“Just coffee,” Tess repeated.
“But, missus...”
At that instant the woman shrank back, and Tess twisted round to see the cause. A man had entered the room by the main door and was securing the latch after him. An ordinary-looking, middle-aged man, in the usual khaki drill outfit covered by a raincoat. He came forward into the light, revealing a pleasant, ruddy face, with a small greying moustache and dark, white-flecked hair.
“Good evening,” he said. “All right, Maria. Leave me alone with the lady.” He threw his coat over the back of a chair and looked at Tess. “Sit down again. You and I must have a talk.”
She sank back into her chair at the table, and he sat across from her, lighting a cigarette.
“The other night you thought I was a boy,” she managed.
“I remained under that impression till this afternoon, when Umberto got word through to me. I would have come before, but there have been wash-aways on the road. Tell me your name.”
“Isn’t it usual for the gentleman to be presented first?”
“Not in a case like this. You’re in a very unfortunate position, young woman. In fact, I’m very worried about you.”
“I’m beginning to get worried about myself,” she said. “I hadn’t any intention of being mixed up with gun-runners.”
The pause was almost imperceptible. “I’m afraid I must insist on knowing your name and where you came from.”
“If I did give you a name it might easily be a lie.
“But, my dear young lady,” he leaned towards her, genuinely concerned, “you must have a relative of some sort in the province. A woman in these places either has a husband, a father or a brother who is responsible for her safety.”
“I’m the exception, which is rather lucky for you, isn’t it?”
“Where did you board the train?”
“What does it matter? I’ve told you I have no connections of any kind in this country, but you daren’t release me in case I split on you. We’re at something of a deadlock, aren’t we?”
He lay back, regarding her curiously. “The more I learn about women, the more they astonish me. Aren’t you frightened at being caught up in this tangle?”
“I was, the first night. Since then I’ve existed on rice and macaroni, which seem to have a narcotic effect on the emotions. Also, I’m so completely in your power that it’s not much use being frightened. You know,” she pushed back on two legs of her chair with more sangfroid than she felt, “you haven’t at all the villainous cast. I’d have taken you for anything but a gun-runner.”
The man half-closed his eyes as if to ward off cigarette smoke. His voice hardened.
“I’m not a gun-runner. I do a legitimate trade with the Portuguese.”
“But you’d rather no one knew about it.
“That’s my business.” He turned his head towards the back of the house. “Umberto!”
The Portuguese must have been hovering close, for the door shot open at once and he appeared. “Senhor?”
“This lady was searched when she arrived?”
“Not searched, senhor. Maria gave her fresh clothes — those she is wearing now. In the pockets of the old ones I found a powder-box, some English money and a cheque-book.”
Tess felt the comforting corners of her passport against her side and smiled.
"Bring them here,” said the “boss”.
He examined the things carefully, leafing through each of the stubs in the cheque-book. To the last he gave close attention.
“Who is Dave?” he demanded.
Tess came back on to the four legs of her chair with. How could she have been so damned silly...
“A friend of mine,” she said quickly.
“In this district?”
“No.”
“This is for a very large amount and dated only six days ago.”
“What of it? I posted it to the Cape.”
‘Where were you then?”
“At the coast — Cape Ricos.”
“Why did you come inland?”
“I’ve been asking myself that for several days.”
The man got into his coat. “Stay on guard, Umberto,” he said. “I’ll come back later.”
“To sleep, senhor?”
“I don’t know.”
Without another glance at Tess he hastened to the door and let himself out.
Casually, she reached over, picked up her belongings and stuffed them into her pockets. Umberto despondently shook his head.
“The boss is displeased,” he said. “It is a pity. He is a good boss.”
Tess was too angry with herself to pay further attention to Umberto. Had the man guessed who “Dave” was? And what could he do if he had? If only there were some means of escape from this prison, some way of evading those two pairs of keen eyes for just long enough to secrete herself in the undergrowth. But it was practically hopeless. These two were scared of the man, or rather scared about the part he had forced them to play. She doubted whether Umberto knew the boss’s name or where he lived. Possibly the man was a stranger, a visitor to the district for the express purpose of making illicit money. When the chiefs ran out of cash he would go, leaving only a native nick-name behind him.
Umberto sat glumly watching her, but when Maria came in he got up and walked out.
Tess said, “I’m going to bed, Maria.”
“That room belong to master. He come back.”
“I don’t care. I feel like death.”
With bowed head Maria followed her. Last night Tess had undressed. Tonight she hadn’t the energy to do more than collapse upon the blanket and let Maria pull off her shoes. There was no lamp, but she sensed that the half-breed had gone over to sit in her usual chair, her eyes wide open. Soon, Tess slipped into an uneasy sleep.
Some time later she was awakened by voices. Maria must have opened the door, for as soon as Tess was thoroughly awake they came quite clearly, the tones of the “boss” and those of an English woman.
“You can’t do that sort of thing with a girl,” the man was protesting. “Her presence in the wagon was entirely accidental and she’s suffered a great deal already. Umberto tells me she can’t take their food, and is practically starving.”
“If so, her condition is just right for what I suggest.” The words dropped like sharp little stones. “You say she can have no idea where she is, that she must be weak from lack of food. You have a tender heart, haven’t you, darling? Don’t let it blind you to the wretched spot we’re in. Those faked boxes mean that it’s time to get out or make ourselves inconspicuous — and I’m not ready to get out. This house must be destroyed, the Portuguese and his wife sent away. The girl is a danger —”
“I can’t do it.”
“Darling, for both our sakes.”
The man’s voice fell to a caressing murmur. Abruptly, the voices were cut off. Tess turned on the bed to face the door and saw that it had been closed, smelled the spicy, native smell of Maria. She had been listening, too.
“Maria,” she whispered.
“Quiet, missus.” Trembling with terror, the woman came near. “They will not harm you.”
“I’m not so sure. If you’re set free go to the police.”
“They would take Umberto to prison.”
“Not if it led to the capture of these people. Is she his wife?”
“I do not know. Always before he has come alone.” With sudden urgency she smote her hands together. “Talk no more.”
She was back in her chair just in time. There came a tap at the door and it was thrust open.
“Maria, tell the lady to get up and bring her into the living-room.”
“Yas, master.”
Tess took her time. She came blinking into the light and grasped the back of a chair. The man was alone, standing on the other side of the table. His expression was set, his glance chilly and withdrawn. He bent and pushed towards Tess a cup of coffee.
“I can’t face any more of th
at tonight,” she said.
“Drink it!”
“I don’t want it.”
“You’re going a journey. I insist!”
Tess tried to stiffen her knees. She gulped at the coffee; it tasted even more horrible than usual. Umberto, his gaze lowered, brought in an old loose coat. Apparently upon instructions, he cut out the maker’s tab and went through the pockets. The “boss” ordered Tess to put it on. Then he turned down the lamp and opened the main door.
“I shall be about an hour, Umberto. Have your things packed when I return.”
Tess was out in the darkness, a firm hand on her arm.
“This way.”
The courtesy with which he seated her in the car would have struck Tess as comical had she felt anything like normal. But her whole being had a floating sensation and it was an effort to keep her eyelids apart. As they started off behind dimmed sidelights, she was overcome by a wave of physical sickness which gradually passed off and left her shivering and exhausted. This was no revulsion from hunger.
“I hate having to do this,” her companion said jerkily, “and nothing would have persuaded me to it, if I hadn’t seen that counterfoil in your cheque-book. I can’t risk your contacting Dave Paterson.”
“You ... you needn’t worry. I was ... running away from him.”
The car slowed. “Why didn’t you say so before! I’d have got you on to a boat.”
“It isn’t ... too late.”
“I’m afraid it is,” he said, and stepped hard on the accelerator.
CHAPTER FIVE
LUKE took a swig of brandy from his pocket flask. Spots, which were not altogether attributable to the blistering mid-day heat, danced before his vision. His liver was turning on him, and why shouldn’t it? Patrolling the baked, rutted trails for a stretch of forty hours with scarcely a five minutes’ doze, eating cold beans and stale bread, and listening continually for Dave’s signal ... it was enough to upset any man’s balance.
He wouldn’t have minded if there were any hope of finding Tess, but she’d been gone nearly three days and one could cover quite a few miles in that time, even in West Africa. The fact that she was not to be traced in Fort Leppa didn’t prove much. Luke couldn’t understand Dave’s fanatical combing of these fifty square miles of forest. Gun-runners don’t hang around once they’re tumbled to, nor do they leave evidence of kidnapping all over the place. He wouldn’t mind betting that by now Tess had got round by rail to the port, and was calmly, if rather unhappily, awaiting her boat. Pity she couldn’t get a laugh out of the spectacle of Dave bumping along native footpaths on a government motor cycle, searching for her.
The double pistol shot had echoed before he grasped what it was. In a reflex action he pressed the starter and swerved out to the centre of the track, his ears straining above the racket of the engine. The signal came again, from not so very far away, to the right.
Steady now, Luke told himself. It was probably just some thread of conjecture which Dave wanted him to follow up — like the footprints yesterday which had obligingly led him into a mass of hellish thorn and stopped dead. He braked and waited. Good, that was the cycle horn. He honked back and slid out onto the grass.
Within a couple of minutes he had joined another path which ran parallel to the road, and round a bend he came upon the motor bike.
“Here, Walt!”
Luke turned, and nearly froze. Dave was crouching among vines and jungleweed. Raised across his knees, her face white and still against his shirt, lay Tess. Luke muttered something and dropped beside him, saw the terrible mask of Dave’s face and automatically looked away and laid the back of his hand along her cheek.
“There’s a faint warmth. What do we do, Dave?”
“Take her to Fort Leppa.”
“Aren’t you going to try to revive her here?”
“I did. She remained unconscious — but retched. Her mouth smells bitter. She’s been given ... poison.” Neither spoke after that. Dave lifted her. Luke threw the old coat in which she had been wrapped over the motor cycle, and hurried ahead to spread the car rug along the back seat.
The journey took an hour, but Luke did not look round or speak over his shoulder till they had entered the walled town of white buildings, Mohammedan mosque and narrow, tortuous streets.
Then, “The clinic or Doctor Greaves?” he asked.
“Greaves — he’ll be discreet. We don’t want it all over town.”
Dave said: “Go and tell the doctor. I’ll carry her in.” There was no hitch. Dr. Greaves got up from his lunch and made a cursory examination while he shot questions. After which he nodded.
“You’d better go for a walk, Paterson — or better still, go and eat a good lunch at the club. Come back in a couple of hours.”
“You may need help.”
“If I do, my wife is here.”
Dave came out to the porch, where Luke waited. “Let’s get a drink.”
“All right. What did he say?”
“Not much. As soon as you’ve had a bite you’ll have to go back and see the D.O. Tell him everything, and make him realize that for the time being he must keep away the police.”
“But they ought to be brought in!”
“Not yet.” Dave paused, his eyes narrowed and glittering. “She’s not going through the formal police third degree till she can stand it — and by that time I may have done their work for them. But I shan’t use poison.”
Luke did not comment. He drove down to the club, made a lightning meal of some salad, and stated that he was ready to return to Lokola.
“Don’t forget,” Dave said. “We keep it quiet — between you, Claud Kent and me. If he goes all official, remind him that should it become known that she’s still alive she’ll be in further danger.”
It was nearly six o’clock before Dave was allowed to enter the small room where Tess lay. She was wearing a pink nightdress belonging to Mrs. Greaves, and the mosquito net was drawn round the bed, but only half-way up the side next to the small table. She had slept for an hour or two and then been wakened to take a little thin soup and fruit pulp. The doctor was still out, but Mrs. Greaves showed Dave into the room and left him there.
He drew up a chair and sat down, scanning her thin face and the dull eyes. He spoke softly.
“How do you feel now?”
“Fairly well,” she said lifelessly.
“Did you get some food down?”
“Yes.”
“That means the worst is over. You’ll soon be strong again.”
“I hope so.”
“Tess,” his tone was gentle and deliberately steady, “can you answer a few questions?”
“I’ll try.”
“Tell me the last thing you remember before being brought round by Dr. Greaves.”
The pale lips parted, but it was a moment or so before she could speak. “He ... the man —”
“Any idea who he was?”
“No. They called him the ‘boss’.”
“Go on, Tess.”
“He made me drink some coffee. We were in a car and I believe I ... passed out. Then we came into the air again ... he must almost have carried me. He ... he kept saying, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’. Then I was alone, clinging to a tree.”
“Take your time.” He covered the hand lying near him on the blanket with his own. “Does talking about it distress you?”
Her tongue stole out to moisten her lips. “No.”
“But you must have been frightened.”
“The nausea came again, much worse. That frightened me. Then I was sick — dreadfully, though I hadn’t eaten all day — and a ghastly taste came into my mouth. I walked a little way, and collapsed.”
A muscle tautened in his jaw. “The sickness saved you. Don’t say any more, unless you want to.”
For several minutes she lay perfectly still, with her eyes closed. Dave slipped her passport from the table into his pocket.
“Strange that ... you should be the one to
find me,” she said at last.
“Not strange at all. I’ve searched continuously since Thursday morning.”
“You must be very tired.”
He bent closer and spoke urgently. “I’ve weighed up a lot of what happened to you, Tess. There was a shack of some kind among the trees. You’d be there still if they hadn’t discovered that the boxes were faked and planted. After that they had to get rid of you and obliterate traces. Presently, when you feel able, I’d like you to describe the man to me.”
The room was darkening, but he did not light the lamp. He could feel the pulse at her wrist, weak but regular; and there was a slight dew each side of her forehead. For the first time she looked at him.
“Those people ... don’t go after them, Dave. Let the police do it. After all, I asked for it. I ought to have had the pluck to ... to stay it out at Lokola.”
“One person doesn’t have every kind of courage. I was lousy to you — and my only excuse is that I felt lousy myself. I’d spread a sort of film over the past and you came along and ripped it away. I couldn’t look at you without remembering what we’d been to each other.”
She was silent again. When next she spoke it was to explain how the “boss” had looked and talked. She told him a little about Umberto and his wife, and made wry reference to the pasty and well-salted macaroni and rice which had undoubtedly saved her life.
With a ghost of a smile she said: “Try a couple of days on that diet, Dave. I guarantee you’ll starve on the second.”
His hand moved up to her elbow and gripped. You certainly know how to take it,” he said.
Her fingers turned and caught his sleeve. “You must learn how to take it, too. I’ll do whatever you wish — lie low here or go somewhere else — but only if you’ll promise to let the police handle that gang.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not after the gang.”
He bent his head and kissed her fingers, leaned over to set his mouth to her forehead.
“Dave ... hold me,” she pleaded below her breath. He slid first one arm under her and then the other. She quivered for a second as his cheek touched hers, and then he felt her tears. His arms tightened.
Love This Stranger Page 15