(1941) Up at the Villa (7 page)

`He's dead.’

`It looks damned well like it'

He knelt and pulled down one of the man's eyelids, then,
as Mary had done, put his hand on his heart

`He's dead all right.’ The revolver was still clasped in
the man's hand. `He killed himself.’

`Did you think I'd killed him?’

`Where are the servants? Have you sent for the police?’

`No,' she gasped.

`But you must. He can't be left there. You must do
something.’

Mechanically, without thinking what he was doing, he
loosened the revolver from the man's hand. He looked at it.

`That looks damned like the gun you showed me in the car.’

, It is., He stared at her. He couldn't understand. How
could he understand? The situation was incomprehensible.

`Why did he shoot himself?”

‘For God's sake don't ask me questions.’

`Do you know who he is?”

‘No.’

She was pale and trembling. She looked as if she were
going to faint.

`You'd better pull yourself together, Mary. No good
getting jittery, you know. Wait a minute, I'll go along to the dining-room and
get you some brandy. Where is it?' He started to go, but with a cry she stopped
him.

`Don't leave me. I'm afraid to stop here by myself.’

`Come along, then,' he said abruptly. He put his arm
round her shoulders to support her and led her from the room. The candles were
still burning in the dining-room and the first thing he saw when he entered was
what remained of the supper they had eaten, the two plates, the two glasses,
the bottle of wine and the frying-pan in which Mary had cooked eggs and bacon.
Rowley walked up to the table. By the side of the chair in which Karl had sat
was his shabby felt hat. Rowley picked it up, looked at it and then turned to
look at Mary. She could not meet his eyes.

`It wasn't true when I said I didn't know him’

`That, I must say, is almost painfully obvious.’

`For God's sake don't talk like that, Rowley. I'm so
terribly unhappy.’ I’m sorry,' he said gently.

`Who is he, then?’

`The violinist.
At the restaurant.
The man who came round
with the plate.
Don't you remember?”

‘I thought his face was vaguely familiar. He was dressed
like a Neapolitan fisherman, wasn't he? That's why I didn't recognize him. And
of course he looks different now. How did he happen to be here?' Mary hesitated.

`I met him just as I was coming home. He was on the
terrace half-way up the road. He talked to me. He seemed so lonely. He looked
terribly unhappy.’

Rowley looked down at his feet. He was embarrassed. Mary
was the last woman in the world he would have expected to do what he could not
but suspect that she had done.

`Mary dear, you know I'd do anything in the world for
you. I want to help you’

`He was hungry. I gave him something to eat.’

Rowley frowned.

`And after you'd given him a snack he just went and shot
himself with your revolver. Is that the idea?' Mary began to cry.

`Here, have a drink of wine. You can cry later.’

She shook her head.

`No, I'm all right. I won't cry. I know now it was
madness, but it seemed different then. I suppose for a minute I was crazy. You
know what I told you in the car, just before you got out.’

He suddenly understood what she meant.

`I thought it was a lot of romantic tripe. I never
guessed you could be mad enough to do such a damn-fool thing. Why did he kill
himself?’

`I don't know. I don't know.’

He reflected a minute and then began to gather the plates
and glasses together and put them on the tray.

`What are you doing?' she asked.

`Don't you think it's just as well to leave no trace that
you had a gentleman in to supper? Where's the kitchen?”

‘Through that door and down a flight of
stairs.’

He took the tray out. When he came back Mary was sitting
at the table with her head in her hands.

`It's lucky I went down; you'd left all the lights on.
You're evidently not used to covering up your tracks. Your servants hadn't
washed up after their dinner. I just put the things with the rest. The chances
are they won't notice. Now we must send for the police' She almost screamed.

`Rowley!’

`Listen to me, dear. You've got to keep your head. I've
been thinking a lot and I'll tell you what I suggest. You must say that you
were asleep and you were awakened by a man, obviously a burglar, coming into
your room. You put on the light and snatched up the gun, which was on the bed
table. There was a struggle and the gun went off.
If you shot
him or if he shot himself doesn't matter.
It's probable enough that when
he found himself cornered and was afraid your screams would bring along the
servants he shot himself.’

`Who's going to believe a story like that? It's
incredible.’

`Anyhow it's more credible than the truth. If you stick
to it no one can prove it's a lie.’

`Nina heard the shot. She came along to my room and asked
if anything was the matter. I said no. She'll tell them that, when the police
question her. How am I going to explain then? The story will fall to pieces.
Why should I have told her nothing was the matter when a man was lying dead in
my room? It's hopeless.’

`You can't bring yourself to tell me the truth?”

‘It's so disgraceful. And yet - at the time - I thought I
was doing something rather beautiful.’

She said no more and he stared at her, half
understanding, but still puzzled. She gave a deep sigh.

`Oh, yes, let's send for the police and get it over with.
It means ruin. Well, I suppose I've deserved it. I shall never be able to look
anyone in the face again.
The newspapers.
And Edgar.
That's the end of that.’

Then she said a surprising thing.

`After all, he wasn't a thief. I did him harm enough
without casting a slur like that on the poor boy. I'm to blame for everything
and I must take what's coming to me.’

Rowley looked at her intently.

`Yes, it means
ruin,
you're
right there, and a hell of a scandal. You're in for an awful time, dear, and if
it comes out nobody can help you. Are you willing to take a risk? I warn you,
it's a great risk and if it doesn't come off it'll make it all the worse for
you.’

`I'll take any risk.’

`Why can't we get the body away from here? Who could
suspect then that his death had anything to do with you?’

`How can we? It's impossible.’

`No, it isn't. If you'll help me we can get him into the
car. You know all these hills round here. We can surely find a place to put him
where he won't be found for months.’

`But he'll be missed. They'll look for him.’

`Why should they? Who's going to bother about an Italian
fiddler? He might have just done a bolt because he couldn't pay his rent, or
run away with somebody else's wife.’

`He wasn't Italian. He was an Austrian refugee.’

`Well, that's all the better. Then you can bet your boots
no one's going to make a song and dance about him.’

`It's an awful thing to have to do, Rowley.
And what about you?
Aren't you taking a fearful risk?’

`It's the only thing to do, my dear, and as far as I'm
concerned you needn't worry about that. To tell you the truth I rather like
taking chances. I'm for getting all the thrills out of life one can.’

It heartened Mary to hear him speak so lightly. Her
anguish seemed not quite so intolerable. There was just a hope that they might
be able to do what he proposed. But once more doubt assailed her.

`It'll be light soon. The peasants will be setting out to
their work as soon as it's dawn.’

He glanced at his watch.

`When.
does
it get light? Not before five. We've got an hour. If we look sharp we can just
manage lt.’

She sighed deeply.

`I put myself in your hands. I'll do whatever you say.’

`Come on, then. And keep a stiff upper lip for Christ's
sake.’

Rowley picked up the dead man's hat and they went back
into the room in which he was lying.

`Catch hold of the legs,' said Rowley.

`I'll take him under the arms.’

They lifted him up and carried him into the hall and out
of the front door. With difficulty, Rowley walking backwards, they got him down
the steps. Then they put the body down. It seemed fearfully heavy.

`Can you bring the car up here?' asked Rowley.

`Yes, but there's no place to turn.
I shall have to back down,' she answered doubtfully.

`I'll manage that.’

She walked down to the end of the narrow drive and
brought the car up. Meanwhile Rowley went back into the house. There was blood
on the marble floor not much, fortunately, because the man had shot himself
through the breast and the haemorrhage was internal. He went into the bathroom,
took a towel off the rack and soaked it in water. He mopped up the bloodstains.
The floor was of a deep red marble and he was pretty sure that on a cursory
glance, the sort of glance a maid would give who was sweeping, nothing would be
apparent. He took the wet, blood-stained towel in his hand and once more went
out. Mary was waiting by the car. She did not ask him what he had been doing.
Rowley opened the rear door and again put his arms under the dead man's. He
hoisted him up and Mary, seeing he was having difficulty, lifted the feet. They
did not speak. They laid the body on the floor and Rowley wrapped the towel
round the dead man's middle in case the jolting caused a flow of blood. He
jammed the soft hat on his head. Rowley got into the driving seat and backed
down to the gates. Here there was plenty of room to turn.

`Shall I drive?”

‘Yes. Turn to the right at the bottom of the hill.’

`Let's get off the main road as soon as we can.’

`About four or five miles along there's a road that leads
up to a village on the top of a hill. I think I remember a wood on one side.’

When they came to the highway Rowley put on speed.

`You're driving awfully fast,' said Mary.

`We haven't got much time to waste, my sweet' he said
acidly.

`I'm so terribly scared.’

`That's going to do a fat lot of good.’

His manner was bitter and she was silent
The
moon had set and it was very dark. Mary could not see
the speedometer; she had a notion they must be doing hard on eighty. She sat
with her hands clenched. It seemed an awful thing that they were doing, a
dangerous thing, and yet it was her only chance. Her heart was beating
painfully. She kept on repeating to herself:

`What a fool I've been!’

`We must have gone about five miles now. We haven't
missed the turning, have we?’

`No, but we ought to be getting to it soon. Slow down a
little.’

They went on. Mary looked anxiously for the narrow road
that led winding up to the hill town. She had been along it two or three times,
tempted by the sight of it in the distance, for it looked like one of those
hill towns in the background of an old Florentine picture, one of those
pictures of a scene from the Gospels which the painter has set in the lovely
landscape of his native Tuscany.

`There it is!’

`
she
cried suddenly. But Rowley
had already passed it; he put on his brakes, and then backed till he could
turn. They slowly ascended the hill. They peered into the darkness on each
side. Suddenly Mary touched Rowley's arm. She pointed to the left. He stopped.
There was a coppice on that side of what looked like acacias, and the ground
was thick with undergrowth. It seemed to slope sharply down. He put out the
lights.

`I'll just get out and have a scout round. It looks all
right.’

He stepped out and plunged into the thicket. In the
deathly silence that surrounded them the noise he made scrambling through the
undergrowth seemed fearfully loud. In two or three minutes he appeared once
more.

`I think it'll do.’

He talked in whispers, although there could not have been
a soul within earshot `Help me to get him out. I shall have to carry him if I
can. You'd never be able to get down. You'd be scratched to pieces.’

`I don't care.’

`It's not you I'm thinking about,' he answered roughly.

`How are you going to explain to your servants that your
stockings are torn and your shoes in a devil of a mess? I think I can manage.’

She got out of the car and they opened the rear door.
They were just about to lift the body out when they saw a light above them. It was
a car coming down the hill.

`Oh, my God, we're caught!’

`
she
cried.

`Run. Rowley, you must keep out of this.’

`Don't talk such rot.’

`I won't get you into trouble,' she cried desperately.

`Don't be a damned fool. We shan't get into trouble if
you keep your head. We can bluff it out.’

`No.
Rowley, for God's sake.
I'm
done for.’

`Stop it. You've got to keep cool. Get into the back.’

`He's there.’

`Shut up.’

He pushed her in and scrambled in after her. The lights
of the oncoming car were hidden by a turn in the road, but another turn must
bring it in full view.

`Cuddle up to me. They'll take us for lovers who've come
to a quiet place to have a bit of nonsense. But keep still. Don't move.’

The car came on. In two or three minutes it would be upon
them and the road was so narrow that it would have to slow down to pass them.
It could just scrape by. Rowley flung his arms round her and drew her closely
to him. Under their feet was the huddled body of the dead man.

`I'm going to kiss you. Kiss me as if you mean it.’

The car was nearer now and it seemed to be swaying from
side to side of the road. Then they heard the occupants singing at the tops of
their voices.