The Spiral Staircase (25 page)

Helen followed her into the big tasteless room, which still blazed with electric light. It held traces of its last tenants-the careless, bored youngsters-whose pose of modern indifference had been so fatally shattered by the split-atom of passion.

Coffee-cups, with sodden cigarette-ends inside, were scattered about, together with stray sheets of newspapers, open magazines, choked ash-trays. Nurse Barker collected a couple of satin cushions, which lay on the carpet; tucking them under her head, she stretched herself out on the vast blue settee.

Closing her eyes, she fell, almost instantly, to sleep. “Now, I’m alone,” thought Helen. “But I can wake her up, if anything happens.”

As she kept vigil, she looked around her with strained eyes, dilated to black pools. There was no danger of her being soothed, insensibly, to unconsciousness, by the rhythmof Nurse Barker’s heavy regular breathing. Her brain was excited to a pitch when it became a store-house of jumbled impressions.

But, through the chaos and confusion, she knew that she was chasing a memory.

Suddenly she remembered. The basement window. It had been left open, for minutes at a stretch, while. the bar of its shutter lay uselessly on the kitchen table, and she and Stephen Rice had gloated over Mrs. Oates’ ancient history.

Her heart gave a leap, but she tried to reason herself out of her panic. It was the hundredth chance that the criminal, with acres of lonely countryside for shelter, would rush into a house, filled with people—the thousandth chance, that he would find the one point of entry.

“But, if he did,” thought Helen, “he could hide in any of the dark cellars. And then, when the coast was clear, he could make a dash through the scullery and kitchen, for the back-stairs.”

There was only one, way of safeguarding Mrs. Oates. She would have to make a thorough search of the basement. When she had satisfied herself that it was empty, she must lock the kitchen door, and take away the key.

Nurse Barker did not hear her, as she went out of the room. The woman was sleeping too heavily to be aware of the noise of the gale, which shook the long windows, with its fury.

Presently she awoke with a start, and sat up rubbing her eyes. Refreshed and alert, she looked around for Helen, who had kept vigil, by her side.

But the girl had disappeared.

Dr. Parry, too, no longer stood, like a sentinel, in the garden. Almost directly after the head and shoulders had been shadowed on the curtain, the light in Helen’s bedroom went out.

As he waited for something else to happen, he did his best to master his uneasiness. Although he knew that Helen’s bush of hair could not assume, the silhouette of the clean outline of a man, Miss Warren, or the nurseminus her veil-might have passed across the blind.

Presently he turned away. Conscious that he had let his personal feeling for a girl work himself up into an unreasonable panic, he was anxious to get a second opinion on the situation.

Cutting across the plantation, he soon reached Captain Bean’s whitewashed cottage.

The blind was undrawn, so that he could see into the lamp-lit sitting-room. Captain Bean, in his shirt-sleeves, sat at a paper-strewn table-a tea-pot beside him. It was evident that he was sitting up late, to write one of his articles on travel.

In spite of the interruption to his work, he came, at opce, to the door, at the sound of Dr. Parry’s knock. His clean-shaven face was a muddle of small indeterminate features, and his original blond coloring had been scalded by tropic suns.

“You’ll wonder why I’m knocking you up, this time of the night,” said Dr. Parry. “But I’m a bit puzzled about things up at the Summit.” “Come in,” invited Captain Bean.

Dr. Parry was rather astonished by the gravity with which he listened to his story.

“The fact is,” he admitted, “there’s a girl in that house that. I’m not quite easy about. She’s such a scrap. And she’s very frightened.”

“She’s reason to be,” snapped the Captain, “after that girl I found in my garden this evening.”

Dr. Parry, who wanted the reassurance of scepticism, stared at him with anxious eyes. He looked haggard and unkempt, while the stubble of his chin smudged his face, as though with grime.

However, the Captain gave a comforting hint of personal bias in his next sentence.

“I never cottoned’ to that house. And I never cottoned to the family. I’ll walk over with you and have a look round.”

“N.d.g.” said Dr. Parry hopelessly. “The place is like a fortress. And you can ring till you pull the wire out.”

“Police?”

“I’ve thought of them. But I don’t know what grounds I. can give them for forcing an entry. It’s all in order. And I’m chiefly to blame for that—curse it.”

Dr. Parry got up from his chair, to pace the room ex citedly.

“It’s that shadow that gets me,” he said. “In her room. It didn’t look the shape of any woman.”

“Still, there are young men about the house,” remarked the Captain.

“No, they’ve all left. There’s only the Professor-assuming he’s shaken off the effect of quadronex.”

Captain Bean grunted as he rammed fresh tobacco into his pipe.

“I want the entire log,” he said. “I’ve knocked about all over the Globe and seen all the ugliest sights. But that girl’s body, in my own garden, gave me a turn. Since then, I’ve been thinking of all sorts of things.”

He listened, with close attention, to the story, but made no comment. When it was finished, he rose and drew on his Wellington boots.

“Where are you going?” asked Dr. Parry.

“Bull. To ‘phone the Police-Station.”

“Why?”

“There’s some things can’t be said. You’ve got to prove them, by compass… . But I never like it when the rats leave the ship.” “Hell. Stop hinting, man. Say what you mean.”

The Captain shook his head.

“You can’t call a spade, a spade, when it might turn out to be a ruddy fork,” he said. “I’ll only tell you this. I wouldn’t risk a daughter of mine in that house, tonight, for a million pounds.”

“SECURITY IS MORTAL’S CHIEFEST ENEMY”

At first, Nurse Barker could not credit the fact that Helen was gone. She looked around her, searching, in vain, for a small blue figure amid the crowded confusion of settees and chairs. Only the ginger cat-aroused by her noisy movements—jumped off an old-fashioned Prince of Wales divan, and stalked from the room.

Thoroughly aroused, she followed him into the hall, where she raised her voice in a shout.

“Miss Ca-pel.”

There was no reply-no soft scurry of felt shoes. She drew her brows together, in displeasure, while her eyes glowed green with jealousy.

She had no fear of misfortune to Helen. In her opinion the Summit was impregnable. She had been playing on. The girl’s fear, from a double motive-to urge her to super-caution, and also, in revenge for fancied insult.

She told herself that Dr. Parry had managed to get in touch with Helen in spite of his intercepted note.

“She’s let him in.” she thought. “Well, it’s none of my business.”

With professional caution, she always avoided contact with scandal. If there was suspicion of irregular conduct in any house where she nursed, she knew nothing about it.

When, on the following morning, the Professor or Miss Warren questioned her about Dr. Parry’s presence at the Summit, she would be able to assure them that she had kept to her proper place-the patient’s room.

With a twisted virtuous smile, she went upstairs to the blue room. As she entered Lady Warren stirred. in bed.

“Girl,” she called.

“Now, that’s not the way to speak to your nurse,” remarked Nurse Barker.

Lady Warren struggled to a sitting posture.

“Go away,” she said. “I want the girl”

“Shut your eyes and go to sleep. It’s very late.”

Lady Warren, however, looked wakeful as an owl, as she stared at Nurse Barker.

“It’s very quiet,” she said. “Where’s everybody?”

“Everybody’s in bed, and asleep.”

“Tell the Professor I want him. You can go through the dressingroom.”

The remark reminded Nurse Barker of a grievance. “Do you know the connecting-door won’t lock?” she asked.

“You needn’t worry.” The old woman chuckled. “He won’t come in after you. Your day’s over.”

Nurse Barker disdained to notice the insult. She had no warning of the peril which actually would steal through that door, or the shock of unseen attack—the grip of choking fingers around her throat-the roar of a sea in her ears—the rush of darkness… ..

In her security, all she wanted was to settle down for the night. She was growing sleepy again. As she had no intention of explaining the sleeping draught fiasco to Lady Warren, she made a pretense of awakening the Professor. Passing through the dressingroom, she entered his bedroom.

His chair was placed directly under the high light, so that a pool of shadow was thrown over his face, which looked unnatural, as though composed of yellow wax. To increase the resemblance, his seated figure had the rigid fixity of a mechanical chess-player. “Is the Professor coming?” asked Lady Warren eagerly, as Nurse Barker returned to the blue room.

“No, he’s fast asleep.”

Lady Warren watched her as she crossed the room and locked the door.

“That’ll keep her out,” she thought with a smile of grim satisfaction.

“Why did you do that?” asked Lady Warren.

“I always lock my door in a strange house,” replied Nurse Barker.

“I always kept mine open, so that I could get out quicker. When you lock out, you never know what you’re locking in.”

“Now, I don’t want to hear anything more from you,” said Nurse Barker, kicking off her shoes. “I’m going to lie down.”

But before she dropped down upon the small bed, she crossed to the other door, which led into his dressingroom, and turned the key, as though for extra security. In spite of the precaution, she did not go to sleep. Her thoughts circled enviously around Helen and her lover.

She wondered where they were—what they did.

At that moment, Dr. Parry .was suffering solitary torment, while Helen endured her self-imposed ordeal-alone. Down in the basement, a flickering candle in her hand, she groped amid the mice, the spiders, and the shadows.

These shadows held possession of the passage-tenants of the night. They shifted before her, sliding along the pale-washed wall, as though to lead the way. Whenever she entered an office, they crouched on the other side of the door, waiting for her.

She was nerved up to meet an attack which did not come, but which lurked just around the corner. It was perpetual postponement, which drew her on, deeper and deeper, into the labyrinth.

Footsteps dogged her all the way; they stopped after she halted, with the perfect mimicry of an echo. Whenever she slanted a startled glance behind her, she could see no one; yet she could not be assured that she was alone.

Just as she turned round the bend of the passage and entered the pitchy alley of Murder Lane, someone blew out her candle.

She was left in the darkness, trapped between the window and the place where a girl had met with death. In that moment of horror, she heard the window burst open and the pelt of leaping footsteps.

Suddenly, fingers stole around her throat and tightened to a grip. A heavy breathing gasped through the air, like a broken pump. She felt the frantic hammering of her heart as she was swept away on a tidal-wave of horror.

Presently, the pressure on her neck lessened, as her petrified muscles relaxed to elastic tissue. In sudden realization of her own involuntary action, she released her throat from the clutch of her hand.

The draught which had blown out her candle, still beat on her cheek and neck. Yet, even while she knew that she was the victim of imagination, her nerve had crashed completely. Breaking free from the spell which paralyzed her legs, she rushed along the passage, through the kitchen, where Mrs. Oates snored in her chair, up the stairs, and back to the dining-room.

The ginger cat occupied Nurse Barker’s vacant place on the settee, his head resting upon the satin cushion. As she stared at him, he jumped down and followed her up to the first landing.

Still quivering with panic, Helen turned the handle of the door desperately. When she realized that Nurse Barker had locked her out of the blue room, she was filled with a healing glow of indignation.

Nurse Barker took no notice of her knocks, until they grew so frantic that she was forced to get off her bed.

“Go away,” she called. “You’re disturbing the patient”

“Let me in,” cried Helen..

Nurse Barker unlocked the door, but did not open it.

“Go back to your doctor,” she said.

“My—what? I’m alone.”

“Alone, now, maybe. But you’ve been talking to Dr. Parry.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

When Nurse Barker sudden threw open the door, Helen had a shock of wonder at her altered appearance. She had removed her veil, as well as her shoes. Instead of the cropped head of Helen’s imagination, her masculine features were crowned with permanently waved hair.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

“Down in the basement,” Helen gulped guiltily. “I-I remembered that I’d left a window open. So I went down to see if anyone had got in.”

The girl looked so confused that Nurse Barker realized that her suspicions had been baseless. She turned back to the blue room.

“I’m going to rest,” she said, “even if I can’t sleep.”

“May I come in with you?” pleaded Helen.

“No. Go to bed, or lie down in the drawingroom.”

Her advice seemed sound, yet Helen still clung to company.

“But I ought to stay with you,” she said, using Nurse Barker’s own argument. “You see, if anyone’s after me, he’ll have to dispose of you, first”

“Who’s after you?” asked Nurse Barker scornfully; whirling round, like a weathercock in a gale.

“The maniac, according to you.”

“Don’t be a fool. How could he get in, through locked doors?”

Helen felt as though she were standing on solid ground, after struggling for foothold in a quicksand.

“Then why have you been frightening me?” she asked reproachfully. “It’s cruel”