Outrageous Fortune (29 page)

“Do you mean to say you're twenty-two? How grim! And you're not even engaged? I think it would be awful not to be engaged before one was twenty. But I think getting married's the most awful rot. Don't you?”

“If I get out of this, we'll get married”.… Jim's voice and Jim's words came back to pierce her heart. For a moment she couldn't speak. Then she turned back towards the car.

“I'm sorry Kitty, but I don't want to walk any more.”

Something in her voice stopped Kitty's flow of talk. They walked back across the darkened field. And then, just as they came up to the car, someone moved between them and the hedge.

“Hi, Jock—is that you?” There was relief in Kitty's tone.

But it was Jim Randal's voice that answered,

“I'm afraid I'm not Jock.”

As he spoke, he opened Jemima's farther door and got in.

Caroline got in too on the other side. After all, what did it matter what Kitty thought? She switched on the lights and leaned sideways to say,

“Why don't you go and sit in your car, Kitty? You'll find it warmer.”

She turned back and pressed the starter.

Kitty stood clear and crammed her handkerchief into her mouth. It was really the most frightful jest. She only wished she could see their faces.

“What's the matter?” said Jim.

“She won't start.”

“She oughtn't to be so cold. Shall I tickle the carburetor?”

“Please.”

Kitty was in ecstasies. She came nearer, and inquired in a muffled voice,

“What's up?”

“It's all right—she'll start now.” Caroline pressed the starter again. It whirred, but there was no response from the engine.

Jim Randal went round to the front of the car and began to crank her vigorously. The little car bumped and rocked. The engine remained lifeless.

He came to the far window presently.

“Have you got a torch?”

“No.”

“Jock has,” said Kitty, leaning on the door again. She lifted her voice in a piercing scream. “Jock! Hi! Jo-ock!”

“Coming!” Jock Anderson's voice came from the other side of the hedge. He called again, and turned the corner, running.

Caroline's heart went as dead as Jemima's engine. What was behind all this?

“Hi, Jock!” said Kitty. “Caroline's car won't start. Where's your torch?”

A brilliant beam of light cut the darkness and played on Jim Randal. Caroline saw his face for a moment, and caught her breath. There was something written on it which she did not understand. Now, when everything was going wrong and she felt at the end of her courage, he looked as she had not seen him look this side of seven years—gay, confident, and ready to meet the world.

“Sorry,” said Jock Anderson. He turned the beam of his torch away.

Caroline sat back and closed her eyes. She felt weak and helpless, and she wanted to cry. She heard Kitty chattering and Jock answering her, then an exclamation from Jim. He came back to the window.

“Caroline, it's no go.”

“What's the matter?”

“It's the coil. We'll have to ask for a lift.”

She switched off the lights, slipped across, and got out on his side. For a moment they stood close together between the car and the hedge. In that moment his hand covered hers and pressed it hard.

She stood on tiptoe and put her lips to his ear. She said in a soundless whisper,

“That boy is Jock Anderson, the Chief Constable's nephew. There's something wrong.”

She heard him say, “It's all right.”

They came out into the open.

Kitty and Jock were close together, whispering. The torch played on Jim again. Kitty ran forward.

“The next clue is the Heart and Hand at Hinton. We can all go on together—it'll be much more fun. Hurry up—there are more cars coming!”

Jim slipped a hand through Caroline's arm. They crossed to the other car and he helped her in. She and Kitty had the back seat. Jock Anderson took the wheel. They passed a couple of cars in the lane, and Kitty screamed out,

“We've beaten you! You'll have to hurry!”

As soon as they were out on the main road Jim spoke.

“I'm afraid I don't want to go to the Heart and Hand.”

Jock Anderson said nothing. Kitty gave a stifled giggle.

Jim spoke again.

“I don't think you're deaf, Anderson, but perhaps you don't speak unless you've been introduced. Let me introduce myself. My name is Randal—Jim Randal.”

“Well?” Jock Anderson's voice was defiant.

“Well, I don't want to go to the Heart and Hand, but I needn't take you out of your way. I suppose Major Anderson's still just across the road—I don't seem to see him moving house.”

Caroline sat up straight and stiff. The blood thumped in her ears. Nobody spoke.

“I've got business with Major Anderson,” said Jim in the most ordinary voice in the world.

Jock Anderson found his tongue.

“I was going to take you there anyhow,” he said roughly.

Kitty leaned forward, elbows on knees, quick breath nearly choking her. What was going to happen next? Would he try and hit Jock over the head and grab the wheel? And if he did, would it be any good her trying to scrag him? And if she did, what price Caroline? She somehow couldn't see Caroline in a rough-and-tumble. And what was the odds they came a glorious smash in the ditch?

“What a lark!”
said Kitty ecstatically. She did not say it aloud, because Jim was speaking again.

“You needn't have bothered to put Miss Leigh's car out of action—He cut the leads,” he explained over his shoulder to Caroline. Then, “I don't know if she'll want to run you in for it, but I expect it's actionable all right. We can ask your uncle—he's sure to know.”

The car swerved.

“I should think you'd have enough to ask him on your own account,” growled Jock.

“Oh, we'll get down to you. I daresay you won't mind waiting.”

The drumming sound in Caroline's ears ceased. She was very cold, and there was a sick weight on her heart. She went on sitting up straight. Her hands gripped one another desperately. Since they had come to the end, she must keep her head up. Above all, she mustn't faint. It would be dreadfully hard on Jim if she fainted.

Beside her Kitty drew a long breath of disappointment and sat back. There wasn't going to be a scrap after all. Of course you never knew—he might be waiting to get Jock off his guard. She had better keep her eyes open.

A car passed them without dimming. The light swept over them all and was gone again. She saw the back of Jock's head, Jim Randal's profile, and, as she turned to get the glare out of her eyes, Caroline. She took Caroline's face back into the darkness. What did she want to look like that for? It spoilt the lark. Suddenly she wished herself out of the whole thing. It wasn't amusing any more; it was a bore, and rather horrid. Caroline like a ghost, with her eyes wide open, staring into the blinding headlights. It made her feel as if someone had poured cold water down the back of her neck.

She squared her shoulders and began to whistle
Smile, darn ya, smile
! The clear, shrill sound filled the car.

XXXIV

They came into Hinton, and stopped at Major Anderson's gate. The house faced the Heart and Hand across the village street, a circumstance which had oppressed the landlord for twenty years. A man may be sober, honest, and law-abiding, without finding it agreeable to have the eye of the law for ever trained upon his premises.

“I haven't seen a drunken man in Hinton for fifteen years,” Major Anderson was wont to say.

He lived in a low two-storeyed house which was hardly more than a cottage. It held himself, a quiet elderly sister who kept cats, and sporadic nephews and nieces who turned things upside down and left rather a blank when they went away. A narrow flagged path led from the gate to a hideous little porch set with panes of blue and amber glass.

The party of four had reached the porch, when the door of the house was opened, showing the lighted hall. The man who had opened it spoke over his shoulder.

“Very well, sir, I'll report in the morning.”

Major Anderson came into view.

“Just a minute, Gray.” Then, as he caught sight of his nephew. “Hullo, Jock—you're back early. Who have you got with you? I can't see.”

Jim Randal took Jock by the shoulder and put him out of the way.

“I expect you've forgotten me, Major Anderson,” he said. “I'm Jim Randal.”

Caroline followed him into the hall. There was a dead silence for a moment. Kitty and Jock came in and the door was shut. Then Inspector Gray moved forward and spoke.

“If you are Mr Randal of Hale Place, I must ask you to accompany me to the police-station.”

Jim looked past him at Caroline.

“It's all right—don't worry,” he said.

Then he turned to Major Anderson.

“I came here to make a statement about the Van Berg affair, sir.”

“A voluntary statement?”

“Yes. I want to make a statement—I came here to make one.”

Major Anderson opened the door behind him.

“Come into my study. Jock, you'd better take Kitty and Miss Leigh home.”

Caroline turned piteous eyes on him.

“Major Anderson, please let me come in. I want to make a statement too. I know some of it better than he does.”

She came up to him. He surely couldn't have the heart to keep her out. She blessed the inspector when he said,

“I think we'd better have her in, sir.”

And then there were four of them in the small smoky room, with its neat writing-table and its comfortable shabby chairs. Caroline sat down on one of them, and the door was shut. The inspector was speaking to Jim.

Caroline shut her eyes. She felt odd and light, like a soap-bubble that is just going to fly away. Everything shook a little—the chair, the floor, her own body, her thoughts. She shut her eyes.

When she opened them again, the inspector was sitting at the writing-table. He had a sheet of foolscap before him and a pen in his hand. Jim was sitting opposite to him, and Major Anderson was standing with his back to the mantelpiece. He was frowning as Caroline opened her eyes. He said,

“Before you make a statement I had better tell you that Mr Van Berg is expected to recover consciousness any time during the next few hours.”

The inspector dipped his pen in the ink. It was not for him to interrupt the Chief Constable, but he was full of disapproval. The law had been complied with; Mr. Randal had been warned. Let him make his statement. If he ran his head into a noose, so much the worse for him, and so much the better for the law.

Major Anderson's frown deepened. He had known Jim Randal since he was eight years old. He had dined at Hale Place four times a year for fifteen years. He had kissed Caroline in her perambulator. He didn't care a damn for the inspector. He was going to do his duty, but he wasn't going to stretch his duty. He wasn't going to have Jim Randal bucketed into making a statement without knowing what he was up against.

“One moment, Inspector,” he said. “Now, Randal—you say you want to make a statement. Before you do so I think you ought to know that I saw Mrs Van Berg this morning.”

“Yes?”

“She says that on the night of the sixth of August she came down between eleven and twelve o'clock to get a book. She heard voices in the study, and she now says that she recognized one of them as yours.”

“Yes,” said Jim—“I was there. I think you had better let me make my statement. There really isn't any time to lose. Meanwhile let me tell you that the man who shot Elmer Van Berg and lifted the emeralds is Jim, or Jimmy, Riddell, and I left him twenty minutes ago having an interview with his wife up at St Leonard's Tower. Here's his description. Five-foot-eight or so—slim—wiry—two teeth missing in front—long nose—long chin—palish—between thirty and thirty-five—”

“Jimmy the Eel!” said the inspector.

“Well, you'd better look slippy or he'll get away. His wife's maiden name was Nesta Williams. She's a cousin of the housekeeper at Packham Hall, and she's living with a brother, Tom Williams, at Happicot, Sandringham Drive, Ledlington End.”

The atmosphere in the room had changed.

“Jimmy the Eel!” said the inspector under his breath. Then, “We'd better get hold of him. Excuse me, sir.” He lifted the telephone and spoke into it.

They waited until he had finished. Jim looked at Caroline and nodded reassuringly.

The inspector was giving instructions about Jimmy the Eel. Jim struck in once.

“His original idea was to get to Glasgow, lie low there for a bit, and then get abroad. But I think he's more likely to hang around here now—you'll see why presently.”

The inspector nodded and went on with his instructions. Presently he hung up the receiver.

“Now, Randal,” said Major Anderson.

“Well,” said Jim, “I landed at Liverpool on the first of July—but if you've been taking an interest in me, I expect you know that. I was in the wreck of the
Alice Arden
on August the eighth, and until about half an hour ago I hadn't the remotest idea of what had happened between those two dates—” He paused, and added, “with one exception.”

A wave of excitement swept over Caroline. The colour rushed to her cheeks. The room stopped trembling.

“Look here,” said Jim, “can I tell this my own way? I'll sign a formal statement afterwards if you want me to, but I'd like to tell it to you first just as it happened. Can I do that?”

“Yes,” said Major Anderson. “Carry on.”

“Well then, I was in the wreck of the
Alice Arden,
and I understand that I was taken to the Elston cottage hospital, where I kept on repeating the name of Jim, or Jimmy, Riddell. They weren't sure at first whether I was saying Riddell or Randal, so they sent out a broadcast message with both names. Next day Mrs Riddell rolled up, identified me as her husband, and carried me off to Sandringham Drive. I don't remember any of this myself, but I gather that that is what happened. Now I come to what I do remember. I woke up next day in a perfectly strange room. A perfectly strange young woman came in and assured me that my name was Jimmy Riddell, and that she was my wife. Well, it was a bit of a knock-out. I couldn't contradict her, because as far as having any memory was concerned I might have been a new-born baby. The only thing I remembered—and I didn't know whether I was remembering it or not—was someone holding up a string of square green stones under a bright light. That kept on getting clearer and clearer all the time—I used to see it whenever I shut my eyes. And there was a fog, and a voice talking in the fog—talking about the emeralds and Jimmy Riddell. It worried me to death, because I couldn't make out whether it was my own voice or not.” He paused.