She Fell Among Thieves (19 page)

I moved a few inches further and tried to think what to do.

That the worst of the danger was over was perfectly clear. More. From being as good as hopeless, my position had become very strong; for if I could complete my escape, I should have the game in my hand.
But I had to land on that roof
.

I purposely use the word ‘land’. It was no good my meeting that roof to find I was not on the saddle but on the south or west slope – to roll and slide down its pitch and then fall some forty feet to the terrace or meadows below: it was no good my meeting that roof to find myself on the saddle with a broken leg bent beneath me, or something worse: I had to make a good landing: if I was not to make a good landing, for all the good I had done I might as well have stayed in my cell.

Now as I came round the tower, I had passed a window exactly like that of my cell. I had not seen it, of course, but my knees had brushed against it as I went by. And now it came to my mind that, if I went on, I might come to another window. This might be beyond the saddle; but, if it was not too far round, I might be able to use it to help myself down. I confess that how I should use it was not at all clear: I could kick in the glass and rest my feet on the sill: but, without my sheet to take hold of, I did not see how I could let the gutter go. Still, anything was better than hanging thus in mid-air. Besides – it was no good pretending –
my fingers were growing tired
.

I had moved, I suppose, some three feet, when my knees struck against some obstruction, projecting out of the tower. At once I put down a hand, to see what it was. I found a vertical bar.

In that instant I knew the truth.

I had come to another window: and, because it gave to the roof, that window was barred.

With a leaping heart, I left my faithful gutter and took to the bars…

I had now gained some seven feet, but strain my eyes as I would, I could not see what was below me or where I was. This fact, however, worried me very much less, for the window would not have been barred, if the roof below had not offered a chance of escape. All the same, having got so far, I simply was not prepared to take any leap in the dark. With success, so to speak, at my feet, the idea of failure seemed monstrous as never before: and after searching in vain for any sort of excrescence which would let me still further down, I decided to take off my belt and do what I could with that.

It was whilst I was unbuckling my belt that I first became aware that my arms could not much longer support my weight.

The mind so rules the body that, though for at least five minutes I had imposed on my muscles a heavy continuous strain, my relief at finding the gutter, and then the bars, had each time suppressed the protests which they would have normally made. But now they spoke out, themselves demanding relief – which I could not give. Before I had freed my belt, I had to put back my left hand, because my right could no longer hold me alone: and when, after resting a moment, I tried again to drag the belt from its loops, I found that I could not do it, because I had no hand to spare.

In vain I repented my haste in leaving the gutter. If I had not been so quick to take to the bars, by placing my toes on the window-sill I could have rested my arms: but now, though I sought to climb up with some frantic idea of getting one foot on the sill, I had not the strength to do it, and the frenzied effort I made only served to hurry the sands which were fast running out.

I pulled myself together.

To kick and struggle was futile. In another thirty seconds I should simply have to let go. Better to drop quietly and so be ready to make the best of – of whatever lay below me…down in the dark.

For the last time I peered down over my shoulder…

Then –

‘Well done, indeed, William,’ said Mansel. ‘I was coming to look for you. Hold on a second or two. There’s a slater’s ladder just here.’

‘You’ll have to be quick,’ I said somehow. ‘I – I’m damned near through.’

Mansel made no answer, but after what seemed an age I heard and saw a movement beneath me and heard the clack of a ladder against the wall of the tower.

In vain I sought it, feebly waving my feet.

‘My God, where is it?’ I cried. ‘If I can’t find it, I’ll simply have to let go.’

‘Don’t do that,’ said Mansel. ‘Keep your hold somehow. I’ll take your weight.’

Then he set my feet on his shoulders and held me up.

Nearly five minutes went by before I was enough rested to take off my belt and make it fast to a bar. Thereafter all was plain sailing, for the length of the belt brought my feet to the second rung. Supported by Mansel’s hand, I let the belt go, and a moment later my hands had hold of the ladder, and I was out of the wood.

As I went down to the roof, I counted the rungs, which were roughly twelve inches apart. I found that there were sixteen. Had Mansel not come when he did, and I fallen down, the probability is that I should have stayed on the roof. What is perfectly certain is that I should have broken my back.

Though I wanted to tell him my news, Mansel would not listen, but led me as fast as he could the way he had come.

With the help of the ladder, we gained a slater’s hatchway high up in the steep-pitched roof. From the attic to which this led us, we passed to a landing which served the third floor of Jezreel. And there Mansel pulled open a door, which one of six lacquered panels kept to itself.

Once in the system, we made as fast as we could for a winding stair, and two minutes later we were in Mansel’s quarters and I was taking my ease upon Mansel’s bed.

‘And now,’ said Mansel…

I told what I had to tell from beginning to end.

When I had done –

‘William,’ said Mansel, ‘you have a remarkable gift. It’s almost a conjuring trick. You can make an irreparable blunder – and then repair it. For what you’ve done tonight, you deserve to be canonised: but for coming back here as you did, you deserve to be shot.

‘I meant you to come back all right – but not as a guest. You were to come back in secret, unknown to Vanity Fair. When I saw you drive into that yard, I damned near died. It was no good my taking you up, for the damage was done: but I knew that you would be for it, if I couldn’t get in first. And I couldn’t get in first – for I couldn’t get through the guard-room: there was always somebody there.

‘Well, she sent me off this morning to meet a train – and pick up some parcel or other which never arrived. And when I got back, to hear that Mr Chandos had left, I knew at once that the dirty work had begun. From the very first I didn’t believe you’d gone: and when I couldn’t find Marc, I knew that he’d laid you out and taken your place. That was the chink in her armour – the disappearance of Marc. But it wasn’t at all apparent: and, to tell you the truth, I think she did very well.

‘Well, I could do nothing till night: but, somehow or other, I meant to do something then. It seemed unpleasantly likely that I should have to throw off my mask… And then she played into my hands – by sending me off to Poly at six o’clock.

‘It was perfectly clear that she wanted me out of the way, for Poly’s two hundred miles off. I was to stay the night there, leave a note in the morning, and then come back. She doesn’t suspect me, you know: but she knows that John Wright wouldn’t stand for some of the things she does.

‘Well, I left for Poly at six, had a word with Carson, left the car in a thicket and came straight back. I was sure you were up in that tower. But from what I saw this evening, I’m perfectly certain I couldn’t have got you out.

‘And there we are. As you say, the game’s in our hands, and our job is as good as done: and that’s all thanks to the only blunder you’ve made.’ He laughed lightly. ‘Fate’s a contrary lady – you can’t get away from that… And now to business. Thank God, we’ve plenty of time.’

‘We’ve none to spare,’ said I. ‘It’s thirteen miles to the pleasance, and–’

‘Carson’s standing by with the Rolls. I’ve only to show a light, and he’ll be below the village before I can get there myself. All the same, I’d rather like to get you clear of Jezreel.’

‘To be honest,’ said I, ‘I wouldn’t mind it myself.’

Mansel laughed.

‘I’m damned if I blame you, William. She – she’s not a nice woman, is she? I can see the look in her eyes, when she knew that she’d got you down… And now, as I said, to business. Two maidens have to be rescued. One is the real Virginia, the other the false. To save the first shouldn’t be hard: we know where she is – or will be before very long. And I think you’d better do that.’

‘I think that’s your job,’ said I, with a hammering heart.

‘I don’t agree,’ said Mansel. ‘And in any event, you can’t very well go wandering round Jezreel. Virginia the Second is somewhere within these walls: but where I don’t know. I haven’t seen her all day, and I’ll lay a monkey she isn’t within her room. In a word, she’s under restraint. Now that she knows of that system, Vanity Fair will keep her under her hand.’

‘Good God,’ said I. ‘And then, well, she can’t shut her up. I mean–’

‘She’s not going to,’ said Mansel. ‘Unless I’m much mistaken, she’s going to marry her off.’

‘To Gaston?’

‘Of course. From Below’s agitation, I’m certain that he has been warned. He knows the truth, of course, and he shrinks from dipping his spoon in such witches’ broth. Poor old Below. He was a gentleman once – before he met Vanity Fair.’

‘But why is she doing this?’

Mansel fingered his chin.

‘D’you remember our first day at Anise – how we sat by the stream in the evening, and I told you of Vanity Fair?’

‘Yes,’ said I.

‘Well, I told you then that when she fixed the date of her daughter’s marriage, it would mean she had fixed the date of her daughter’s death.’

‘You don’t mean–’

‘I mean this,’ said Mansel. ‘Vanity Fair is going to take no more risks. She told you Lafone was going to get a room ready. She spoke – euphemistically
. Lafone has gone to the pleasance to dig a grave
.’

I was so much shocked by his words, that, without thinking what I did, I got to my feet and made my way to the door.

‘Summon Carson,’ I heard myself say. ‘I want to be gone.’

Mansel smiled. Then he set a hand on my shoulder and took out a flask.

‘When I say there’s plenty of time, I mean what I say. Marc is not yet at Anise. Yes, I thought of the telephone, but the exchange at Anise closes at eight o’clock. And so – we’ve plenty of time. And now have a drink and sit down.’

I did as he said, while Mansel paced the chamber and now and again stood looking into the night.

At length –

‘Tell me one thing,’ said I. ‘You say she’s going to…kill her. Why didn’t she do it before?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ said Mansel. ‘And I doubt if anyone has, except Vanity Fair. But one thing is clear – that she dared not part with Virginia, while Jenny was yet alive. And the reason for that is clear. She doesn’t trust Virginia – she knows that she’s got a good heart.
Vanity Fair was afraid that once Virginia was married and clear of Jezreel she would do what she did last night and give her away
. But with Jenny dead and gone, Virginia can go to the devil and say what she likes. But
prove
what she says, she cannot. And nor can anyone else.’

‘Yes, I see that,’ said I slowly. ‘I suppose she raked up Gaston simply to stop her from marrying anyone else.’

‘Exactly,’ said Mansel. ‘Virginia’s celibacy was dangerous. She might have run off and got married to someone whose record was clean.’ He threw back his head and expired. ‘I’ll be glad to be done with this show. I never handled such filth. But it all fits in.’

There was a little silence.

Then –

‘Look here,’ said I. ‘I’d rather you went to Carlos and left me here. I’ll find Virginia somehow. But Jenny’s show mustn’t be bungled.’

‘Neither must be bungled,’ said Mansel.

‘I know,’ said I. ‘But – well, you’re safer than I am, and Jenny must have the best.’

‘Why?’ said Mansel. ‘I think we owe Virginia as much as we can repay.’

‘That’s very true,’ said I, staring, ‘but – damn it, if you had to choose, you know you’d put Jenny first.’

‘Yes,’ said Mansel, ‘I frankly admit that I should.’

‘Then you go,’ said I. ‘I – I want to see Virginia. I want to show her I’m not the swine she believes.’

‘Don’t you want to see Jenny?’ said Mansel.

‘Look here,’ said I, somehow. ‘I’d rather you took Jenny on. It’s a – a responsibility that – that I’d really rather not take. I’ve taken it once, you know. And – I don’t know if Carson told you, but I devilish near slipped up.’

Mansel raised his eyebrows.

‘Are you sure you mean what you say? I mean, five minutes ago you made for that door.’

I put a hand to my head.

‘I know I did,’ I said slowly. ‘I’ve not got your self-control. When you said what you did, my impulse was to start in. I felt we couldn’t get there too soon…to prevent – to make sure of preventing so dreadful a thing.’ I raised my head and looked him full in the eyes. ‘But you know it’s your job, Mansel.’

‘To be perfectly honest,’ said Mansel, ‘I don’t agree. But I said that five minutes ago. You have broken prison: as yet, I’m not even suspected, and so I can pass in Jezreel.’

This was so patently true that I threw in my hand.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘I’ll do it. I take it you’ll give me Carson? Now how shall I go to work?’

‘Half-a-minute,’ said Mansel. ‘I’ve got a question to ask. Don’t answer, if you don’t want to. It’s nothing to do with me.’

‘Go on,’ said I. ‘What is it?’

‘Are you in love with Jenny?’

‘Good God, no,’ I blurted. But the blood came into my face.

Mansel frowned.

‘I’m sorry for that,’ he said quietly. ‘I hoped you were.’

Twenty minutes later he saw me clear of Jezreel.

‘Give her my love,’ he said gently. ‘And that’s no figure of speech. She is the most perfect darling I ever saw. And I shall always love her… But I’m not in love with her, William, nor she with me. If I were twenty years younger… But her mind is too young for my mind, her soul too young for my soul. “Men do not put new wine into old bottles, else the bottles break and the wine runneth out.” I’m mad to see her, of course. And I hope and believe that she’ll throw her arms round my neck. But then I’ve a weakness for children…that show a weakness for me.’