Blindfold (29 page)

“Ooh! It's a man!” she thought. And then there he was, calling urgently through the crack in Miles Clayton's voice.

“Is that you, Flossie? Let me in quick!”

“Ooh, Mr Miles—you did frighten me!”

She undid the chain, and he came in, jerking it out of her hand as he pushed the door.

“What's the hurry?” said Flossie to herself—“pushing in like that!” She was cross because she had been frightened. Aloud she said, “Mr and Mrs Gilmore is out.”

“It's you I want to see,” said Miles. He slammed the door, took her by the arm, and hurried her into the dining-room.

When the four ceiling lights came on, Flossie wondered what had happened. If it had been some people, she would have wondered if he had been drinking. His fair hair was rumpled, his face pale, and his voice unsteady.

“Lor' Mr Miles!” she said. “What's wrong?”

“Look here, Flossie, you've got to give me back that promise.”

Flossie's expression changed. The very first instant he said “promise”, she knew what he was getting at. It was what she had told him in the fog, and he'd promised faithful he wouldn't go to the police about it, nor let on to nobody. She said sharply,

“What promise?”

“Flossie, you know—I can see you do. Look here—someone's life may depend on it. Was that all true that you told me about seeing a hole in the wall when you were at 16 Varley Street?”

Flossie's colour and Flossie's temper flared together.

“True? Of course it's true! I don't tell lies, Mr Miles, nor I don't like people that thinks I tell them!”

He ran a distracted hand through his hair. If Flossie was going to go off the deep end, he wouldn't be able to do anything with her.

“My dear girl, I didn't mean lies. I only meant are you sure there wasn't any mistake?”

Flossie tossed her head.

“Sure enough to make me run out of the house in what I stood up in!” she said defiantly.

“Then, Flossie, listen. The girl who went there after you has disappeared. I don't know what's happened to her. I—we—we're engaged. I think she's the real Miss Macintyre, but she doesn't know about it yet. I was going to tell her this afternoon, but when I went there Mrs Green said she couldn't come—she was up with Miss Rowland. And when I went back at half-past four she said there had been a row, and that Kay had gone.”

Flossie's eyes rested upon him with a cold sparkle.

“And what makes you think there's anything wrong about that?”

He told her rather disjointedly, walking up and down the end of the room, using his hands in jerky, forcible gestures, and finally producing the strip of cambric with that faint scrawl which might be a capital K.

“You see, you've got to give me back my promise. I can't keep it any longer. I've been to the police, and they pooh-pooh the whole thing. I can't make them listen to me. You see, it sounds too thin—I know it does. When I simply wouldn't go away, they sent a man round to the house and the garage. Mrs Green told him just what she'd told me, and at the garage they said their driver had picked up a young lady and her luggage at No. 16 Varley Street and driven her to Waterloo. After that it was no use saying anything more, but if you will come round there with me and tell them what you saw—”

“Not much I won't!” said Flossie in the loudest voice he had ever heard from her. It was loud because she was afraid—afraid that Mr Miles would make her go to the police, and quite dreadfully afraid of what would happen to her if she went.

“Flossie—”

“I won't, I tell you! Why can't you believe what Mrs Green and the garridge man had to say? Seems to me you think everybody's telling lies to-night! Why shouldn't she have had a row with them and cleared out same as Mrs Green says she did? It's a house as any girl 'ud want to clear out of, I should say. If you go home and go to bed, you'll be getting a letter from her in the morning telling you all about it.”

Miles turned at the end of the room and came striding down upon her.

“I wish to Heaven I could think so, but I can't! Flossie think of what you say—
think!
Look back and make a picture of it in your mind—see it again, and then
think!
Suppose you hadn't got away. Suppose you hadn't been able to open the door. Suppose the man you saw had caught you up on the stairs. You said you saw him looking at you—suppose he had caught you up—where would you be now? And what would you think of someone who knew where you were and wouldn't move a finger to help you out?”

Flossie had turned very pale. She said, still in that loud defiant voice,

“I'd be past helping all right if he'd caught me, Mr Miles.”

He cried out, “Don't!” and then, “Flossie, you can't say that and then refuse to help her!”

Flossie clenched her hands.

“Now look here, Mr Miles—it's no use your talking, and it's no use your carrying on. My life's as good as hers, isn't it? And I'm not throwing it away along of stirring up a lot of trouble and going to the police. I told you what happened to Ivy, and no later than this very evening I got my warning of what 'ud happen to me if I didn't hold my tongue.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm not saying, thank you, Mr Miles. And I'm not going to the police, not for you nor for no one, and if you bring them here, I'll say and swear, and stick to it, that I didn't see nothing—so
there!
”

She was panting a little and her heart was thumping. He shouldn't make her speak—no, he shouldn't. She wanted to marry Ernie and live comfortable. If he made her speak, she'd never do that—no, never. It'd be a hand at her throat round a dark corner and the breath strangled out of her, or a cold dreadful plunge into the river some black night same as Ivy. She wasn't going to think about that other girl and the hole in the wall. She wasn't—no, she
wasn't
. She'd got herself to think about.

Miles had gone grey in the face. He said,

“You said you'd been warned. Who warned you?”

“I
never!
No one.”

“You said “you'd been warned—you can't get away from that. You said it, and you've got to tell me.”

“Got to nothing, Mr Miles!”

“Flossie!”

“I
dursn't!”
said Flossie with a choking sob. And then all of a sudden she was stamping her foot and telling him to go away. “I'll call Cook if you won't—I will reelly! And I won't say another word, not if you was to stay here all night, and you did ought to be ashamed of yourself, coming here and carrying on like this, and as likely as not getting my character took away, and Ernie as jealous as he can be without any more trouble being made! And whatever Aunt would say, I don't know nor I don't want to! And are you going, or have I to go down for Cook? And I think it's a
shame
, I do, coming here like this and trying to make me say things! And I won't
never
, so it's no use your going on!”

It wasn't any use.

He said, “All right, I'm going,” and went.

The slamming of the door relieved Flossie's terror. She shot the bolt and put up the chain with shaking hands. The tears were running down her cheeks. He hadn't made her speak—he
hadn't
. She wasn't going to speak—not never, not for no one. She stood in the hall behind the bolted door and cried. There wasn't nothing to cry about. “Gladys'll be home any time now.” She couldn't help it. She couldn't stop crying, and her legs had all gone funny.

She got to the bottom step of the stairs and crouched there in a heap, and still she couldn't stop crying. She knew where that girl had gone all right—through the hole in the wall. She hadn't been quick enough, and
They
had got her. Mr Miles wouldn't get any letter from her in the morning. Ooh! He did look awful! Same as if he'd been ill for a month. “I darsn't speak—I darsn't! They'd do me in if I did. And Ernie”—a choking sob—“Ernie 'ud break his heart.” But he wouldn't go on breaking it—men didn't. And presently he would go walking out with someone else—and marry them—and have the little house they'd planned. And it wouldn't be Flossie's house, because she'd be in the river.

“I darsn't! Ooh—I
darsn't!”
said Flossie.

She got out her handkerchief and tried to stop crying. Gladys would think she was batty. If she could stop seeing the hole in the wall and the way Mr Miles looked, it would be all right. That Kay Moore wasn't any business of hers.… Wasn't she?… If she were to speak now, at once, there might be just time to save Kay Moore.… The picture of the black hole rose vividly before her. The man with the wounded head lifted that clawing hand of his and gazed at her with a desperate appeal in his eyes. She might have saved
him
if she had spoken. He wasn't dead
then
. Perhaps the girl wasn't dead now. She was Mr Miles's girl. If she spoke at once—

“Ooh—I darsn't!” said Flossie, and felt the tears gush out again.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

Kay had been sitting in the dark for a long time. She didn't lie down, because she didn't want to go to sleep. It frightened her to think of going away into a dream. She wanted to be here to listen—to pray desperate prayers that Miles might find the kitten and read her message. She must be awake, so that she could call out at once if she heard him coming. She told herself fervently that he would certainly come.

The groans from the next cellar had stopped, but presently she heard something that frightened her even more. It was a slow dragging sound. It seemed to come nearer, and then there was a low tapping. Kay got to her feet and stood there listening. Someone was tapping on the ventilator between the two cellars.

She pulled away the packing-case, got down on her trembling knees, and whispered, “Who's there?”

One of those groans came back to her. It sounded most terrifyingly near, and as she recoiled, a voice said, “Who are you?” It was a man's voice. It was very low and weak, but it was unmistakeably an American voice.

Kay said, “I'm Kay Moore. Who are you?”

“A blamed fool, or I wouldn't be here. Say, has there been anything about me in the papers? Are they looking for me? That's what I want to know. Cal Morgan—that's me, and I used to think myself a pretty smart detective.” He gave an odd faint laugh that caught half way. “I came over here hunting trouble, and I sure found it.”

“Are you
hurt?”
said Kay in a small fluttering voice. She wasn't frightened of him any longer, but she was afraid for them both.

He groaned again.

“I sure am. They knocked me on the head to start with. They knew I was after them, and they'd have bumped me off, only they think they can do a deal.” He broke off, panting. “Don't know how much longer they'll think so. I'd get out of here easy enough if I wasn't so weak. I'm real handy at picking a lock. I thought I'd got away once—played 'possum—tripped Harris up and left him stunned. But it took me too long to crawl up the stairs, and he came round, and fetched me back. Gee, Miss Moore—it's good to talk to someone again! I didn't dare before for fear of his coming back. I don't talk to
them
, you know—only groan, and act as if I was out of my head. Did you say there wasn't anything in the papers about me?”

“I haven't seen anything.”

He groaned again.

“That's tough. We're up against a pretty bad proposition. I heard what he said to you a while ago, and don't you make any mistake, you're up against it. He's a bad man and a tough gangster. What you've got to do is play for time. There's someone who will look for you, isn't there?”

“Miles will,” said Kay.

Saying it helped her to believe it. She was going to tell him about Miles, when a sound came to her from the outer cellar. Someone was coming down the cellar steps, and in the same instant Mr Cal Morgan whispered,

“Ssh! He's coming!”

As she pushed the packing-case back again, she could hear that slow dragging sound, and through it the footsteps coming nearer. She straightened up and stood with her hands pressed down upon her breast. Suppose it was Miles. “Oh, please, please,
please
let it be Miles!” Oh,
lovely
if it was Miles!

It is the starving person who knows how good bread is. As Kay listened to the footsteps coming nearer, she knew just how good it was to love Miles, and to be loved by him, and to be safe, oh, safe with his arms round her. It was like looking into heaven.

And then the key turned in the lock, the door opened, and Miles and heaven were immeasurably far away because it was Mr Harris who came in with Miss Rowland's bedroom candlestick in his hand. He looked at Kay and laughed.

“Well, have you had enough of the dark?” he said.

Not Miles—Mr Harris—

Kay took a long sighing breath and went back a step. Mr Harris went on laughing.

“I'd have been down before, only I had to get rid of Addie. She's jealous, you know. That's what she is—jealous. So I had to wait till she'd gone to bed.”

Kay could see with horror that he had been drinking. He wasn't drunk or anything near it, but he was in a mood which added a new terror to what she already felt.

“So now we'll talk.”

Kay shook her head.

“It's so late,” she said in a faltering voice.

“Late? Not a bit of it! Do you know what time it is? It's only ten o'clock. Now you can't call that late—you really can't. But we won't talk here, we'll come upstairs. You know, you're a lucky girl, that's what you are. You come along upstairs with me and I'll tell you all about it, and then you'll see what a lucky girl you're going to be. I told you there was a good time coming, didn't I?”