Beyond this place (15 page)

"I've already told him to clear out."

"Words, my dear Adam, as I know to my cost, mean so very little. I make no suggestions whatsoever. Nevertheless, you may find it possible, in your own way, to bring him to a more reasonable frame of mind."

Sprott rose to his feet and, with his back to the fireplace, authoritatively addressed the Chief Constable.

"I don't wish you to misunderstand me, Dale. I have taken the trouble, despite the immense amount of work upon my desk, to go through the records of the Mathry case."

"Ah!" thought Dale to himself with that same strange interior tremor.

"We have nothing to reproach ourselves with, simply nothing. We stand confirmed in the highest quarters. Nevertheless, the situation presents certain dangers. At the present time, with elections, both civic and national, falling due in a few months, the merest suggestion, no matter how unfounded, of a miscarriage of justice would be serious for all concerned. You know that I am

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standing for Parliament in the Conservative interest with, I trust, reasonable hopes of success. But my concern is not a selfish one. I am thinking not simply of my own future and yours . . . the effect on the people at this juncture, if such a diabolical falsehood were nursed into a scandal by mischievous parties, would be to undermine confidence in the whole judiciary, and in the government as well. That is why it is essential for this idiotic affair to be suppressed."

When he had concluded, Sprott again directed towards the Chief Constable that fixed and penetrating regard, then he held out his hand to terminate the interview. As Dale stepped out on the broad pavement of the Quadrant, there was no longer a flickering question in his mind. Somehow the thought had changed its form, was now fixed, a thorn piercing his natural honesty. With a frigid face he muttered stubbornly to himself: "There can't . . . no, there can't be anything in it." Yet his voice rang bleakly in his ears, and with his natural combativeness aroused, he resolved to temper Sprott's injunctions. He would watch young Mathry, but would not molest him unless he contravened the law.

CHAPTER XX

THE night of Wednesday came dank and dark, with a cold drizzling rain. As he set out for Porlock Hill the tension of Paul's mind and body gave to his movements a deceptive calm. He reached the Royal Oak shortly after seven, and having first surveyed the surroundings of the tavern, he crossed the street and peered through an uncurtained window of the saloon. Everything appeared normal, and with a quick movement, he went inside, advanced to the table Burt usually occupied, and sat down.

He glanced round. The place was about half full — two domestic servants were talking and tittering with their young men,

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a middle-aged married couple sat drinking beer in stolid silence, two old cabbies were playing dominoes, surrounded by their watching cronies, a square-headed man in a dark suit who looked like a butler was absorbed in a pink sporting paper. Paul decided he had nothing to worry about — no one was paying the least attention to him.

Then, as his eyes returned to the door, he saw Burt come in and walk towards him.

He got to his feet, holding out his hand in welcome.

"Louisa!" he exclaimed. "It's good to see you again."

She gave him a restrained smile, and a ladylike pressure of her gloved fingers, then arranged herself affectedly at the table. He noticed that she was rather more done up than before, with a string of blue glass beads round her neck and an embroidered handkerchief, smelling strongly of scent, tucked under the bangle on her wrist.

"I didn't ought to have came," she remarked reproachfully. "After the way you disappointed me before. I believe you was out with another young lady."

"No, indeed," he protested. "You're the one I'm interested in."

"So you say. You fellas is all alike." She patted the puffs of hair over her ears, and nodded an intimate greeting to the waiter. "The usual, Jack. Bring the bottle."

Paul leaned forward. "The difference is that I'm serious." He forced an admiring smile. "You look a treat tonight."

"Get away with you!" Flattered out of her pique, she spoke almost archly and took a sip of her gin. Then she looked at him sideways.

"Don't think I don't know what you're after. But I'm a respectable girl."

"That's why I'm attracted to you."

"Mind you, I'm no prue though I am a lady. If I like a fella I would go with him. Provided he saw me prop'ly. You do have a regular job, don't you?"

"You bet I have. And you know I'm gone on you." He pressed his knee against her leg under the table.

"So that's it." She giggled unexpectedly. "Well ... a little of wot you fancy does you good. I know a place we could go . . .

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maybe later. A sort of hotel, very classy, we could have the big room. But not for all night, mind you. I have to be back by eleven."

"Of course," he agreed. "By the way, I hope you had no difficulty in getting here?"

She straightened.

"What makes you say that?"

"Why, you mentioned it yourself in your letter . . . about being careful."

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"Yes . . . so I did." She sat back and took another drink. "It's just that the housekeep . . . that Mr. Oswald is shocking particular about some things. He's very high principled. You've surely heard of him? One of the biggest charity eontributors in Wortley. Gives hunderds and hunderds away to the hospitals every year, and in the winter puts up free coffee stalls for nothing . . . thev call it the Silver King Canteen. He's a toft all right for all he's so strick. And he's always treated me like a lady, else I wouldn't have stopped."

"Then you've been there some time?"

She nodded complacently.

"I wasn't more nor eighteen when they took me in. You don't believe me?" she inquired, archly crossing her plump knees and arranging her skirt.

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"Of course." He wondered if she were lying about her age. "It's just that you look so young.''

"I do, don't I."

"I'm surprised you never married."

Under his flattery she gave a conceited little smirk.

"The Oswalds would like me to. It's a fact They keeps on saving what a good thing if I got married and settled down with somebodies, say like Frank their handyman, or Joe Davies the milk roundsman. Oh, they're steady fellas all right but both of them's over fifty. Now can you imagine me and them? Well, I might one of these days, vou never can tell. But at the present time, catch me! 1 like a bit of fun. Do you blame me?"

"No, no," he agreed, squeezing her hand. The pattern he had suspected was emerging clearly: the philanthropic Oswalds had

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befriended this unfortunate and erratic girl, had done their best to keep her on a steady course, even to the point of suggesting marriage with a sober and reliable man. But despite all this, there existed in her mind a deep-rooted grievance, a grudge against life. And suddenly he saw how he could use this to his advantage, to secure the very thing he sought. Controlling the excitement that rose within him he murmured: "It seems odd to me that anyone as smart as you shouldn't have a better job."

"You're right," she nodded sulkily. "Mind you, I wouldn't of took up the domestic, that is the housekeeping line except that I was talked into it." As she spoke her self-satisfaction faded, her eyes filled with tears of self-pity. "The truth is, dearie, I've had a dirty deal. And after all I've went through."

He affected disbelief. "Nobody could have been hard on a nice girl like you."

"That's what you think. And all because I done something what was right, something noble you might call it."

Holding himself in check, he absently refilled her glass, murmured sympathetically:

"People often suffer for a good action."

"You said something there. Oh, it was right enough at first. They put me in all the papers . . . photographs and everything ... on the front page . . . just like I was a queen."

While she looked at him sideways as though gauging the effect of her words, he laughed, with just the correct note of incredulity. She reacted immediately.

"So you think I'm a liar, eh? That only shows your ignorance, as to the person you're addressing. It may interest you to know that at one time . . ." she broke off.

"Ah, I knew you were joking." He smiled and shook his head.

Her face went red. She looked over her shoulder, then brought her head close across the table.

"Is it a joke to nearly get a man hung?"

"Oh, no," he exclaimed, in shocked admiration. "But you never did that?"

She nodded her head slowly, then tossed off her second gin.

"That's the very thing I done."

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"Was it tor murder?" he gasped.

She nodded again, with pride, holding out her glass while he tilted the bottle.

"And but for yours truly, they'd never of got him. I was the big noise in the case."

"Well!" he exclaimed in an awed tone. "You could knock me over with a feather. I never dreamed . . ."

"Let that be a lesson to you — " she sunned herself in his open adulation — "as to the lady in whose society you find yourself. And 1 could surprise you a lot more if I wanted."

"Go ahead then."

She gave him a sly and amorous glance.

"That would be telling, Mr. Curious. Still, I've took to you. A perfect gent if I say so to your face. And it's so long ago . . . it can't reely hurt. Well, here's how . . . chin, chin, and all the best. Now, suppose yours truly had somethink up her sleeve that could reely of blew the lid off. For instance . . . ever hear of such a thing as a green bicycle?"

"A green bicycle?"

"That's right, dearie. Bright green." She broke into a titter. "Green as grash."

"Never knew of such a thing."

"That's what thev all said in court. Laughed they did, when some old bird swore he saw the man ride off on one. But / could of made them laugh a different tune. I knew my way around when I was a kid ... I was always on the streets I was. / knew about green bicycles."

As she hesitated, Paul laughed incredulously.

"1 believe you're making all this up."

"What!" She flushed indignantly. "You won't make me a liar. Just at that time there was a cycling club in Eldon, mostly made up of fellows what called themselves the Grasshoppers. And, just lor swank, to go with the name, every member's bike 'ad to be a special bright green colour."

"The Grasshoppers?" He spoke with assumed indifference. "Then the man that owned the bike you speak of must have been a member ol the club."

"Exactly. And a bit of a spark as well," Burt answered, with a

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knowing wink. "The kind that might 'ave 'ad fancy tastes . . . and a fancy sort of purse . . . say one actually made out of a human being's skin. Do I shock you?"

Paul tried desperately not to show too much interest. Surreptitiously he refilled Burt's glass.

"Indeed you do."

"Now I ask you, dearie, what kind of a person would ave that sort of purse?"

"A crazy person?"

"Ah, go lay an egg. What about a medical stoodent, as dissected bodies for anatomy?"

"My God," Paul exclaimed. He had never dreamed of making such a deduction, yet he saw at once that it was unmistakably correct. He recollected now that at Queens's a few of the bolder anatomy students often removed portions of epidermis from the dissecting rooms and had them tanned as souvenirs.

■ There was a vibrant silence — Paul simply could not speak. Delighted with the effect she was producing, Burt gave a prolonged titter and took a fresh sip of gin. She was already swaying slightly on her seat.

"I could make your hair stand on end if I wanted. For instance . . . the fella they got their hooks on was married. All the girls that worked in the florist's shop where he dropped in occasional like, they knew it, including Mona — that's the young woman what got done in. Now from what I knew about her, I can tell you straight she'd never of got herself mixed up with a married man. She was too cute, too much out for a good match. . . . In other words the gent that she was mixed up with, what got her in trouble . . . was single. Furthermore, she'd been in trouble, in the family way, if you'll pardon the expression, for a good four months. Now the fella they accused 'ad only known her a matter of six weeks. 'E couldn't 'ave 'ad nothink to do with the condition she was in. The very thing they blamed him for was impossible."

Paul raised his hand to his eyes to mask the emotion which overwhelmed him. In a hoarse voice he muttered:

"Why . . . why was this never brought out?"

Burt laughed.

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"Don't ask me. Ask them what ran the show. They 'ad a lawyer there what tied everybody in knots from first to last."

The Public Prosecutor! At every turn he was confronted by this man, this high official who, though still remaining remote, invisible, nevertheless seemed omnipresent, the crux of the mysterious case, the power which had crushed his father, ruthlessly, into the living death of Stoneheath. For the first time in his life Paul knew hatred and with a burning question on his lips he leaned towards his companion.

But at that precise moment a startling change came over Burt's face. Her plump cheeks turned a sickly yellow and her eyes, over Paul's shoulder, were stricken with a sudden panic.

"Excuse me." Burt spoke in faltering tones. "I've suddenly come over giddy."

"Have another drink," Paul said. "Here, let me do it."

"No . . . isn't it silly ... I got to get out."

"No, no . . . don't let's go yet."

"I got to."

Paul bit' his lip perplexedly. It was maddening to be interrupted like this, just when he had brought Burt to the point of making the most vital disclosure of all. Come what may, he must hang on to her. He bent forward, spoke in a lowered voice:

"What is it?"

"A copper."

Half-turning Paul stared at the square-headed man at the neighbouring table. Perhaps, unconsciously, he had all the time been aware of that figure in the dark suit, deeply, almost too deeply, immersed in the racing news. The man had not once, in the past twenty minutes, changed by an inch the position of the folded pink paper which half concealed his immobile face. But now, imperceptibly, he lowered it, revealing himself as Sergeant Jupp.