Outrageous Fortune (28 page)

“And I tell you,” said Nesta, “that I won't hand over a penny if I don't see the emeralds!” Her voice broke on the word and choked.

On the other side of the wall, Jim wondered whether she was being silenced for the moment or for good and all. If she was being murdered, he would have to go to the rescue, and the prospect enraged him. Next moment however there was an indignant spluttering whisper.

“Take your filthy hand away!”

“All right—but you'll get scragged in earnest if you start mentioning names.”

“Who's going to hear them?” said Nesta.

“No one,” said the smooth voice very smoothly. “And shall I tell you why? Because you'll be dead before you get them out. It'll look fine on the hoardings—‘Woman Found Strangled.' You'll get your photograph into the Sunday papers if that's what you want. Pity you won't be there to see them!”

“Tom knows where I've gone.”

For all his dislike, Jim could admire her nerve. He wondered how much Tom did know.

“Oh—Tom knows, does he? Well, you be careful, or he'll know more than he likes. Hand over the cash!”

“Not till I've seen them!”

They were so close against the wall that Jim could hear every movement and—almost—every breath. He heard the man step sideways, and he heard Nesta take a sharp breath.

“Hand that money over!” said the man.

Nesta laughed.

“Do you think I'm such a fool as to have it on me? Keep your hands to yourself, and keep your distance!”

There was another movement. Jim thought the man stepped back.

“Where's the money?” The smoothness of his voice was broken.

“That's it,” said Nesta—“where is it? I don't mind telling you, you know. It's not a hundred miles away. For the matter of that, it's not a dozen yards away. It's where I put it, and there it'll stay until I've seen what I want to see. Of course you can start looking for it if you like. You've got a box of matches—I should try if I were you. I shan't mind seeing you burn your fingers!”

There was an empty, dangerous pause. It occurred to Jim that it would be bad luck if he were to get mixed up in another murder. Some day Nesta would go too far. He wondered if the day had come. He would not himself have gambled on the self-control of the man on the other side of the wall.

The pause broke. The voice was smooth again.

“That true?”

Nesta laughed.

“Cross my heart!”

“You'll get it crossed with a knife if you're not careful!”

“Not this time,” she said. “Let me see them, and you won't have to waste your matches.”

There was another pause.

“Come on, or I'll think you haven't got them! And if you haven't got them, I'm off.”

A match head scraped on emery, and the slit in the wall flared yellow. Jim, stooping forward on the inner side, saw, framed by the black wall, a man's hand with eight green stones dangling, just as he had seen it in his dreams. In his dreams it had been Elmer's hand, but this was a smaller, smoother hand than Elmer Van Berg's. The match was out of the picture. It was above and behind the green stones, making a transparency of them.

Jim heard Nesta exclaim, then saw her face, avid and dark, lips parted, close-set eyes intent. On the other side there came into view a man's profile—straight forehead, long nose, straight thin lips, long chin—and all in a moment was blotted out again. The match fell, trailing a spark across the darkened picture, and in the same instant Jim reached at arm's length through the slit, caught the swinging chain, and jerked it clear.

XXXII

Caroline sat in the car, and felt the darkness and the silence come blanketing down. She had backed into the parking-ground and run up close under the hedge, so that on one side she had a black wall of thorny twigs, and on the other the formless shadows of the field. She had switched off her lights lest by any chance she should be seen. The time went slowly.

After a bit she shut her eyes and began to think about Jim. Of course she had been thinking of him all the time, but this was a very special kind of thinking. He had kissed her differently, and he had said, “I love you with all my heart and soul.” And he had said, “If I get out of this, we'll get married.”

Caroline thought about these things. It was like looking out from under an angry black cloud into a heavenly sunny place. It was like looking into a dream and finding beauty and gladness beyond anything you had imagined. Caroline looked.

She was not sure how long she had been dreaming, when a light startled her broad awake. It shone red through her eyelids, and she opened them, dazzled, to meet the headlights of a car. As she exclaimed, someone shouted. The light swung aside and a car drew up at right angles to Jemima. Instantly the doors were flung open and she was hailed by name. Two people jumped out.

“Hi, Caroline—I spotted you! You were asleep—we jolly nearly ran you down! Who are you with? Have you got your clue? Because if you have, you might just as well hand it on and save us trekking up to the Tower.”

With her first words, Caroline recognized Kitty Lefroy, the daughter of the Hinton doctor. She had just left school, and was a lively tom-boy.

“Beastly unsporting!” said a boy's voice. “You've got to find your own clue. Besides, it won't be the Tower—I said so all along.”

“Of course it's the Tower!” said Kitty. “It is—isn't it, Caroline? I say, you know Jock Anderson, don't you—Major Anderson's nephew? He's just taken a special prize for pig-headedness at Sandhurst, so he's rather above himself—but you needn't take any notice of him.”

“Well, I say it isn't the Tower—it's too easy.”

“Of course if you want to be
clever
—” said Kitty.

“‘A finger pointing to the east

The ointment of the royal beast.'

If that doesn't mean Leonard's Tower, what does it mean?”

“It's too easy,” said Jock Anderson.

Caroline was leaning out of the window. Her one desire was to get rid of them. If Jenny Ross had fixed on St Leonard's Tower as one of the clues in her treasure hunt, about two dozen people might be here at any moment. She had told Major Anderson she was going treasure-hunting, and she was being taken at her word. It was like an Awful Warning out of the most horrid sort of Moral Tract. It was a Judgment. It trembled on the edge of being a Disaster. She said rather breathlessly,

“I should hurry up if I were you—I think you're the first.”

“Well, what price you?”

“I've given up,” said Caroline. “I'm not feeling like treasure-hunting. I'm going home.”

Kitty whirled round on Jock Anderson.

“We're the first! Do you hear? Buck up, my lad, and we'll scoop the chocolates yet! It's a jolly fine box!”

They ran off, noisy and laughing.

Caroline sat back with a sigh of relief.

Fifty yards up the lane Jock Anderson gripped Kitty by the elbow.

“Was that Caroline Leigh?”

“Yes. Why? Have you fallen for her in the dark? You'll be one of a crowd if you have.”

“Shut up—I'm serious! What's she doing all by herself in the dark like that?”

“I don't know. What's it matter?”

“It looks—queer. Kitty, can you keep a secret?”

“Of course I can.”

“It's not a joke—it's a frightfully serious business. I don't suppose I ought to tell you.”

“Beast”
said Kitty.

“On the other hand—”

“Jock Anderson, you're the most deliberate, cautious, disgustingly Scotch person I've ever met, and if you ever want me to speak to you again, you'll tell me at once.”

“The Van Berg murder,” said Jock Anderson.

Kitty gave a faint scream.

“Who? What? Where?”

Jock shook her, none too gently.

“Stop that row! If I tell you, you swear you won't let on?”

“Yes—truly.”

“Well, did you know a man called Jim Randal?”

“When I was a kid. He's been away for ages. He's Caroline's cousin.”

“That's it! Well, they think he did the Van Berg murder.”

“Mr Van Berg isn't dead?”

“Next door to it—and they've got a warrant out against this Randal fellow.”

“How do you know?”

“I heard the inspector talking to my uncle. Now look here—what's she doing in that car? Whilst you were gassing, I went round to the back and put my pocket torch on the number plate, and I'm prepared to swear that's the car that passed us a mile out of Ledlington just before we took that wrong turning you were so cocksure about.”

“I wasn't!”

“Oh,
weren't
you? No, shut up—don't rag! What I'm trying to say is this. When they passed us, there was a man in the car. Where's he got to?”

“Jim Randal was drowned—” said Kitty Lefroy in a slow, bewildered voice.

“No, he wasn't—he was seen and recognized in Ledlington this morning. That's why they've got the warrant out.”

“O-oh!” said Kitty in a thrilling whisper.

“And I believe she's waiting for him,” said Jock Anderson.

“O-oh!” said Kitty again.

“And what I thought of was this. We've got to see who she's waiting for. I've seen this Randal fellow's passport photograph—my uncle's got it. I suppose you wouldn't recognize him?”

“I might,” said Kitty. “Caroline has photographs of him all round her room. She's potty about him—always has been.”

“Good girl! Then here's our plan of campaign. You go back and say I've gone to get the clue by myself—say you're fed up or any old thing you like—say we've quarrelled. That ought to be quite convincing. Then get her out of the car by hook or by crook. This is essential, because I've got to put it out of action.”

“How?”

“What does it matter how? There are dozens of ways. I can break the petrol pipe, or cut the leads from the coil. That's my job. You've only got to get her away from the car. Say you're cold and want to walk up and down, or something like that. If she's really helping this Randal fellow, she won't like to make a fuss for fear of rousing your suspicions. Now get on with it!”

“Suppose it isn't Jim Randal,” said Kitty. “Suppose she just didn't want to walk to the Tower, and it's one of the Lester boys or Roger Blake—they're all mad keen about her.”

“Then we shall be in the soup,” said Jock comfortably.

Kitty giggled.

“I say—what a lark!” she said, and disappeared down the lane.

XXXIII

Kitty Lefroy stood at the corner of the parking-ground and choked with laughter. She had to wait until she could choke it down. As soon as she thought she was fairly safe she approached Jemima.

“Hi, Caroline! Joyous reunion! Why haven't you got your lights on?”

Caroline wasn't dreaming now. She had been waiting with every nerve stretched for Jim's footstep. Kitty's voice stabbed her with disappointment and fear.

“Why have you come back?” she said.

“Don't you want me?” said Kitty, and felt a giggle rise in her throat. “I've turned my ankle, so Jock sent me back. Anyhow, we've had a simply blazing row, so he can just go and find his beastly clue himself. I say, who have you got with you? Is it Roger, or one of the Lester boys?”

“No,” said Caroline.

“Aren't you mysterious! The Secret Escort, or Caroline's Conspiracy, by A. Non! I say, that's rather bright, isn't it, and straight off the bat!” She allowed the giggle to escape. Then, leaning with her elbow on the door of the car, she gave an exaggerated shiver. “I suppose you haven't got a thermos or anything? I'm simply frozen.” It would have given Caroline the greatest pleasure to box her ears. They were so conveniently near too. She restrained herself, and said,

“I'm afraid I haven't.”

“Then let's walk up and down. I'm fruzz—absolutely. I shall be a stiffened corpse if I don't keep up my circulation.”

“I thought you'd sprained your ankle?” said Caroline.

She was beginning to be afraid of Kitty Lefroy. The horrid little wretch was up to something—guessed something—knew something. What had she guessed? How much did she know?

The horrid little wretch giggled again.

“Oh, it's better. I think exercise will be good for it. You know”—with a burst of frankness—“I didn't really twist it at all. Jock was such a beast, I wouldn't go with him. Come on and walk, Caroline.”

“I don't think I want to.”

Kitty giggled again.

“No, you want to go home—don't you? It was awfully stupid of me to forget. Don't let me keep you if you want to get off.”

Caroline drove her nails into her palm.

“I'm not in a hurry,” she said. “I thought I'd wait a bit and see who else rolls up—it's rather amusing.”

“Well, come and walk. I think you might, to save me from being a stiffened corpse. Come along, or I shall think you've got a mysterious assignation. Have you? Do tell me if you have.”

Caroline opened the door and jumped out.

“What rubbish you do talk, Kitty!”

Kitty flung a vigorous arm round her waist and began to dance her along.

“You said that exactly like a school-marm. If you're not frightfully careful, you'll get elderly before you know where you are. That's just the sort of way that all the elderlies talk. ‘Oh, Kitty, think before you speak!' and, ‘My dear child, don't make so much noise!' and, ‘My dear Kitty, did no one ever tell you that doors were made to shut?' I do loathe elderlies! I think people ought to be poisoned off at twenty-five. Don't you?”

Caroline couldn't help laughing.

“That would only give me another three years.”