Salt is Leaving

by J. B. Priestley

  ‘You’re bluffing.’

  Salt grinned at him. ‘I might be – yes. Then again, I might not be.’

  ‘What about that evidence? You told Aricson—’

  ‘I told Aricson what I wanted him to believe. After all, he shouldn’t be meddling in police work, should he?’

  Hurst hesitated a moment. ‘Well, I’ll go along with you there, Dr Salt. But I’m warning you – you’re going to have to be very very careful. If they can get you on anything – from suppression of evidence to defamation of character – they will do. And by this time tomorrow you’ll have had it. But I’ll give you a break tonight because I owe you something. And if you want to waste your time here, that’s all right to me. I can’t find you. Now, Buzzy, one of my men said he’d seen Dr Salt come in here tonight. Care to say anything about that, Buzzy?’

  ‘Plain ridiculous, Super. Bzzz. Dr Salt ’ud never come to a place like this. Besides, I’d heard he’d left Birkden. Still, if you’re not satisfied, you could have a look down there—’

  ‘No, they make me feel dizzy. ’Night – dizzy – I mean, Buzzy!’ And the superintendent went out without even a glance at Dr Salt and Maggie. She drew a long breath. How oddly men behaved! Impossible to imagine women being so angry and then playing a sort of complicated silly game!

  ‘He’s not so bad, old Hurst,’ said Buzzy comfortably. ‘Live and let live. Bzzz. It’s the colonel and some of these young busies, sweating for promotion, who are the bastards. Now drink up, you two, and have another.’

  Maggie shook her head at Salt. ‘Not just now, thanks, Buzzy,’ he said, for both of them. Then, for himself, he added: ‘I have an idea I ought to keep my wits about me tonight.’

  2

  For the next half-hour or so nothing happened, except that the room seemed stuffier and stuffier, the beat of the band began to be irritating, and Maggie started to feel she had had quite enough of this place. She was in fact feeling thoroughly bored when, as so often happens, the whole character of the evening suddenly changed.

  There was no excitement at first. Somebody merely walked in. It was the Mr Aricson that she and Dr Salt had visited at his home.

  Buzzy was not pleased to see him. ‘Now just a minute, just a minute. Bzzz. There’s no reception going on, y’know. This is my office. Private. Bzzz!’

  ‘If you want me to apologize, Mr Duffield, then I apologize,’ Aricson said hastily. ‘Sir Arnold Donnington asked me to find his daughter, Erica, and take her home. I’ve been inquiring all over the place – and now I understand she’s here.’

  ‘Oh – she’s here all right. Saturday night with the riffraff. Bzzz. And she was more than half stoned last time I caught sight of her. She’s a bloody pest, your Miss Erica is. If I bar her, I’ll run into trouble. If I let her carry on like this much longer, I’ll run into trouble. I can’t win with this bit. Bzzz. She’s down there somewhere – maybe close to passing out. Black coffee and a lie down in the Ladies’ Cloaks—’

  ‘Buzzy, I’m a fool,’ cried Salt, jumping up. ‘I must take a look at that girl. Come on, Maggie. You too, Aricson. Buzzy, lead the way downstairs.’

  The youngsters on the floor, moving energetically but as if in a trance, never noticed the four of them as they hurried round towards the entrance. There was something half absurd, half sinister, Maggie felt, about this setting and this whole situation. They might have been hurrying around the edge of some complicated service that belonged to an utterly strange religion. Then Buzzy led the way to the Ladies and waved Maggie in. Three girls were staring at a fourth, laid out on a sofa and obviously unconscious. ‘Come on,’ said Maggie sharply, ‘we must get her out of here. There’s a doctor waiting outside.’

  They carried her across to a small ticket office at the entrance.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ said Buzzy. ‘Out like a light – see? Bzzz.’

  ‘Quiet, Buzzy! This might be something different,’ Salt told him.

  Maggie had time to see Salt begin examining the girl – raising her eyelids, feeling her pulse – but then he called over his shoulder. ‘Maggie, ring for the ambulance. Phone here, isn’t there? Then after the ambulance get me the General Hospital – doctor on duty. Say it’s very urgent. Don’t stand any nonsense from anybody.’

  ‘But look, Doc,’ she heard Buzzy say. ‘She’s only had a few too many, hasn’t she?’

  ‘No, it’s different this time.’ Then Salt was at her elbow, and when she had called the ambulance and was through to the hospital, he took the receiver himself. ‘Come along, come along, come along . . . Who’s that? Dr Harrison? This is Dr Salt. I’m at Buzzy’s Club and there’s a girl here, Erica Donnington, who’s been mixing barbiturates and alcohol . . . Yes, coma of course, but not deep yet. Pulse 55. Respiration and heart not too bad. Corneal reflex present . . . Yes, the ambulance is on its way. I’ll bring her in. No, we can tell her father.’

  After putting down the receiver, he handed Maggie a key. ‘Go back to the flat and wait for me, Maggie. Aricson can drop you there. Where is he?’

  ‘I’m here.’ He had been waiting just outside.

  ‘Now, Aricson, this is what I want you to do. Drop Miss Culworth at my flat – it’ll be on your way – then go out and collect Sir Arnold, tell him what’s happened and where his daughter will be – the General Hospital – ask for Dr Harrison. Right?’

  ‘Right. Ready, Miss Culworth?’

  ‘Just a moment. That’s not all. You can also tell him this. It’s serious, but I think we’ve caught her in time. But – as soon as he knows she’s out of danger, I shall expect to see him at my flat, whatever time it may be. Tell him I’ve too much evidence now to let this go any farther. I have to see him tonight. No, don’t let’s have any more blustering,’ he added severely. ‘I mean what I say. This is where we all stop playing games. Right, Maggie my dear. Wait for me.’

  3

  After she had spent about half an hour alone in Salt’s flat and then heard somebody ringing at the door, Maggie felt frightened. This couldn’t be Salt because the door wasn’t locked and he could have walked straight in. And if it wasn’t Salt, then who was it? But if they were dangerous characters, they could walk straight in too, like those three horrible young men. She went and opened the door about three inches, at the same time asking who it was.

  ‘Come on, you chump,’ said Alan. ‘It’s only us.’

  Us already, these two, Maggie told herself as she let them in. Then she saw they had that sleepy triumphant look, cats-full-of-cream air, of two people who not long ago had been enthusiastically making love.

  ‘Where’s Dr Salt?’ said Jill. ‘I’ve come specially to thank him.’

  ‘Oh – Jill!’ cried Maggie, who was genuinely pleased. ‘Has Alice Marton offered you that job?’

  ‘She has. You know about that, do you, Maggie?’

  ‘Alice and Salt were talking about it last night, and she asked me what I thought.’ Maggie’s tone was now perhaps rather lofty. ‘Salt and I were dining at the Beverly-Astoria, and we were talking to Alice in the Cocktail Bar.’

  Jill gave Maggie a look that said What’s-going-on-between-you-and-Salt, and Maggie gave Jill a look that replied Nothing-I-can-tell-you-and-just-mind-your-own-business. Quite oblivious of this lightning exchange, Alan puffed at his pipe, regarded both girls benevolently, and then said, ‘If it comes off, it’ll settle our problem very neatly. We’re very grateful to Dr Salt.’

  ‘You don’t mind his playing God, then?’ Maggie asked him, too sweetly.

  Her brother remained unruffled. ‘Jill said that, not me. Anyhow, where is he, Mag?’

  She explained what had happened at Buzzy’s. ‘And I must say,’ she concluded, ‘this Erica Donnington looked terrible, but Salt said they may have caught her in time. And if he hadn’t been there – and acted so quickly – she’d probably be dead now. Oh – and another thing. Salt told Aricson to tell Sir Arnold Donnington that as soon as he knew his daughter was out of danger, he – Sir Arnold – had to c
ome here, whatever time it was. Salt didn’t say so but I’m sure this is the Noreen Wilks thing. He’s going to settle it tonight somehow. He says he’s leaving on Monday morning.’

  ‘He won’t want us here,’ said Jill hastily. She was looking frightened.

  ‘You never know with Salt,’ said Maggie. ‘It’s quite possible he might want you here. Anyhow, I’m expecting him any minute now.’

  ‘I brought some whisky.’ Alan got up. ‘It’s not mine – it’s Jill’s—’

  ‘Strictly speaking, it isn’t even mine,’ said Jill with a faint smile. ‘It was bought and paid for by United Anglo-Belgian Fabrics – and the last I shall see—’

  ‘Do you mind about that?’ Maggie asked as Alan went to take the bottle out of his overcoat pocket. ‘I mean – no more free drinks – delightful flat – all the rest of it – um?’

  ‘My dear, if I hadn’t met Alan,’ she whispered, ‘ – and don’t make any mistake, Maggie – I’d marry him tomorrow even if we’d only thirty bob between us – I say, if I hadn’t met him and if I’d had another year or so of that Fabrics life, I know now I’d have been well on my way to becoming a hard-faced, hard-hearted bitch and tart.’

  ‘And you realize, don’t you,’ said Maggie as Alan returned with the bottle, ‘that if it hadn’t been for Salt, going round asking about Noreen Wilks, refusing to be put off, none of this would have happened? You owe it all to him, both of you.’ She looked at them almost defiantly.

  ‘We’ll drink his health,’ said Alan. ‘What about some glasses, Mag? You know your way around this joint.’

  ‘I ought to by this time.’ As she went into the kitchen, she heard them talking in low tones, perhaps about her. She returned with four glasses and a jug of water. ‘There isn’t any soda. In fact, there isn’t anything much, let’s face it.’

  And then, before she could sit down, Maggie heard a taxi outside, knew that it must be Salt, and hurried to the door to meet him. He looked tired. Suddenly, and for the very first time, Maggie found herself disregarding his nonchalant air, his not-giving-a-damn attitude, his little eccentricities and jokes, and realizing, not without some self-reproach, that this man, who had been overworking for years and had promised himself a holiday, had been under an increasing strain the whole week. She could have flung her arms round him, wet overcoat and all, and pressed her warm cheek against his cold one.

  ‘We were in time. She’s going to be all right – at least physically. Who’s here?’

  ‘Alan and Jill. She wants to thank you because Alice has offered her that job.’

  ‘And I do,’ cried Jill, as they went in. ‘I really do. Most gratefully – most humbly – most apologetically – I mean, after screaming at you the night before last. Here.’ She was already standing, and now she swiftly kissed his cheek.

  ‘We were just about to drink your health,’ said Alan, grinning.

  ‘In your own whisky, too,’ said Salt. ‘Well, now we’ll drink to somebody or something else.’

  ‘Let me pour out the booze,’ cried Jill. ‘My God – I ought to be good at it by this time.’ But a little later, after they had all had their first sip or two, she looked doubtfully at Salt. ‘Maggie told us you insisted upon Sir Arnold Donnington coming here. Aren’t Alan and I going to be in the way?’

  ‘I told them I wasn’t sure,’ Maggie added.

  ‘He might object,’ said Salt slowly, ‘but I think for once an objection of his is going to be overruled. I’d like you to stay. You’ve both been mixed up, one way or another, in this sad messy affair. If you didn’t stay, then you’d never know how it came to be cleaned and tidied up.’ He looked round at all three of them. ‘I say that because I don’t want a single word about it to be spoken outside this room. In other words, I want to bind you to secrecy here and now. This is really important – very serious. Maggie, you promise?’

  ‘Yes, of course, Salt. Solemnly I do.’

  ‘You, Jill? You, Alan? Good! Donnington ought to be here quite soon. He knows his daughter’s out of danger now. On the other hand, she isn’t conscious yet and he might as well leave. Now let’s talk about something else.’

  ‘All right,’ said Maggie. ‘When I went into the kitchen to get the glasses, I suddenly realized there isn’t a thing for breakfast, Salt.’

  ‘Well, dear,’ said Jill softly and sweetly. ‘That can’t be any concern of yours, can it?’

  ‘Men want breakfasts, don’t they? And I’ll bet you’ve got a whacking great breakfast all planned for Alan. Sausages, I hope. That’s what he likes on Sunday.’

  ‘You’ve missed the point, Maggie dear,’ Jill told her. ‘Alan and I are no better than the wicked. Whereas you—’

  ‘Oh – do shut up.’ Maggie jumped to her feet, went across to one of the remaining piles of books, and did something quite unnecessary to three or four at the top. The back of her neck looked hot.

  ‘As a matter of fact, Maggie,’ said Salt, ‘I remember now I left a bag of groceries in the spare bedroom. I must have been thinking about something else.’ Then he stopped because he had heard the car. ‘I think that’ll be Sir Arnold Donnington.’

  Maggie turned, found she had suddenly gone cold, and shivered a little.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Salt Can Leave Now

  1

  Sir Arnold Donnington was wearing a long dark overcoat that he refused to take off. He also dismissed with a quick shake of the head the chair that was offered him. He just stood there, looking as if he would be gone in a minute – a stiff elderly man with a narrow head. Maggie remembered now having seen photographs of him in the local papers. He didn’t look at her or at Alan and Jill, only at Salt, who was standing too.

  ‘I’m not staying long,’ Sir Arnold announced. ‘I had an anxious time at the hospital, as you know, and I’m an elderly man. I wouldn’t have come here at all if it were not for the fact that I felt I owed you something. Dr Harrison said my daughter might have lost her life if you hadn’t acted so promptly. So I felt I ought to spare you a few minutes. Though nothing was said about all your friends being here, too.’

  ‘Not all. There are three or four elsewhere. But allow me to introduce Miss Culworth, Miss Frinton and Dr Culworth. Miss Frinton is – or was – one of your employees. It was she who organized the parties attended by your son and Noreen Wilks. And Culworth is the name of the man who was knocked out by your caretaker on Monday night, and then rushed into a nursing home and kept under sedation. So – you might say they’re all in the picture.’

  ‘Well, Dr Salt?’ said Sir Arnold, just as if not a word had been spoken to him. ‘I can only give you a few minutes. What do you want?’

  ‘I want you to drop that tone, Sir Arnold,’ said Salt, quite easily and cheerfully. ‘Come down a few pegs.’

  ‘I’m afraid that doesn’t mean anything to me, Dr Salt.’

  ‘I see. You’re staying on that lofty height, are you? Well, you’ll have to come down from it sooner or later. And staying up there you only increase the tension.’

  Maggie knew he was going to pounce now – she had learnt a lot about Salt in a few days – and she felt a kind of choking sensation as her heart went faster.

  ‘Look at your hands, man,’ said Salt, very sharply.

  Sir Arnold didn’t look at them, but hastily thrust them into his overcoat pockets.

  ‘Ah – but there’s something else,’ Salt continued, easier now. ‘Something you can’t control – which gives you away – like a visible pulse. I noticed it when I saw you in Superintendent Hurst’s office, the other morning. High tension. I knew then that Noreen Wilks was important to you. Ask Hurst.’

  ‘Rubbish! I never knew the girl. And if that’s all you have to say—’

  ‘You’re running your own lie detector, you know, Sir Arnold. Every time you speak, your blood’s going to contradict you. By the way, you’ll have to do something about that blood pressure.’

  ‘I have quite a competent doctor,’ said Sir Arnold dryly. He was
now in better control of himself. ‘He’s never suggested a second opinion. And if he did, I’m quite sure it wouldn’t be yours, Dr Salt.’

  ‘So am I, though you needn’t work so hard to be offensive. Hypertension, to use the new and fashionable term, has never been one of my special studies,’ he continued cheerfully. ‘But now I’m wondering how far it might affect the eyesight of an elderly man. Now you’re not a slapdash type. You’re a careful man. And you had to be very careful that night – I mean the night of September 12th, when Noreen Wilks was murdered. I think you were, but your eyesight was at fault.’

  Salt paused as if he thought the other man might like to make some comment. Maggie thought she heard Jill draw a deep breath, but it was difficult to tell because she was breathing hard herself.

  ‘You see,’ Salt continued, ‘there were two bits of evidence up in that attic room that you overlooked. I have them – at least I had them. But now they’re in a little packet I sent to a colleague of mine, together with an account of what I think happened that night. He’s not in Birkden, by the way, so you can’t get at him. And if he doesn’t hear from me during the next twenty-four hours, I’ve asked him to open the packet, read what I’ve written inside and then get in touch with Scotland Yard.’

  Sir Arnold was obviously under some strain now. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ was all he could manage.

  ‘I’m talking about the possible effect on eyesight of a state of hypertension. Take another example. I’m sure you tried to be very careful matching that wallpaper exactly. Yet I saw at once that it didn’t match.’