II
Ruth stuck up the envelope which she had been addressing and glanced impatiently at the clock on the mantelpiece.
“I wish Mrs. Higgins would hurry up. She promised to be here by two, and I’d like to see her before I go out.”
“Anything you specially want done?” enquired Sally.
“She’d better clean up the flat first: the whole place is in a filthy mess. I haven’t even had time to wash the breakfast things.”
“I’ll tell her to get on with it. She said she’d be able to stay late to-night, so we can leave the shop till after tea. By the way, what time will you be back?”
“Round about four. Sorry to leave you all on your own, but I must see Jackson to-day and fix up that Pelham Crescent business. It’s no use writing to him: he’ll take a week to answer.”
“I shall be all right,” declared Sally. “I’ve got a couple of sketches I want to finish, but I can bring them upstairs and do them here. I don’t imagine we shall be flooded out with customers.”
“How about our Lieutenant-Commander?” enquired Ruth. “Any chance of his dropping in?”
Sally shook her head. “His orders are to stick around the flat in case they send for him. If there’s any fresh news he has promised to give me a ring.”
“Well, I hope I shan’t come home and find the place lousy with policemen. I’ve been expecting them to roll up the whole morning.”
“Don’t worry. If it’s really as important as Owen says, everything will be done very quietly. Of course they are bound to send someone to ask questions, but I shouldn’t imagine he’d be in uniform. He’ll probably look more like a doctor.”
“So it’s Owen now!” Ruth grinned and raised her eyebrows. “I hope you aren’t going ahead too rapidly, darling. These sailors—”
With a sudden jerk the door of the shop swung open and the familiar figure of Mrs. Higgins loomed up in the entrance. She was breathing heavily and looking a trifle flushed.
“Hullo, so you’ve got back safely.” Ruth rose from the desk.
“Yes, thank you, Miss. Sorry if I’ve kept you waiting, but the train was a bit late getting in.” Putting down a string bag on the table and straightening her hat, the speaker fanned herself vigorously with her disengaged hand. She was a stoutly built woman of about fifty, with one slightly drooping eyelid, and a small, tight-lipped mouth that reminded one of a mutinous child.
“How did your niece’s wedding go off?” enquired Sally.
“Oh, that was all right. Emma looked lovely, though I says it myself. All in white, she was, with a big bunch of roses pinned to ’er frock.”
“I suppose you enjoyed every second of it.”
“That’s just what I didn’t,” was the unexpected answer.
“Why, what was the trouble?”
“It was the lodgings I was in.” Mrs. Higgins sniffed bitterly. “They may well call it Stony Stratford; I was ’alf bitten to death by fleas.”
“Good heavens!” Sally made a desperate attempt not to giggle.
“It’s a fact, Miss. Five shillings a night I was paying, too, and fourpence hextra for a cup of tea in the morning. Scand-’lous, I calls it.”
“Positively criminal.”
“Hope you haven’t brought any of them along with you,” remarked Ruth.
“No fear, Miss. Stripped meself to the skin soon as I got home, and went through me things most careful.”
“In that case we may as well go up, and I’ll show you what I want done.” Stifling a grin, Ruth turned towards the staircase. “Better pop down and collect your stuff, Sally,” she added. “You’ll just have time before I go out.”
***
Tring—tring—tring.
The telephone bell at her side suddenly broke into action, and laying down her pencil and ruler, Sally leaned across and picked up the receiver. The time was just on a quarter to four, and from one of the rooms above the energetic hum of an Electrolux floated down the stairs.
“Hullo!” she observed. “Barlow and Deane speaking.”
“Hullo, Sally! This is Owen.”
“Yes, I thought it was.”
“You sounded frightfully crisp and business-like.”
“Have to be when I’m in charge of the shop. How are you, and what’s the news?”
“None at present. I’ve been sitting here all day waiting for something to break. Beginning to get a bit tedious.”
“What do you think they’re doing?”
“Talking it over and fixing up what line they’re going to take. Anyone been round asking questions?”
“Not yet.”
“Is Ruth there?”
“No, she’s gone off to interview a builder. I’m all on my own except for Mrs. Higgins.”
“Damn! I was hoping you’d be able to come round to tea again and cheer me up. I’m desperately in need of another dose of tonic.”
“Can’t be done, I’m afraid. You’ll just have to carry on bravely and uncomplainingly.”
“How about dinner? Watkins would arrange something for us. He’s a marvellous cook.”
“That’s no use, either. We’re going to have a regular clean-up this evening. Mrs. Higgins has been away for a day or two, and everything’s in a fearful muddle.”
“This is hideously depressing. Looks as if I shall have to fall back on the wireless.”
“And very good for you,” Sally laughed. “The Children’s Hour comes on at five; you’ll enjoy that.”
There was a chuckle at the other end of the phone. “Listen, angel. I’m going to be serious for a moment—dead serious. I’ve got a desperately important problem I want to ask your opinion about.”
“I’m listening.”
“Suppose you were a rather ordinary, uninteresting chap with no particular prospects and you suddenly fell madly in love with the most beautiful girl in the world. You knew you weren’t fit to black her boots, and yet you adored her so frantically that every minute she wasn’t with you seemed a positive agony. Well, how would you face up to it? Would you have the nerve to tell her, or would you behave like a perfect gentleman and just fade away gracefully out of her life?”
“I don’t think that’s the sort of question one ought to discuss over the phone,” objected Sally.
“Why not?”
“It might embarrass the operator.”
“Not if she has any decent human feelings.”
“They aren’t allowed in government offices.”
“This is no time for jesting. Don’t you realise that my whole future happiness is trembling in the balance?”
“Well,” began Sally slowly. “If I found myself in that position—” She broke off abruptly and glanced towards the entrance. “Oh dear, what a nuisance! Here’s someone coming in.”
“Don’t ring off, for the love of Mike.”
“But I must. I can’t offend customers. It wouldn’t be fair to Ruth.”
“You might at least give me a hint.”
“Not now: there isn’t time. I’ll turn it over in my mind while I’m having my bath!”
With another laugh and a faint tinge of colour in her cheeks which made her look prettier than ever, Sally put down the receiver. At the same instant the door opened, and a smartly dressed girl, who had emerged from the car drawn up outside, walked into the shop and advanced towards the desk. She was strikingly handsome in a warm, dark, slightly exotic style, and carried herself with an air of easy assurance.
“Oh, good afternoon.” The greeting was accompanied by a friendly smile. “Am I speaking to Miss Barlow or to Miss Deane?”
“I am Miss Deane.” Sally stepped forward from the table at which she had been working. “My partner is out at the moment, but if you want to see her she will be back about four.”
“I believe you do the actual desig
ning and all that sort of thing, don’t you?”
“Yes, it’s my special department.”
“Well, isn’t that lucky now!” The visitor paused and glanced about her with evident interest. “My name’s Tregellis,” she continued, “and I’m the sister of Mrs. Gerald Freeman. As you’ve probably seen in the papers, she has just bought Merton Lodge, that lovely old house at Hampstead that used to belong to Sir George Vernon. It all wants doing up, of course, but she and my brother-in-law have set their hearts on getting in as soon as possible, and when they’re both of the same mind things are apt to move pretty quick. That’s why I thought I’d better slip in to-day on the off-chance of catching you.”
Sally experienced a little exultant thrill. “You mean you wished to consult us professionally?”
“Guessed you might be interested. Some of my friends have been saying nice things about your work, and I suggested to my sister that before she fixed up definitely with anyone else it might be a good idea to get you to come out there and give us your opinion. Don’t know how the proposition strikes you? I can’t promise for certain that she’ll offer you the job, but as it would be taking up your time she would naturally be prepared to pay a reasonable fee. Shouldn’t like you to feel we were just trying to suck your brains.”
Sally laughed. “I should be very pleased, of course. When would you like me to come?”
“That’s just the trouble. If you ask me, I guess it’s a case of now or never. Fact is, my sister has made an appointment with some other people to-morrow morning, and she’s in such a tearing hurry it wouldn’t surprise me if she settled the whole business straight away. On the other hand, if you cared to come along right now in the car we could all three run up there together, and you might take a look round and let her have your ideas. She’s staying with me at my house in St. John’s Wood, and I told her that, provided you were disengaged, I would try to collect you on my way back. The only snag is that she’s dining with some friends to-night, so if we propose to do anything about it we shall have to hustle. Afraid I’m giving you rather short notice, but it only came into my head this morning, and I just thought it might be worth trying.”
“It was most kind of you, and I’m very much obliged.” Sally glanced at the clock. “Yes, I can manage it. My partner will be back almost directly, and it won’t matter closing up the place for a few minutes. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just run upstairs and explain things to our domestic help. Shan’t keep you more than a second or two.”
“Why, that’s fine! Had a sort of hunch I was going to be lucky!”
With another of her engaging smiles Miss Tregellis sauntered across to inspect the Chinese cabinet against the opposite wall, and leaving her in possession of the establishment, Sally made her way hastily upstairs. In the open doorway at the head of the flight Mrs. Higgins was standing beside the discarded Electrolux. Judging by her attitude, she had apparently been listening to the conversation.
“I ’eard what you was saying, Miss,” she announced in a stage whisper. “Sounds like a good job, don’t it? You go along with the lady, and I’ll keep an eye on the shop till Miss Barlow gets back.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Higgins, that’s exactly what I want.” Sally turned into her bedroom and made a rapid dash for the dressing-table. “Tell her that I’ve gone out to look over a house at Hampstead, and that if there’s anything doing I’ll probably give her a ring. I shall be locking up when I leave, but if any customers should happen to roll along you can let them in and ask them whether they would care to wait. It will be quite safe so long as you’re around yourself.”
“Very good, Miss, you leave it to me.”
Pulling on a hat and taking a final glance at herself in the mirror, Sally slipped into a loose summer coat and hurried back down the staircase. As she reappeared her visitor, who was still admiring the cabinet, looked up with an expression of surprise.
“Well, well,” she observed, “I must say you’ve been pretty slick. Can’t think how you managed it in such an amazingly short time.”
“I often have to pop out unexpectedly, so I’m getting quite an expert as a quick-change artist.”
Leading the way forward, Sally slid forward the bolt of the safety catch, and waiting until her companion had passed through, closed the door firmly behind her. A moment later she was stepping up into the comfortable padded front seat, where the owner of the car had already established herself at the wheel.
“I hope to goodness something will come of it,” remarked the latter, as they headed away in the direction of Sloane Square. “It would be just too bad if you were to have all this trouble for nothing.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Sally smiled. “In a business like ours blighted hopes are just part of the day’s work.”
“There’s one thing you needn’t worry about in this case, and that’s the question of expense.” Miss Tregellis gave a faint shrug. “My sister has oceans of money, so if you’ve any brilliant suggestion to make you can trot it out freely. In fact, between ourselves, the more it costs the better she’ll probably like it.”
“Thank you for telling me. It sounds exactly the chance I’ve always been looking for—a sort of decorator’s dream suddenly come true. All I’m afraid of is that I shall wake up with a start and find myself in bed.”
Proceeding rapidly up Park Lane and Baker Street and crossing the Marylebone Road, the car swung round the corner of Lord’s into the still pleasant, if sadly disfigured, district of St. John’s Wood. Not wishing to distract her companion’s attention, Sally made no attempt to renew the conversation, and it was not until they came to a halt in front of a small, neat, stucco-fronted villa that Miss Tregellis herself again broke the silence.
“This is my modest shack,” she announced. “Come along in and have a cocktail before we start off.”
Without waiting for an answer she stepped out on to the pavement, and following her up the short path that led to the front door, Sally found herself being conducted into a miniature, oval-shaped entrance hall. A partly open door on the left revealed a very modernly equipped sitting-room, the furniture of which appeared to consist principally of chromium and glass.
“I expect my sister is upstairs.” Peeling off her driving-gloves, the speaker tossed them carelessly on to a table. “If you’ll go in and make yourself comfortable I’ll run up and tell her you’re here. You’ll find cigarettes and matches in that box on the mantelpiece.”
She turned towards the staircase, and as unsuspiciously as a duck entering a decoy, Sally moved forward into the apparently deserted apartment. It was almost the last action of which she was properly conscious. A brutal clutching hand on the nape of her neck wrenched back her head, and at the same instant something that felt like a wet and sickly-smelling towel smothered the sharp cry of pain that forced itself from her lips. For a second or two she fought desperately, wriggling and twisting like a trapped animal. Then came a sudden merciful blackness, and with a little choking sob she ceased to struggle.
Chapter XII
“I thought you might like some fresh toast with your marmalade, sir.”
Depositing a rack on the breakfast table, Watkins deftly removed an empty dish which had recently contained eggs and bacon.
“Thanks.” With an appreciative nod Owen laid aside his paper. “Don’t know why I’m so infernally hungry this morning, but I suppose it’s because I overslept myself. By the way, has the post come yet?”
“Nearly two hours ago, sir. There were no letters for you.”
“Hm! That’s annoying.”
“How about lunch, sir? Will you be taking it here, or—”
“Lunch! What, on top of a colossal feed like this! Why, if I were to eat anything else before—”
“Excuse me, sir.”
The jarring trill of a telephone bell was echoing through the room, and replacing the dish, Watkins turned towards
the instrument.
“It’s all right: I’ll answer it. I’m expecting a call.”
Jumping to his feet and crossing over hastily, Owen lifted up the receiver, only to be greeted by the unexpected voice of his absent host, Joe Anstey.
“Hullo, hullo! That you, Owen?”
“It is. You’ve just torn me away in the middle of my breakfast.”
“What, at this hour! Dammit, you seem to be taking things pretty easy.”
“Of course I am. I came here for a rest cure.”
“Hope it’s doing you good. Watkins looking after you all right?”
“Splendidly. Do you want to speak to him? He’s in the room.”
“No, you can tell him. Say that I’ll be back some time to-morrow morning, probably before midday.”
“That’s fine. I’ll make a point of waking up a bit earlier.”
“What have you been doing with yourself? Did you get down to Playford?”
“I did, and had a delightful week-end. Very nearly caught a trout.”
“What’s this yarn in the papers about somebody being bumped off in a bungalow? Must have happened while you were there.”
“So I gather. Fellow called Sutton, apparently. Ever run across him?”
“Not to my knowledge. Have they any idea who did him in?”
“Couldn’t tell you.”
“Well, as long as they don’t suspect you, that’s O.K.” Joe chuckled at his own jest. “How about the bloke you were going to see at the Admiralty? Anything come of it?”
“Several possibilities in the offing. Expecting to hear from him to-day.”
“Good. I felt certain they’d fix you up somehow. Can’t afford to chuck away Lieutenant-Commanders with a world war lurking round the corner.”
“You haven’t changed your opinion, then?”
“Not likely. From what I’ve learned up here—well, perhaps we’d better leave it at that for the moment. See you to-morrow, old man, and hope to hear that you’ve pulled off a really top-hole job. By the way, don’t make any engagement for the evening. I’ve been working like a galley slave the last few days, and I feel like going out somewhere and having a little mild dissipation. Can’t talk any longer now, I’m afraid. Too busy. Cheerio!”
Trouble on the Thames: A British Library Spy Classic (British Library Spy Classics Book 1) Page 17