# The Bittermeads Mystery/Chapter 22
### CHAPTER XXII PLOTS AND PLAYS

“Very wise of you,” yawned Deede Dawson. “That's just what Ella said—what's that?”
For instinctively Dunn had raised his hand, but he lowered it again at once.
“Oh, cut the cackle,” he said impatiently. “Tell me what you want me to do, and make it plain, very plain, for I can tell you there's a good deal about all this I don't understand, and I'm not inclined to trust you far. For one thing, what are you after yourself? Where do you come in? What are you going to get? And there's another thing I want to say. If you are thinking of playing any tricks on me don't do it, unless you are ready to take big risks. There's only one man alive who ever made a fool of me, and his name is Rupert Dunsmore, and I don't think he's today what insurance companies call a good risk. Not by any manner of means.” He paused to laugh harshly. “Let's get to business,” he said. “Look here, how do I know you mean all you say about Rupert Dunsmore? What's he to you?”
“Nothing,” answered Deede Dawson promptly. “Nothing. But there's some one I'm acting for to whom he is a good deal.”
“Who is that?” Dunn asked sharply.
“Do you think I'm going to tell you?” retorted the other, and laughed in his cold, mirthless manner. “Perhaps you aren't the only one who owes him a grudge.”
“That's likely enough, but I want to know where I'm standing,” said Dunn. “Is this unknown person you say you are acting for anxious to bring about Rupert Dunsmore's death?”
“I'm not answering any questions, so you needn't ask them,” replied Deede Dawson.
“But I will tell you that there's something big going on. Or I shouldn't be in it, I don't use my brains on small things, you know. If it comes off all right, I—” He paused, and for once a thrill of genuine emotion sounded in his voice. “Thousands,” he said abruptly. “Yes, and more—more. But there's an obstacle—Rupert Dunsmore. It's your place to remove him. That'll suit you, and it'll mean good pay, as much as you like to ask for in reason. And Ella, if you want her. The girl won't be any use to me when this is over, and you can have her if you like. I don't think she'll object from what I can see—not that it would matter if she did. So there you are. Put Rupert Dunsmore out of the way and it'll be the best day's work you've ever done, and you shall have Ella into the bargain—if you claim her. Makeweight.”
He began to laugh again and Dunn laughed, too, for while he was not sure what it was that amused Deede Dawson, there were certain aspects of all this that bore for him a very curious and ironic humour.
“All right,” he said. “You bring me face to face with Rupert Dunsmore and you won't have to grumble about the result, for I swear only one of us will go away alive. But how are you going to do it?”
“I've my plan, and it's simple enough,” answered Deede Dawson. “Though I can tell you it took some working out. But the simplest problem is always the best, whether in life or in chess.” Again he indulged in a low and guarded outburst of his thin, mirthless laughter before he continued: “I suppose you know Rupert Dunsmore is one of those restless people who are never content except when wandering about in some out of the way place or another, as often as not no one having the least idea of his whereabouts. Then he turns up unexpectedly, only to disappear again when the whim takes him. Lately he has been away on one of these trips, but I happen to know he is coming back almost at once—what's the matter?”
“I was only wondering how you knew that,” answered Dunn, who had given a sudden start.
“Oh, I know, never mind how,” Deede Dawson said. “I know that tomorrow afternoon at four o'clock he will be waiting by the side of Brook Bourne Spring in Ottom's Wood, near General Dunsmore's place. Which is as out of the way and quiet and lonely a spot as you could wish for.”
“And you have information that he will be there?” Dunn said incredulously. “How can you possibly be sure of that?”
“Never mind how,” answered Deede Dawson. “I am sure. That's enough. My information is certain.”
“Oh, it is, is it?” Dunn muttered. “You are a wonderful man, Mr. Dawson. You know everything—or nearly everything. You are sure of everything—or nearly everything—but suppose he changes his mind at the last moment and doesn't come after all?”
“He won't,” answered Deede Dawson. “You be there and you'll find him there all right.”
“Well, perhaps,” said Dunn slowly. “But what I want to know is why you are so sure? There's a good deal hangs on your being right, you know.”
“I only wish I was as certain of everything else,” Deede Dawson said.
“Oh, all right,” exclaimed Dunn. “I suppose you know and you may be right.”
“I am,” Deede Dawson assured him. “Listen carefully now, there mustn't be any blunders. You are to make an early start tomorrow. I don't want you to take the car for fear of its being seen and identified. You must take the train to London and then another train back immediately to Delsby. From Delsby you'll have an eighteen-mile walk through lonely country where you aren't likely to meet any one, and must try not to. The less you are seen the better. You know that for yourself, and for your own sake you'll be careful. You'll have no time to spare, but you will be able to get to the place I told you of by four all right—no earlier, no later. You must arrange to be there at four exactly. You may spoil all if you are too early. Almost as soon as you get there, Rupert Dunsmore will arrive. You must do the rest for yourself, and then you must strike straight across country for here. You can look up your routes on the map. There will be less risk of attracting attention if you come and go by different ways. You ought to be here again some time in the small hours. I'll let you in, and you'll have cleared your own score with Rupert Dunsmore and earned more money than you ever have had in all your life before. Now, can I depend on you?”
“Yes—yes,” answered Dunn, over whom there had come a new and strange sense of unreality as he stood and listened to cold-blooded murder being thus calmly, coolly planned, as though it were some afternoon's pleasure trip that was being arranged, so that he hardly knew whether he did, in fact, hear this smooth, low, unceasing voice that from the darkness at his side laid down such a bloody road for his feet to travel.
“Oh, yes, you can depend on me,” he said. “But can I depend on you, when you say Rupert Dunsmore will be there at that time and that place?”
It was a moment or two before Deede Dawson answered, and then his voice was very low and soft and confident as he said:—
“Yes, you can—absolutely. You see, I know his plans.”
“Oh, do you?” Dunn said as though satisfied. “Oh, well then, it's no wonder you're so sure.”
“No wonder at all,” agreed Deede Dawson. “There's just one other thing I can tell you. Some one else will be there, too, at Brook Bourne Spring in Ottam's Wood.”
“Who's that?” asked Dunn sharply.
“The man,” said Deede Dawson, “who is behind all this—the man you and I are working for—the man who's going to pay us, even better than he thinks.”
“He—he will be there?” repeated Dunn, drawing a deep, breath.
“Yes, but you won't see him, and it wouldn't help you if you did,” Deede Dawson told him. “Most likely he'll be disguised—a mask, perhaps; I don't know. Anyhow, he'll be there. Watching. I'm not suggesting you would do such a thing as never go near the place, loaf around a bit, then come back and report Rupert Dunsmore out of the way for good, draw your pay and vanish, and leave us to find out he was as lively and troublesome as ever. I don't think you would do that, because you sounded as if you meant what you said when you told me he was your worst enemy. But it's just as well to be sure, and so we mean to have a witness; and as it's what you might call a delicate matter, that witness will most likely be our employer himself. So you had better do the job thoroughly if you want your pay.”
“I see you take your precautions,” remarked Dunn. “Well, that's all right, I don't mind.”
“You understand exactly what you've got to do?” Deede Dawson asked.
Dunn nodded.
“What about Allen?” he asked. “Does he take any part in this show?”
“He and I are planning a little visit to Wreste Abbey rather early the same night, during the dinner-hour most likely,” answered Deede Dawson carelessly. “We can get in at one of the long gallery windows quite easily, Allen says. He kept his eyes open that day you all went there. It may be helpful to give the police two problems to work on at once; and besides, big as this thing is, there's a shortage of ready money at present. But our little affair at Wreste Abbey will have nothing to do with you. You mind what you've got to do, and don't trouble about anything else. See?”
“I see,” answered Dunn slowly. “And if you can arrange for Rupert Dunsmore to be there at that time all right, I'll answer for the rest.”
“You needn't be uneasy about that,” Deede Dawson said, and laughed. “You see, I know his plans,” he repeated, and laughed again; and still laughing that chill, mirthless way of his, he turned and walked back towards the house.
Dunn watched him go through the darkness, and to himself he muttered:—
“Yes, but I wonder if you do.”