The Vengeance of Larose

I—The Mystery of Marle House-2

Between the mouths of the rivers Crouch and Blackwater lies the loneliest part of the Essex coast. Even in these days of the ubiquitous motor car, it is unsought after on account of its inaccessibility and because, when reached, there is nothing to interest the average person there. At low water the sea recedes many miles from its shore, which is flanked by many thousands of acres of low-lying land, much of it swamp and marsh, reclaimed from the sea by the narrow seawall which runs the greater part of its length.

It is at all times a scene of desolation, given over to the wastes of muddied sands and the screeching gulls; and when the winds are risen, the sea roars across the foreshore to the stolen marshes, like some wolf-mother calling to her cubs.

And yet, at some time in the mid-Victorian years, someone had built a house there—at its loneliest part—a good, substantial stone house of two stories, just behind the seawall and within a hundred yards of the margin of the waves at high tide.

At the back of the house stretched a wide expanse of the dreary Dengie marshes. No road led there, only a narrow, winding track across the marshes, always sodden and precarious in the winter rains.

Marle House it was called, but beyond the memory of the oldest inhabitant of the scattered outlying little villages it had been known as Marle's Folly.

For many years it had been unoccupied; and the sea spray had crumbled the mortar between its stones and rotted away the woodwork, so that its doors and windows had fallen in. It had stood like a great grey ghost derelect and forgotten by the world.

But quite recently, much to the interest of everybody in the neighborhood, it had come into the possession of new owners, three friends, and they had restored it to some degree of comfort.

At first, everyone for miles around had been intensely curious about the newcomers, but, it becoming known that they were business men from London and connected with the Stock Exchange, undue curiosity and interest in them soon died down. It was understood they were making Marle House their home in order to obtain a little peace and quietness at weekends, in happy contrast to the feverish worries or their calling.

The three men at Marle House were always in residence on Saturdays and Sundays; but often during the week, late at night or in the early mornings, their big black car was seen speeding along the London road beyond Southminster or Burnham.

The car never passed through either of these little towns, either going to or coming from London, but picked up the main road from another track leading off the marshes, so that just where the tenants of Marle House were at any time was never actually certain.

They were assumed to be well off, for soon after they came to Marle House a piece of land, about two miles away, at the very mouth of the River Crouch, opposite to Foulness Island, was acquired; and there they built a big, roomy boat-house, soon to be occupied by quite a good-sized motor launch. In fine weather they often went fishing far out to sea, and it was said that at times they crossed right over to the Kentish coast.

Keeping as they did, entirely to themselves, it was never known if they entertained any visitors or or not.

The Southminster grocer, however, who called at Marle House every Wednesday, learned, besides their occupation, a lot of other things about them from the elderly housekeeper, who described them as 'perfect gentlemen.' She told him that their names were Pellew, Royne, and Rising, and that they were well connected, and had a luxurious flat in the West End, where they stayed when they did not come home during the week.

She spoke there in all sincerity, and to the best of her belief, but, for all that, she was furnishing most inaccurate information.

Their real names were nothing like those she had given and, had the truth been known, the world generally would hardly have agreed to her statement that they fell within the category of perfect gentlemen.

As a matter of fact, the so-called Pellew was a one-time member of the legal profession who had been struck off the rolls and received five years' imprisonment for appropriating trust money. Royne was an ex-paymaster of the Royal Navy, who had been dismissed for embezzlement, and had escaped prosecution only because of the influence of a distinguished relative high up in the service, while Rising was a properly qualified medical man who had, some years before, to flee the country because of his connection with a dope gang which had been uncovered by the police.

As for their real occupations, certainly the Stock Exchange did not know them. To those who had dealings with them in London, they were known to carry on the business known as the Malaga Wine and Spirit Company, specialising in the importing of Spanish wines.

The premises of the company were situated in an old warehouse in Curtain lane, a short, unfrequented street near the East End of the city, and comprised the ground floor and basement of a narrow building wedged in between two much higher ones.

The two upper floors were unoccupied, which circumstance was explained by the fact that the lease of the whole building was falling due in less than a year's time, when everything would come into the hands of the housebreakers.

The company was an old-established one, but for many years it had been anything but a paying concern. However, about eighteen months previously, it had been bought very cheaply by its present proprietors, and was now registered in the name of Anton Pellew.

The manner in which the company conducted its business would certainly have seemed peculiar to anyone who knew anything about the tenants of Marle House, for the three men, when up in the city and making their living by the activities of this decaying wine firm, were, apparently, upon a very different footing from that shared by the three friends when at home in their lonely residence upon the Essex coast.

In Curtain lane, Pellew posed as the sole proprietor of the business. Rising was the one solitary clerk, and Royne acted as porter, and had charge of the large cellar in the basement where the cases of wine were stored.

When the car brought the three up to the city in the morning it was left for the day in a garage in the main street in Aldgate, but from there the three men never proceeded in company to Curtain lane.

Royne invariably went first, and opened the warehouse, then, a few minutes later Rising followed and, finally, Pellew bustled in, as if business were very brisk and the day's work must be got on with as quickly as possible.

But business was never brisk with this company, for they had very few customers and, except that they were agents for a brand of cheap but quite passable sherry, they might have had almost no customers at all. Still, slackness of trade never seemed to worry them and they never appeared to be short of money.

When they were all together in the building Royne, as the porter, invariably brought in three good lunches from a nearby public house. These they ate in company in a back room behind the private office; and, as an appetiser, they often shared a quart bottle of champagne, of a much better vintage than was ever to be found in their own cellar.

But they were not always all together, for both Pellew and Rising were often away, Pellew particularly, but never both at the same time. Sometimes, one of these two would be away for days at a time, and then when he returned there would be a long and earnest conversation in the back room, with a switch on the front door slipped down, so that no one could enter the premises without sounding a bell which tinkled in the room where they were.

Occasionally, but less often than the others, Royne went away too, and then he would leave in an attire very different from that he customarily adopted. He looked like a seafaring man at those times, with his face darkened to an almost mahogany hue. Also, his hands were tarred and grimy; and he appeared to have had no acquaintance with soap and water for some days.

Then, again, their dealings with certain of their customers were strange, for, not once or twice, but several times when some prospective customer had been shown into the head office, upon a secret signal given by Pellew, Royne would make a quick change in his appearance and go out to the end of the lane and there wait for this customer to reappear. Then he would follow him and see where he went.

Once, too, he had rushed off immediately and, picking up a taxi, had been driven right away to the West End. There he had waited for hours, keeping discreet watch not far away from a big house occupied by the ambassador of a certain foreign Power.

Another time he was driven off in the same way, but it was to Whitehall he went upon this occasion, and night had fallen before he returned. Yet a third time, after showing a visitor in to Pellew, he had hurried off to New Scotland Yard, and not only that day but for the two days ensuing, had kept as close a watch as possible upon all who entered there.

Sometimes all three men slept in the back room behind the office in Curtain lane; but sometimes only two of them, or Pellew rented two rooms upon the fourth floor of a house in Wardour street. There, speaking three languages fluently, he passed as a Continental journalist corresponding with several foreign papers, and one whose work accounted for his spasmodic occupancy of the rooms. He occasionally had visitors who from their appearance were not always of the poorer classes.

Then, at other times enjoying life as a well-to-do man about town, he would stay at some first-class West End hotel, frequenting expensive night clubs and posing as one of the idle rich.

Altogether, the proprietor and the two employees of the Malaga Wine and Spirit Company were a very mysterious trio.

One day towards the end of May, about eleven o'clock in the morning, Pellew and Royne, in the private office, were frowningly conning the pages of an instruction book dealing with the Barling internal combustion engine.

"It's a hellish pity we don't know enough about engines to do the job ourselves," scowled Pellew. "Still, there's no help for it, and we'll have to get a mechanic in. The devil of it is one or other of us will have to be watching him the whole time. We can't let him get any opportunity of nosing about, or he may become suspicious about a lot of things."

"Yes," agreed Royne gloomily, "and there's always the chance he may become curious that the engine is so powerful, and start talking about it to outsiders."

Pellew looked thoughtful. "Now if I could pick up a chap who has good reasons for wanting to keep out of the limelight for a while, it would fit in well. We really always need a handy man about the place to do odd jobs, besides looking after the motor boat and the car. There's that ceiling wants attending to and those leaks in the roof. I think I'll——" but they suddenly heard voices outside and a few moments later the obsequious Rising knocked respectfully upon the door and entered.

"A gentleman to see you, sir," he announced in his ordinary tones, and then he mouthed the words, "Von Ravenheim!"