Trusted Like The Fox (26 page)

As he carried him across the hall, Ellis screamed at Grace: “Run, you little fool, run!”

“She won’t run,” Crane said softly. “She says she’ll do anything for me. I have her on a hook, Cushman. You might just as well save your breath.”

Ellis spat in his face.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Grace awoke with a start. She had been dreaming. She had dreamed that Crane had come to her room and had made love to her. She had been swept away in the ecstasy of the moment, holding him in her arms, her face against his, his body close to hers. She felt his strong fingers caressing the nape of her neck, sending waves of blood down her spine; and then without warning, his fingers suddenly shifted to her throat and fastened into her flesh with savage ferocity, choking her. She realised with indescribable terror that Ellis had somehow taken Crane’s place and was there beside her, his mean little face contorted with murderous fury as his hands tried to squeeze the life out of her. It was then that she awoke, her heart hammering against her side, and she was too frightened even to open her eyes.

She lay there for some minutes until she realised with relief that she had been dreaming, and by then, she was fully awake. She sat up, looked at the luminous clock that stood on her bedside table. It was a quarter to two.

Still nervous, she looked around the familiar room. She had drawn back the curtains before going to bed and the moonlight was sufficiently bright for her to see the outlines of the furniture and a faint gleam from the mirror.

Reassured, she lay back, snuggled down in bed again and closed her eyes, but her heart was still bumping against her side and she was still on edge.

What a frightening little creature Ellis was, she thought. He had spoilt everything. Crane had got him into bed with the greatest difficulty, had made him take a sedative. He was so good and kind to Ellis. Even to Grace, who was soft-hearted enough, Crane’s gentleness was something to wonder at.

“I’ll sit with him,” he said to Grace. You get off to bed. I’m sorry, my dear, but we know we shall have other nights to gether. We must be patient,” and he had taken her hands, drawn her to him and kissed her.

She had gone to bed and for some time had lain awake wondering what was going on in Ellis’s room. She could, of course, hear nothing, and towards midnight, unable to lie in bed any longer, she had slipped on a silk wrap over her orange and red pyjamas and had gone to her door.

Ellis’s room was just down the passage, the door was ajar and the light was on. She crept to the door, peered into the room.

Crane was lying back in a big, easy chair, a cigarette between his lips, his head thrown back. He seemed to be studying the complicated pattern on the ceiling or else lost in thought. The moment she appeared, however, he jerked round, tense, alert, but when he saw her he relaxed, signed to her to keep quiet and leaving his chair, he came quickly to her, pushed her gently into the passage and closed the door.

“He’s asleep now,” he said in a low voice. “The poor chap’s worn out. You see how hysterical he is. I suppose it’s his fever. If he’s not better by tomorrow morning, I’ll have to send for Dr Safki again.”

“Must you stay with him?” Grace asked.

“Oh, I think so. He’s a bit cracked, you know, and if he woke up and found himself alone he might — well, I don’t know what he might do.”

She shivered.

“But aren’t you tired?” she said, touching his sleeve tenderly, “Shouldn’t you try to sleep?”

He smiled. “I’m all right. I don’t need much sleep. You get back to bed.” Now that she had washed the muck off her face, he was surprised to find that she was quite an attractive little thing in her silk wrap, her hair loose on her shoulders and her face slightly flushed from the warmth of the pillow. “Come on, I’ll tuck you in.” He put his arm round her, picked her up. “She’s no weight,” he thought, “but she’s got a marvellous little figure. I wonder if I dare leave that stupid brute for a little while?” But he resisted the temptation. If Ellis woke and found himself unguarded he might use the telephone again and then everything would be ruined. No; tomorrow he would get rid of him; make Safki take him off his hands, then he could give his undivided attention to this slip of a girl: she might prove more amusing than he had at first thought.

He carried her into her room, lowered her on to the bed. “Come on; off with your wrap and into bed. I’m going to get you something to drink. You must sleep now, otherwise you’ll be tired out by tomorrow.”

He went away and Grace, slipping into bed again, felt a new wave of love for him. No one could be kinder, she thought. How could Ellis say such wicked things?

He had given her a cup of tea and an Aspro.

“It’ll make you sleep,” he said as he turned to the door. “I’ll get back to my patient. Sweet dreams, my dear.”

She had slept; and now, awakened by the nightmare, she realised that she was not likely to sleep again. She lay in the semi-darkness, looked back on the past few days and marvelled at the change in her life. It was a fairy tale, she thought, and if only Ellis hadn’t been here, Crane would have been lying by her side. She suddenly hated Ellis: he was at the bottom of it all. It was he who was spoiling their happiness. Why couldn’t he get well and go? She was sure that until he had gone they couldn’t hope to begin life together.

She suddenly wanted to see Crane again, and slipping out of bed she crept from her room, down the passage to Ellis’s room. The light was still on, but looking round the half-open door, she was surprised to see the big easy chair empty.

She hesitated, wondered if she should go back for her wrap, then decided to have a peep round the door to see if he was by the window. Stealthily she moved into the room, met Ellis’s anxious eyes. As soon as she saw he was awake and that Crane wasn’t in the room, she took a hasty step back.

“Don’t go,” Ellis implored, not moving. “Please come in. I must talk to you.”

She looked at him from around the door.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said, suddenly feeling cold. “I’m going back to bed.” Then she asked, “Where is he?”

“Out in the garden,” Ellis said softly. “He thought I was asleep. I knew he had to go some time, so I waited; pretended I was asleep. He’s burying the policeman.”

“What do you mean?” Grace asked, startled.

“A policeman came here tonight,” Ellis said, speaking rapidly, as if afraid he would be interrupted at any moment. “The chap who ran after you on the golf course. His name’s Rogers. He came here and saw me. He looked through the window.”

“Oh!” Grace cried, her hand going to her mouth. “He saw you? Then he . . .” she broke off, unable to complete the thought that had entered her mind.

“Yes, he saw me, but Crane spotted him as he was crawling across the lawn. He knew the copper would get help and arrest us, so he killed him.”

Grace stared at him blankly for a second or so, then her face flushed. “Is there no end to your lies?” she exclaimed, stung to anger. “First you say Richard wants to kill me and now, he’s killed the policeman. How can you? What good do you think it will do to lie like that?” She twisted and untwisted her hands, plunged on, “Richard says you love me. Well, I’m sorry for you, but I can’t love you. You’re making me hate you with all your lies. I can’t love you. I’m Richard’s. Can’t you see that?” She came further into the room, forgetting in her agitation that she was wearing only a semi-transparent pair of pyjamas. Please stop saying these awful things. I don’t believe them. I never will believe them.”

“He killed him with the knife — the same knife he killed Julie Brewer with,” Ellis said, watching her closely. “He’s out in the garden, burying him now. Go and see if you don’t believe me — catch him in the act, and when you’ve seen him, go: run for your life. Never mind about me. I don’t care what happens to me: I’m past caring. It’s you I want to save.”

“But Julie killed herself,” Grace cried, beating her hands together. “How can you say such wicked things? He told me how it happened and I believe him. I wouldn’t believe anything you said. You’re wicked!”

“And he told me, too,” Ellis went on, waving her to silence. “He stood there and boasted about it. He’s mental. He admits it. He’s interested in the death of women. That’s what he says. Safki knows, but he can’t do anything to stop him because Crane has a hold over him. Crane got Julie down here and killed her. Safki walked in on them as Julie was dying. Ask Safki if you don’t believe me. That’s why Crane’s sheltering us. He’s after you. Tomorrow he’s getting rid of me. I’m going to Safki’s place, and then he’ll have you on his own. When he’s amused himself with you, he’ll kill you.”

“How can you invent such lies?” Grace demanded, her voice rising. “I won’t listen to you. I don’t believe you. No one would believe you.”

“He says you’re incredible — unbelievable. He thinks you’ve been bred on twopenny magazines and the movies. He thinks you’re cracked. He calls you a drudge, and he’s going to marry the daughter of some big-wig with a lot of decorations.”

Disgusted, Grace turned away.

“I think you must be mad,” she said. “And I hate you. Don’t ever speak to me again. I’ve had enough of you and I’ll tell Richard that I’m not coming near you.”

Ellis raised his clenched fists above his head. It was hopeless. Scragger was his only hope. He had found Scragger’s name in the telephone directory, and was on the point of calling him when Crane had stopped him. If he could only get to the telephone again, he could still save her.

“All right, don’t believe it,” he said, controlling his voice. “I’ll save you in spite of yourself. But go into the garden. You’ll find him out there.” Then he lost control of himself, shouted wildly at her, “That might convince you, you stupid, brainless, trusting little bitch!”

She went out of the room immediately, but outside, she paused and then came back.

“I am going out,” she said quietly, “but only because I feel he needs me. But I don’t trust you, so I’m going to lock you in,” and she took the key from the lock and slipped it in the other side of the door.

Ellis, his face contorted with alarm and fury, tried to lift himself.

“Don’t!” he shouted. “Don’t lock me in. I must use the telephone. I’ve got to use the telephone.”

“Richard doesn’t want you to use the telephone,” Grace said quietly, closed and locked the door behind her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The high full moon shed its brilliant light over the garden. There was no wind and the air was still and hot: a silent, lovely summer night.

Grace stood on the front step looking across the lawn, hoping to catch sight of Crane, but she couldn’t see him, nor could she see any movement on that vast tidy stretch of grass, nor in the long, orderly flower beds, full of summer blooms. The scent of the flowers was heavy on the night air, and in the distance, against the high brick walls that surrounded the garden, the laurels and rhododendrons formed black patches of mysterious darkness. To the left of the house was a dense thicket of fir trees and evergreens. If Crane was really in the garden as Ellis said he was, then he must be somewhere in the thicket, Grace decided, after examining the open ground before her. She turned back to the hall, opened the hall cupboard and took out a light tweed coat she had noticed there during the day. She slipped it on over her pyjamas, closed the front door, and walked quickly across the lawn to the thicket.

She went to meet Crane, not because she believed what Ellis had told her, but because she could no longer bear to be in the bungalow alone with Ellis. She wanted to find Crane, to receive his assurances, to tell him what Ellis had said, to beg him to get rid of Ellis before he spoilt their happiness.

How wicked he was! she thought angrily. How could he invent such stories? At the back of her mind, although she would not let it become more than a half-formed thought, she was dismayed most by Ellis saying that Richard was going to marry the daughter of an important man. She was sure it had been a cruel lie, calculated to hurt her, but lie or no lie, she was distressed. Richard should marry someone worthy of him: not a thief, a convicted felon. She wanted to tell him: to beg him to think twice, and of course, hoped he would tell her he wished for no one but her.

At the wooden gate, leading to the thicket, she paused. It was dark in the thicket and she wished now she had brought an electric torch. She had been that way with Crane during the afternoon. In daylight it was a delightful spot: narrow paths bordered by high trees, flowering shrubs and climbing roses decorating the big, natural lake in the centre of the thicket. Beyond the lake was a glen that Crane told her was full of bluebells and daffodils in the spring. Beyond the glen was a narrow, twisting path that disappeared into a dense wood. He had turned back when they had come to that path, saying that they had gone far enough.

She wondered where he was in the thicket, hoped that he had a light by which she could find him. Being deaf, it didn’t cross her mind to call to him.

She passed through the wooden gate, into the darkness. Her feet trod the well-worn path, and whenever she strayed from it, she stumbled on the edge of the thick grass, paused, got back on to the path and went on.

She walked for some time in total darkness, and as she went on and on, she became uneasy. (Had she lost her way? Was she walking in circles?) She stopped; darkness and silence surrounded her. She looked up. High above the trees she could make out the dim light of the moon coming through the thick foliage. She looked back over her shoulder, saw only blackness, looked before her, to her right, to her left: blackness.

For a moment or so she had to struggle against a feeling of suffocation and panic, but pulling herself together, she went on. Richard was somewhere ahead, she thought stubbornly. “I shall not be alone much longer. Then he and I will find our way back without difficulty.”

A little later she came upon the lake that lay in the moonlight like a glittering mirror, and she stood by the still water, locking towards the glen, hoping to see him; but there was no sign of him.