She Fell Among Thieves (16 page)

‘Why should she?’ said I. ‘It wasn’t his fault that he failed.’

‘My God,’ said Virginia, quietly. And then again, ‘My God.’

It was clear that I had gone far enough.

‘Listen, Virginia. I’ve said enough to show you that I can look after myself. And now the matter’s closed, and you must go back to your room. Because you saw no other way, you pledged your honour, Virginia, to force me out of this house.’ I put her hand to my lips. ‘On my knees, Virginia, I give you that honour back. I can’t tell you how much I respect you, how much I–’

‘Don’t Richard, don’t. I can’t bear it.’

‘My dear, it’s true.’

‘It isn’t.’ She snatched her hand away to cover her eyes. ‘And she tried to kill you…YOU!’

She wailed the words rather than spoke them.

Then she buried her face in the pillow and burst into tears.

If I had made her suffer, in the next ten minutes I paid a part of my debt. Her last words had opened my eyes, and I saw the length and the breadth of the folly which I had committed and the damage which I had done.

The spectacle made me feel faint.

I had used Virginia barbarously. She had thrown herself on my mercy: and I had shown her no mercy, but had chastised with scorpions her poor, susceptible heart. I felt as though I had been thrashing a wounded dog. As if that were not enough, I had as good as told her my business and had made her free of a secret which her manner towards her mother was sure to betray.

With my head in my hands, I tried to think what to do…

A hand came to rest on my shoulder.

‘I want you to help me, Richard.’

Virginia was sitting upright, staring ahead.

‘My dear Virginia, I’ll do anything that I can.’

‘I’ll hold you to that. I want you to take me away. I haven’t got any money. Perhaps you’ll lend me a little until I can get some work. If I could get to England, she wouldn’t come after me there.’

So soon as I could speak –

‘You must sleep on this, Virginia. You’re speaking on impulse now. And I’ll think it over, too. I couldn’t promise off-hand to help you to that. After all, she is your mother.’

‘No, she isn’t,’ said Virginia, quietly. ‘She’s no relation at all.’

Twice I tried to answer, and twice I failed.

At the third attempt –

‘She’s – not – your – mother?’ I said.

‘No,’ said Virginia, ‘thank God.’

‘Do you know what you’re saying, Virginia?’

‘More. I know what I’m doing,’ she said. ‘But you don’t know that, so I’ll tell you. I’m betraying the innermost secret of the wickedest, cold-blooded butcher that ever wore woman’s clothes. I wish she was here…to hear me give her away.’

I can never describe the hatred with which she spoke. Her face was a mask: her eyes were narrowed to slits: her teeth were clenched: and her breath whistled in her nostrils, as though indeed the very spirit of vengeance had entered into her soul.

Before I could make any answer –

‘You want to know,’ she said, ‘why Jean, the chauffeur, was sent here, to take your life. I’ll tell why. Because she thought it possible – only possible, mark you – that you had come to pry into her affairs. That was enough –
for her
. So YOU, in your power and splendour, were to be just wiped out.’ She threw back her head. ‘My God, I could spit upon her… Never mind. When she knows I’m gone, that’ll shake her. When she guesses that her confederate has let her down. And that filthy Hebrew, Gaston. He’s in it, too. I tell you, Richard, we’re not a sweet-smelling bunch. But I’m not so vile as the others. You’ll take my word for that.’

‘I can think no ill of you, Virginia.’

‘Can’t you? I’ll put you wise. She laid the truth before me two years ago. “You think you’re my daughter, don’t you? Virginia Brooch? Well, take a good look at that paper – and try again.” That paper was a birth-certificate… And attached to it was a statement, with a photograph signed and sealed. I came out of an orphanage, Richard. I was born in prison, at Utah, just twenty-one years ago.’

‘I see nothing in that, Virginia. I’m only rather prouder to be your friend.’

She turned and looked at me.

‘You know,’ she said slowly, ‘there’s something the matter with you. I’ve broken every rule that your class observes. And yet you – you show me respect.’

‘I behave as I feel, Virginia. And for that you must thank yourself. I don’t care what you’ve done – I can’t help honouring you, because you compel respect.’

She seemed to think that over, and then she laughed.

‘I guess you’ll swallow that saying before I’m through.’ She drew up her knees and laced her fingers about them. ‘All the same I’m so thankful to tell you. I want you to know.

‘The disclosure hit me hard – as she meant it to do. Ever since I could remember, I’d been Virginia Brooch, and if life had been a bit lonely, it hadn’t been rough. And the future, of course, had been dazzling – half a million a year, when I’d found the right man. The press used to ram it home whenever I showed my face. “The guarded heiress” they called me, last time I was in New York.

‘Then she laid her cards on the cloth.

‘I had been changed with her daughter when we were both eight years old. Very well. If I cared to do her will, I could go right on as I was and stick to the name I bore. I must marry the man of her choice on five thousand a year. Otherwise, I could go back to Utah. She’d give me my third-class fare.

‘I suppose you can call it blackmail, but what could I do? For ten years I’d lived like a princess, and a third-class fare to the workhouse looked pretty grim. Sticky business or no, I didn’t take long to decide…

‘Then she got Gaston.

‘He’s not the Comte de Rachel. But he was de Rachel’s servant, and the two were exactly alike. One night in Buenos Aires the Count fell ill: the next morning he was all right, but his servant was dead. She’s got it all down – and a statement from one of the maids, who’d noticed the ring Gaston wears on the hand of the dying man. You ought to have seen Gaston’s face when she brought it all out.

‘Well, he came in on the deal. It wasn’t what he had hoped for, but he liked the idea of exposure a good deal less. Blackmail again, you see. She’d got us both tight. And she thinks of everything, Richard. She’s most frightfully, damnably clever. Once put a foot wrong, and as far as she’s concerned you’ll go lame for life. And if you don’t do it she’ll lame you. When I asked how it was I didn’t remember Utah, “I saw to that,” she said. “At the age of eight the two of you had brain-fever: at least, when I asked the doctors they gave it that name.”

‘And that’s my – biography. I was born in prison, and prison is where I belong. Both Gaston and I are impostors: but I’m a far worse one than he. The Comte de Rachel is dead, and the dead have nothing to lose. But Virginia Brooch is living – under restraint.
And I’ve signed away half her fortune during the last two years
. False pretences, forgery, theft – though I haven’t touched a centime. Why she’s not dead, I don’t know. Her mother’s obvious course was to bump her off. But for some reason or other she couldn’t: so she had to go round this way.’

There was a little silence.

I wanted to comfort Virginia: but my mind, like some naughty dog, refused to obey my call. The bone was too big. The truth which we had been seeking was here, in my hands. It only remained to secure it, to establish it so fast that it could not be moved. Somehow, I must see Mansel…

‘I say “she couldn’t”,’ said Virginia, ‘because if she could have, she would. Murder’s nothing to her. I can’t prove she did in her son, but I know she did. And so do Below and Acorn. And six other deaths I know of. I can’t prove a single one – nor can anyone else. She’s too damned slim. But the poor devils got in her way – and she got them out. I tell you, Richard, we’re hardened. When somebody dies at Jezreel, we talk about something else. You see, she’s got us all cold. Acorn’s real name is Omer. He’s wanted down in Kentucky for cutting a woman’s throat.’

I put out my hand for hers, and after a little she laid her fingers in mine.

‘I’ve an aunt in Wiltshire,’ I said. ‘She’s looking after my home. I think you’d like her, Virginia – she’s very gentle and charming: and I know that she’d take to you. Would you like to stay with her there? There are nice people round about, and if you care for riding, the horses need exercise. And cub-hunting’s coming on… And later on we can talk about the future. When I say “later on”, I mean it. As late as you please. You’ll be under no obligation in eating my salt. If you ate it for the rest of your life, I couldn’t repay the service you’ve done me tonight.’

Virginia stared.

‘I’ve done you a service?’

I nodded.

‘Beyond all price, Virginia. Please leave it there for the moment. As soon as ever I can, I’ll take you away. Tomorrow, perhaps, I can’t say. But till then you must go straight on. Behave as you did this evening. Play up for all you’re worth. Until the moment comes – and it’s very near now – your mother must never dream that you’ve opened your mouth.’ I rose to my feet. ‘And now, my dear, I’ll see you back to your room. Pray God, there’s no one about, but you’ve got to get back.’

‘You needn’t see me back. Let me go as I came.’

She slipped out of bed, and I fitted her small, blue slippers on to her feet.

As she steadied herself by my shoulder –

‘Did you mean what you said about Wiltshire? You’ll have to tell your aunt who I am.’

‘You shall tell her yourself,’ said I. ‘But I don’t know that she’ll believe you. Anyone can run themselves down: but over there we go by the stuff they’re made of – not where it was made.’

The clasp on my shoulder tightened.

‘Why are you so good to me, Richard?’

‘My dear,’ said I, ‘the boot’s on the other leg. You know that as well as I do. That I’m a fool in a million is no excuse, but you know I didn’t mean it, Virginia: if I’d dreamed how things stood, I’d have cut my hand off before I came back to Jezreel.’

She nodded.

‘Yes, I know that. You’re forgiven. Knave forgives fool. Never mind. I’m thankful you came.’ She cupped her face in her hands and closed her eyes. ‘From this house of hell to your home. Perhaps tomorrow! Oh, Richard… And I’ll play up, I promise: but don’t keep me waiting long.’

The words seemed to set her thinking, for she took her hands from her face and opened her eyes. Then, with a sudden movement, she caught my arm.

‘Are you out to get her?’ she breathed.

I shrugged my shoulders.

‘If I am, I think I’ve the right.’

Her eyes aflame, she caught her lip in her teeth.

Then –

‘By God, I’m glad. And I’ve helped you… See that she knows that, Richard. I’d like her to know that I helped to bring her down… But for God’s sake watch your step. They say “clever as sin”, don’t they? Well, she is sin. And she’ll stick at nothing, I warn you. My dear, are you armed?’

I nodded.

‘That’s right. But you must get in first. If you don’t, you’ll never get her – because she’ll get you.’

‘She won’t do that. You sit tight, Virginia, and we’ll take the road for Wiltshire any day now. And now you must go.’ I shot a glance at the door. ‘You’re sure the hall will be empty? My God, if she knew you’d been here…’

Virginia frowned.

Then –

‘The hall’s always empty,’ she said. ‘Besides, I took jolly good care. Still, put out your light, if you like, before I open the door.’

I stepped to the oak.

‘You put it out,’ I said. ‘I’ll open the door.’

‘All right.’

The next second the lamp went out.

Using the greatest caution, I turned the handle about.

But the door would not move.

Virginia was there. I could feel her breath on my cheek.

‘What is it, Richard?’

‘The door’s jammed. You didn’t lock it?’

She pulled me away.

‘It isn’t jammed. It’s bolted.’

‘Bolted? But how?’

‘I don’t know. But someone has done it. Every one of these doors has a bolt –
on the other side
.’

As though to attest the saying, a sullen grumble of thunder came rolling over the hills.

The storm had begun.

For what it was worth I tried the door of the salon, and when I had found that fast I led the way back to the bedroom and made Virginia sit down.

If the poor girl was pale and trembling, I confess I was shaken myself, but what held me up was the knowledge that, though I had lost this trick, I had the game in my hand.

I patted her shoulder.

‘Don’t worry, Virginia. It’s going to be quite all right. I’ll get you back to your room.’

‘But, Richard–’

‘In five minutes’ time. I promise. But I want to think for a moment. You see, I hold all the cards – now: if I play them right, I must win.’

I think it will be clear that I spoke no more than the truth.

Mansel and I were not policemen. Our instructions were to discover what was toward at Jezreel – and to act, if what we discovered should give us good cause. That being so, with the taking away of Virginia our work would come to an end. We had found out the truth and had acted on what we had found. Jenny was escaped out of prison and we were to rescue Virginia from something worse.

If only I could see Mansel…

That Virginia had been trapped in my room was highly disconcerting, but nothing more. Vanity Fair would require an explanation – which neither Virginia nor I could possibly give. And yet we should give it – a very full explanation…
by leaving Jezreel
.

There was no doubt about it. I had the cards in my hand. If only I could see Mansel…

‘Listen, Virginia. In a moment now I’ll take you back to your room by a secret way. You must go to bed and to sleep. In the morning we shall be found in our proper rooms – a hell of a jolt for “your mother”. She will hold such an inquisition as never was seen.’ Virginia shuddered. ‘But we shan’t attend it, my dear. As soon as I’m dressed, I shall see Acorn. I shall tell him that I am going because I do not stay at houses where guests are locked into their rooms. And with that, I shall go. You will come round to the garage to see me off. And so you shall. Off the map. You won’t be seen, if you sit well back in the Rolls. But you mustn’t bring any luggage or even put on a hat. You must play right up, Virginia. Be absolutely natural in all you do. If she sends for you, stick her out that you never entered this room. She won’t believe you, but that doesn’t matter at all. You’ve only to play out time, and it won’t be long.’

‘As soon as you’re dressed, you say. What time will that be?’

I pointed to the flowers on a table.

‘When I leave this room for the garage, I’ll stick a rose in one of the open shutters against the wall. Directly you see it there, go round to the yard. I’ll wait till you come, of course: it’s a show that mustn’t be rushed: if you’re with her, for instance… But the sooner we’re off, the better – and that’s the truth. And now I must put on some clothes…’

This took but a moment. I slipped a coat and trousers over my sleeping-suit, and changed my slippers for a pair of rubber-soled shoes. Then I took my torch and my pistol and put out the light.

The storm was fast approaching. I could see the flicker of the lightning, and the heavy roll of the thunder was louder with every flash. As I glanced at the open window, I heard the forests shiver at the touch of the running footman that goes before: and the air was definitely cooler – I could smell the rain that was falling some two miles off.

I lighted the torch and kept its beam on the floor.

‘Give me your hand, Virginia.’ Her fingers caught mine. ‘Once we’re out of this room I shan’t show a light. Tread as softly as ever you can. Your room looks on to the terrace and it’s the fourth from this. Am I right?’

‘Yes, Richard.’

‘Then, come, my dear,’ and, with that, I stepped to the pier-glass and put out the torch.

The passage was black and silent as any tomb. We moved like shadows, I with a hand on the wall to count the doors. Arrived at the fourth, I stood listening and glancing to right and to left. If Virginia had left lights burning, their glow would illumine the passage the moment I opened the door. But my ears at least reported that we had the place to ourselves…

An instant later we were standing within her room.

This was as she had left it, more or less illumined by a heavily shaded lamp.

‘Put out the light,’ I whispered. ‘I daren’t shut this door: it’s got no handle inside.’

The door was backed with the beautiful linen-fold panels that lined the room, but its counterweight was so heavy that I could not have pulled the door open by what purchase the carving gave.

I imagine her fingers were trembling, or else, maybe, the switch of the lamp was stiff: but at last the light went out and I breathed again.

As she moved to my side –

‘Virginia, I’m going now. Try and sleep, and mind you play up in the morning for all you’re worth.’

A groping hand brushed my face and came down to my arm.

‘I wish – you weren’t going, Richard. It’s all right with you, but I don’t want to be alone.’

I found and held her fingers.

‘Buck up, Virginia. This is the last of the fences. Early tomorrow morning we’ll be in the straight.’

‘You – you won’t go without me, Richard?’

‘Need you ask me that, Virginia?’

‘I suppose not,’ she said slowly. ‘But you’ve fixed all this on impulse. Supposing tomorrow morning you change your mind.’

‘I shan’t do that,’ I said quietly.

‘It’d be the end of me, Richard.’

‘Now you go to bed,’ said I, ‘and don’t imagine vain things.’

‘I’ll try not to,’ she faltered. ‘But, you see, you’ve promised me something that seems too good to be true.’ With a sudden movement she caught my hand to her lips. Then, ‘Good night, my dear, and God bless you – all your days.’

‘And you, Virginia. Good night.’

The next instant I was back in the passage and the door of her room was shut.

I listened carefully. Then I went gently back the way we had come. I remember that I counted three doors, so it must have been close to that which gave to my room that someone who knew how to hit put me down and out.

When at last I came to my senses, the daylight was broad. But as I made to start up, an agony flared in my temples to make me forget all else.

Then –

‘Drink this,’ said a voice in French. ‘It will make you well.’

Lafone. I knew her at once. Gaunt and harsh and bitter, she seemed to embody the unkindness of Shakespeare’s winter wind. Charity ill became her. Her grudging manner assured me there was no death in the cup.

With an effort I drank the potion which tasted and smelled of herbs. Then I lay back on my pallet and fell asleep.

I have an idea that I slept for about two hours, but when I awoke the pain in my head was gone. My wits were at my service, for what they were worth.

I found that my head was bandaged, that my temple was very much swollen and tender beyond belief. And I knew that no fist had done that. A life-preserver or truncheon had been employed.

I found that my bed was a pallet, laid in a slight recess in a chamber of stone. I found that I was chained to the wall – chained by the leg. And I found that the chain would allow me to reach a wash-stand which stood between my bed and a window, sunk in the wall. But the window was out of my reach.

I made what toilet I could…

In shape the chamber resembled a very thick slice of cake, and since the window was set in the curving side, I had no doubt that I was lodged in the tower. The window boasted a seat, but except for my bed and the wash-stand the chamber was bare.

Again well out of my reach was a massive door. This was of oak and iron and plainly opened outwards, for the doorway was smaller than the door. Chin-high in the oak was a grill, through which a man, standing outside, could look into the cell. The place was a proper prison and had, of course, been made to that end.

I glanced at my watch.

The hour was a quarter to ten.

At once I remembered Virginia and wondered what she would do. I hoped very much that she would give nothing away. If she kept her head and possessed her soul for a little… After all I could scarcely be held here for more than another few hours. Though Vanity Fair might dare, Mansel would take some action to spoil her game. When he learned of my disappearance – as learn he must – he would guess at once that I was confined in the tower. And he would have me out in a twinkling, cost what it might.
And in fact it would cost him nothing
, for I had the truth in my hands. Once I was free, we had only to take Virginia and go our ways. Vanity Fair had struck: but though she did not know it, her blow had fallen too late. The game was ours, and what had befallen me now was no more than a hitch.

The clack of wood made me look up.

At once I saw that someone had drawn the shutter that masked the grill: between the bars of the lattice I could see the white of a face.

Then the wards of a heavy lock clashed, and Lafone came into the room.

Without a word she set a small tray beside me, on which were some tea and toast: then she turned to the wash-stand, to empty and wipe the basin and make all clean.

Once she left the room for fresh water, which she drew from some tap outside, but because, I suppose, she knew the length of my chain, she showed no fear of my trying to follow her out. For all that, she did not ignore me, but rather took care to insist that all that she was doing was done in enmity. Had she known what I knew, she could not have been more hostile. Once again it occurred to me that Vanity Fair had a flair for obtaining the very service which she required. Her unconscionable treatment of Jenny would have melted most jailers’ hearts: but this woman was stony-hearted: inhumanity inhabited her face.

Tea and toast was the fare which I would have chosen and I knew, without being told, that this provision was due to Vanity Fair. As her enemy, I was condemned: as her guest, my desires must be honoured up to the hilt. That was her way.

I made an excellent breakfast – and waited for Vanity Fair.

Whilst I waited, I examined my chain. This was of steel. The links were carefully made and looked very strong. They hung from an iron staple, thick as my little finger, sunk in the wall. The cuff about my ankle was of fine steel.

Lafone returned, with bed-linen over her arm. This she laid down on the window-seat. Then she took up the tray and carried it off. It seemed she proposed to come back, for she did not relock the door: but when this was opened again, there was Vanity Fair.

I rose to my feet.

She smiled and nodded and passed to the window-seat.

As she sat down –

‘You know I did warn you,’ she said.

‘Madam,’ said I stiffly, ‘if a guest in my house offends me, I ask him to leave.’

‘With your spoons in his pocket? I think you’d get them back first.’

I raised my eyebrows.

‘At least,’ I said, ‘that’s downright. At least you’ve made a clear charge. And that gives me the right to demand that you call in the police.’

‘Your “demand” is refused.’

I took my seat on the pallet and crossed my legs.

‘Madam,’ said I, ‘I was plainly a fool to come back.’

‘That,’ said Vanity Fair, ‘is indisputable. But you were a much bigger fool to try to stand up to me.’

I shrugged my shoulders.

‘Let’s get down to facts,’ said I, ‘and leave fancies alone. Last night I heard a sound in the hall outside my room. I rose and went to my door – to find it locked. As a guest, I have a distaste for being locked into my room. I, therefore, left by the passage which Jean, your ex-chauffeur, employed.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me that you had seen him come in?’

‘Because I suspected that he visited me by your orders. If I was right, it was idle to tell you how much I knew.’

‘I see. Go on – with your tale.’

‘I found several doors in the passage, and the one which I ventured to open led into Virginia’s room. Her light was burning, but she herself was asleep. I must have made some sound, for whilst I was there she awoke. But she didn’t see me and presently put out her light. When I judged her asleep again, I left her room for the passage, proposing to return to my room: but before I had time to get there, somebody laid me out.’

‘That was Marc,’ said Vanity Fair. ‘He’s a great improvement on Jean.’

I drew in my breath.

‘It seems,’ I said, ‘that my suspicion was just. For some reason best known to yourself you mean me ill. Well, that’s your affair: but–’ I picked up my chain and looked her full in the eyes ‘ – you can’t do this sort of thing to people like me… Please have me released at once.’

‘And then?’

I shrugged my shoulders.

‘I shall leave Jezreel, madam: and I shall never come back.’

‘Taking my spoons with you?’

I sighed.

‘Do I look like a thief?’ I said.

‘No,’ said Vanity Fair. ‘That’s why you’re not dead.’

‘I’m not easily frightened,’ said I.

‘I know. Neither am I. It makes life much easier.’

‘Madam,’ said I, ‘if you suspect me of theft, you have your remedy. You can telephone for the police and give me in charge. Until they arrive – but no longer – you have the right to detain me against my will.’

‘I suspect,’ said Vanity Fair, ‘that you made that up. I do not believe that you know the law of this land. But it sounds common sense.’

There was a little silence.

At length –

‘I suppose you mean,’ said I, ‘that you are not concerned with the law of the land.’

Vanity Fair raised her eyebrows.

‘I would hardly say that. I look on the law as I look on the fire brigade. I should summon the fire brigade – if I couldn’t cope with a fire.’

‘In other words you propose to deal with me yourself.’

‘Don’t you think I’m capable of doing so?’

‘Madam,’ said I, ‘I think you are capable of anything.’

Vanity Fair vouchsafed me a dazzling smile.

‘Good for you, Richard Chandos. You’re perfectly right.’

Strange to say, I smiled back. I simply could not help it. Her personality beat me, as it had done before. Then –

‘In that case, madam, there is little more to be said.’