We fought our way through the struggling mob. A man grabbed Paula and swung her away from me. I don't know what he thought he was doing. His face was twitching and his eyes wild. He clawed at me frantically, and I punched him in the jaw, sending him reeling, and then pushed and shoved my way to Paula again.
A girl with the top half of her dress torn off, fell on my neck and screamed in my face. Her breath, loaded with whisky fumes, nearly blistered my skin. I tried to shove her off, but her arms threatened to strangle me. Paula pulled her away, and boxed her ears hard. The girl went staggering into the crowd, screaming like a train whistle.
We reached the deck-rail. Spread out all over the sea and coming in all directions was an armada of small boats. The sea was alive with them.
"Hey! Vic!!"
Kerman's voice rose above the uproar, and we saw him standing on the deck-rail, not far from us, clinging to the awning and kicking the crazy crowd away from him whenever they threatened to tear him from his hold.
"Come on, Vic!"
I pushed Paula ahead of me. We reached him after a struggle, and after Paula nearly had her dress ripped off her back.
Kerman was grinning excitedly.
"Did you have to set fire to the ship?" he bawled. "Talk about panic! What's got into these punks? They'll be off weeks before the tub goes down."
"Where's your boat?" I panted, and shoved an elderly roué out of my way as he struggled to climb over the rail. "Take it easy, pop," I told him. "It's too wet to swim. All the boats in the world are coming."
"Right here," Kerman said, pointing below him. He swung Paula up on to the rail while I struggled to keep the customers from following her. He guided her feet on to a rope ladder hanging down the ship's side, and she descended like a veteran sailor.
"Not you, madam," Kerman yelled, as a girl fought her way towards him. "This is a private party. Try a little farther along."
The girl, hysterical and screaming, threw herself against him and wrapped her arms around his legs.
"For Pete's sake!" he yelled. "You'll have my pants off! Hi, Vic, give me a hand! This dame's crazy."
I swung myself over the rail and on to the ladder.
"I thought you liked them that way. Bring her along if she's all that attached to you."
I don't know how he got rid of her, but as I dropped into the boat he came sliding down the ladder and nearly knocked me overboard as he landed.
"Take it easy," I said, and grabbed him to steady him.
Mike had started the outboard engine and the boat began to draw away from the ship. We had to pick our way. The number of boats coming out to the Dream Ship was something to see. It looked like Dunkirk all over again.
"Nice work!" I said, clapping Mike on his broad back. "You guys timed it about right." I looked back at the Dream Ship. The lower deck was on fire now, and smoke was pouring from her sides. "I wonder how much she was insured for?"
"Did you touch her off?" Kerman asked.
"No, you dope! Sherrill's dead. Someone shot him and set fire to the ship. If we hadn't spotted him when we did he would never have been found."
"A pretty expensive funeral," Kerman said, looking blank.
"Not if the ship's insured. You talk to Paula. I want to look at this," and I pulled Anona
Freedlander's dossier out of my hip pocket.
Kerman gave me a flashlight.
"What is it?" he asked.
I stared at the first page of the dossier, scarcely believing my eyes.
Paula said, "Vic; hadn't we better decide what we're going to do?"
"Do? Jack and I are going right after Anona. I want you to tell Mifflin about Sherrill. Get him to come out to Maureen Crosby's cliff house fast. It's going to finish to-night."
She stared at him.
"Wouldn't it be better for you to see Mifflin?"
"We haven't the time. If Anona's at Maureen's place she's in trouble."
Kerman leaned forward.
"What is all this about?"
I waved the dossier at him.
"It's right here, and that lug Mifflin didn't think it important enough to tell me. Since 1944, Anona had endocarditis. I told you they were trying to keep a cat in a bag. Well, it's out now."
"Anona's got a wacky heart?" Kerman said, gaping at me. "You mean Janet Crosby, don't you?"
"Listen to the description they give of Anona," I said. "Five foot; dark; brown eyes; plump. Work that out."
"But it's wrong. She's tall and fair," Kerman said. "What are you talking about?"
Paula was on to it.
"She isn't Anona Freedlander. That's it, isn't it?"
"You bet she isn't," I said excitedly. "Don't you see? It was Anona who died of heart failure at Crestways! And the girl in Salzer's sanatorium is Janet Crosby!"
III
We stood at the foot of the almost perpendicular cliff and stared up into the darkness. Far out to sea a great red glow in the sky pin-pointed the burning Dream Ship. A mushroom of smoke hung in the night sky.
"Up there?" Kerman said. "What do you think I am— a monkey?"
"That's something you'd better discuss with your father," I said, and grinned in the darkness. "There's no other way. The front entrance is guarded by two electrically-controlled gates, and all the barbed wire in the world. If we're going to get in, this is the way."
Kerman drew back to study die face of the cliff.
"Three hundred feet if it's an inch," he said, awe in his voice. "Will I love every foot of it!"
"Well, come on. Let's try, anyway."
The first twenty feet was easy enough. Big boulders formed a platform at the foot of the cliff; they were simple enough to climb. We stood side by side on a flat rock while I sent the beam of my torch up into the darkness. The jagged face of the cliff towered above us, and, almost at the top, bulged out, forming what seemed an impassable barrier.
"That's the bit I like," Kerman said, pointing. "Up there, where it curves out. Getting over that's going to be fun: a tooth and finger-nail job."
"Maybe it's not so bad as it looks," I said, not liking it myself. "If we had a rope . . ."
"If we had a rope I'd go quietly away some place and hang myself," Kerman said gloomily. "It would save time and a lot of hard work."
"Pipe down, you pessimistic devil!" I said sharply, and began to edge up the cliff face. There were foot and handholds, and if the cliff hadn't been perpendicular it would have been fairly easy to climb. But, as it was, I was conscious that one slip would finish the climb and me. I'd fall straight out and away from the cliff face. There would be no sliding or grabbing to save myself.
When I had climbed about fifty feet I paused to get my breath back. I couldn't look down. The slightest attempt to lean away from the cliff face would upset my balance, and I'd fall.
"How are you getting on?" I panted, pressing myself against the surface of the cliff and staring up into the star-studded sky.
"As well as can be expected," Kerman said with a groan. "I'm surprised I'm still alive. Do you think this is dangerous or am I just imagining it?"
I shifted my grip on a knob of rock and hauled myself up another couple of feet.
"It's only dangerous if you fall; then probably it's fatal," I said.
We kept moving. Once I heard a sudden rumble of fall-ling rock and Kerman catch his breath sharply. My hair stood on end.
"Keep your eye on some of these rocks," he gasped. "One of them's just come away in my hand."
"I'll watch it."
About a quarter-way up I came suddenly and unexpectedly to a four-foot ledge and I hoisted myself up on it, leaned my back against the cliff face and tried to get my breath back. I felt cold sweat on my neck and back. If I had known it was going to be this bad I would have tried the gates. It was too late now. It might be just possible to climb up, but quite impossible to climb down.
Kerman joined me on the ledge. His face was glistening with sweat, and his legs seemed shaky.
"This has c
ooled me off mountain climbing," he panted. "One time I was sucker enough to imagine it'd be fun. Think we'll get over the bulge?"
"We'll damn well have to," I said, staring up into the darkness. "There's no other way now but to keep going. Imagine trying to climb down!"
I sent the beam of the flashlight searching the cliff face again. To our left and above us was a four-foot-wide crevice that went up beside the bulge.
"See that?" I said. "If we got our feet and shoulders against the sides of that opening we might work our way up past the bulge."
Kerman drew in a deep breath.
"The ideas you get," he said. "It can't be done."
"I think it can," I said, staring at the walls of the crevice. "And I'm going to try."
"Don't be a fool!" Alarm jumped into his voice. "You'll slip."
"If you want to try the bulge, try it. This is my way."
I swung off the ledge, groped for a foothold, edged my hand along the cliff face until I got a grip and started up again. It was slow and difficult work. The hazy moonlight didn't help me much, and most of the time I had to feel for handholds. As my head and shoulders came level with the bottom of the crevice the knob of rock on which I was standing gave under me. I felt it shift a split second before it went and I threw myself forward, clawing at the rock bed of the crevice in a frantic effort to get a hold. My fingers hooked into a ridge of rock and there I hung.
"Take it easy!" Kerman bawled, as hysterical as an old lady with her dress on fire. "Hang on! I'm right with you!"
"Stay where you are," I panted. "I'll only take you down with me."
I tried to get a foothold, but the toes of my shoes scraped against the cliff face and trod on air. Then I tried to draw myself up, pulling the whole of my weight with my fingertips, but that couldn't be done. I managed to raise myself a couple of inches and that's as far as I got.
Something touched my foot.
"Take it easy," Kerman implored below me. He guided my foot on to his shoulder. "Now,
give me your weight and push up."
"I'll push you down, you fool!" I panted.
"Come on!" His voice shook. "I've got a good grip. Slowly and steadily. Don't do anything suddenly."
There was nothing else to do. Very cautiously I transferred the weight of my body on to his shoulder, then transferred my finger grip to another ridge where I had a better hold.
"I'm heaving," I panted. "Right?"
"Yeah," Kerman said, and I felt him brace himself.
I heaved with my arms and shoulders and slid up and on to the floor of the crevice. I lay there, panting until Kerman's head appeared above the ledge, then I crawled forward and pulled him up beside me. We flopped down, side by side, not saying anything.
After a while I got unsteadily to my feet.
"We're having quite a night," I said, leaning against the crevice wall.
Kerman squinted up at me.
"Yeah," he said. "Will I get a medal for that?"
"I'll buy you a drink instead," I said, drew in a deep breath, dug my shoulders into the wall and got my feet up against the opposite wall. By pressing hard with my shoulders and feet I managed to maintain a sitting position between the two walls.
"Is that the way you're going to travel?" Kerman asked, horrified.
"Yeah; it's an old Swiss custom."
"Have I got to do that, too?"
"Unless you want to stay where you are for the rest of your days." I said heartlessly. "There's no other way."
I began to edge myself upwards. The sharp rocks dug into my shoulder-blades, and it was slow work, but I made progress. So long as the muscles in my legs didn't turn sour on me I would get to the top. But if they did, it would be a quick drop and a rocky landing.
I kept moving. I'd rather go up this way than attempt the bulge. A third of the way up I had to stop and rest. My legs felt as if I had been running for a hundred miles, and the muscles in my thighs were fluttering.
"How are you doing, pal?" Kerman called, shining his flash up at me.
"Well, I'm still in one piece," I said dubiously. "Wait until I get to the top before you try it."
"Take your time. I'm in no hurry."
I stared again. It was slow work, and my shoulders began to ache. I kept looking up at the star-studded sky. It seemed to be coming closer; maybe that was just wishful thinking, but it inspired me to keep on. I kept on, my breath hissing through clenched teeth, my legs stiffening, my shoulders bruised. Up and up; inch by inch, knowing there was no going back. I had to get up there or fall.
The crevice began to narrow, and I knew then I was passing the bulge. The going became harder. My knees were being slowly forced towards my chin. I was getting less leverage. Then suddenly I stopped. I could go no farther. Above me the crevice had narrowed down to about three feet. Bracing myself, I got out the flashlight and sent the beam along the wall and above me. A scrubby bush grew out of the rock within reach. To my right was a narrow shelf: the top of the bulge.
I put the flash back into my pocket, reached for the bush. I got a grip on it close to where it grew out of the cliff and pulled gently. It held. I transferred some of my weight to it. It still held. Then drawing in a deep breath I relaxed the pressure of my feet against the wall and swung into space. It was quite a moment. The bush bent, but it was well rooted. I swung to and fro, feeling sweat like ice-water running down my spine, then I swung myself towards the ledge and with my free hand groped for a hold. My fingers dipped into a crack: not enough to hold me, but just enough to steady me. I hung there, pressing my body against the wall of the crevice, my feet treading air, my right hand clutching the bush, my left hand dug into the narrow crack in the ledge. One false move now, and I would go down. I was scared all right.
I've been in some panics in my life, but none like this one.
Very cautiously I began to lever down with my right hand and pull with my left. I moved up slowly. My head and shoulders came up above the ledge. I began to lean forward as my chest touched the edge of the ledge. I hung like that, nearly done, my heart pounding, blood singing in my ears. After a while I collected enough strength to climb another couple of inches. I dragged up one knee and rested it on the ledge. Then, with a frantic effort, I heaved forward and was on the ledge, flat on my back, aware of nothing but the pounding of my heart and the rasping of my breath.
"Vic!"
Kerman's voice floated up the funnel of the crevice.
I made a croaking noise and crawled to the edge.
"Are you all right, Vic?"
His voice sounded miles away: a faint whisper out of the darkness. Looking down I saw a pin-point of light waving to and fro. I had no idea I had climbed so far, and seeing that light made me dizzy.
"Yeah," I shouted back. "Give me a minute."
After a while I got my breath and nerve back.
"You can't do it, Jack," I shouted down to him. "You'll have to wait until I can get a rope. It's too tricky. Don't try it."
"Where will you get the rope from?"
"I don't know. I'll find something. You wait there."
I turned around and sent the beam of the flashlight into the darkness. I was only about thirty feet below the cliff head. The rest of the way was easy.
"I'm going now," I shouted down to him. "Hang on until I get a rope."
I practically walked up the next thirty feet, and came up right beside the ornate swimmingpool. Above me was the house. A solitary light burned in one of the windows.
I set off towards it.
IV
The verandah, when I got there, was deserted, and the swing lounging chair looked invitingly comfortable. I would have liked to have stretched out on it and taken a twelve-hour nap.
A standard lamp with a yellow and blue parchment shade was alight in the big lounge. The casement doors leading from the lounge to the verandah stood open.
I paused at the head of the verandah steps at the sound of a voice: a woman's voice, out of tune with the still, summ
er night, the scent of flowers and the big yellow moon. The voice was loud and shrill. Maybe it was angry, too, and the edges of it were a little frayed with suppressed hysteria.
"Oh, shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" The voice was saying. "Come quickly. You've talked enough. Just shut up and come!"
I could see her in there, kneeling on one of the big settees, holding the telephone in a small, tight-clenched fist. Her back was turned to me. The light from the lamp fell directly on her beautifully-shaped head and picked out the tints in her raven-black hair. She was wearing a pair of high-waisted, bottle-green slacks and a silk shirt of the same colour, and made the kind of picture Varga likes to draw. She was his type: long legged, small hipped, high breasted, and as alive and as quick as mercury.
Lay Her Among The Lilies Page 23