Red In The Morning (21 page)

And there I heard the man move.

He was waiting two paces away, standing between the buffers of the last of the trucks.

I have no excuse to offer, for Gedge had simply chosen the obvious place. Indeed, I think that a child would have picked it out. But I had overlooked it, because I had made up my mind that he would stick to the sheds.

I could not see the fellow, for the corner of the truck was between us; but, had I moved clear, I doubt if I could have seen him, for the truck was casting a shadow, if you can give it that name.

Now I was sorely tempted to strike there and then. Our positions were now reversed, and I was very well placed. Though I did not use my pistol, I could, I was sure, have killed him, because I should have seized him before he knew I was there. But I was afraid that, though I seized his wrist, the fellow might fire; and then I could not kill him, because of the instant attention the shot would draw.

And there I remembered Mona.

God only knew where she was. She might by now have come to the second crane. This was ten paces on, not far from the edge of the quay. But she might not have got so far. Somehow I had to find her and ‘put her wise’.

I began to steal back, past the trucks. But though I passed right down the line, she was not there.

Cursing under my breath, I peered at the second crane.

Now had I not known that Gedge would be waiting for me, I should have returned to the car by one of two routes. Either I should have taken the way by the sheds, that is to say, the way by which Mona and I had gone, or I should have struck obliquely across the quay and have crossed the railway line between the row of trucks and the waiting car. To deal with either movement, Gedge was very well placed. It follows that he was well placed to deal with any movement at the base of the second crane. Not so well placed, of course; for the crane was off the line which I should have taken between the ship and the car. But the crane was full in his view, and its base was not in such darkness as that in which he stood.

Still, there was nothing for it – Mona had to be warned: and since she was not by the trucks, she must be making her way towards the crane.

I left the line of trucks and passed directly across to the edge of the quay. There I turned to my left, proposing to keep by the water, until I was opposite the crane.

I had nearly covered this distance, when I perceived some object, say, ten feet above the ground. Drawing a little nearer, I saw that it was a gangway, with one of its ends in the air. (It was a see-saw gangway – that is to say, a ramp that was mounted on wheels: and the wheels were in the middle, instead of at either end.) Since this was slanting directly towards the crane, I turned to move beside it; for though its cover was slight, it was better than none at all. And as I reached the end of the gangway, I saw a slight figure ahead.

I was much too near Gedge to speak, so I closed to within a yard and then touched her wrist.

At once she stood still as death.

I put my lips to her ear.

“Turn and follow,” I breathed. “I’m going to the edge of the quay.”

And by the time we were there, I had made my plan. A moment or two before I had seen the gangway, I had marked on the edge of the quay a flight of steps. For this I made, and when I had found the place, I took the girl’s hand in mine and led her down.

“Sit down and listen,” I said. “We’re all right here.”

“You’ve found him?”

“He moved and I heard him. He’s by the last of the trucks.”

“How far is that from the Lowland?”

“Just about twenty paces. And now, Mona, listen to me. In a minute we’re both going to move and to follow the edge of the quay. When I am two hundred yards up, I shall walk across to the sheds and back to the car. The danger is very slight, for he is expecting me to approach from the opposite side. I shall open the nearside door, for he can’t see that: and though he will hear the car start, he cannot possibly reach me before I move.

“And now for you.

“You will keep to the edge of the quay until you have passed the sheds. Then you will turn to your left and walk across to the street that leads to the front. You will go up that street until you come to the front; and there you will wait, at the corner, until I come. And there I’ll pick you up – and then we’ll run for Blois as quick as we can.”

“Let me stay with you,” said Mona. “Two can slip into that car as quickly as one.”

“My dear, he must not see you.”

“You said that he couldn’t see the nearside door,”

“I don’t think he can: but when it opens, he might. And if he should – well, if there are two to get in, it just doubles the risk.”

There was a little silence.

Then –

“D’you think he’ll follow?” said Mona.

“He won’t if he’s wise. He didn’t come here to kill me: he came to assure himself that we had stayed at Vendôme en route for Dieppe. Two birds with one stone is attractive: but one with one is as much as man has a right to expect. But let him follow, my dear. He’s quite a long way to run, to reach his car, and as the Lowland can cut any Whistler down…”

“And what will he think…when he sees the Lowland move off…but you haven’t gone by?”

“I’ve no idea,” I said, “but I can tell you this. If he sets eyes upon you, then we might as well have stayed at Vendôme – and have booked a table for Brevet on Tuesday night. And now will you do as I say?”

“All right,” said Mona, at last.

“That’s a good girl.” I shot a glance at my wrist. “It’s now eleven-fifteen. I shall give you five minutes’ start, for you’ve farther to go.”

She got to her feet.

“You will be careful, Richard, and wait your chance?”

“I promise,” I said. “But I don’t think I can go wrong.”

We climbed to the head of the stair, and there she pressed my fingers and glided away.

I gave her full five minutes. Then I stole the way she had gone and counted my steps. At two hundred paces I turned and crossed to the sheds. And then I turned left again, towards where the Lowland stood.

Since I knew where Gedge was waiting, the risk of approach was slight, for, once I had picked up the car and the trucks beyond, I had only to keep the car in line with the last of the trucks. So the man could not see me, because, of course, the car would be blocking his view. For all that, I was very careful – Gedge might have moved.

I had the switch-key all ready, for, if he saw the door move, I should have to be quick. And, in case of accidents, I felt my pistol and put off the safety catch.

But everything went very well.

In the wake of a shambling porter, I passed the danger point – which one of the lamps was making some seventy yards from Gedge, and after waiting for the footfalls to die away, I stole, like any shadow, straight to the car.

Bent double, I moved beside her, until I was abreast of the door. Then I put an arm in at the window and, after a little fumbling, slid the key into her switch.

I passed the door and turned round. Then I set my hand on the handle and pressed it down.

And, as I made that movement, a light behind and above me came suddenly on.

I suppose it was half-past eleven: that on Sundays, at half-past eleven, the lamps that were out were lit, because of the train that was coming in half an hour. Be that as it may, as I slid on to the seat, the mirror showed me Gedge, with the light beating down on his face. He seemed to be – interested…

As I had hoped she would, the Lowland’s engine started upon the switch. And then I was in gear and was moving…

As I switched on my lights, a bullet shattered the window behind my head and, passing beside the mirror, drilled its way out of the car.

I put down my foot. That Gedge was blind with rage was perfectly clear…

My headlights picked up Mona – halfway down the street that led to the front. I hung on my heel for an instant and, crying “Look out for glass,” took her into the car. Then I whipped into third…into top…and let the Lowland go.

The girl was shaking all over.

“I’m s-sorry I broke my word: b-but I had to come back.”

“That’s all right, my lady. I thought you would.”

Few cars were now to be seen, and those that were there were still. As though she were a gust of the wind, the Lowland swept the length of the front. Then I swung to the left and we took the Rouen road.

“He damned near got you, Richard.”

“Damned near,” I admitted. “If the Lowland hadn’t been moving…”

“You said that he wouldn’t see you.”

I told her what had occurred.

“All’s well that ends well,” I added. “But if I’d been three seconds later, it mightn’t have been so good.”

Her eyes were fast on the mirror.

“He’ll follow now.”

I took a hand from the wheel and patted her knee.

“Don’t waste your time,” I said. “You won’t see him again tonight.”

“I know. All the same… I wish you’d turn off at Rouen.”

“I will, if you like,” I said. “As a matter of fact, I think it’s a good idea. We don’t want to average sixty all the way.”

We were up and over the hill that neighbours the port, and there was the rolling country, a limitless stage of shadows, on which the splash of our lights was playing Will-o’-the-Wisp.

So we whipped through the night at eighty, using the road as a track; for we had the world to ourselves and I knew those thirty-five miles as I knew the palm of my hand.

And then, twelve miles from Dieppe, the Lowland coughed.

My eyes flew to the gauge; but the tank was three-quarters full.

The Lowland coughed again, and the needle was falling back.

“My God, Richard, what is it?”

“I think,” I said, “it’s a speck of dirt in the jet. She may clear it out herself.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“I shall have to take the jet down.” And with my words, the Lowland’s engine stopped. I brought her to the side of the road. Once I tried to start her, but once was enough. In a flash her lights were out, and I was down in the road.

As I opened the nearside door –

“Out you get, my lady. And up and over that bank.”

“Richard, I–”

“Do as I say.”

I watched her do as I said.

On the farther side of the bank, she turned and looked at me.

“Lie down and stay down,” I said. “On your obedience both our lives may hang.”

Then I took up a spanner, opened the bonnet and lit my inspection lamp. All the time I was straining my ears for the sound of a car.

The job was simple enough, and I had just cleared the jet and was putting it back, when I heard, most sharp and clear, the snarl of the Whistler’s engine, ripping the lovely silence as though it were tearing cloth.

Now, because I knew the road, I knew where the Whistler was. Little more than a mile away. I had not heard it before, because it was climbing a hill. And now it had come to the switchback – the two-mile switchback on which we had come to rest. But we were down in a dip. It follows that Gedge would not see us, until he was a hundred yards off.

I let my spanner fall and ran down the road towards Rouen as hard as ever I could…

As I heard the Whistler breasting the rise behind, I threw myself down on the turf by the side of the way.

I knew Gedge would see the Lowland, and I knew he would overrun her, because he was going so fast. He
did
overrun her by nearly three hundred yards: but I never thought he would be such a fool as to back.

But back he did – with his head hanging out of the car. And, as he passed me, I rose and ran beside him, just clear of his headlights’ beam.

As he slowed to a standstill, I dropped.

I watched him whip out of the car and turn his back.

For a moment he stood, crouching…poking his head at the Lowland, pistol in hand.

Then my left hand fell upon his right wrist.

And, as he leaped at my touch, I seized his throat.

So we stood for a moment, face to face.

And then he fought for his life, writhing and kicking and flinging himself to and fro.

It was all I could do to hold him, strong as I am: and I had the strange idea that I was gripping a serpent in human guise. His movements were those of a serpent that has been scotched. And as a serpent, so held, will lash its tail, so he attacked with his left hand – not striking, but clawing and scratching, as wild cats will.

He was trying to reach my eyes, so I snapped the arm that I held and captured his other wrist.

And then I saw fear in his eyes.

“Yes,” I said. “You’re dying. I’ve always been pretty strong: but you gave me a strength one evening, against which nothing could stand. That evening, at Stère, I told you that I should put you to death. And now I’m doing it, Gedge – I’m keeping my word. First, Lousy: now you: and then Brevet. You see, I’m going to meet Brevet…four miles from Château Renault…on Tuesday night.”

The man’s eyes were starting, his swollen face was working: his teeth were bared.

And then his whole body went slack.

But I was taking no chances.

I lowered him to the ground, still holding fast to his throat. And so I stayed for five minutes, for serpents take long to die.

At last I knew he was dead.

I let him go and stood up. Then I stepped to the ditch at the foot of the bank. This was some two feet deep and was overgrown. And there I laid Gedge to such rest as a bloody murderer has. Then, using my handkerchief, I picked his pistol up and laid it beside his hand. If the gendarmes knew their business, they would find that one round had been fired. At last I straightened my back – to see Mona standing, silent, three paces away.

“Finish Gedge,” I said, and wiped my hands on the grass.

“I know,” she said quietly. “I saw it. I’m not so obedient tonight. But I didn’t come to help you. When you told me to take that bank, I knew that he hadn’t a chance. I don’t suppose you know it, but there was death in your voice.”

I nodded.

“I knew I was going to kill him, the moment I heard the car. I’ve had the feeling before. It’s a very great help. It gives you confidence.”

Mona regarded me.

“Your face needs bathing,” she said.