She Fell Among Thieves (13 page)

We had covered a mile and a half when Goliath let out a growl and we all stopped dead.

Then I heard what the dog had heard – the steps of a man in haste.

Someone was coming towards us, pelting…

I picked Jenny up and left the road for a gully that rose to the right: with his hand on Goliath’s collar, Carson stood back to the bank.

I heard the man trip and stumble and smother a groan. Then–

‘It’s Bell all right, sir,’ said Carson, and stepped out into the road.

Bell was so much exhausted that he had to sit down by the roadside to tell his tale. He had come from Gobbo on foot in a little less than two hours.

‘It’s the police, sir,’ he panted. ‘The gendarmes. We’ve run through Gobbo too often. They stopped me at seven o’clock. I believe they think we’re smuggling, though they didn’t let on. They’ve been watching us all the time, and our numbers have torn it up.’

‘Our numbers?’ I cried.

‘Our numbers, sir. A cart at Bordeaux hit our wing, so I’ve got our own car tonight. Well, you know, she’s the spit of the Captain’s – same colour and all. Well, they think we’ve changed our numbers. They simply won’t believe there’s another car.’

‘Good God,’ said I.

‘They’re civil enough, sir,’ said Bell. ‘But they’ve got the car. If you can satisfy them, they’ll let her go. But they’ve got to be made to believe there’s another car. They wouldn’t let me go at first. Two solid hours they kept me, and when at last I’d bluffed them, d’you think I could raise a car? There’s a fête at Lally, or something: and the only car in Gobbo is short of a steering-wheel.’

‘What did you tell the gendarmes?’

‘Nothing worth hearing, sir. I haven’t done any harm. When they asked me what you were doing, my French broke down.’

‘And Captain Mansel?’

‘I put him down, sir, at Maleton at four o’clock. From there he’d take the train to Perin and be at Jezreel at six.’

A little hand touched my arm.

‘He’s talking English, William. I know. I can understand. The car didn’t come because the police have got it. They talked like that in my dream. Are you sure I’m not dreaming now?’

‘Sure, my beauty. Dreams come true sometimes, and so do fairy tales. Jill can talk French and English, and so very soon will you. So long as you trust me, Jenny…’

‘Oh, I do, I do.’

‘Then come, my dear. We’ve a long way to walk, I’m afraid, but it can’t be helped.’

‘I don’t mind a bit. I love it. I love the stars.’

As we went, I considered our case.

The action of the police was natural. In the last seven days we had passed through Gobbo ten times, mostly by night: first with my car, then with Mansel’s, and now again with mine. And the two were exactly alike. That the police should have marked our passage was sheer bad luck: but, once they had done so, their action was natural enough. They believed they had seen but one car: they knew they had seen two number-plates. This was out of all order and must be explained. And it could be explained – the production of Mansel’s Rolls would settle the matter forthwith. Unhappily that explanation was one which I could not give.

We had gone a little more than three miles, when I saw that, come what might, I must split our party in two. Bell could go no further: the man was dead beat. After a little reflection, I decided to go on alone.

At this point the road was a shelf, cut out of the mountain-side. Though the work was the work of men’s hands, it had not been hard to do, for the slope of the mountain was not precipitous. God knows it was steep enough, but a man could have gone up or down without breaking his neck. Here and there a spur went jutting, as though to buttress the road, but now and again a gully would call for a culvert and a mass of rubble above it to fill up the dip.

On one such spur I left Jenny, by the side of the road. Though now the prospect was veiled, I knew it to be very fine, for the world fell down in great leaps for mile after lovely mile and, the mountains standing back, she could view such a waste of stars as she had not viewed for ten years, if ever before. Since she was looking east, the sun would rise in his splendour before her eyes, and the world of which we had spoken would seem but a larger pleasance than that she had known so long. That men would pass was unlikely. At the most, some shepherd or peasant would go by that way. And I should be back by sunrise. So much I swore. My resolution was that of a desperate man. Somehow or other I meant to regain the Rolls.

To do this should not be hard. A little tact… And I had the keys of both cars. But, hard or no, I was resolved to achieve it. Good God, it had to be done.

So I left the three with Goliath by the side of the way.

‘A little while, Jenny. Go to sleep if you will.’

‘No, no. I love it all so. I’m glad the car wasn’t there. But you will be back by sunrise?’

I passed my word.

The police-station was easy to see: no other building in Gobbo was showing a light.

I walked to the office, knocked, and then opened the door.

A grey-haired gendarme looked over the top of a desk.

‘Good evening,’ said I. ‘I’ve come to you because all the other houses are dark: but what I want is a garage. I must get a car somewhere – my own’s broken down. At least, I suppose it has. My servant was coming from Maleton to pick me up, but he’s never appeared and I’ve had to walk fifteen miles.’ I stepped to a chair and sank down. Then I pushed back my hat. ‘I’ve had to leave my sister by the side of the road. She simply can’t walk any further. And we’ve got to meet a friend at Bordeaux at a quarter to nine.’

The gendarme regarded a clock that hung on the white-washed wall.

‘Monsieur will never do it. It is now a quarter to four.’

I started up.

‘I must do it somehow. If only I had my car… My servant’s between here and Maleton. I suppose you can’t telephone there and ask if your people have seen him. He’s a very sensible man, and if he had met with trouble I daresay he’d go to the police.’ I leaned forward eagerly. ‘D’you think you could do that? Of course I’d pay for the call.’

The gendarme frowned.

‘Of what make is Monsieur’s car?’

‘It’s a Rolls,’ said I. ‘I should think you’ve probably seen it – it’s been through Gobbo before. If you haven’t, you’ve seen my cousin’s, and that’s as good. They’re both exactly alike.’

With his eyes on the desk –

‘I think I have seen it,’ said the man. ‘It has a black leather hood and a trunk at the back.’

‘They both have,’ said I.

At that moment I heard a car.

In a flash I was out in the street. But the car was bound for Lally and did not come by.

As I re-entered the office –

‘No good,’ I said. ‘I hoped that might have been him. D’you think you could ring up Maleton? I mean, my sister’s dead beat, and it’s dreadful to leave a young girl by the side of the road. I wish to God I’d never brought her: but she wanted to see our work. We’re experimenting, you know. Long distance photography. We get up as high as we can and photograph the country all round. But it’s fearful labour. Means so much running about. I went to Burgos and back on Saturday last.’

The gendarme was plainly impressed. He asked me to wait a moment and entered an inner room. Though he shut the door behind him, I could hear him speaking at length to somebody else.

As he returned with a sergeant, I got to my feet.

‘Look here,’ I said, ‘I’m sorry to give all this trouble, but it isn’t my fault. Can you telephone for me to Maleton? If you can’t, then show me a garage where I can hire a car. I mean, the matter’s urgent. My sister’s not strong, and to leave her–’

The sergeant broke in.

‘Can you tell me the number of your car, sir?’

I took out my letter-case and read the number aloud.

‘And that of your cousin’s car?’

I stared.

‘My cousin’s?’ I cried. ‘Good Lord, no. I haven’t the faintest idea.’

The sergeant recited the number – with his eyes on my face.

‘That may be it,’ said I. ‘But I really can’t possibly tell you. But for this card, I couldn’t have told you my own. But I don’t see what it matters. My car’s the one that’s lost. And now can you telephone to Maleton? If not, for God’s sake say so and tell me where there’s a garage at which I can hire a good car. I’ve told you my sister’s not strong, yet there she’s sitting, benighted, ten miles from here – a beautiful girl, unprotected, in country like this. She wept with fear when I left her, but her feet were sore with walking and she couldn’t go on. And you keep me standing here…’

Visibly unsettled, the sergeant fingered his chin. The reflection that: if evil befell ‘my sister’, he would be most deeply involved, was not at all to his taste. I needed my car – and he had it. Authority can be exceeded – even in France.

‘You declare that there are two cars, sir?’

I looked from the man to his fellow, as though I mistrusted my ears.

‘But of course there are two cars,’ I said. ‘We have to have two. You must have seen them. We’ve been through here time and again, my cousin and I. It was his that I drove to Burgos on Saturday last, and sometimes he uses mine. Wait a minute. I’ve got the keys of his on me – a duplicate set.’ I took out my own and laid them down on the desk. ‘Now those are mine.’ Beside them I laid down Mansel’s.

‘And those are his. They look exactly the same, but they wouldn’t fit.’

The police regarded the keys. Then they glanced at each other. I had shown them what to do to be saved – a way, with honour, out of a delicate pass.

The sergeant moistened his lips.

‘You will understand, sir,’ he said, ‘that we have to be very careful. We are here to see that the law is observed. Certainly your movements have been seen – and your numbers remarked. But it seemed to us that, though the numbers were different, the car was one and the same. If you please, we will try these keys, which certainly look much alike.’

‘Try them? But–’

The sergeant held up a hand.

‘If only one set fits, your car will be at your disposal.’

I started forward.

‘Then my car–’

‘Is here,’ said the sergeant, majestically. ‘We detained it upon suspicion. Your servant went on to meet you, but you must have passed in the night. Have no fear for mademoiselle. She is, no doubt, at this moment safe in his charge.’

His air had become imperious. I had set the sceptre of Solomon in his hand – and now was to be given judgment.

Humbly I followed my surveyors into a yard. And there I was weighed in the balances and found honest.

It seemed best to laugh – with relief.

Two minutes later the engine of the Rolls was running, and I was making ready to back her into the street.

It was light now: very soon the sun would be up.

Though I could see, the gateway was none too wide.

The sergeant sent his subordinate into the street: himself he followed my bonnet, waving me on.

I was halfway out, when I saw the gendarme behind me hold up his hand. At once I set a foot on the brake. It was then that I heard a car coming, travelling south.

It went by like a squall – I saw it.

Mansel was driving, and framed in the window’s mouth was the unforgettable profile of Vanity Fair.

It has been said that, when one is faced with two perils, it is the more evident danger which one is less likely to see.

My one idea had been to spare Jenny’s mind. I never saw that unless we were clear of the district before the dawn, her mind, her body and the whole of our enterprise would be put in deadly peril by the action of Vanity Fair.

I have no excuse to offer: a child would have shown more sense. It was not a question of deduction. Vanity Fair was doing the obvious thing.

The moment she knew the truth, she had ordered a car and had taken the road for Carlos with all her main. As her trusty servant, Mansel was abetting her efforts, himself secure in the knowledge that Jenny was nearing Anise. Her hope was, of course, forlorn: but something might have happened to hold the abduction up.
And so it had
. Fate and a fool had played clean into her hands.

As one shrinks from a nightmare, my brain recoiled from the truth.

Jenny was sitting, waiting, by the side of the Carlos road…waiting for a car to arrive. I had said it would come at sunrise…and at sunrise it would appear. As if that were not enough,
Jenny was going to hail Mansel
– as like as not, to throw herself into his arms. And Mansel knew nothing. He would not so much as see her, till he rounded the last of the bends.

I can see the spot now. I think I shall always see it. You swung round the bend to see the gully before you, perhaps twenty paces away. On your left was rising the mountain: on your right, beyond the gully, was jutting the spur. Between this and the opposing mountains was fixed a great gulf of beauty, of pasture and grove and chanting water – three vested celebrants, served with unfailing devotion by acolyte rills. It was a spot from which to hail the dayspring, not to cry ‘Havoc!’ and prove the power of the dog.

As I left Gobbo, I remember that I felt rather sick…

Jenny was ten miles off. It would take Mansel half an hour to come to her resting place. With the Rolls I could do it more quickly, but Mansel had a start of a mile and even if I could come up with him, what could I do? I supposed, frantically, that it would be better to pass.

Hardly knowing what I did, I put down my foot…

Nearly four miles had gone by when I sighted the car. This was climbing well, but not as the Rolls.

The next moment it swept round a bend and out of my sight.

When I saw it next, it was less than two furlongs ahead, and since those within could not hear me and since they were hardly likely to look behind, I decided to close upon them as fast as I could.

It was at that moment, I think, that I made up my mind to go by. If I demanded passage, Mansel was sure to give way: and I would pass and leave them – to think what they pleased. Once out of their sight I would stop, leave the Rolls broadside on, and take to my heels. So at least I should save something, for I should have blocked the road, and long before even Mansel could come within sight of the spur, Jenny would be gone down the mountain and so out of range.