on
the pavement in doubt, the recollection of Jeekes's inexplicable lie
about the payments made by Parrish for the French lady in the Mayfair
flat came back to him and deepened the suspicion in his mind. It would
in any case, he told himself, do no harm to find out who this rather
unsavoury-looking Rotterdam friend of Jeekes's was ...

So Robin jumped into the car and sat down on the back seat next to the
secretary.

"It happens," he said, "that I am particularly anxious to see Miss
Trevert. As I gather you are going to meet her, I feel sure you won't
mind my accompanying you ..."

The yellow-faced man turned with an easy smile.

"Sorry," he said, "but we are having a meeting with Miss Trevert on
private business and I'm afraid we cannot take you along. Jeekes here,
however, could take a message to Miss Trevert and if she _wanted_ to see
you ..."

He broke off significantly and smiled slily at the secretary. Robin felt
himself flush. So Jeekes had been telling tales out of school to Mr.
Victor, had he? The young man squared his jaw. That settled it. He would
stay.

"I promise not to butt in on your private business," he replied, "but I
simply must see Miss Trevert before I go back to London. So, if you
don't mind, I think I'll come along ..."

The yellow-faced man glanced at his wrist watch.

"I can't prevent you!" he exclaimed. Then he rapped out something in
Dutch to Jeekes. The secretary leaned forward to catch the remark. The
yellow-faced man threw in the clutch.

"Goed!" (good), answered Jeekes in the same language, and resumed his
seat as the car glided smoothly away from the kerb into the traffic of
the busy square. Robin settled himself back in the seat with an
inaudible sigh of satisfaction. He did not like the look of Jeekes's
companion, he told himself, and Mr. Victor, whoever he was, had
certainly manifested no great desire for Robin's company. But he was
going to see Mary. That was all that counted for the moment.

They threaded their way through the streets in silence. It passed
through Robin's mind to start a discussion with Jeekes about the death
of Hartley Parrish. But in the circumstances he conceived it might
easily assume a controversial character, and he did not want to take any
risk of jeopardizing his chance of meeting Mary again. And no other
subject of conversation occurred to him. He did not know Jeekes at all
well, knew him in fact only as a week-end guest knows the private
secretary of his host, a shadowy personality, indispensable and part of
the household, but scarcely more than a name ...

The car had put on speed as they left the more crowded streets and
emerged into the suburbs. Now they were running over a broad straight
main road lined with poplars. Robin wondered whither they were bound.
He was about to put the question to the secretary when the man Victor
turned his head and said over his shoulder:

"_Nu_!"

At the same moment the speed of the car sensibly diminished.

Jeekes put his arm across the young man at his side.

"That door," he said, touching his sleeve, "doesn't seem to be properly
shut. Would you mind ..."

Robin pushed the door with his hand.

"It seems all right," he said.

"Permit me ..."

The secretary stretched across and pulled back the latch, releasing the
door. It swung out.

"Now close it," said Mr. Jeekes.

The door was flapping to and fro with the swaying of the car over the
rough road and Robin had to half rise in order to comply with the
request. He was leaning forward, steadying himself with one hand
grasping the back of the driving-seat, when he received a tremendous
shove in the back. At the same moment the car seemed to leap forward: he
made a desperate effort to regain his balance, failed, and was whirled
out head foremost on to the side of the road.

Fortunately for himself he fell soft. The road ran here through a
little wood of young oak and beech which came right down to the edge of
the _chaussée_. The ground was deep in withered leaves which, with the
rain and the water draining from the road's high camber, were soft and
soggy. Robin went full length into this muss with a thud that shook
every bone in his body. His left leg, catching in a bare gorse-bush,
acted as a brake and stopped him from rolling farther. He sat up, his
mouth full of mud and his hair full of wet leaves, and felt himself
carefully over. He contemplated rather ruefully a long rent in the left
leg of his trousers just across the knee.

"Jeekes!" he murmured; "he pushed me out! The dirty dog!"

Then he remembered that, with the men in the car gone, he had lost trace
again of Mary Trevert. His forcible ejection from the car was evidence
enough of their determination to deal with Mary without interference
from outside. It looked ominous. Robin sprang to his feet and rushed to
the middle of the road.

The _chaussée_ was absolutely empty. About a hundred yards from where he
stood in the direction in which the car had been travelling the road
made a sharp bend to the right, thus curtailing his view. Robin did not
hesitate. Not waiting to retrieve his hat or even to wipe the mud from
his face, he started off at a brisk run along the road in the direction
in which the car had disappeared. He had not gone far before he found
that his heavy overcoat was seriously impeding him. He stripped it off
and, folding it, hid it beneath a bush just inside the plantation. Then
he ran on again.

Fresh disappointment awaited him when he rounded the bend in the road. A
few hundred yards on the road turned again. There was no sign of the
car. A cart piled high with manure was approaching, the driver, wearing
wooden shoes and cracking at intervals a huge whip, trudging at the
side.

Robin stopped him.

"Motor-car? Automobile?" he asked pointing in the direction from which
the cart had come. The driver stared at him with a look of owlish
stupidity.

"Automobile?" repeated Robin. "Tuff-Tuff?"

Very slowly a grin suffused the carter's grimy face. He showed a row of
broken black teeth. A tiny stream of saliva escaped from the corner of
his mouth and trickled over the reddish stubble on his chin. Then he
continued his way, turning his head every now and then to display his
idiot's grin.

"Damnation!" exclaimed Robin, starting to run again. "Not a soul to ask
in this accursed desert except the village idiot! Oh! that Jeekes! I'll
wring his blinking neck when I get hold of him!"

He was furious with himself for the abject way in which he had been
fooled. The man Victor had given Jeekes his orders in Dutch and had
purposely picked a soft spot on the roadside and slowed down the car in
order that the unwelcome intruder might be ejected as safely as
possible. And to think that Robin had blandly allowed Jeekes to open the
door and throw him out on the road!

He was round the second bend now. The sun was shining with a quite
respectable warmth and the steamy air made him desperately hot. The
perspiration rolled off his face. But he never slackened his gait. Robin
knew these Continental roads and their habit of running straight. He
reckoned confidently on presently coming upon a long stretch where he
might discern the car.

He was not deceived. After the second bend the _chaussée_, just as he
anticipated, straightened out and ran clear away between an
ever-narrowing double line of poplars to become a bluish blob on the
horizon. But of the car nothing was to be seen.

For the second time Robin pulled up. He took serious counsel with
himself. He estimated that he could see for about three miles along the
road. Less than three minutes had elapsed since his misadventure, and
therefore he was confident that the car should yet be in sight, unless
it had left the road, for it could not have warmed up to a speed
exceeding sixty miles an hour in the time. There was no sign of the car
on the road, consequently it must have left it. Robin had passed no side
roads between the scene of the accident and the second bend; therefore,
he argued, he had the car before him still. He would go on.

When he started off for the third time, it was at a brisk walking pace.
As he went he kept a sharp lookout to right and left of the road for any
trace of the car. It never occurred to him that to follow on foot a
swift car bound for an unknown destination was the maddest kind of
wild-goose chase. He was profoundly uneasy about Mary, but at the same
time immeasurably angered by the trick played upon him--angered not so
much against Jeekes as against the sallow-faced man whom he recognized
as its inceptor. He had no thought for anything else.

The flat Dutch landscape stretched away on either side of the road. A
windmill or two, the inevitable irrigation canals with their little
sluices, and an occasional tree alone broke the monotony of the scene.
But away to the right Robin noticed a clump of trees which, he surmised,
might conceivably enclose a house.

As he walked, he scrutinized the roadway for any track of a car. But on
the hard brick _pavé_ wheels left no mark. The first side road he came
to was likewise paved in brick. In grave perplexity Robin came to a
halt.

Then his eye fell upon a puddle. It lay on the edge of the footpath
bordering the _chaussée_ about five yards beyond the turning. The soft
mud which skirted it showed the punched-out pattern of a studded tyre!
The car had not taken this side road, at any rate. It had probably
pulled over on to the footpath to pass the manure cart which Robin had
met. He pushed on again valiantly.

Another hundred yards brought him to a second side road. There was no
_pavé_ here, but a soft sandy surface. And it bore, clearly imprinted in
the mud, the fresh tracks of a car as it had turned off the road.

Breaking into a run Robin followed the track down the turning. It led
him to a black gate beyond which was a twisting gravel drive fringed
with high laurels. And the gravel showed the same tyre marks as the
road.

He vaulted the gate lightly and ran up the drive. He was revolving in
his head what his next move should be. Should he walk boldly into the
house and confront Jeekes and his rascally looking companion or should
he first spy out the ground and try to ascertain whether Mary had
arrived? He decided on the latter course.

Accordingly, when an unexpected turn of the drive brought him in view of
a white porch, he left the avenue and took cover behind the laurel
bushes. Walking softly on the wet grass and keeping well down behind the
laurels, he went forward parallel with the drive. It ran into a clean
courtyard with a coachhouse or garage on one side and a small green
door, seemingly a side entrance into the house, on the other.

There was no one in the courtyard and the house seemed perfectly quiet.
From his post of observation behind the laurels, Robin observed that a
tall window beside the green door commanded the view across the
courtyard. He therefore retraced his steps by the way he had come. When
he was past the corner of the house, he returned to the drive and
keeping close to the bushes walked quietly into the courtyard. There,
hugging the wall, he crept round past the closed doors of the garage
until he found himself beside the tall window adjoining the green door.

The window was open a few inches at the top. From within the sound of
voices reached him. Jeekes was speaking. Robin recognized his rather
grating voice at once.

"... no more violence," he was saying; "first Greve and now the girl. I
don't like your methods, Victor ..."

Very cautiously Robin dropped on one knee and shuffled forward in this
position until his eyes were on a level with the window-sill. He found
himself looking into a narrow room, well lighted by a second window at
the farther end. It was apparently an office, for there was a high desk
running down the centre and a large safe occupied a prominent place
against the wall.

Jeekes and the man Victor stood chatting at the desk. The yellow-faced
man was grinning sardonically.

"Parrish don't like your methods, I'll be bound," he retorted. "Don't
you worry about the little lady, Jeekes! Bless your heart, I won't hurt
her unless ..."

The loud throbbing of a car at the front of the house made Robin duck
his head hastily. The car, he guessed, might be round at the garage any
moment and it would not do for him to be discovered. He got clear of the
window, rose to his feet, and tiptoed round the house by the way he had
come. Then he crossed the drive and regained the shelter of the laurels.
Crawling along until he came level with the porch, he peeped through.

Mary Trevert was just entering the house.




CHAPTER XXIV


THE METAMORPHOSIS OF MR. SCHULZ

As the girl collapsed, the yellow-faced man, with an adroit movement,
whisked the handkerchief off her face and crammed it into his pocket.
Then, while he supported her with one arm, with the other he thrust at
the door to close it. Without paying further attention to it, he turned
and, bending down, lifted the girl without an effort off her feet and
carried her across the room to the Chesterfield, upon which he laid her
at full length. Then he seized her muff, which dangled from her neck by
a thin platinum chain.

Suddenly he heard the door behind him creak. In a flash he remembered
that he had not heard the click of the lock as he had thrust the door
to. He was springing erect when a firm hand gripped him by the back of
the collar and pulled him away from the couch. He staggered back,
striving to regain his balance, but then a savage shove flung him head
foremost into the fireplace. He fell with a crash among the fire-irons.
But he was on his feet again in an instant.

He saw a tall, athletic-looking young man standing at the couch. He had
a remarkably square jaw; his eyes were shining and he breathed heavily.
He wore a blue serge suit which was heavily besmeared with white plaster
and the trousers were rent across one knee. Straight at his throat
sprang the yellow-faced man.

Something struck him halfway. The young man had waited composedly for
his coming, but as his assailant advanced, had shot out his left hand.
There was a sharp crack and the yellow-faced man, reeling, dropped face
downwards on the carpet without a sound. In his fall his foot caught a
small table on which a vase of chrysanthemums stood, and the whole thing
went over with a loud crash. He made a spasmodic effort to rise, hoisted
himself on to his knees, swayed again, and then collapsed full length on
the floor, where he lay motionless.

The sound of the fall seemed to awaken the girl. She stirred uneasily
once or twice.

"What ... what is it?" she muttered, and was still again.

Bending down, the young man gathered her up in his arms and bore her out
through the door with the blue curtain, through a plainly furnished sort
of office with high desks and stools, and out by a side door into a
paved yard. There an open car was standing. The fresh air seemed to
revive the girl further. As the young man laid her on the seat, she
struggled up into a sitting position and passed her hand across her
forehead.

"What is the matter with me?" she said in a dazed voice; "I feel so
ill!"

Then, catching sight of the young man as he peered into her face, she
exclaimed:

"Robin!"

"Thank God, you're all right, Mary," said Robin. "We've not got a moment
to lose. We must get away from here quick!"

He was at the bonnet cranking up the car. But the engine, chilled by the
cold air, refused to start. As he was straining at the handle, a man
dashed suddenly into the yard by the office door.

It was Jeekes. The little secretary was a changed man. He still wore his
_pince-nez_. But his mild air had utterly forsaken him. His face was
livid, the eyes bulged horribly from his head, and his whole body was
trembling with emotion. In his hand he held an automatic pistol. He came
so fast that he was at the car and had covered Robin with his weapon
before the other had seen him come.

Mr. Jeekes left Robin no time to act. He called out in a voice that rang
like a pistol shot:

"Hands up, Mr. Smartie! Quick, d'you hear? Put 'em up, damn you!"

Slowly, defiantly the young man raised his arms above his head.

Mr. Jeekes stood close to the driver's seat, having prudently put the
car between himself and Robin. As he stood there, his automatic levelled
at the young man, a remarkable thing happened. A black, soft surface
suddenly fell over his face and was pulled back with a brisk tug. Mary
Trevert, standing up in the back seat of the car, had flung her fur over
the secretary's head from behind and caught him in a noose. Before Mr.
Jeekes could disentangle himself, Robin was at his throat and had borne
him to the ground. The pistol was knocked skilfully from his hand and
fell clattering on the flags. Robin pounced down on it. Then for the
first time he smiled, a sunny smile that lit up his blue eyes.

"Bravo, Mary!" he said. "That _was_ an idea! Now, then, Jeekes," he
ordered, "crank up that car. And be quick about it! We want to be off!"

The little secretary was a lamentable sight. He was bleeding from a cut
on the forehead, his clothes were covered with dust, and his glasses had
been broken in his fall. Peering helplessly about him, he walked to the
bonnet of the car and sullenly grasped the handle. The smile had left
Robin's face, and Mary noticed that he looked several times anxiously at
the office door.

And then suddenly the engine bit. Handing the pistol to the girl, Robin
warned her to keep the secretary covered and, leaping into the
driving-seat, turned the car into the avenue which curved round the
house.

Mr. Jeekes made no further show of fight. He remained standing in the
centre of the courtyard, a ludicrous, rather pathetic, figure. As the
tyres of the car gritted on the gravel of the drive, the office door was
flung open and the yellow-faced man ran out, brandishing a big revolver.

"Stop!" he shouted and levelled his weapon. The car seemed to leap
forward and took the sharp turn on two wheels just as the man fired. The
bullet struck the wall of the house and sent up a shower of plaster.
Before he could fire again the car was round the house and out of sight.
But as the car whizzed round the turn an instant before the yellow-faced
man fired, the girl heard a sharp cry from Jeekes:

"Don't, Victor ...!"

The rest of the sentence was lost in the roar of the engine as the car
raced away down the drive.

They left the avenue in a splutter of wet gravel. The gate still stood
open. They wheeled furiously into the side road and regained the
_chaussée_. As yet there was no sign of pursuit. The car rocked
dangerously over the broken _pavé_, so Robin, after a glance behind,
steadied her down to an easier pace. Mary, who looked very pale and ill,
was lying back on the back seat with her eyes closed.

They ran easily into Rotterdam as, with a terrific jangle of tunes
played jerkily on the chimes, the clocks were striking two. Robin slowed
down as they approached the centre of the city.

"Where are you staying, Mary?" he asked.

He had to repeat the question several times before she gave him the
address. Then he found himself in a quandary. He was in a strange town
and did not know a word of the language so as to be able to ask the way.
However, he solved the difficulty without great trouble. He beckoned to
a newspaper boy on the square outside the Bourse and, holding up a
two-gulden piece, indicated by signs that he desired him as a guide. The
boy comprehended readily enough and, springing on the footboard of the
car, brought them safely to the hotel.

Robin left Mary and the car in charge of the boy and went to the office
and asked to see the manager. He had decided upon the story he must
tell.

"Miss Trevert," he said, when the manager, a blond and suave Swiss, had
presented himself, "has been to the dentist and has been rather upset by
the gas. Would you get one of the maids to help her up to her room and
in the meantime telephone for a doctor. If there is an English doctor in
Rotterdam, I should prefer to have him!"

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