From Afar (4 page)

We had a light supper of biscuits and wine, during which process I took good care to slip the four tablets into her glass unnoticed. Then, without a word to each other we made tracks for retiring....

CHAPTER FIVE

IT WORKED! Inside thirty minutes Beryl was sleeping like a log; but I waited until the hall clock boomed out one before I moved, then I slipped into pants, shirt and shoes, sped downstairs and got my torch from the library desk.

I found the cellar door under the stairs tightly locked—and a new lock at that. Beryl had had the old one replaced with one of the most foolproof and expensive ones made.

Back I went upstairs, searched around for some sign of a key. At last I found it, on a silk cord round her neck. In fact there were two keys on the ring.

Gently I disentangled the cord and hurried back, found the appropriate key and swung the cellar door open gently.

I stepped forward, closed the door behind me, switched on my torch so that the beam fell down the stone steps. Queer, to pay rent for this darned place and I'd never been allowed to see the basements!

I hurried down to the first basement, went through its emptiness to the second one. What I beheld here was neither revolting nor terrible: all the dark thoughts I'd conjured up had been groundless. What I saw was more surprising than anything else.

There was quite a deal of electrical apparatus, with cables soldered very professionally to the main house power wire. This feed wire led back to a device that looked like a carbon arc holder. In fact that was exactly what it was, when I looked more closely—only it was of unusual design with a metal matrix fixed at the carbon point gaps, what for I had no idea.

In a far corner was something like a long cylinder, half completed, with little tubes sprouting out of one end. It looked very like a bomb. Its metal was enormously tough and burnished, as though intended to stand an enormous amount of wear and tear.

The rest comprised a bench full of up-to-date tools—all for metal-work apparently. There was also a chunk of wax among other things, which gave me the bright inspiration of taking an impression of the two keys I had got....

That seemed to be everything—No, not everything, for my final glance around revealed a shelf in the shadows on which reposed a number of new books. So far everything was checking up. Beryl had said books, instruments, and odds and ends.... Right!

First book I took down was a new edition of
Gems,
Stones, and Their Origins
, identical with the library copy I had studied. I flipped the pages and studied the column about the bloodstone. Significant and obvious thing!

The names of the owners of the quartered bloodstone were underlined in red ink! Even more significant, the names of Boyd Harkness and Madame Elva Borini were ticked in red over the top. A sort of mute ‘Account settled.'

I went hastily through the rest of the books. They were brand new up-to-date Directories most of them—one for London, one for Naples, Italy, a smaller one giving particulars of addresses of British officials in Bermuda— The address of Boyd Harkness had not been necessary anyway, being close at hand. But Lord! What! How? Of all the riddles I'd ever heard of, this took the biscuit—and I was right in the middle of it.

I came finally upon a note-pad among the books. On it, obviously culled from the reference books, were the full addresses of the four bloodstone jewel owners...but not only their addresses. Also given was the exact latitude and longitude where their homes were placed on the Earth's surface! That, and a maze of figuring, that made no sense whatever to me.

For a long time I puzzled over this new enigma, but nothing clicked in my mind. I was beaten—at the moment. I put the books and note-pad back, prepared to retreat, then I caught sight of a massive new safe in a corner near the entrance of the basement. The second key's use became immediately apparent.

Once I'd opened the safe door the first thing to hit the beam of my torch was a flood of ruby, bloodlike radiance.

Carefully I took out the heavy mass, studied its amazing lustrous depths in awe. Beyond doubt, Harkness' paperweight, sent by mail to Beryl. But why should he send it to her when he didn't even know her? And why murder afterwards—? But there, I was getting on the deep side again. I needed more obvious things right now.

The safe contained nothing else, so at last I put the stone back and went back to bed, put the keys safely back round Beryl's neck. She did not move in the least—and I had a wax lump in my coat pocket....

I slept badly, brooding— At last dawn crept to the windows.

* * * * * * *

If Beryl suspected anything of my nocturnal activities she showed no sign of it. As we breakfasted her manner was still that of cold aloofness. I went out again in the same brusque way, determined to spend my day doing a lot of hard thinking instead of going to my office. I was getting too wound up to think straight much longer....

I felt it was as inevitable as the sunrise that before long death would overtake the two remaining bloodstone owners—Carson of London and Cardew of Bermuda. But still I didn't see how I could stop it without getting across the track of the law, and that was the last thing I wanted. Nor could I get any truth out of Beryl: between us loomed that invisible, merciless wall.

I had driven the car out of the drive and on to the main village road, thinking deeply as I went, when I saw the postman approaching on an ancient bicycle. I hailed him.

“Anything for me?”

He got off his machine, wheeled it over and stuck a horny finger and thumb through his little bundle.

“No, I'm afraid not, Mr. Shaw. Not this— But I'm forgetting this parcel!” He dived in his bag and brought a smallish brown paper one to light.

“For Mrs. Shaw,” he said, then as he studied it, “And air mail too. Foreign air mail. Rare round here. Must be important, Plenty of weight for air mail—”

“Be all right. I'll take it for her,” I said. “No need to go all the way to the house with it.”

“Well. I— Okay, it'll be all right,” he nodded, handing it over. “Rare we get two parcels for the same place two days running. Things have livened up a bit in the parcel mail since you and your wife came, Mr. Shaw. That one the day before yesterday and this one to-day—”

“That what mails are for, isn't it?” I interrupted him shortly. “Thanks!”

I drove on again rather hurriedly, but for some reason I felt he was watching me go. He
was
: my rear mirror showed it. Irritated, I drove on until I was out of his sight, then stopped and examined the parcel hurriedly. Air mail express, stamped ‘Napoli, Italia.'

I ripped off the cords, tore away the paper, opened a strong cardboard box—

Within a bed of cotton-wool was a glowing chunk of red glasslike stone....

Thoughts just wouldn't come to me. I was stunned. One thousand miles away a total stranger had mailed Beryl a piece of an antique jewel. And air mail to be sure of top speed. Then—then Madame Borini had been murdered, same as Boyd Harkness.... It gave me cold shudders to think of it. I began to get an insight upon the hellish, supernatural thing I was living with. More! Married to it!

And the law too showed signs that it might catch up. Inspector Hilton was nobody's fool. The postman was already a nosey kind of individual, and had noted the parcels arriving. If he told the police—

Something happened to me at this point in my thoughts. Don't ask me what it was because I can't tell you. I simply became aware that my skin was pricking and that the road and the car were both swaying unnaturally. It was like being on the edge of a faint— Only it wasn't a faint because I started the car up, reversed, and went back to the house.

I picked up the jewel in its box, let myself in by the front door and went right through to the lounge. Beryl was there, as though waiting for me. She was smiling imperturbably. I put the box down on the table beside her without a word, went out again, drove away again in my car....

The dreamlike sensation left me suddenly, left me limp and breathless. I was drawn up on the side of the road where I had stopped before. Had I been asleep, or what— Had I
really
been back home? I searched around the car frantically but the jewel and its box had gone as though it had never been.

What in thunder? Had it been a delusion...?

“No,” I whispered, taking myself in hand. “No, that was no delusion. Get it through your head that you've got to work on this before it's too late. You are not fighting just your wife but something diabolical that can do just as it likes with you—and her probably. You're dealing with the unknown—a vast, overpowering unknown!”

Yes, that was right! While I gathered my thoughts I drove on again slowly, towards the village. I was passing the local police headquarters when Hilton came suddenly into view in the doorway. He had evidently seen my approach through the window. He hailed me, came to the side of the car as I stopped.

“Glad you dropped past—save me the trouble of runnin' up to your place yet awhile, but I'll go up later anyway an' have a word or two with your wife.... Just routine, you know.”

“Yes, of course,” I nodded, searching his face. Then casually, “Something wrong? Something new, I mean?”

“In a way,” he said. “Still the Harkness job, of course. The Yard are on to it now, but I'm still nosin' around a bit. Y'see, it seems one of Harkness' last acts was to send off a parcel. His servant mailed it—accordin' to later questionin'—and he says it was sent to your wife....” Hilton rubbed his whiskery jaw. “An' that's sort of queer,” he mused. “She said she'd never seen Harkness when I asked her about him. Remember?”

“I remember,” I said shortly. “And so far as I know it is true. Anyway, what has this to do with Harkness' death?”

“Never can tell.... You say you never met Harkness neither?”

I shook my head impatiently. “Of course not! And if he sent a parcel to my wife there was probably a very good reason for it. A—a neighborly act, perhaps....”

“Oh, very neighborly.” Hilton studied me impersonally for a moment, then he said, “Even by itself it would be queer—no denyin' it: but when the postal authorities in the village tell us yet another parcel was received today for your wife, from Italy by air mail—a rare thing in these parts—it begins to look more 'n just queer. It's none of our business, of course, but we do know that an Italian singer died in the same way as Harkness. Seems odd that both folks died after sendin' parcels to your wife, doesn't it?”

“What the devil have events in Italy to do with you?” I blustered.

“Nothin',” he admitted blandly. “But sometimes the police in different countries find things to help each other.... Well, I'll keep you .no longer, Mr. Shaw. Probably see you later when I call on your wife.”

He returned leisurely to his headquarters and I drove on again grimly, not caring where I went. So the postman had talked! I might have known it— The damned, driveling old fool! The police were on to the hunt now, and if they found those jewel pieces they'd probably arrest Beryl there and then. Somehow I had got to protect her. She was still my wife....

Somehow I marshaled a plan out of the chaos. I drove on into the city, and had two keys made from my wax impression block. It took an hour, during which time I grabbed some lunch, then I set off back home. I arrived in the early afternoon, declutched the car into the garage to make no sound, then silently entered the house.

My idea was to perhaps surprise Beryl in some guilty act. But instead it was me that got the surprise. Beryl was in the lounge, lying on the divan fast asleep. At least I thought she was. Her book on astronomy lay on the floor beside her dangling hand, and she lay breathing softly with her eyes closed. I wondered if the dosage of sleeping tablets was having still a latent effect.

Softly I moved out into the hall again, and nearly collided with Mrs. Wilson.

“Mrs. Shaw been out at all today?” I asked her quickly.

“No, Mr. Shaw—not at all.”

“Anybody called? Inspector Hilton—or the postman perhaps?”

“Why, no, Mr. Shaw.” Mrs. Wilson gave me a mystified look. “Is anything wrong, sir? This morning you returned hurriedly with a small box, and now you are back long before your usual time. Can I get you something—?”

“I
did
come back then, with a box?” I gripped her arm.

“Surely: I saw you from the hall here. You didn't look very well, I might add.”

“No—I didn't feel it. Did you see what happened to that box after I left it in the lounge?”

“As I recall, your wife went into the basement with it.” Mrs. Wilson nodded rather dubiously to the closed door under the staircase.

I thought a moment, then said, “Okay, that's all. And you have not seen me this afternoon—remember that! It's in everybody's interests that you say that. I've an idea some trouble is blowing up.”

She nodded slowly and went off to the domestic regions. I returned to the lounge to make sure Beryl was still asleep. She was. Picking up her book I looked at the page she had been reading.

It was all about Andromeda—the Great Nebula of Andromeda—a long and highly technical treatise concerning the possibility of life on those far distant worlds swirling in that hazy scum untold light years away.

Interesting? In a sense...and again I thought of that statement that the bloodstone might have come from outer space. Just for a second I hovered on the verge of the revolting, incredible truth—then I couldn't pursue it any further for Beryl stirred very slightly.

I made myself scarce immediately, hurried to the cellar, unlocked the door with my duplicate key and closed it behind me. Inside of five minutes I had hidden myself into the deepest shadows of the first cellar where I could watch and not be watched. I was in the dark, my heart thumping. I no longer had illusions about Beryl. If she discovered me she'd probably kill me....

After I had waited for about ten minutes the door opened at the top of the steps. Good! My hope that she might come down here was being realized.... A switch clicked. Dim light illumined the cellar steps. She closed the door behind her, descended the steps quickly, walked right past the place where I was concealed and into the contiguous cellar. Another light came on. I watched intently.