Mystery Mile (18 page)

‘I deliberately refuse to consider that question,' said Marlowe. ‘Find her first.'

MR CAMPION'S COUNCIL
of war was made unexpectedly stormy by Giles. Until now he had borne the nightmare experiences of the past few days with comparative equanimity, but the latest development was too much for him: it seemed to have aroused every spark of obstinacy in his nature.

‘Look here,' he said. ‘I'm sorry to be uncivil, but it does strike me as being very fishy that the moment my sister disappears up comes Mr Knapp with the details for rescuing her all worked out pat. How do you know that he's not in with these people?'

‘Now, calm yerself, calm yerself,' said the accused one soothingly. ‘An' don't interrupt me, Bertie,' he added, waving a hand to silence Campion. ‘This gent's asked me a straight question; 'e's entitled to a straight answer. Fishy it may look, but it ain't really. And why? I'll tell you.' He came over to the young man and caught him by the lapel with a slightly greasy thumb and forefinger. ‘Magersfontein Lugg an' me 'as been pals for some years. Union of bonds, as you might say.' He winked at Campion knowingly. ‘Last week 'e come to me an' 'e said “Our friend Bertie” – 'e works for Bertie: cleans the 'ouse up an' gives the place a tone – “Our friend Bertie,” 'e says, “is off on some very nasty business. 'E 'asn't told me nothing, but you, bein' a knowin' one, might keep yer eyes open.” So I 'ave.'

He stood back from Giles and grinned as though he felt he had completely allayed any doubts in the young man's mind. Giles, however, was unimpressed.

‘That's all very well,' he said, ‘but what could you do?'

‘Oh, I see!' Mr Knapp's tone was more intimate than ever. ‘P'r'aps I'd better introduce myself. I used to work for the
Government on the telephone repairs. Then me an' the Postmaster-General, we 'ad a bit of a tiff an' I retired from public life an' service for a spell. When I come out I thought I'd make use of my electrical knowledge, an' I've worked up a very tidy little connection. You may not know it, but all over London there's 'undreds of private wires, some of 'em straight, some fishy.' He paused. ‘Now do you get me?'

‘No,' said Giles.

Mr Knapp grinned at Marlowe and tapped his forehead significantly. ‘That's where 'e wants it,' he remarked pleasantly. ‘Well, I'll tell you. It's the easiest thing to listen on to a wire, if you knows the way. You'd be surprised at the stuff I pick up. Filthy goin's-on in 'igh life wot you wouldn't believe.'

Without speaking, Giles looked at Campion, who smiled in spite of himself at his friend's expression.

‘Well,' continued Mr Knapp, ‘me bein' on the lookout, it ain't really surprisin' that I appened to 'ear something of interest. I come down as quick as I could, 'opin' to be a prevention rather than a cure. But since things 'ave 'appened as they 'ave 'appened we're doin' what we can to make the best of it. Take my tip, old son, and leave the arrangements to Bertie – 'e's got the kind of mind for a do of this sort. I remember once –'

Mr Campion interrupted him hastily. ‘Keep your jokes for your profession,' he said. ‘Now look here. The proceeding is, I take it, something like this –'

‘If you know the address of the house, why not call the police in?' said Giles.

‘Because, oh heart – and head – of oak,' said Campion gently, ‘we don't know if Biddy's there, in the first place, and in the second, they're bound to have some perfectly good get-away. The only thing to do to prevent the poor kid from being longer in their hands than we can help is to get her out ourselves if she's there, and if she isn't to scout about till we do find her. We're evidently on their track.'

Giles folded his arms and stared gloomily before him.

‘All right, get on with it,' he said. ‘What do you suggest?'

Mr Campion perched himself on the table, where he sat with his knees drawn up a little, peering round at them through his spectacles.

‘We shall have to go carefully,' he said. ‘You see, according to Knapp, ever since yesterday afternoon Mr Datchett and his chorus boys have been making investigations concerning our Albert. If they discover some of his pet names they will be on the watch for us pretty closely. They may even have someone watching us here. I don't think Kettle will be much good to them any more, but there's bound to be someone else on the road just over the Stroud. Therefore we must not parade ourselves. The simplest thing, I fancy, is for us to appeal to old Baa Baa Blacksheep, who I see is still with us. They'd never suspect him, so if we could get him to take you all the way to Knapp's we'd be fairly safe.' He laughed. ‘Isopel will have to come with us. We daren't leave her here. I think the best place for her is my flat; it's over a police station, you know. I'll drive her there myself in my own bus, so that anyone on the look-out for us will only know that Isopel and I have gone off and Mr Barber has returned to London. That's straight enough.'

‘Then they'll think that all the rest of us are down here?' said Giles.

Campion beamed at him. ‘That's the idea. Of course they may not be watching, but it's as well to take the precaution,' he said. ‘Now, that's all set, then, if you people agree to it.'

Marlowe nodded. ‘I'm with you,' he said. ‘Isopel and I have put ourselves completely in your hands all along and I believe you'll pull us through.'

Campion grinned. ‘For these kind words, many thanks,' he said. ‘There's only one snag in it,' he went on, ‘and that is our little picture-postcard expert.'

‘I think I can manage him' – Marlowe spoke confidently. ‘I'll go and talk to him. I'd like to see Isopel too.'

He went out of the room, leaving the others still conferring.

‘I see the idea, Bertie.' Mr Knapp pushed the beer away from him regretfully. ‘You take this other girl to safety an'
pick up the one or two things you'll need at your place, an' I'll manage this bunch. I'll 'ave 'em all primed up. I don't like workin' with amateurs, but there's nothin' like beef in a rough 'ouse. My old ma'll be up there, you know. She'll give us a 'and with the get-away if necessary. There's not much she don't know.'

Mr Campion looked sceptical, but he did not speak, and presently Marlowe came into the room with Mr Barber.

‘Certainly,' he said, ‘I will give anybody a lift to London.'

‘So I should 'ope,' muttered Mr Knapp. ‘Now I reckon the earlier we start the better. So pull yer socks up, mates.'

Mrs Whybrow received careful instructions from Giles. She was not to go into the village, no one was to know that they were not all still in the house. She was a sensible woman and took her instructions placidly.

Campion packed the three men, Giles and Marlowe with Mr Knapp, into the back of Mr Barber's car.

‘The police won't stop an out-going car on the Stroud. Mr Barber, we shall be eternally grateful to you.'

The old man bent towards him and spoke in a confidential rumble. ‘My dear sir,' he said, ‘if you could persuade Mr Paget to consent to allow me to handle the sale of his picture, the gratitude would be entirely mine.'

He drove off, and Campion turned to Isopel. She was standing waiting for him, wrapped up in a fur coat, although it was summer. She looked very small and terrified standing there, her white face peering out from the dark fur of her high collar.

He smiled at her. ‘Scared?' he said.

‘No.' She shook her head. ‘Not any more. That part of me has gone numb.'

He frowned. ‘That's bad. Do you think you could do something for me? I want you to drive this car from here over the Stroud. I shall do a neat impersonation of a parcel at your feet. There's no danger. I just don't want anyone in the village to know that I've left the house.'

She nodded. ‘Why, surely.'

Mr Campion doubled himself up at the bottom of the car. ‘She's the easiest thing in the world to drive,' he murmured.
‘There's one gear that I know of. Any other handle you pull you get your money back.'

The journey from Mystery Mile to the Ipswich road passed without excitement, and Mr Campion emerged from his hiding-place. ‘Now I'll take her,' he said. ‘You've managed her marvellously. I've never known her to move for a woman before. It's a sort of jealousy, I think.'

Isopel did not appear to be listening to him.

‘Mr Campion,' she said, ‘you're not talking about this – this terrible thing that has happened to Biddy because you're afraid of frightening me. But don't think about that, please. I want to do all I can to help. Marlowe is in love with her, you know. I think they fell for each other when they first met.'

The car was racing along the main Woodbridge-Ipswich road, and the young man did not take his eyes off the giddy stretch before them.

‘You mean they'd probably want to marry?' he said.

‘Oh yes, I think so. Isn't it funny that he and she should feel like that when I and –'

She paused abruptly, and Mr Campion did not press her to continue. She sat back in the car, a thoughtful look in her dark eyes. Suddenly she turned again.

‘I suppose,' she said jerkily, ‘that no one knows about – about the red knight, do they?'

‘Don't forget your promise.' The words were spoken lightly enough, but there was no mistaking the sincerity beneath them. ‘No one, in the world, must know anything about that.'

She caught her breath. ‘I'm sorry,' she said, ‘but sometimes I feel so terribly afraid.'

‘Don't worry. I'll get her back if it's the last thing I do.' The vigorous determination in his voice surprised her, and she turned to him, but Mr Campion's face was as pleasantly vacuous and inane as it had ever been.

He made for a garage on the east side of Regent Street.

‘I hope you won't mind,' he said, beaming down at her as they emerged into Piccadilly Circus, ‘but I'm afraid I shall have to take you into my place by the tradesmen's entrance. You never know at a time like this who may be watching the front
door. This is another dark secret, by the way. I think I'll have to insist that you stay at my flat,' he went on. ‘It's the one really safe place in London for you. There's a police station downstairs. I'm only taking you in the back way so that no one will see me. I don't want an ovation from the populace.'

He piloted her across the road and down one of the small turnings on the opposite side, and paused at last before what looked to Isopel like a small but expensive restaurant. They went in, and, passing through a line of tables, entered a smaller room leading off the main hall where favoured patrons were served. The place was deserted, and Mr Campion approached the service door and held it open for her.

‘I must show you my little kitchenette,' he said. ‘It's too
bijou
for anything.'

Isopel looked round her. On her right was an open doorway disclosing a vast kitchen beyond, on her left a narrow passage leading apparently to the manager's office. Campion walked in.

A grey-haired foreigner rose to meet him. It was evident that he recognized the young man, but to the girl's surprise he did not speak to him. He led them silently into an inner room and threw open a cupboard doorway.

‘I'll go first.' Campion spoke softly. With a great show of secrecy the foreigner nodded, and, standing back, disclosed what appeared to be a very ordinary service lift which was apparently used principally for food. One of the shelves had been removed, and Mr Campion climbed into the opening with as much dignity as he could muster.

‘See Britain first,' he said oracularly, and pressed the button so that, as if the words had been a command, he shot up suddenly out of sight.

Isopel opened her mouth to speak, but the foreigner placed a finger on his lips and looked about him with such an expression of apprehension that she was silenced immediately. Within a minute the lift reappeared, a big blue cushion in the bottom of it. A voice floated down the shaft. ‘My second name is Raleigh.
Houp
, Elizabeth!'

The mysterious foreigner helped the girl into the lift as if
he feared that at any moment they might be attacked. The journey was not so uncomfortable as it looked, and as she felt herself being drawn up into the darkness, Isopel's sense of the ridiculous was touched and she began to laugh.

‘That's fine,' said Campion, helping her out into the dining-room of his flat. ‘Was old Rodriguez too much for your gravity? He's a wonderful chap. He owns that restaurant, and makes a damn good thing out of it – the old robber! The only way I get him to let me use the lift as an entrance is by pretending it's a case of life or death. He has a secret thirst for adventure, and my little goings and comings by the back door give him no end of a thrill. As a matter of fact, a previous tenant here had the lift put in to have his food sent up. Rodriguez is a nice chap, but he will act his part, which becomes a little trying at times. Now look here,' he went on, conducting her into the other room. ‘You'll be quite all right here. Lugg, I fancy, is already at the scene of operations, but you'll have Autolycus to keep you company. You'll have to watch your jewellery, that's all. It's living with Lugg that does it.'

He was bustling about the room as he spoke, selecting various odds and ends from a Sheraton bureau at the far end of the room and a deep cupboard by the fireplace.

‘If you get hungry, just shout down the lift. If you get scared, just shout out of the window. If anyone should call, don't open the door. Especially not to an old gentleman with an aerial to his top hat and natty black gaiters. That's my wicked uncle. You can see everyone who comes in the mirror on the inside of the door. It works on the periscope principle. All done with a few common chalks.'