by Ken Follett
"But they missed the train," the cabbie added.
"They?" Hugh said. "There was someone with her?"
"An elderly chap in a wheelchair."
Not Micky, evidently. Who, then? No one in the family was frail enough to use a wheelchair. "They missed the train, you say. Do you know when the next boat train leaves?"
"At three."
Hugh looked at his watch. It was two-thirty. He could catch it.
"Take me to Waterloo," he said, and jumped into the cab.
He reached the station just in time to get a ticket and board the boat train.
It was a corridor train with interconnecting coaches, so he could walk along it. As it pulled out of the station and picked up speed through the tenements of south London, he set out to look for Augusta.
He did not have to look far. She was in the next coach.
With a quick glance he hurried past her compartment so that she would not see him.
Micky was not with her. He must have gone by an earlier train. The only other person in her compartment was an elderly man with a rug over his knees.
He went to the next coach and found a seat. There was not much point in confronting Augusta right away. She might not have the snuffboxes with her--they could be in one of her cases in the luggage van. To speak to her now would serve only to forewarn her. Better to wait until the train arrived at Southampton. He would jump off, find a policeman, then challenge her as her bags were unloaded.
Suppose she denied she had the snuffboxes? He would insist that the police search her luggage. They were obliged to investigate a reported theft, and the more Augusta protested the more suspicious they would be.
Suppose she claimed the snuffboxes were hers? It was hard to prove anything on the spot. If that happened, Hugh decided he would propose that the police take custody of the valuables while they investigated the contradictory claims.
He controlled his impatience as the white fields of Wimbledon sped by. A hundred thousand pounds was a big chunk of the money Pilasters Bank owed. He was not going to let Augusta steal it. The snuffboxes also symbolized the family's determination to pay off its debts. If Augusta was allowed to make off with them, people would say the Pilasters were grabbing what they could, just like any ordinary embezzlers. The thought made Hugh angry.
It was still snowing when the train reached Southampton. Hugh was leaning out of the carriage window as the engine puffed into the station. There were uniformed policemen everywhere. That meant Micky had not yet been caught, Hugh inferred.
He jumped off while the train was still moving and got to the ticket barrier before anyone else. He spoke to a police inspector. "I'm the Senior Partner of Pilasters Bank," he said, giving the inspector his card. "I know you're looking for a murderer, but there's a woman on this train who is carrying stolen property worth a hundred thousand pounds belonging to the bank. I believe she is planning to leave the country on the Aztec tonight, taking it with her."
"What property would that be, Mr. Pilaster?" said the inspector.
"A collection of jeweled snuffboxes."
"And the name of the woman?"
"She's the dowager countess of Whitehaven."
The policeman raised his eyebrows. "I do read the newspapers, sir. I take it this is all to do with the failure of the bank."
Hugh nodded. "Those snuffboxes must be sold to help pay people who have lost their money."
"Can you point out Lady Whitehaven to me?"
Hugh looked along the platform, peering through the falling snow. "That's her, by the luggage van, in the big hat with bird's wings on it." She was supervising the unloading of her bags.
The inspector nodded. "Very well. Stay here with me at the ticket barrier. We'll detain her as she passes through."
Hugh was tense as he watched the passengers stream off the train and out. Although he was fairly certain Micky was not on the train, nevertheless he scrutinized the face of every passenger.
Augusta was the last to leave. Three porters were carrying her luggage. When she saw Hugh at the ticket barrier she turned pale.
The inspector was all politeness. "Pardon me, Lady Whitehaven. May I have a word?"
Hugh had never seen Augusta so frightened, but she had not lost her queenly manner. "I'm afraid I can't spare the time, officer," she said coolly. "I have to board a ship that is sailing tonight."
"I guarantee the Aztec won't leave without you, my lady," the inspector said smoothly. He glanced at the porters and said: "You can put those down for a minute, lads." He turned back to Augusta. "Mr. Pilaster here claims you have in your possession some very valuable snuffboxes that belong to him. Is that so?"
She began to look less alarmed--which puzzled Hugh. It worried him, too: he was afraid she might have something up her sleeve. "I don't see why I should answer such impertinent questions," she said arrogantly.
"If you don't, I shall have to look through your bags."
"Very well, I do have the snuffboxes," she said. "But they belong to me. They were my husband's."
The inspector turned to Hugh. "What do you say to that, Mr. Pilaster?"
"They were her husband's, but he left them to his son Edward Pilaster; and Edward's possessions are forfeit to the bank. Lady Whitehaven is trying to steal them."
The inspector said: "I must ask you both to come to the police station while these allegations are investigated."
Augusta looked panicky. "But I can't miss my sailing!"
"In that case, the only thing I can suggest is that you leave the disputed property in the care of the police. It will be returned to you if your claims are verified."
Augusta hesitated. Hugh knew it would break her heart to part with so much wealth. But surely she could see it was inevitable? She had been caught red-handed and she was lucky she was not going to jail.
"Where are the snuffboxes, my lady?" said the inspector.
Hugh waited.
Augusta pointed to a suitcase. "They're all in there."
"The key, please?"
Again she hesitated; again she gave in. She took out a small ring of luggage keys, selected one, and handed it over.
The inspector opened the case. It was full of shoe bags. Augusta pointed to one of the bags. The inspector opened it and drew out a light wooden cigar box. He lifted the lid to reveal numerous small objects carefully wrapped in paper. Selecting one at random, he unwrapped it. It was a small gold box inlaid with diamond chips in the design of a lizard.
Hugh let out a long sigh of relief.
The inspector looked at Hugh. "Do you know how many there should be, sir?"
Everyone in the family did. "Sixty-five," said Hugh. "One for every year of Uncle Joseph's life."
"Would you like to count them?"
Augusta said: "They're all there."
Hugh counted them anyway. There were sixty-five. He began to feel the pleasure of victory.
The inspector took the box and passed it to another policeman. "If you would like to go with Constable Neville to the police station, he will give you an official receipt for the goods, my lady."
"Send it to the bank," she said. "May I go now?"
Hugh was uneasy. Augusta was disappointed, but not devastated. It was almost as if there was something else she was worried about, something more important to her than the snuffboxes. And where was Micky Miranda?
The inspector bowed, and Augusta went out, followed by her three heavily laden porters.
"Thank you very much, Inspector," said Hugh. "I'm only sorry you didn't catch Miranda as well."
"We will, sir. He won't get aboard the Aztec unless he's learned how to fly."
The guard from the luggage van came along the platform pushing a wheelchair. He stopped in front of Hugh and the inspector and said: "Now what am I supposed to do with this?"
"What's the problem?" the inspector said patiently.
"That woman with all the luggage and the bird on her hat."
"Lady Whitehaven, yes."
&
nbsp; "She was with an old gent at Waterloo. Puts him in a first-class compartment and then asks me to take the bath chair in the luggage van. Glad to oblige, says L Gets off at Southampton and pretends she don't know what I'm talking about. 'You must have mistaken me for somebody else,' she goes. 'Not likely--there's only one hat like that,' says I."
Hugh said: "That's right--the cabbie said she was with a man in a wheelchair ... and there was an old fellow in the compartment with her."
"There you are," the guard said triumphantly.
The inspector suddenly lost his avuncular air and rounded on Hugh. "Did you see the old man pass through the ticket barrier?"
"No, I didn't. And I looked at every passenger. Aunt Augusta was the last." Then it hit him. "Good God! Do you think it was Micky Miranda in disguise?"
"Yes, I do. But where is he now? Could he have got off at an earlier stop?"
The guard said: "No--it's an express train, nonstop from Waterloo to Southampton."
"Then we'll search the train. He must be on it still."
But he was not.
5
THE AZTEC WAS FESTOONED with colored lanterns and paper streamers. The Christmas party was in full swing when Augusta boarded: a band played on the main deck, and passengers in evening dress drank champagne and danced with friends who had come to say good-bye.
A steward led Augusta up the grand staircase to a stateroom on an upper deck. She had spent all her cash on the best cabin available, thinking that with the snuffboxes in her suitcase she need not worry about money. The room opened directly onto the deck. Inside it had a wide bed, a full-size washbasin, comfortable chairs and electric lights. There were flowers on the dresser, a box of chocolates beside the bed and a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice on the low table. Augusta was about to tell the steward to take the champagne away, then changed her mind. She was beginning a new life: perhaps she would drink champagne from now on.
She was only just in time. She heard the traditional shout of "All ashore that's going ashore!" even as the porters brought her luggage into the cabin. When they had gone she stepped onto the narrow deck, turning up her coat collar against the snow. She leaned against the rail and looked down. There was a sheer drop to the water, where a tugboat was already in position to ease the great liner out of the harbor into the sea. As she watched, the gangways were withdrawn one by one and the ropes cast off. The ship's foghorn sounded, a cheer went up from the crowd on the quay, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, the huge ship began to move.
Augusta returned to her cabin and closed the door. She undressed slowly and put on a silk nightgown and a matching robe. Then she summoned the steward and told him she would not require anything further tonight.
"Shall I wake you in the morning, my lady?"
"No, thank you. I'll ring."
"Very good, m'lady."
Augusta locked the door behind him.
Then she opened her trunk and let Micky out.
He staggered across the stateroom and fell on the bed. "Jesus save me, I thought I was going to die." He moaned.
"My poor darling, where does it hurt?"
"My legs." She rubbed his calves. The muscles were knotted with cramp. She massaged his calves with her fingertips, feeling the warmth of his skin through the cloth of his trousers. It was a long time since she had touched a man this way, and she felt a flush of heat rise at her throat.
She had often daydreamed about doing this, running away with Micky Miranda, both before and since the death of her husband. She had always been stopped by the thought of all she would lose--house, servants, dress allowance, social position, and family power. But the bank crash had taken all that away, and now she was free to give in to her desires.
"Water," said Micky feebly.
She poured a glass from the pitcher beside the bed. He turned over and sat up to take it, then drank it all.
"Some more ... Micky?"
He shook his head.
She took the glass from him.
"You lost the snuffboxes," he said. "I heard the whole thing. That swine Hugh."
"But you've got plenty of money," she said. She pointed to the champagne in the ice bucket. "We should drink this. We're out of England. You escaped!"
He was staring at her bosom. She realized that her nipples were hard with excitement, and he could see them poking through the silk of her nightwear. She wanted to say You can touch them if you like but she hesitated. There was plenty of time: they had all night. They had the whole voyage. They had the rest of their lives. But suddenly she could wait no longer. She felt guilty and ashamed, but she longed to hold his naked body in her arms, and the longing was stronger than the shame. She sat on the edge of the bed. She took his hand, drew it to her lips, and kissed it; then she pressed it to her breast.
He looked at her curiously for a moment. Then he began to stroke her breast through the silk. His touch was gentle. His fingertips brushed the sensitive nipple and she gasped with pleasure. He changed his grip and held her breast in his palm, lifting and moving it. Then he grasped her nipple between finger and thumb and squeezed. She closed her eyes. He pinched harder, so that it hurt. Then, suddenly, he twisted her nipple so viciously that she screamed and pulled away from him, standing up.
"You dumb cunt," he sneered, getting off the bed.
"No!" she said. "No!"
"You really thought I would many you!"
"Yes--"
"You've got no money and no influence anymore, the bank is bust, and you even lost the snuffboxes. What would I want with you?"
She felt a pain in her chest, like a knife in her heart. "You said you loved me...."
"You're fifty-eight--my mother's age, for God's sake! You're old and wrinkled and mean and selfish, and I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last woman on earth!"
She felt faint. She tried not to cry but it was no good. Tears welled up in her eyes and she began to shake with sobs of despair. She was ruined. She had no home, no money and no friends, and the man she trusted had betrayed her. She turned away from him to hide her face: she did not want him to see her shame and grief. "Please, stop," she whispered.
"I'll stop," he spat out. "I've got a cabin reserved on this ship and that's where I'm going."
"But when we get to Cordova ..."
"You're not going to Cordova. You can get off the ship at Lisbon and go back to England. I've no further use for you."
Every word was like a blow and she backed away from him, holding her hands up in front of her as if to ward off his curses. She bumped against the cabin door. Desperate to get away from him, she opened it and backed out.
The freezing night air cleared her head suddenly. She was behaving like a helpless girl, not a mature, capable woman. She had lost control of her life briefly, and it was time to seize it back again.
A man in evening dress walked past her, smoking a cigar. He stared at her nightclothes in astonishment but did not speak to her.
That gave her an idea.
She stepped back into the cabin and closed the door. Micky was straightening his tie in the mirror. "There's someone coming," she said urgently. "A policeman!"
Micky's demeanor changed in a flash. The sneer was wiped off his face and replaced by a look of panic. "Oh, my God," he said.
Augusta was thinking quickly. "We're still within British waters," she said. "You can be arrested and sent back on a coast guard cutter." She had no idea whether this was true.
"I'll have to hide." He climbed into the trunk. "Close the front, quickly," he said.
She shut him in the trunk.
Then she flipped the latch to lock it.
"That's better," she said.
She sat on the bed, staring at the trunk. In her mind she went over and over their conversation. She had made herself vulnerable and he had wounded her. She thought of how he had caressed her. Only two other men had touched her breasts: Strang and Joseph. She thought of how he had twisted her nipple then spurned her with obscene words. As the m
inutes went by her rage cooled and became a dark, vicious yearning for revenge.
Micky's voice, muffled, came from inside the trunk. "Augusta! What's happening?"
She made no reply.
He began to shout for help. She covered the trunk with blankets from the bed to deaden the sound.
After a while he stopped.
Thoughtfully, Augusta removed the luggage labels bearing her name from the trunk.
She heard cabin doors slam: passengers were heading for the dining room. The ship began to pitch slightly in the swell as it steamed out into the English Channel.
The evening passed quickly for Augusta as she sat on the bed brooding.
Passengers trickled back in twos and threes between midnight and two o'clock. After that the band stopped playing and the ship became quiet but for the sounds of the engines and the sea.
Augusta stared obsessively at the trunk in which she had locked Micky. It had been carried up here on the back of a muscular porter. Augusta could not lift it, but she thought she could drag it. It had brass handles on the sides and leather straps top and bottom. She took hold of the leather strap on its top and pulled, tilting the trunk sideways. It tipped over and fell on its face. It made a loud bang. Micky began to shout again, and she covered the trunk with blankets once more. She waited to see if anyone would come to investigate the bang, but no one did. Micky stopped yelling.
She seized the strap again and pulled. It was very heavy, but she was able to move it a few inches at a time. After each tug she rested.
It took her ten minutes to drag the trunk to the cabin door. Then she put on her stockings, boots and fur coat, and opened the door.
There was no one around. The passengers were asleep, and if a crew member patrolled the decks she did not see him. The ship was lit by dim electric bulbs, and there were no stars.
She dragged the trunk through the cabin door and rested again.
After that it was a little easier, for the deck was slippery with snow. Ten minutes later she had the trunk up against the rail.
The next part was more difficult. Taking hold of the strap, she lifted one end of the trunk and tried to bring it upright. On her first try she dropped it. The sound it made when it hit the deck seemed very loud, but once again no one came to investigate: there were intermittent noises all the time on the ship, as its funnels belched smoke and its hull cleaved the waves.
The second time she made a more determined effort. She got down on one knee, seized the strap with both hands, and slowly heaved up. When she had the trunk tilted at a forty-five-degree angle Micky moved inside, his weight shifting to the bottom end, and suddenly it became easy to push the whole thing upright.