‘It’s extraordinarily kind of you. Perhaps you would like to come down and see the organ. I would be very happy to explain just what we intend to do. We shall want...’
‘I can’t waste any more time talking. I’m sorry. Goodbye.’
I tried to keep the snarl out of my voice, but I didn’t quite succeed.
‘But surely there’s no need to - to shout at me?’
‘Oh, get out!’
‘My dear young man.’
‘For Christ’s sake, get out!’
I was about to hit him, and he must have realized it, for he went white. He walked quickly away, his shoulders hunched, and he didn’t look back.
I followed him to the gate and watched him down the lane. He looked old and frightened.
As soon as he was out of sight I began to tremble. I had sweated right through my clothes.
The grapple was was held fast. The damned interfering old fool had sunk the hooks into something that wouldn’t move. I had been gently trying to disengage the hooks for the past hour, and now I was getting frantic. I began to jerk at the cord, which cut into my fingers, but there was no upward movement.
Had the hooks found him?
I wiped the sweat out of my eyes, and pulled again. Still no movement, so I exerted pressure, and hauled, throwing my weight on to the line. Something moved this time. There was a slight upward movement, not much, and I was now certain he was on the hooks. The weight couldn’t have been the coat.
It was much too heavy, and suddenly I let the cord go slack.
I couldn’t pull him up. I couldn’t see his face again.
I sat on the wall of the well for some time, wondering what to do. Somehow I had to work the hooks out of him and try again. I jerked on the cord, hoping to disengage the hooks, but they must have been well set into him. The quickest thing to do was to haul him up and get the hooks out of him when he was up, but I wasn’t going to do that. I’d rather the diamonds stayed down there than do that.
I took hold of the cord again and gave it a hard, savage jerk. I kept doing that, cursing under my breath; jerking and pulling, sinking the hooks deeper and deeper into him, hoping they would cut right through him.
I don’t know how long I kept that up: probably for over half an hour. I stood with my foot braced against the wall of the well, and in a frenzy of desperation, jerked, pulled and dragged. Then suddenly the hooks were free. I felt them tear loose reluctantly. I shuddered to imagine what could be on them They must have torn right through him.
But I had to keep on. I swung the grapple away from him, very gently guiding it along the bottom of the well, feeling for a new strike, every muscle in my body tense, and my breath rasping the back of my throat.
Then suddenly the grapple touched something. Tentatively I tried to swing it forward: the cord moved, but not the grapple. I gave the cord a little jerk; the hooks caught and held.
I jerked harder and felt the hooks sink into something. Was this the coat? I pulled. The grapple began to rise; the cord taut. I kept pulling, steadily and slowly. It took some minutes. The wet cord lay in coils at my feet as I kept hauling it in. I was leaning forward now, staring into the swirling water, waiting and watching for the grapple to break the surface.
Another ten yards of cord came in, then I saw it. Just below the surface of the water was the coat.
The hands of the clock on the mantelpiece pointed to five minutes to two. The buttons lay on the table: twelve big ones and eight small ones. The bits and pieces of the coat lay in a soggy, stinking mess in the hearth.
I was practically at the end of my tether. My teeth were chattering, and my hands shook so I couldn’t light the cigarette that jumped and bobbed between my lips.
I had only another two hours before she returned. There was still much to do, but before anything else, I had to see the diamonds.
I bent over the table and stared at the buttons. I picked up one, but my hands were so unsteady I could scarcely hold it.
I went across to the sideboard and took up a pair of nutcrackers. Carefully I guided the button into the jaws of the nutcrackers and squeezed, but the button jumped out and went rolling under the table.
Muttering to myself, I dropped on hands and knees and searched for it; found it and put it on the table again.
Once more I guided it into the jaws of the nutcrackers and holding it tightly in the palm of my hand, crushed it. The shattering bits of the button stuck to my sweating hand. I stared at them: there were no diamonds.
I picked up another button and crushed that; still no diamonds. With growing fury and fear I went on crushing buttons until there were none left.
A pile of broken bone lay on the table, but no diamonds: not one solitary diamond to reward me for the awful hours I had spent in getting up the coat.
I had to get out, and get out fast now. Emmie had played me for the sucker I was. I could see that now. She must have known something had happened to Sarek. What other reason had she for telling me the diamonds were in the buttons except to trap me into producing the coat: for she must have guessed where the coat was, Sarek would be too.
I hadn’t a moment to waste. Any second she might turn up here with the police.
I ran up the stairs and began to fling my things into my suitcase. I would have to risk cashing those five-pound notes.
So long as I was out of the country before they were traced it didn’t matter. I had to cash them. I had no other money.
I was feverishly strapping up the suitcase when I heard a board creak behind me, I swung round.
Rita stood in the doorway. She smiled at me: an awful little smile that flickered at the corners of her mouth. In her right hand she held Sarek’s gun: the sight was centred on my chest.
‘Hello, Frank.’
I couldn’t think of anything to say. I wanted to say something, but I just couldn’t think of anything to say that would stop her killing me. And she was going to kill me: I could see that in her green, glittering eyes.
‘Don’t move. I want to talk to you. She had you properly fooled, Frank. I couldn’t resist watching you fish up the coat. Did she tell you they were in the buttons? And you thought you were going to get them and leave me flat, didn’t you? You ought to have known Emmie better than that, and you ought to have known me better than to think I’d let you get away. I knew you were up to something. You were so anxious for me to go, weren’t you? I left the car at the bottom of the lane and came back to see what you were up to. I could have saved you the trouble of getting the coat, but I thought you might as well amuse yourself while you could.’
‘Look, Rita ...’
‘Just keep quiet, Frank, and don’t move. I’ve got the diamonds. Do you hear? I’ve got them. I found them last night in your mattress. They were hidden in the handle of the dagger. It’s my dagger. I knew the handle unscrewed and there was a hollow tube in it where diamonds could be hidden, but I didn’t want you to know about the dagger, Frank. I hoped I would get it before you did.’
I ran my tongue over my dry lips.
‘Well, that lets me out, Rita. You’re entitled to keep them. I - I won’t bother you anymore.’
‘No; you won’t bother me anymore, Frank, because you’re going to join him at the bottom of the well. That’s why I came back. I might have let you of if you hadn’t kept the knife. I killed him because he held the knife over me, and that’s what you were going to do, wasn’t it? You’re going to join him, Frank...’
There came a sudden loud rat-tat on the back door.
Rita started and looked over her shoulder.
I jumped forward and smashed the gun out of her hand and grabbed her. She kicked, bit and clawed; holding her was like holding a wild cat. For a moment or so we fought like a couple of savage animals. She got one hand free and reached behind her. I tried to catch her wrist as she stabbed at me with the dagger. The blade ripped through my sleeve and I felt a sharp pain in my arm. I gave her a violent shove and sent her reeling across the room.<
br />
We stood looking at each other. Blood ran down inside my sleeve and dripped from my fingers to the floor.
‘It’s my turn now, Rita. That was the baker. Had you forgotten him? Well, this is it. You weren’t clever enough.’
I began to move slowly towards her. She waited for me; the knife held a little in front of her; her green eyes glittering dangerously.
I started suddenly to the right and as she stabbed at me, I swerved and caught her wrist. I twisted her arm, spinning her round and drove my knee into her back. The knife fell to the floor and I kicked it away. She doubled up, pulling me forward, but I was ready for that. I fell flat on top of her, still keeping my grip on her wrist, and we both sprawled on the floor.
She kicked and struggled, but I pinned her. It was like holding down a writhing snake. I released her wrist and turned her so she was on her back, and before she could grab me I forced her arms flat and knelt on them.
She must have realized she had left it too late. I saw fear jump into her eyes and she opened her mouth to scream. I shifted my hands to her throat and nipped the cry back.
I grinned at her.
‘You won’t be lonely down there, Rita. There’s the frog and your husband. You’ll be in good company.’
Her face was blue and her tongue showed between her teeth. She wasn’t pretty anymore; I dug my fingers into her throat; my thumbs jammed into her windpipe.
There came a sudden thudding sound of footsteps on the stairs and the door burst open.
I threw myself off her towards the gun, but a foot stamped down hard on my wrist.
The cold little room was suddenly full of policemen.
We sat side by side on the settee. Two policemen stood quietly behind. A plain-clothes officer stood before the fire.
Emmie cried by the window, her fat, spotty face sodden with tears.
Neither of us had spoken a word. We were waiting for them to get him out of the well. There could be no charge against us until they had got him up. So we waited.
Minutes dragged by. No one spoke. Only the busy ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece and the crackling of the fire disturbed the silence.
On the table lay the dagger, and beside it were eight of the finest diamonds I had ever seen. I had killed a man for them; staked my life on them, and now I hadn’t given them a second glance.
Emmie’s quiet sobbing worried me. She had begun to cry after she had identified the coat, and she just kept on crying.
More minutes dragged by. I heard someone shouting in the garden. The plain-clothes officer moved uneasily. There was a long, heavy silence, and then the door opened quietly and a police constable came in. He looked sick and white.
‘Could you come a moment, sit?’
The plain-clothes officer followed him out of the room.
I knew then the wait was nearly over.
THE END
1951 - In a Vain Shadow Page 19