Mediterranean Nights (38 page)

‘It's all right—I've got a gun,' he breathed back in my ear.

‘Don't use it,' I said sharply. ‘You'll scare the rest of them—leave this to me.'

You see, I thought I'd like to get a bit of my own back, and I'd noticed an iron furnace rake propped up against the wall. I leant over and grabbed it as Toby switched out his torch.

Someone was fumbling with the door, and it opened slightly, then, whoever it was, tried the key. I suppose they were surprised to find the door unlocked, but next moment it was pushed right open and a man came in. My eyes were so accustomed to the semi-darkness that I could see his form distinctly from where I stood behind the door, and I let him have it with the furnace rake.

Perhaps it was as well that my arms were still a bit cramped, otherwise I might have killed him, but the blow was heavy enough. He just grunted and slipped to the ground without another murmur.

Toby turned him over and flashed the torch into his face. It was Frederic, the chauffeur, and he didn't look like causing any trouble for some time to come. Still, we carried him over to the bed and trussed him up, just as they had done me, to be on the safe side!

‘And now,' said Toby when we had finished, ‘for our friend the Baron and that little slut upstairs.'

I had another go at the brackish water in the passage, and although I knew it would take me a day or two to get really fit again, I felt ready for anything in the excitement of the moment.

Toby led the way and we began to creep up a flight of narrow stairs. The tiled hall was in darkness, but a streak of light showed under the door of the room above my prison, and we covered the few yards to it on the tips of our toes.

We could hear De Sejac and the girl talking, but we didn't stop to listen. Directly Toby got his hand on the door-knob he gave one jerk and flung it wide.

‘Got you,' he rapped out, as he flourished his automatic. ‘Put em up both of you—or I shoot!'

The girl was playing patience at a little table, and De Sejac was sitting near her on a sofa. Their faces were a study, but they obeyed without the slightest protest while the hero of the piece stood grinning in the doorway.

‘Good evening, M. le Baron,' he said sarcastically. ‘Didn't know you'd caught the wrong bird, did you?' He jerked his head in my direction, and I could see by De Sejac's quick glance at my swollen wrists and face that he realised how his plans had miscarried.

‘Anyhow,' Toby went on grimly, ‘the right one's turned up now—and caught you!'

I must say De Sejac kept his head magnificently. ‘You think yourself very clever, M. Sinclair,' he said in a loud voice, ‘but there are others in this house also—besides Mademoiselle and myself.'

‘Don't bother to raise your voice in the hope that your chauffeur will hear you,' Toby mocked him. ‘We've given him a little of the medicine you gave my friend last night. When he comes to, he'll be in the lock-up.'

‘So—poor Frederic,' the Baron smiled amiably, ‘but there are others—one stands behind you now.'

It was an old trick—old as the hills, but we were amateurs at the game, and it caught us—we both swung round.

In one leap De Sejac was on Toby—I heard the automatic clatter to the floor as it was knocked from his hand—I stooped to pick it up—De Sejac kicked me on the shoulder and sent me sprawling. There was a sharp struggle and a sudden yelp of pain from Toby as the Baron kneed him in the groin. Next second the room was plunged in darkness. De Sejac had hit up the switch as he stumbled over Toby and through the door. Something crashed in the hallway, and then I heard the swift patter of his feet as he raced away down a long corridor.

I got the light on again and grabbed the gun. Toby lay doubled up, writhing in agony on the floor, but I left him and dashed out of the room after De Sejac. A second later I came crashing to the ground. That cursed Frenchman had thrown a chair down behind him as he sped through the hall. It caught my shins and I took a frightful header. The pistol went off in my hand, and the explosion sounded like the crack of doom in that half-empty hall.

For the moment I lay there stunned, deafened from that shattering report, and three parts winded by my fall. By the time I had collected my wits again and staggered to my feet I heard a car engine revving up somewhere outside. I limped to the nearest window and tore apart the fastenings. It took me a moment to get the shutters open, but I was just in time to see De Sejac crouching over the wheel of his car as it tore into the woods, and I knew that we had lost him.

I stood there with the night breeze gently playing through my ruffled hair as the noise of the car grew faint in the distance, then I felt my bruises gingerly, dusted myself down as well as I could, and limped painfully back to the lighted room.

Toby looked white and shaken. It was lucky for him that he had been only winded and nothing worse. He seemed to have pulled himself together again and was sitting in a chair near the door, staring at the girl with hard eyes. She had not moved except to lower her hands, but there was a look of fear on her face and she would not meet his eyes.

‘Well, that's that,' I said. ‘He tricked us properly, and we shan't see him again!'

‘Never mind him,' Toby gave a weak smile, ‘we've got the female of the species and she's worth a dozen of the Baron.'

‘What do you mean?' said the girl sharply.

‘Why, you, my dear,' his smile broadened into a grin.

‘But—but,' she stammered, ‘I'm nothing to do with him—nothing at all.'

Toby began to laugh. ‘You can't pull the pretty little innocent stuff on me—you're in this bunch of crooks all right.'

‘I'm not, I tell you,' she cried indignantly.

‘How did you come here then?' he asked.

‘I was brought by force. But De Sejac swore that no harm should come to me providing I did not try to get away. Even if I had succeeded I should have got hopelessly lost in these endless woods—and he promised faithfully that he'd motor me back to Biarritz himself tonight. Of course I realised that he was a crook. He didn't even bother to conceal that once he'd got me here. But what could I do then? I was scared stiff that if I tried to escape he'd beat me to a jelly—as he threatened to. If you were a girl would you have risked that when by just remaining quiet you felt certain that no harm would come to you?'

He laughed again. ‘Rats!—you did a little play-acting—enough to take in my poor romantic friend here—but that's all. Look at the way you led me up the garden path in Biarritz, too.'

‘I did nothing of the kind.' She jumped to her feet, and a bright spot of colour glowed in each of her cheeks. ‘You pestered me, you mean—I didn't want to know you. You're just a conceited bore with a lot more money than is good for you—and you're a rotter too, jealous because your friend showed more courage than you would have done. I only wish it had been you that Frederic hit over the head!'

I couldn't help smiling—for once in his life Toby was getting the truth about himself, but I thought I could see through her game—she was trying to get me on her side.

‘Never mind about me,' he grinned, ‘and you'd better stop kidding. Decent girls don't come to Biarritz on their own—you know that.'

‘Why not?' she flared. ‘I'm of age, and I was left some
money—why shouldn't I come to Biarritz for a holiday when I've wanted to for years?'

‘What—and stay at the du Palais?' He winked at me. ‘It must have been a pretty useful legacy.'

‘Why not?' she cried again. ‘I haven't had much fun these last few years, and I wanted a real holiday. What's a fortnight, anyway—I could afford it!'

He gave a cynical nod. ‘You've got lots of friends in Biarritz I suppose who will give evidence about that, and about your character?'

‘Well—er—no,' she admitted slowly.

‘In England, then?' he inquired, with a sneer.

She hesitated again, and her voice was very low. ‘Not—not exactly. You see my parents are dead, and I've been living for the last five years in Canada with an uncle. Of course, there must be people in England who would remember me—but I can't think of anyone for the moment.'

‘And you expect the police to believe that yarn?' Toby asked aggressively.

‘The police?' The scared look in her eyes suddenly deepened.

‘Yes, the police.' He looked quickly at his wrist-watch. ‘They'll be here in about five minutes—I sent Heels on with the car to get them—while I had a look round.'

‘But—you wouldn't give me up to the police?' Her voice was desperate although her acting had been superb. I assumed that her story about the uncle in Canada had been just to gain time, in the hope that De Sejac would return and get her out. When she knew that the police were actually on the way she became terrified. ‘You can't,' she shook her head violently, ‘you can't mean that you'd have me arrested?'

‘Can't I?' Toby's voice seemed suddenly to have become quite amiable. ‘Believe you me, I can—you beautiful little stool pigeon.'

‘But that would mean weeks in prison till it could be proved who I am—oh, please, don't—please,' she pleaded quickly.

‘Months, you mean, on what I'm going to charge you with. That uncle of yours doesn't exist and you know it.' Toby jerked himself to his feet and walked over to her. ‘But I
tell you what—I'm a sportsman, and I'll give you a chance if you like.'

‘Yes,' she breathed eagerly, and I wondered what was coming next.

The unpleasant look that I had seen when he was talking about his knowledge of women the night before came into Toby Sinclair's face as he stood over her. ‘Listen,' he said sharply. ‘I'll hide you upstairs and say that you escaped with De Sejac when the police arrive—but there are conditions. I'll take a chance on your getting away with my pocketbook—in fact, I'll see that there's not much in it while you're about. But you're a damned pretty girl and I like you, so we'll take that little honeymoon through France together “according to plan”. Now don't be a fool and try to kid me that a girl who is a crook has any moral scruples—I'll bet you lost your innocence years ago. Be sensible. If there's any nonsense on the trip I'll hand you over to the police, but if you behave nicely I may buy you a dress or two when we get to Paris. What do you say?'

For a second she did not answer. Sinclair's proposition was hardly in the best of taste, but his assumption about women criminals is pretty generally correct, I believe, and she had probably had to face far worse things than a joy ride through France with a man like him. I could have had her arrested myself, of course—but I wasn't particularly keen about arresting anybody now that De Sejac had got away; so if she liked to accept Toby's offer I couldn't very well interfere, though I thought it a pretty brutal business.

When she did speak it was so low that I only just caught her words. She was clinging to the edge of the card-table with both hands, but she looked him straight in the eyes.

‘I thought you were a cad,' she said slowly, ‘and now I know it. I'd rather go to jail than spend an hour longer with you than I've got to.'

I saw him flush angrily, but he managed to control himself, and in an attempt to hide his mortification he turned to me with a wry smile. ‘Little spitfire, isn't she, Brandon?'

‘Brandon?' The girl almost barked my name. ‘Brandon!' she exclaimed again, and stared at me in a stupid sort of way. Then suddenly she ran over to me and seized me by the
arms. ‘You're Geoffrey,' she cried, ‘Geoffrey Brandon—I know you are!

‘Yes,' I admitted ungrammatically, ‘that's me.'

Her grasp of my arms tightened, and as she shook me slightly it hurt like the very devil. Then she burst into a torrent of words. ‘You must remember me—you must. I'm Anne—Anne Richardson—I was at school with your sisters, I used to stay for weekends at your mother's house near Pangbourne. That's years ago—seven, eight perhaps. Please—please get me out of this! I used to think you wonderful in those days—don't you remember when you fished me out of the weir—I even wrote to you from Canada. You
must
remember me.'

Of course I remembered then. That's why her singing had stirred some chord in my mind. It hadn't been the song but her voice after all. As I looked down into her lovely anxious face, all the woman dropped away, and I saw again the long-legged gawky creature with the thick gold pigtail that I had known years before. Next second she saw recognition dawn in my eyes, and with a little cry of, ‘Oh, Geoffrey—please get me out of this,' that radiant piece of loveliness was sobbing fit to break her heart upon my chest.

Over her shoulder I saw Toby staring at me with his mouth a little open. ‘Do you really know her, Brandon?' he asked, with a puzzled frown.

‘I do,' I said firmly, ‘and I'd like to tell you, Sinclair, that in this business you've put up a pretty rotten show—so when the police come you'd better hold your tongue—understand?'

‘They're here,' he said. ‘And I'm sorry, Brandon—I didn't mean any harm.'

I unclasped the weeping Anne, and saw that three gendarmes stood in the doorway. Two of them had De Sejac handcuffed between them, and the third—a sergeant, stood a little in front.

‘Monsieur Brandon?' he inquired, looking at Toby.

‘No, I'm Brandon,' I told him, ‘but how did you manage to catch that chap?'

‘Your forethought, Monsieur, in giving us the number of his car—we met him on the way.' The Sergeant's smile was seraphic.

When the formalities were over De Sejac looked at the Sergeant.

‘You permit, Monsieur, one question?' The policeman nodded. The Baron turned to me. ‘What caused you, Monsieur Brandon, to lay an information?—was it some foolishness of mine when we talked that night on wine?'