She Fell Among Thieves (22 page)

Jenny was nothing if not downright.

‘Do?’ she said. ‘Why, I’ll put my arms round his neck.’

Though the sunlight was just as brilliant, the world went grey.

‘That’s right,’ I heard myself saying. And then, ‘He’s the best in the world.’

And with that, I got to my feet and began to walk over the meadow, towards the stream.

Now although I did not feel sleepy, I must have been very tired, for, while I had done a great deal, I had not closed my eyes since Lafone had brought me my tea on the day before. Then, again, I felt dazed and shaken and had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do. Because of these things, I suppose, I took no care, and before I had gone twenty paces I stumbled over a molehill and fell on my face.

No doubt because of my state, the fall seemed to buffet my wits, and I sat up very slowly, as a man who must take his time, before he gets to his feet.

‘Are you all right?’ said Jenny.

I turned to see her kneeling beside me – as once before.

I swallowed before replying.

‘Yes, I’m all right,’ I said slowly, and looked away. ‘I don’t know how I came to do such a silly thing.’

Jenny sat back on her heels and clasped her hands in her lap. ‘With that bruise on your head and your hands all swollen and cut! You promised to sit still in the shade. You know you did. You said…you wanted nothing better – ten minutes ago.’

‘I know,’ I said. I put a hand to my head. ‘What a damned-fool thing to do!’

‘Then why did you do it?’ said Jenny.

‘Ask me another,’ said I. ‘I must have tripped.’

‘I don’t mean that. Why did you get up and leave me – without a word?’

‘Oh, that?’ I managed to laugh. ‘I really don’t know. I think I wanted a walk.’

I heard her draw in her breath.

Then –

‘That isn’t true,’ she said quietly. ‘I think I made you unhappy by something I said.’

In the knowledge that her eyes were upon me, I dared not look round. Instead, I regarded my palm – in which it was somewhere written that I should love,
but not marry
, the daughter of Vanity Fair.

‘What nonsense, Jenny,’ I said.

‘It isn’t nonsense,’ said Jenny. ‘I’m not a child now. You did what I would have done, if you’d suddenly said something that hurt me. I’d have felt I couldn’t sit there. And so I’d have got up and gone.’

Instinct or understanding – God knows which it was. But either was equally embarrassing, as even an ‘idol’ could tell.

‘Jenny,’ I said, ‘I’m all right. And that’s the truth. But I’ve – got a good deal to think of. And – and I’d like to be alone for a little. I can’t explain.’

With my words came the chink of steel…

As I spoke, I had drawn up my leg, to get to my feet: and, with my movement, the cuff, which I was still wearing, had slid down my leg.

Till now I had been very careful to keep this sinister emblem from Jenny’s eyes: but my fall had jerked it out of the ‘turn-up’, into which it had now returned. But what remained of the chain had not so returned: and the six or seven inches of steel were trailing out of the ‘turn-up’ on to the grass.

I think we saw it together. But when I glanced at Jenny, I knew that the fat was burnt.

Jenny’s eyes were starting. The breath was whistling in her nostrils, and the colour was out of her face. That she was acquainted with fetters was hideously clear.

She pointed a shaking finger.

‘What’s that?’

Before I could make any answer –

‘You’ve been in prison,’ she flamed. ‘Someone’s been chaining you up.’ In a flash her arms were about me, and her face was pressed tight against mine. ‘Oh, William darling, what devil treated you so?’

I should not, I think, have been human, if I had not held her close: but I did not misconstrue her outburst. Had Goliath come to her limping, he would have been used the same.

There was a moment’s silence.

Then she started out of my arms, flung herself down on her face and burst into tears.

This was too much.

I lifted her up, took my seat beside her and held her against my heart. She suffered me gently enough, with her hands to her eyes.

‘It’s all right, my beauty,’ I said. ‘What if–’

‘No, no. I shouldn’t have done it.’

I stared at her golden head.

‘Shouldn’t have done what, Jenny?’

‘Put my arms about you,’ she sobbed.

Grimly I supposed she was right. The favour belonged to Mansel. Jill, no doubt, had explained that gestures could be misconstrued, that –

‘And all the time I longed to,’ she sobbed.

‘
What?
’

‘Your little posy – I saw it. It’s here – all warm on my breast. And I did so long to – to put my arms round your neck.’

‘You longed to?’ I cried. ‘
You longed to?
’

She nodded her golden head.

I caught her hands and drew them down from her eyes.

A tearful child regarded me.

‘Then why didn’t you do it, my darling?’ I said unsteadily.

‘Jill said I mustn’t do it…
till you put yours about mine
.’

I was desperately uneasy.

Flaming noon had driven us into the coppice, the cool of the day had drawn us down to the stream: and now at length it was sundown, but Mansel had never come.

I had visited Carson twice and had ventured into a village to purchase food. Bell was fit for light duty, but nothing more. Jenny bore with me like an angel, accepting my continual abstraction with a patience which was not of this world. And now the day was over, and the hopes to which I was clinging were going down with the sun.

My place was, of course, at Jezreel, but until it was dark, it was hopeless for me to take it. Had Blueskin lain in Newgate, Jack Sheppard would hardly have tried to enter the jail by day. That he would have tried at nightfall, I have no doubt.

Although I still hoped against hope, I had given Carson his orders at three o’clock.

‘If you’ve still no sign by sundown, leave the loft and drive all out for the thicket, to pick me up.’

‘Very good, sir,’ said Carson, gravely.

He did not ask where we were bound for, because he knew.

I did not like leaving Jenny, but no one, so far as I knew, had discovered our lair and Bell was not fit for the duty which Marc had made him lay down. I proposed that she should stay in the Rolls, with one door locked and Bell on the opposite side…

So much I told her plainly, strolling up from the sparkling water, to the sanctuary of the trees.

‘You’ll be a good girl, my darling? I think they’ve got Jonathan down: and I must go and save him – as he saved me.’

Jenny’s clasp on my arm tightened.

‘That’s right, of course. But I’d like to go with you, William.’

‘I know, my sweet. But you couldn’t do any good.’

‘Oh, William, my very darling, you will come back?’

‘Bringing Jonathan with me, my beauty. I give you my solemn word.’

A sudden fear brushed against her. She stopped in her tracks and caught the lapel of my coat.

‘Supposing they take you again and chain you up!’

I covered her fingers with mine.

‘They won’t do that twice, my darling. And I was alone then: but now I’ll have Carson with me, to watch my back. Before I’m through, I’ll bet they’re sorry I came.’

There was no mistaking my meaning, and Jenny caught my fire.

‘That’s right. I hope you kill them.’

I could only laugh.

‘You’re very bloodthirsty, Jenny.’

‘They put a chain on your leg.’

There was a little silence.

Then –

‘You know I want to marry you, Jenny. D’you know what marriage means?’

‘Yes, yes. Jill’s married to Piers. I want you to give me a baby, but no one else.’

Her eyes, it seemed, were open: but there was still one truth which she had to be told.

I put up a hand, to push the hair from her temples. Lifting her chin, she looked me full in the eyes.

‘Listen, Jenny. Now there’s only you: but there used to be somebody else. Since she was taken from me, I’ve never mentioned her name. But she was my wife.’

Jenny nodded gravely, and I lowered my gaze.

‘I want you to know, my darling – it’s only fair – that if she hadn’t been taken, I – I couldn’t have loved you, Jenny, because she had all my heart.’

‘I wouldn’t have expected you to.’ Her hands came up to my shoulders. ‘I’d have hated you, if you had. She was – Jill’s told me about her. She saw her once.’

I could not trust my voice, but she took my face in her hands and raised it up. Her fingers were all outspread, and I could feel their pressure from temples to chin.

‘I know what she was, William: and I know I can’t take her place. Jill told me so. She said there was no one alive that could ever do that. But I’ll pray to her, William. I’ll pray to her every night – to teach me to make you happy…and I’m sure she’ll hear me, my darling, and do as I ask.’

As I wondered then, so I shall always wonder what I had done to deserve a devotion so lively and so supreme. Be that as it may, her excellence left me dumb. But she seemed to fathom my silence, for she drew down my head and kissed me and then slid an arm round my neck.

Ten minutes later the jewel was fast in its case, with Bell, like any detective, sitting with his back to the door: and I was seated by Carson, listening to the brush of our tires and the steady whisper of the engine that was whipping us back to Jezreel.

Inaction feeds upon the nerves, and, now that at last we were moving, I felt a new man. I had neither hopes nor fears, but a definite resolution first to reach Mansel’s side and then to bring him and Virginia out of Jezreel. Counterfeit, masks and moves had served our turn: but now these things were done with, and the hold had got to be opened by force of arms. I would not declare our presence, for that, of course, would have been the way of a fool: but wait upon obstruction I would not, and the man who sought to withstand me could pay my price. I had not one shadow of doubt that Mansel was in the toils and, knowing those toils as I did, I was out for blood.

Here I should say that I had my own pistol again. Carson had found it that morning, and that in my car. Marc must have taken it with him, when he had set out for Anise: and perhaps because it had galled him, had taken it out of his pocket and thrust it into the pouch on the door by the driver’s side. So Carson and I were both armed, and so was Bell.

We left the Rolls in the shadows, ten minutes’ walk from the village that clung to the skirts of Jezreel. Then we climbed a path that led through the hanging meadows, over the rim of the valley and into the cobbled lane which stood for the village street. Because it served the castle, the way was pretty well lit, but the folk we met did not belong to Jezreel and what they made of our passage was nothing to us. Two minutes later the gateway was looming before us… It was easy enough to enter the kingdom of Vanity Fair.

The dusk was fast turning to darkness, as we made for the stable-yard. This was not lit, but someone was busy in the coach-house which lay beneath Mansel’s room. A light was burning there, and the doors were wide.

It was an under-chauffeur – at work on one of the cars. Beside him, a standard lamp was glaring upon the engine to which he stooped, so that even if he had looked round, his eyes could not have seen us, because they were tuned to the light.

We stole through the coach-house and so up to Mansel’s room.

This was empty. The bed had not been lain in, and such disorder as I had left on its surface had been arranged. We left the room to try the door of the passage which led to the guard-room: but this was locked.

In silence I led the way back to the stable-yard.

There was here another door which led to the house. I had never used it and did not know what was behind: but I knew that it would be open, if only for the sake of the workman whom we had seen; for none of the chauffeurs, but Mansel, had rooms on the stable-yard. A moment later we had passed it and stood in an empty passage, not too well lit.

The passage led to swing-doors, in each of which, chin-high, was a square of plate-glass: and since the hall beyond them was brilliantly lit, we were able to take its measure with no fear of being observed.

At once I saw that we were regarding the hub of the household wheel.

The hall before us was round and boasted no less than eight doorways, each shut by swing-doors like those behind which we stood. As I looked, one of these was opened, and a scullion crossed the pavement to enter another department of this remarkable sphere. So brilliant was the light in the hall that, try as I would, I could not see through the panes of the other swing-doors, but those that were opened by the scullion let out the clash of vessels and the clatter of tongues.

Since my object was to enter the system, I sought to make up my mind which of the doorways would lead to the quarters I knew, for though I was ripe for violence, I did not want to squander the element of surprise. And I was still wishing for a footman to give me a lead, when a maid came out of a doorway, letter in hand.

It was the good-looking girl on whom Gaston had sought to impose his sweet-smelling charms.

As she stopped to read her letter, I reached her side.

If she was taken aback, I forced her hand.

‘Will you show me the way, please? I want to get to my room in “the corner suite”.’

‘Certainly, sir. This way.’

She led the way to a doorway, held a swing-door open and followed us into a lobby, less brightly lit. Here was a broad well-staircase, in the well of which was a lift. But the girl was for passing on to a pair of mahogany doors…

I touched her arm, and she stopped.

‘I helped you once. Would you like to help me now?’

‘Indeed I would, sir. Please tell me what I can do?’

‘Where’s Miss Virginia?’

She started at that, and the colour went out of her face.

Then –

‘She’s in her room, sir, I think. She was there half an hour ago.’

‘Why d’you think she’s still there?’

‘Because – she’s not very well, sir.’

‘D’you mean she’s in bed?’

‘Oh, no, sir.’

‘D’you think she’s alone?’

‘I don’t know, sir. She was alone when I left her but–’

‘Are you her maid?’

‘For the moment, sir. Suzanne has gone to
Madame
.’

‘Who d’you think may be with her?’

‘
Monsieur le Comte
.’

‘Good God,’ said I. ‘They’re not married?’

‘They were married this afternoon. They are to stay here for the present. And the door between has been opened, and he has the room next to hers.’

‘And you are her maid,’ said I. ‘But how nice for you.’

She shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

‘It really looks,’ said I, ‘as if I might help you again.’ I glanced at the staircase. ‘Can I get to my room that way?’

‘Yes, sir. Would you like me to show you?’

I nodded.

‘I want to get to the hall. Then I’ll know where I am. It’s important that no one should see me. Will you go first?’

At my words she started again, and her eyes grew wide. Then she glanced right and left and took to the stairs…

‘You wait here, sir,’ she whispered, ‘while I go into the hall. If I do not return at once, it will mean there is somebody there.’

‘All right,’ said I. ‘And now listen. The moment I’m out of the hall, go to Miss Virginia. Don’t knock on her door. Just go straight into her room.’

She looked at me very hard.

‘Very well, sir.’

The hall was empty and the girl as good as her word – with the happy result that, before two minutes were past, she and I were both in Virginia’s bedroom and Carson was on guard in the system with his back to the panelled door.

Virginia was not very well, because Virginia was drugged. I never saw man or woman in such a pitiful state. Her mind was like a battery that has almost run down. It could work very slowly and feebly, but its output was next to nothing and could not command her will. There was no spirit in her: and her mind was an empty surface
on which she was the only person who could not write
.

She stared from me to the maid and then on the floor. But when I bade her rise, she did so without a word.

That Gaston had dared to go through a form of marriage with a creature so utterly helpless fanned to a flame the anger with which I was ruled, and had he come into his room, I believe I should have broken his neck. But, happily for us both, he did not come, and his chamber was still in darkness when the three of us entered the system and made for a winding stair.

I have shown that the private passage which ran from Mansel’s quarters to the guard-room was shut by two doors which were locked. But both the locks were spring-locks, and could be opened by hand from the guard-room side. Once, therefore, we had gained the guard-room, we had a way out of the castle as secret as it was safe.

When we came to the narrow stair which led to the guard-room grate, I turned to the maid.

‘From now Miss Virginia’s your mistress. I will look after your future, so long as you stay with her.’

The girl glanced over her shoulder: but only Carson was there to hear her reply.

At length –

‘It is understood, sir,’ she whispered.

A moment later we stood in the guard-room itself.

As I let them into the passage –

‘D’you know where you are, Carson?’

‘I think so, sir. This leads to the Captain’s room.’

‘And the stable-yard,’ said I. ‘Take them down to the Rolls and come back – as quick as you can. I shall wait for you here by this door. When you get back, knock twice, and I’ll let you in. The other door you must wedge.’

‘Very good, sir.’

I turned to the maid.

‘My servant is going to take you down to my car. You will get in and sit there until I come.’

‘Very well, sir,’ she said obediently.

I watched the three pass down the passage: then I shut the door behind them and set my back to the oak.

So far we had been very lucky. Nobody knew of my presence, and Virginia was out of the wood. But Mansel remained in the tower. I was sure he was there. More. I had an uneasy feeling that he was in the cell next to mine…where the chain was very much shorter and did not end in a cuff… The questions were first how to reach him and then how to set him free.

How many floors the tower had I do not know to this day. But, as I have said before, its ground floor was the guard-room and its first floor part of the suite belonging to Vanity Fair: but the stair which joined these two storeys was shut by a heavy door. When Carson returned, therefore, we must re-enter the system, climb the first winding stair and find some door which gave to the woman’s apartments or else, on the second floor, to the tower alone. And that sounds easy enough… The trouble was that I was by no means sure that the system ran into the tower, while I had an unpleasant feeling that though it would show us a door which gave to the woman’s suite, that door would be locked.

I afterwards learned that both these suspicions were just, and since, though I did not know it, there was no time to be lost, had we re-entered that system, it would have cost Mansel his life. And we
should
have re-entered that system if Carson had been back to time. But Virginia collapsed in the meadows, and his journey took five minutes longer than we had hoped.

It was now ten minutes to nine, and out of sheer impatience I opened the door to the passage and strained my ears. Carson would be back in five minutes – perhaps in less. With my eyes on the dial of my wrist-watch – the only thing I could see, for I had no torch – I stood there, like any schoolgirl, wringing my nerves for nothing and doubling every minute that whiled away. It follows that when they were gone, but Carson had not returned, the fever which I had been courting possessed my soul.

I cursed myself for not sending the girls alone: I cursed myself for seeking Virginia first: I cursed myself for waiting for Carson: and I made up my mind that if he did not come before nine, I would wedge the door with my wrist-watch and enter the system alone.

Two haggard minutes limped by.

And then I heard someone stumble…on the farther side of the door which gave to the stairs.

In a flash I had shut my door and had whipped to the jamb of the fireplace and out of view.

The next moment the door was opened and the doorway was full of light.

Esther appeared – Esther, the personal maid of Vanity Fair.

She had a sheet on her arm: and in her hands was the end of another sheet. This seemed to be laid upon the steps, and there she seemed to wish it to stay, for she did not pull on her end, but only laid it down gently upon the flags. Then she shook out her second sheet, laid it end to end with the first and then stepped swiftly backwards, paying it out as she went. It was more than long enough to reach to the postern door – which gave to the meadows west of Jezreel.

And then and there I knew that Esther was laying a train.

The sheets were dry now, but, when she was ready to leave, she would come down those steps with petrol, soaking the sheets as she went. And then she would open the postern… And then she would strike a match… And then she, and whoever was with her, would vanish into the night.

I watched her go back up the stair. Shut the door behind her, she could not, for the sheet lying over the threshold was heavily bunched. And, as her footfalls faded, I heard Carson knock…

Of such are the ways of Fate.

If Virginia had not fallen by the way, then Carson would not have been late. If Carson had not been late, then we should have left the guard-room before Esther came down. And if I had not been there, to see Esther come down, Jonathan Mansel would have been burned alive.

With Carson behind me, I whipped up the steep, stone staircase and into a hall that I knew – the hall that served the apartments of Vanity Fair.

Now, though our goal was the room in which Mansel was lodged, we must first prevent the mischief which Esther was going to do. And if we were to do this, we had not a moment to spare. The suite was reeking of petrol, and the carpet laid in the hall was already wet.

A light was burning in ‘the Star Chamber’. Pistol in hand, I thrust in. But the exquisite salon was empty: Esther was somewhere else.

As I swung about, someone exclaimed.

Then –

‘Don’t go yet, William,’ said Mansel. ‘I want your help.’

Mansel was in the sedan-chair.

For eleven hours he had sat there, because, though he entered himself, he could not get out.

The chair was especially lovely, and rich without and within. But it was a blind chair: that is to say it had no windows, but only a row of air-holes high up in each of its sides. Its roof was fixed, and the doors could not be opened, except from without. I do not know for whom it was built, but it must have been built for someone who went in fear of his life, for from top to bottom that chair was lined with steel. I cannot think what it weighed, and it must have required four chairmen, instead of two, but the fact remains its work was very well done and, once he was seated within and the doors were shut, only a very Samson could ever have broken out. Had he had room to move, the great strength which Mansel had might have set him free, but, as luck would have it, the chair was smaller than most, and so restricted all movement that he could not bring his strength into play.

Had we not arrived when we did, he was going to use his pistol upon the lock of the door. In fact, he had it drawn ready. But that was the counsel of despair, for his chance of so bursting the lock was certainly very much less than the chance of his being killed by a ricochet, to say nothing of the concussion which must have left him senseless for some considerable time.