The Flood (13 page)

Woburn was almost disgusted with himself.

He
enjoyed
the meal.

There was melon, trout in a sauce which only a genius could make, and saddle of mutton with roasted potatoes and peas and mint sauce. The souffle which followed was almost too fluffy to be true. Faversham obviously enjoyed everything, too, and Adam ate with gusto; at least he didn’t try to talk while eating.

Ruby pecked.

Eve sent nearly everything back untouched.

Woburn found that that mattered. It wouldn’t help if she were to get too hungry; she would only be even more depressed. He found himself looking at her much of the time. There was the lovely line of her chin and throat; the line of her blouse at the breast; fine, almost regal beauty. In some odd way, it was possible to forget what was happening; as if his senses had been dulled. Outside there was the tumult of the bursting
octi,
and there must be millions upon millions of them under the earth. The water had probably cut the whole island off by now, the land must still be crumbling. Yet Faversham was quite sure that nothing could happen to the Castle.

Could he be as sure as he sounded? If so, it meant that the
octi
could be controlled. The very thought set Woburn’s teeth on edge.

The butler brought brandy.

“No, thanks,” Woburn said.

“Hear, hear,” Adam Reed said, “brandy’s not a drink for after luncheon. A spot after dinner, mind you, right under the old belt.” He grinned, as if that were an exquisite witticism. “And then a nap. Or a lie down? Eh, Ruby?” He grinned again.

He went on and on.

Woburn didn’t know where the others went after lunch. There was a kind of general post, and Faversham went off, Ruby floated away, Adam Reed said that he was going to take a look at the animals, and would anyone like to come with him? Woburn didn’t accept. Eve led him into the morning-room, with its brightness dimmed a little because the sun was in a different position. There was coffee on a small table - the servants were as normal as if the portcullis was up and the road to the rest of the world as wide open as the door to the courtyard.

She held her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

“There are times when I can’t believe that I’m right,” she said, “that he would ever expect me to live with
Adam.
An hour with him almost sets me screaming. He— he’s
nothing
but a moron. Sometimes I don’t think he has any mind at all, that he’s really a
cretin.”
She shivered. “I just couldn’t face Adam—”

Woburn said quietly: “We don’t know what we’ll have to face yet, but one of us will have to get away.”

“It just isn’t possible!”

“It was bad enough before, and it’s a hundred times worse now,” Woburn agreed. “We’re completely cut off, and Faversham feels sure we can stop the
octi
from affecting here, so -
this
is to be the garden.”

Eve sat rigid.

“That’s obviously one reason why we’ve been cut off,” Woburn went on. Now that he had faced up to and accepted this, nothing else really touched him with horror. Reggie and Naomi, the drowned village, Jenny and Bill— these were now names. No individual was important; all that mattered was taking news of the madness to Palfrey, to a world which might be able to save itself.

But if Palfrey didn’t know where the
octi
were—

Woburn found himself thinking of that, then asking himself dispassionately if that would make any difference. It wouldn’t help to trace the
octi
if there was no defence against them.

Face
that.

Faversham was sure that the Castle and the glen, with the surrounding mountains, were not in danger; that led to the obvious inference.

He broke a long silence: “Eve, where does Faversham spend most of his time?”

“In the cellars,” she answered at once; “there is a small laboratory down there.” The implication in that needed no stressing. “I don’t go down often. He has a staff of several men. I always understood that it was marine research, especially into ways of getting fresh water out of sea water more quickly and effectively than we can do it now. And experiments to extract foods from the sea - from plankton, small fish and seaweed.” She paused, and then went on abruptly: “I believed it was genuine! I didn’t dream—”

Woburn didn’t let her finish.

“How many assistants, did you say?”

“Three— or four.”

“Do they work on their own?”

“As far as I know,” said Eve. “What are you thinking of trying?” ‘Trying’, not ‘doing’ told its own story, told of the hopelessness which she now felt. Yet she hadn’t lost complete control of herself again.

“There’s only one thing to try,” Woburn said steadily. “To find out if there’s a way of making the
octi
ineffective, or any form of protection against them. Faversham’s assistants might know. Faversham himself is sure to.”

Eve nodded. “What about his wife, and Adam?”

“I shouldn’t think they would know anything,” said Eve. “Certainly Adam doesn’t. Since he’s been living here he’s spent most of his time out of doors, playing some game or other, or amusing himself with the animals. He’s only interested in perfecting his body! His mind”

Again, she had to stop.

“Ruby?” Woburn asked.

“Ruby is frightened,” Eve said, as if she was quite sure. “She drinks to try to forget. I don’t know how much she guesses, but it’s probably a lot. Paul wouldn’t confide in her, though. When she’s really drunk she’ll talk about anything, it would be impossible to trust her with a secret.” That sounded unarguable. “I don’t think anyone else would know, except— my father.”

Woburn said: “And it’s his dream.”

She didn’t answer.

“Eve, I want to find out what the layout of the Castle is like,” Woburn said. “Where the rooms are, how I can get upstairs and downstairs apart from the lift and the main staircase, how I can get to the cellars and the laboratory. Presumably you know it well.”

“Thoroughly.”

“Can you sketch me a plan?”

“I think so.” Eve jumped up and went to an escritoire of a pale wood, opened it, and took out a pencil, a ruler and some paper. She looked eager to start; glad that there was something she could do.

She began to draw. . .

It was six o’clock. Woburn stood at the window of a room on the second floor, alone for the first time since luncheon. Eve had brought him here. Faversham had sent a request that he should be given a bedroom for the night, and this was it. Nothing else had been said, nothing suggested that anything was planned to help him get away, no reference had been made to the questioning; apparently they were fully satisfied about the ‘truth’. He had too much on his mind to wonder
why
the drug hadn’t worked, but there were only two possible reasons. Either he didn’t react, or he had not been given the right drug.

A mistake?

He couldn’t concentrate on that, he had the other, despairing task: of getting a message out to Palfrey.

He had Eve’s sketched plan of the Castle, had studied it carefully, and believed that he knew it off by heart. He could roam almost at will - if he were allowed to.

He had no sense of being watched, but the others seemed to be bubbling over with expectancy at tea-time. Even Adam Reed showed it. Ruby Faversham had been sober, but very bright, with a brittle, nervous brightness. Faversham himself had put in an unexpected appearance, and his movements seemed to be more jerky than ever - as if with repressed excitement.

There was still no sign of Sir Gabriel Davos. The cloud in the sky had gone. Whichever way one looked from the Tower Room, there was water.

The Castle stood upon this great island, with its mountains, the glen and the rocky moorland. Two or three isolated cottages were left on it, and sheep grazed. Apart from that, there was a sense of peace. The lake was quite calm. No boats were upon it. Where it could be seen, the channel between the island and the mainland was at least five miles wide, and Woburn was wondering if he dared attempt to swim it by night, as he stood in the room.

It was small, it faced south, and was pleasantly furnished but not with any great luxury. An old-fashioned hotel might have rooms rather like it. The big double bed stood very high from the floor. A six-foot wardrobe had a full-length mirror. There was carpet from wall to wall, a hand-basin, two easy chairs, a dressing-table; but there was nothing homely about it at all.

He felt a sense of driving urgency, and the fury of frustration.

He could look across the straits towards Scourie, see the rocky coastline, and wonder if that would change during the night; whether the
octi
were already burrowing beneath the villages or towns. Obsessed by this, he would fling himself at the problem; how to find out about the
octi,
and to escape.

Even if he could get into the laboratory, could he make Faversham talk? Could he find a way of overpowering Faversham and his assistants? Was he fooling himself in thinking that there was the slightest chance?

He turned away from the window. In his mind’s eye he could see the plan of the hall, and knew that if no one stopped him, in five minutes or less he could be in the laboratory. Five minutes, between him and success or failure so awful that he rebelled at the thought of it.

He turned towards the door.

It opened, and Ruby Faversham came in.

She moved very swiftly, and closed the door - and before Woburn realised what she was doing, she turned the key in the lock. Then she stood with her back to the door, and her hands behind her. She had a kind of guilty look, but it was more than that.

She wasn’t drunk now, but she was badly scared.

Her pale eyes, thrown up so vividly by the mascara, moved to and fro as if she wanted to make sure that he was quite alone. Leaning forward like that, her sun dress didn’t leave much to the imagination. She was breathing heavily, as if she had been running.

She said: “Bahb, they’re going to flood the world.”

Then she began to pant, as if she had to fight for breath. She moved away from the door, and approached him. One arm was outstretched, bent at the elbow in a kind of appeal; possibly she was doubtful whether he would believe her.

“They
are,”
she breathed.

Woburn made himself throw off the paralysis of surprise, the stiffness and the silence of his tongue.

“Are you crazy?” It didn’t matter how banal he sounded, the ice was broken.

“I
know,”
she repeated, and he could see her jaws working as she tried to keep her fears back. “They’re going to drown millions of people. Millions. And they’re going to kill off the rest - everything’s planned. They’ve some midget submarines which will go to—to places where there are survivors, and—and
gas
them. They’re only going to leave a few, just a few fit people, people like Adam -
Adam and Eve.
There’ll be the old devil himself, as ruler, and Paul, and—
Adam and Eve.”

He felt as if the world were crumbling about him.

Words came:

“They can’t believe—”

She moved more quickly towards him; angrily. “It’s not just nonsense,” she almost spat, “it’s God’s truth!” She was a yard in front of him. “I’ve been listening to Paul and that— that
devil!”
Her lips twisted, she looked as if she were talking of the Devil himself. “It isn’t a mistake, I tell you. They’ve all these animals to keep the species alive, they’ve a few hundred selected people, like the servants here, and the keepers. They’ve key points throughout the world. This— this island will be the headquarters, he’ll rule from here.
I tell you I’m not crazy it’s all true.”

She bared her teeth, in her great tension.

But Woburn dared not trust her.

She might be telling the truth, and might have come here in a desperate attempt to get help; but he dared not take that for granted. It could be a simple trap, the oldest kind of trap - to lure him into telling her what he was really doing here.

“It’s all right, Ruby,” he said soothingly, “you’re a bit over-wrought, and—”

She hissed: “I tell you they’re going to drown most of the world. They drowned the village, didn’t they? They’ve made mountains crumble away into the sea. They can do it again, they
are
doing it. Most of the East Coast of England will be under water tomorrow.” She flung that out in shocked tones, almost in disbelief. “
And
the west coast of Holland. All the dykes. Belgium, too. Parts of Denmark. It’s true,” she asserted with a quavering note in her voice, “that’s what they’re going to do.”

He didn’t speak.

She went on: “You’ve got to get away from here, Bahb.
You’ve
got to warn the Government. Get to high ground, and away from the coast”.

“Now take it easy,” Wolburn said roughly, “you’ll soon have me believing this.”

“Listen to
me
,” she said tautly. “I heard Paul and Davos talking just now. They’re working on the East Coast and on Holland tonight. They’ll be gone by the morning. Tens of thousands of square miles will be under the sea. They’re absolutely mad, they— they want to make the world over again.” There was a short, throbbing pause; then: “Bahb,” she sobbed, “you must believe me. That’s why they have the animals; and the orchards, the vegetable gardens, the wheat, everything that grows, they’ve a little of
everything
here. And they
can
drown the whole world, like they drowned Wolf. They’ve got—
these.”

She pulled open the bag.

He saw her shudder as she dipped her hand inside, and then snatched it out. She had a small square box. She opened it, crouched down, and shook it - and one of the
octi
fell out. It lay on its back, the eight little legs wriggling wildly. Clenching her teeth, Ruby turned it over. It began to scuttle towards the bed. She picked up a chair and struck it at, missed twice, and then broke its back.

Water stabbed upwards, hissing, smashing against the ceiling.

“They can grow them!” she gasped, and her expression was wild as she shook her fists at him. “They’re growing them downstairs. They grow in a single night, they’re just little eggs at first and they grow
in a night.
They put a few dozen in a cave, and in a few days there are millions of them. Bahb,” she gasped, “you’ve got to believe me!”

He said: “Is there a way to stop them from growing?”

“I don’t know,” Ruby said wildly, “I only know what they can do. I’ve been trying to find out for weeks, for months. They frightened me so. These animals, and Adam, and Eve - and the look in the eyes of the old devil who thought of it all. He’s mad, he’s turned Paul mad, it’s that old swine’s fault. If I could get my hands round his neck I’d kill him myself.
I tell you I would!”
she shouted. “I’d kill him!”

“Listen, Ruby,” Woburn said softly, “if this is true, I must go and see them, find out if they can stop the growth of the things. Where’s Paul now?”

“He’s with . . .
him.”
How she hated Sir Gabriel Davos. “The others are in the lab, but— never mind the laboratory..You must get away! If you can warn the people on the mainland—”

Woburn said heavily:

“How can I? Listen to me.” He had to take some chance; why not this? “Are there any carrier pigeons here? Have you seen—”

“There were some,” she said roughly. “They all disappeared, a few days ago. They—”

She broke off.

She had sharper hearing than Woburn, who had heard nothing. She turned towards the door, crouching as an animal might crouch. Then she swung round towards him and gripped his arms tightly.

“Do what I tell you,” she breathed. “It’s Paul. If he suspects what I’ve told you he’ll kill us both, but he’ll
think
I’ve come because I’m made that way. Because I’m a whore, who—”

There was a faint sound at the door.

Woburn heard it this time, and it seemed as if he hadn’t any chance at all; had never had one. He looked at the door; if this were Faversham, he might frighten the man into talking.

He must try.

“Come and lie on the bed with me!” Ruby whispered fiercely. “He’ll get in, he’ll have a key!” She pulled roughly at Woburn’s collar and tie, slid a hand inside his shirt and slipped the buttons open. “It’s the only hope we have,” she breathed into his ear, and turned towards the bed. The coat fell, floating. She kicked off her shoes. She slid the sun dress off her creamy shoulders. “Come and lie with me.”

The sound had stopped.

Woburn saw the door handle turning, slowly. In a moment the door would start to open.

He said clearly and coldly:

“You’re drunk, or you wouldn’t be here. Put some clothes on and get out of my room.”

She lay there, hands clenched, body rigid. He wondered what he would have done had there been no risk of interruption, for she could make any man’s heart beat fast. He didn’t waste much time on that. He glanced at the door, and saw that it was open a shade. He knew that he wasn’t making the situation any worse for her; if this was Faversham and he threw open the door, the sight of her would be all he needed to reach conclusions.

Ruby went limp.

“Now, Bahb,” she said in the honey-sweet tone she had used in the dining-room, “don’t be that way. Didn’t I tell you what a wonderful chance it was to have a stranger about the house,
and
a handsome one? Why, if Adam weren’t here you’d be just as good for the perfect man, wouldn’t you? I bet you’ve some
wondz
rful muscles Bahb, don’t turn me away, don’t—”

The door closed.

There was no sound at all, just the gentle movement. Then the handle fell back into position, slowly and without any sound. Woburn didn’t speak. He heard Ruby speak again, wheedling him. “Now, Bahb.” He went to the door, turned the handle and opened the door very softly, just a crack so that he could see into the passage.

Faversham was disappearing round a corner.

Woburn closed the door, and leaned against it.

Ruby was lying curled up in the bed now; lost in its size. She wore a brassiere of gossamer thin white nylon; nylon knickers, too, and stockings drawn tightly up her beautiful legs. Her posture was that of the wanton, and in the circumstances was hardly believable; but her expression had changed.

She said: “You didn’t think he’d go away, did you?”

“No,” answered Woburn woodenly. “No.”

“You needn’t be surprised,” she said, “we haven’t been husband and wife for a long time. Just in name. He only came to make sure I wasn’t telling you anything, and that satisfied him. Bahb.” She sat up on the bed and looked almost lost. Her eyes were huge, pleading. “Bahb, what are you going to do? Everything I’ve told you is true.”

He nodded.

“Don’t just stand there!”

“Ruby,” Woburn said, “I’ve got to make one of them talk. Your husband—”

“You could pull him to pieces and he wouldn’t talk,” Ruby told him, “you needn’t waste time thinking about it. But— there’s Lidgett.” She moistened her red Cupid’s bow lips, and repeated. “There’s Lidgett. I think he would talk. He’s always making passes at me. I could get him to come and see me, and you could be there. He could be scared.”

“When could you get him?”

“Soon,” she said, and glanced at her watch, with its black band against the white flesh. “Any time now, they always stop work at half past and if they have extra to do they go back after dinner. I could get him up to my room.” She began to climb off the bed.

“What
is
Lidgett?”

“He’s a research worker, second— second to Paul.”

“All right,” Woburn said abruptly. “Your room, in a quarter of an hour or so. Will it be locked?”

“I never keep it locked, it wouldn’t be any good around here,” Ruby said. “Paul can open any of the doors, he has a master key. Don’t think a lock will do you any good, except to give you a few seconds warning.” She was standing up now, and quite magnificent, but she had forgotten the game of let’s pretend, had forgotten everything but the desperate, forlorn, hope. “You’ll have to make him talk quickly, and get away. If you don’t—”

“I’ll
make him talk,” Woburn said.

He had to make this Lidgett tell him what he needed to know.

Ruby was slipping into the dress again, quite unselfconsciously.

“I don’t think any of the others could,” she went on. “Paul wouldn’t, and Gaspare is dumb and Klein doesn’t speak English. Do you speak German?”

“No.”

“Then there’s only Lidgett,” Ruby said,” and if you can’t make him talk, do you know what you’ve got to do? You’ve got to kill
them.
Before they can start anything. Kill them all. Kill Paul first and then the others and let that sadistic old
devil
see you. Every time I think of him I’d like to cut his throat. He’s evil itself! He—”

“Ruby,” Woburn said, “there isn’t much time.”

She sobered on the instant.

“No,” she agreed, “there isn’t. There’s a gun in my handbag. I won’t need it, but you might.”

He hesitated. Ruby took the gun out, and thrust it into his hands. He put it into his pocket, then he opened the door for her. She went out.

He turned back to his room. He broke the gun, and saw that it was loaded, snapped it together again, and moved towards the window. It was still lovely outside, and the sun was casting the shadow of the wall over the orchard, the farm, and the animals. He could see some of the animals, several of the wild ones out of their cages. At any other time that would have been fascinating in itself. Lion and lamb, remember, tiger and buck.

He thrust the thought aside.

Eve had told him that they always dined at eight; that if he felt inclined he could join her in the little room at half past seven, for a drink. He was to seek her there if he wanted anything. He wondered what she would think of this new development, and how far she would trust Ruby.

How far would Ruby trust
her?

Ruby’s room was on this floor; he knew exactly how to reach it. There was a picture of an old monk hanging just by the door, she had told him, and he couldn’t mistake it; it was the third door on the right beyond the stairs. He judged that Ruby had been gone ten minutes. He went out, quickly, closing his own door.

The great house seemed silent.

He walked towards the staircase, which led to one side of the big gallery. He could see very little, except this passage and the staircase. He heard nothing. He reached the third door on the right, and there was a picture of a monk in a scarlet habit, a round face, a hint of laughter in his wise eyes.

Woburn turned the handle of the door and pushed. The door wasn’t locked.

He opened it wider and stepped inside swiftly - and stopped absolutely still, the door still open, and every muscle in his body stiff.

Ruby lay on the near of twin beds.

She had been strangled.