Gale Warning (22 page)

“I must think it over,” said Mansel, and, with that, he got to his feet and left us alone.

Nearly an hour went by before he came back.

He stood looking down at Audrey, while Audrey looked up.

“You shall have your wish,” he said quietly, “if you will do exactly as William said.”

“Thank you, Jonah,” said Audrey. “You know I’ll do that.”

“Give notice tonight and leave for Bayonne tomorrow not later than ten o’clock.”

“I promise.”

“Spend the afternoon at Chiberta Club.”

“I will.”

“Dine with John at Biarritz and go on to the Casino – into the baccarat room.”

“Which means we must show our passports. I understand.”

“From there to one of the night-clubs, where you will dance till dawn.”

“Very well.”

“Then that,” said Mansel, “is that.” He took his seat by her side. “And now let’s forget the matter.” He dabbled his powerful hand in the baby rill. “Did William ever tell you how he and I taught Jenny to build a dam?”

The day passed quietly at Midian, so far as we saw. Plato appeared after lunch, but, after two or three minutes, withdrew to the cool of some room: and when Audrey and I left the others at half-past six, the terrace was still sunlit and still unoccupied.

(Here perhaps I should say that, because of the high side walls, there must have been days when the place was unbearably hot; for unless the wind blew from the south, no breeze could ever reach it to temper the air, and the flags being so protected must have grown hotter and hotter, until they not only reflected but actually gave off heat. Still, the terrace, if sheltered, was spacious and the air, which came up from the water, must have been agreeably cool, and, had it been mine, I would not have had it altered for the sake of the few occasions on which one could not use it during the heat of the day.)

Since I was wearing no coat, Audrey took Mansel’s letter and slid it into her shirt: then she put out her hands, and he took them in both of his.

“When and where?” she asked him.

“I can’t say yet, my lady. I’ll send you a line to Bayonne.”

“T-take care of yourself, Jonah.”

“I always do.”

He bent his handsome head and put her hands to his lips…

Audrey turned to Chandos.

She did not speak to him, but she put her arms round his neck and held his face against hers…

Then I shook hands with them both – and felt as though I were branded with cowardice in the field.

I could not face the servants, and that is the honest truth. And I slunk away after Audrey, and never looked back.

We never spoke a word, as we climbed to the mountain-top: but as we passed over the plateau, she put out her hand for mine.

“I’ve let you down,” she said. “I should have gone back from Poitiers. Jonah asked me to: but I wouldn’t…because of you.”

“It’s quite all right,” I said somehow. “No one can have it both ways, and – it’s just the luck of the game.”

When we came to our faithful path, she let me go, for we had to tread its windings in single file: and we never spoke again, till we came to the pretty harbour in which we had left the car.

Now the end of the path was so steep that the easiest way to take it was to go down at a run, and since my lady was leading, I hung on my heel for a moment, to let her get clear. And, as she parted the bushes, I followed her down…

Audrey was standing stock still on the sash of green turf. I found her attitude strange – as if, in the midst of some movement, she had been turned into stone.

For a moment I stared upon her.

Then—

“Good evening, Lady Audrey,” said Barabbas. “And Mr John Bagot, too. Just get this once for all, will you? If either of you disobeys me, the other will immediately die.”

The man was sitting square on the stump of a tree, with an elbow cupped in a palm, and an automatic pistol covering Audrey’s breast.

Behind him, ‘The Kingdom of Heaven’ began to shake with mirth.

Those frightful moments will stay with me till I die. Surprised, dismayed and confounded, I stood unable to move; while the bitter realization that, though, as I have shown, my instinct had continually warned me against such a danger as this, I had not even troubled to reconnoitre the track, lashed my understanding and cut to ribbons my heart. The sword of Damocles had fallen. I had allowed my darling to fall into the power of the dog.

Audrey was addressing Barabbas.

“We can’t very well disobey you, till we know what you wish us to do.”

“I see,” said Barabbas, quietly. “Well, let me put it like this. Don’t do anything which I do not seem to desire.” Keeping his eyes upon Audrey, he spoke to me. “Bagot, close on the lady and stop two paces away.”

Seeing nothing for it, I did as he said.

Barabbas jerked his head.

“Cuff them together, Kingdom. Go over them first.”

Plato moved towards us and out of my sight. Taking his stand behind me, he ran his hands lightly down me as far as my thighs. Audrey had to endure the same indignity. Then he stood between us, produced a pair of handcuffs and clipped one cuff on my right wrist and the other on Audrey’s left.

“Sure she can’t slip it?” said Barabbas.

Plato took Audrey’s arm and tried to force the cuff downwards, over her slim brown hand.

As she winced, I brought over my left…

At the moment at which I hit Plato, Barabbas hit me – with the butt of his automatic pistol, full on the side of my head; so Audrey told me later, for the blow put me down and out: and when I came round, I was lying on my back on the turf, with Audrey kneeling beside me and asking me how I did.

I laughed and sat up.

“I’m all right, my beauty. How’s Plato?”

Audrey looked round at that, and I followed her gaze.

Plato was lying, groaning, with a hand to the back of his head; and Barabbas was stirring the man with the toe of his boot. But while he was doing this his eyes were on us.

“Get up, you fool. You’re all right.”

As he spoke, Audrey breathed in my ear.

“I need not have winced. I can slip it whenever I like.”

Her words and Plato’s distress were better than any cordial for my complaint, for that might have helped my body, but she and Plato had ministered to my mind. Though my head was sore and was aching, my heart leaped up, and my brain was as clear again as it had been before I was struck.

Barabbas kicked Plato hard, and the latter yelped with pain and then got up to his knees.

Still holding the back of his head, he looked at me with a hatred which made his eyes burn in his head.

“I guess,” he said slowly, “I guess that makes him mine.”

“Later on,” said Barabbas, roughly. “We’re getting into the car, and you’re going to drive.”

“But—”

“Go and get her started,” snarled Barabbas, and lifted his foot.

Muttering, Plato rose and began to walk down the track. As I turned my head to watch him, Barabbas jammed the mouth of his pistol against my ribs.

Then he spoke between his teeth.

“Try that again,” he said, “and Kingdom shall strip the lady before your eyes. And now follow him – and remember… I never speak twice.”

One thing was unpleasantly clear – that Barabbas was a passionate man and was only controlling his temper by the skin of his teeth. I had flouted his orders almost as soon as those orders had left his mouth, and Plato’s contemptible conduct had fairly ‘let the side down.’ These things had set him on fire. His voice was shaking with wrath, and the muzzle of the pistol was trembling against my ribs. So, though I had been thinking that, with Plato ensconced in the car, I might turn to account the freedom which Audrey could give my right hand, I now dismissed this notion and determined to bide my time; for, when all is said and done, an automatic pistol can almost go off by itself, and when it is held by a man who has lost his temper, it is just about as safe as a bomb with its pin pulled out.

So we came to the mouth of the track and Barabbas’ car – a handsome, ‘close-coupled’ Rolls, which I should have liked myself. Plato was already within, and the door on our side was open, and the bucket seat tilted forward out of the way.

“Get in,” said Barabbas, thickly. “The girl goes first.” We both got in and sat down at the back of the car. “I sit between you. Make room.” We made what room we could, but our arms being fastened together were still in the way. “Lift your hands to the roof.” We did as he said, and he got into the car and took his seat. “Now put your hands over my head and on to my knees.”

There was nothing to do but obey: so I took Audrey’s fingers in mine, and we did as he said.

Barabbas slammed the door.

Then—

“Let her go,” he said to Plato. “I’ll tell you the way.”

The fellow made us sit back, and we could not see or be seen. Except to direct our driver, he never uttered a word: but he kept the mouth of his pistol against my groin. Since Plato was not a good driver and some of the roads we used were extremely rough, there were times when I could have spared an attention so very marked; for though I did my best to put it out of my mind, it was, after all, my flesh which was most concerned, and that refused to ignore a pressure which might any moment turn into penetration of a very unpleasant sort.

For some miles I was able to follow the way we went, but then we entered a district I did not know, and I could only be sure that we were travelling north. I had next to no doubt that we were bound for Midian, although I found it hard to believe that Barabbas would expose two captives to the eyes of his servants and guests. Still I felt we were going there and I felt it was just as well, for at least I knew something of its lay-out, and if we – or either of us – could manage to reach the terrace before it was dark, the servants would immediately see us and give the alarm.

Sure enough, after forty minutes, I saw the green meadows of Midian alight with the setting sun, and two or three moments later, Plato slowed up for an instant and then swung into the drive.

As we approached the house, I glanced to right and to left for some sign of life; but if anyone saw us coming, I never saw him, and though there may well have been someone within the stable-yard, we did not enter that, but drove straight into a garage, built into the house itself. This was little bigger than what is known as a ‘lock-up’ for somebody’s private car, but it just accepted the Rolls, though only one door could be opened, to let any occupant out.

As Plato stopped his engine—

“Pull down the curtain,” said Barabbas.

Plato got out of the car, and a moment later I heard the steel curtain come down. Then the man must have touched some switch, for the garage was flooded with light.

It was then that I noticed a door which clearly led out of the garage and into the house itself. This was in the wall we were facing and seemed to be made of iron.

“Open the doors,” said Barabbas.

Plato did as he said, unlocking both with two keys which were fastened to that of the Rolls.

The iron door concealed another of massive oak: and when this, too, had been opened, I saw that it gave to a room which was full of light. This went to support my belief that the room in turn gave to the terrace I knew so well, and I held Audrey’s fingers more tightly, to try and convey to her the hopes which I had in mind. She answered this pressure at once; but whether she saw things as I did, I had, of course, no idea, and I would have given a fortune for two minutes’ consultation, to settle the line we should take.

“They’re getting out,” said Barabbas. “Cover them into the room.”

Plato drew a pistol and stood to the door of the car.

Barabbas addressed us both.

“Get out of the car.”

It was Audrey’s door that was open, and so I followed her out, thrusting my way past Barabbas as best I could. She led the way out of the garage and into the room, with Plato backing before her, pistol in hand.

Barabbas switched off the light and brought up the rear, locking the doors behind him by the process of pulling them to; for the locks were spring-locks.

The room was a pleasant chamber, panelled in oak: a good many books stood in cases against the walls, some nice-looking rugs were spread on the shining floor and a leather-clad sofa and chairs, with, I think, the deepest loose cushions I ever saw, were offering every comfort, not to say luxury. A second door stood in the wall through which we had passed, and between the two stood a massive writing-table, which must have been six feet square: but the sight which quickened my pulse was that of the two French windows, each of them wide open, revealing the spread of the flags and the elegant balustrade and, beyond these things, the great quilt of gay, green foliage, behind which two pairs of keen eyes were keeping their faithful watch.

“Sit down on that sofa,” said Barabbas.

The was not yet, for Plato stood full in the way and he still had his pistol drawn. In silence we stepped to the sofa and took our seats.

The sofa was facing a fireplace, about which stood a club-kerb. Here Barabbas sat down. The man was three paces away, and his pistol was resting against the flat of his thigh.

Then he spoke to Plato again.

“Shut those shutters,” he said.

I confess those words hit me hard.

I had counted on our gaining the terrace before it was dark and so on informing Mansel of what had occurred; but, once the shutters were shut, our chances of bringing this off would be as poor as they had been excellent. But what was far worse than this set-back, his order made me wonder whether Barabbas knew that Mansel was up in those woods…

I had been perfectly sure that the fellow had no idea that Mansel was anywhere near, for he kept no look-out in the glade, when we fell into his hands. But now I began to suspect that he knew far more than I thought, for, though we dashed on to the flags, cuffed as we were together, we could not have climbed a wall and so should have done no more than enter a prison-yard.

One after another, I heard the shutters clash, and the room which had been full of light became suddenly dim.

“Put up the lights,” said Barabbas.

Plato moved to the doorway and did as he said.

Barabbas surveyed us grimly.

Then he put his pistol away and fingered his chin.

“I’ve some questions to ask,” he said. “If you like to lie, you can: but I don’t think I should.”

“Why wouldn’t you lie?” said Audrey.

“Because,” said Barabbas, slowly, “I happen to know the answers to some of the questions which I am going to ask. And now just tell me this. Who put you on to Kingdom?”

“Look here,” said I. “We may as well get this straight. Lady Audrey came into this show, because she’s a way with a car. I had to have a good driver, if I was to do my job. But she—”

“Quite so,” said Barabbas, “quite so. But I didn’t ask that. Who put you on to Kingdom?”

I determined to do his familiar what harm I could.

“Mansel did that,” I said. “His servant pointed him out one evening in Sermon Square. Then he got me made a member of the club to which Kingdom belongs. I used to pick him up there and watch him playing billiards, and things like that. And the club servants knew all about him and where he lived.”

Behind me, the Kingdom of Heaven was making a choking noise.

Then he flung round the sofa and put out a shaking hand.

“It’s a lie,” he mouthed. “It’s a pack of lies. He’s never been into the City Conservative Club.

“I’ll describe it,” said I. “All the ceilings are very good; but that in the smoking-room is the best of the lot. The staircase—”

“That’ll do,” said Barabbas, curtly. He turned and looked at Plato, more black in the face than red. “He used to pick you up there,” he added – between his teeth.

“And I say he’s lying,” raved the other. “He—”

“Silence,” barked Barabbas, returning to me.

“How did you know that Kingdom was going to France?”

“That was common knowledge,” said I. “All we had to find out was when he was going to leave. So I went over to France, to be on the spot with the car, and Mansel sent me a wire as soon as he’d got the date.”

Twice Plato endeavoured to speak, but no words would come. At the third attempt—

“If you think,” he said thickly, “that I’m going—”

“Cut it out,” said Barabbas, sharply. “I’m running this – show.”

Plato sat down in a chair and wiped the sweat from his face.

Barabbas returned to me.

“When and where did the lady join you?”

It seemed best to tell him the truth.

“In Paris,” I said. “In May. I can’t remember the date.”

“Did you meet her?”

“I did. At Le Bourget.”

Barabbas turned to Plato.

“What did I tell you?” he said.

Although the other looked volumes, he made no reply.

“You say,” said Barabbas, “that Mansel sent you a wire?”

“That’s right,” I said. “To say that Kingdom was coming and tell me when and where I could pick him up.”

“When and where did he say?”

“On Friday last, at Dieppe.”

“Did you pick him up there?”

“I did.”

“Was the lady with you?”

“She was. She was driving the car?”

“Anyone else?”

“No.”

“What car was it?

“A Lowland. The one we were using today.”

“How did you know,” said Barabbas, “which road he was going to take?”

“We didn’t,” said I. “We hadn’t the faintest idea. We simply followed behind. Sometimes, when the road was straight, we’d pass him and lead for a bit, for we thought if we sat on his tail all the time, he might get ideas.”

“And when he stopped?” said Barabbas.

I opened my eyes.

“‘Well, we stopped, too,” I said. “And waited until he went on.”

Plato was up on his feet and was sawing the air.

“He’s a – liar,” he blared. “He wasn’t working alone. And he never came in till Rouen – or later than that.”

“Don’t be a fool,” said I. “I can tell you the way you went. You turned to the right at Paletot, and then came back. A few miles further on, you turned to the left. There you stopped for a moment and sent your chauffeur back to have a look round. And then you went on to Rouen by Neufchatel.”