At that, it struck him that had several men been involved he must surely have heard, if not their approach, at least the noise they made in their hasty retreat. From the second Shih-niang had reeled away with the knife in her throat, he had given only one swift thought to her attacker, then run to her aid; but now he had an opportunity to go over the event again, he felt certain that no sounds of confusion, such as a little crowd would have made, had reached him after the door was shut.
Again, as A-lu-te left her room she might have failed to notice one dark figure moving away at the far end of the balcony, but a group could not have escaped her attention; and, as it was the middle of the night would have suggested to her that something unusual was afoot. Yet obviously, on entering Shih-niang’s room, no thought of possible robbery or violence had been in her mind. She had assumed that while everyone was sleeping he had been making love to Josephine. It looked then as if either Chou, or one of his men, alone had undertaken the job of closing Shih-niang’s mouth for good and getting Lin Wân’s money back.
Another thought followed: Lin Wân was immensely rich. Whatever his object, he had succeeded in tricking them, but only because Shih-niang had agreed to help him; so why rob the poor girl afterwards? Ten thousand dollars was a big sum to her but could mean little to a great merchant prince. It was difficult to believe that anyone in his position would be capable of such meanness.
Gregory then recalled that when he had been questioning Shih-niang about why anyone should want to kill her, she had said ‘It must be that they have been ordered to get the money back.’ That meant she had only been guessing. Perhaps, then, she had no certain knowledge at all about the threat that overhung her.
When Tû-lai had parted from them he had stepped aside with her only for a moment, so could have had time to whisper no more than a single sentence. Could he have simply said ‘There is a plot to kill you; escape at the first opportunity’? If so, had she jumped to the conclusion that he was referring to his father’s man, whereas the threat to her that he had in mind came from quite a different quarter? For that there was some support in the probability that only one person had crept up, outside her room, as, if it had been Chou, he would surely have brought at least one companion to keep watch while he did the deed.
Yet who else could have desired her death? Could A-lu-te have knifed her out of jealousy? That would not have been beyond the bounds of possibility if she had caught her lover in the act of betraying her. But such crimes are not premeditated, and this one had been; otherwise how could Tû-lai have warned Shih-niang of her danger? No, the idea was fantastic. And, apart from jealousy, neither A-lu-te nor Kâo could possibly have had any motive for making away with the woman they believed to be the Princess. Therefore it could not have been of them that Tû-lai was thinking.
One other possibility occurred to Gregory. Could Tû-lai have been referring to the Communists? He had told them that there were Communist spies among the scores of people who inhabited Lin Wân’s great house. Had they discovered that the Princess was living there, but had had no means of identifying her until they got wind of the fact that Kâo had come to fetch her away? If so, and Lin Wân had counter-spies who informed him what the Communists found out, he might have learned that they meant to murder Josephine as soon as they could after she had left his protection. That would account for his having substituted Shih-niang for her. As Shih-niang had placed it beyond dispute that Tû-lai was aware of the substitution, it was fair to suppose that he also knew the reason for it, and that would account for the compassionate warning he had given her.
At last Gregory felt that he had a really plausible theory. Yet he was far from content with it. The whole thing rested on a Communist agent having followed them from the House of Lin. If one had, and the People’s Republic wished to eliminate the Princess, why had they not simply arrested the woman they believed to be her soon after she arrived in Tung-kwan? Why take the unorthodox and pointless step of having her murdered?
Again, while Lin Wân might have been justified in pulling a fast one over the Communists, that could hardly apply to his old friend Kâo. Surely he would have told Kâo what he feared. Then, perhaps, they might have planned the substitution to draw the Communists’ fire, while arranging for the real Josephine to be sent by another route so that, in due course, she could join Kâo in Su-chow or somewhere near the coast.
But that had not been the way of things. Otherwise Kâo would have been expecting Shih-niang to be murdered and known who her murderers were; in which case he would not have accused Gregory of murdering her for her money.
The sound of voices was still coming from beyond the corner ridge beside which Gregory lay, and he knew that he might pay for it with his life if he made another move before things had finally settled down. All he could do at present was to cling there and, by continuing to puzzle over Shih-niang’s death, try to keep his mind off the extremely unpleasant death he would suffer himself if he were caught.
17
On the Run
For the best part of an hour Gregory continued to badger his wits over the puzzle; but he got no further. In the rooms below him there had been a lot of coming and going, but at last it had ceased and for some time past quiet had reigned again.
All the same, he knew that he was very far from being out of the wood, and that the least false step might arouse another hue and cry after him; but, for the time being, he at least had one thing in his favour. In China a criminal must be prepared to face summary justice if he is caught, but against that he has some compensation in the fact that police investigations are both dilatory and rudimentary. Their efficiency, at all times dubious, is also in direct relation to the importance of the person who appeals to the authorities, and what the police are likely to get out of the case.
The last thing Kâo would want was an investigation by the Communists; so it was quite certain that he would not have called the police in, and, as the pseudo-Princess had been travelling incognito, it was very unlikely that anyone else would have either. To all but her own party Shih-niang was just a girl who had been killed by a robber, so nothing to get in the least excited about once it was known that the robber had escaped and the gory details of her end had been discussed. Even if someone had fetched the police, there would have been no business of taking photographs and finger-prints, or a medical examination of the body. A solitary policeman would have listened to what the people present had to say, asked for a description of Gregory, thrown a sheet over the corpse, and departed.
Yet there was just a possibility that someone had remained on watch, or that Kâo, furious at having, as he supposed, lost the Princess he had taken such pains to find, was still tossing wakefully in his bed. In consequence, Gregory considered it too risky to get down on to the balcony; but, during his long wait, he had thought of a way by which he might get a word with A-lu-te without either calling her out or entering her room.
With his finger tips he began gently to prise up one of the old curved tiles. Below it he knew that he would find only lath and plaster and, by carefully scraping the plaster away, he hoped to make a small hole in the ceiling. If the noise disturbed her she would not take alarm, as in such old buildings rats were often to be heard scurrying about among the rafters, and when the hole was made he would be able to call down to her through it.
Alas for his hopes. He got the first tile off all right, but his doing so loosened two more above it. One of them began to slide. They were eighteen inches square and thick, heavy things. He had meant to prop the one he had taken off against the corner ridge, but before he had a chance to lodge it safely he was forced to use his free hand to grab another. The third came down abreast the second. Thrusting out an elbow he made a desperate effort to check its progress. It hovered for a second against his bent arm, then slithered away. In a final attempt to prevent it crashing on to the balcony below, he stuck out his foot. The move was fatal. It upset his precarious balance. With both hands full he had no chance to clutch f
or a fresh hold. Next moment his feet were over the edge, his knees scraped against the gutter and nothing could save him.
By the mercy of Providence, none of the other tiles followed him down, otherwise one of them might easily have killed him. As it was he landed feet first on the balcony, the tiles he was holding in his hands were jerked from him to crash on the boards, and he staggered backwards into the rustic wood railing. Under his weight it gave like a matchwood, and again he was hurtling downwards.
The second drop was more than twice as far as the first, but a lucky chance saved him from serious injury. While falling he managed to grab one part of the rail that had snapped behind him. His clutch on it tore its fixed end from the post to which it was nailed, but the pull needed to drag it free checked the speed of his fall considerably. Moreover it jerked him upright, so he again came down on his feet; although he remained on them only for a second before pitching sideways to roll over and over with most of the breath driven out of his body.
No sooner had he picked himself up, than he heard shouts coming from above. Evidently a number of people had not yet got soundly to sleep again after the first alarm, and the noise of his fall had brought some of them out on to the balcony almost immediately. As he was round at the side of the building he could not see them, but he could hear them calling to one another.
While he fought to get his breath back, he had to decide which way to turn. To his right lay the garden, to his left a passage which led to the street. He was tempted to take the latter, but it was fringed with lean-tos which might be servants’ quarters. A second later his surmise was verified. Doors opened and several men ran out. His decision was taken for him; it had to be the garden.
As he swerved away, one of them saw him and let out a yell. They were only about thirty yards distant, so he had not much of a start. The moment he appeared in the open space at the back of the house excited cries went up from the people on the balcony. Someone threw something at him, but it sailed over his head. Darting between the chairs and tables he reached the shelter of the trees. The starlight could not penetrate through their heavy foliage, so it was very dark under them. As he ran on and the trees grew thicker he had to peer ahead from fear of running into one of the trunks. Instinctively he slowed his pace little, but a moment afterwards he was alarmed by the impression that his pursuers were gaining on him.
He thanked God that ever since landing from the yacht he had been carrying his pistol. The attack on him in Shih-niang’s room had come so swiftly that he had had no time to draw it. Thrusting a hand under his jacket he made sure that he could do so easily. He did not want to use it now, but he would rather than allow himself to be overpowered in a mêlée. In his mind there was no doubt at all that, if he were caught, in a few hours’ time he would find himself being strangled by the public executioner—and that seemed to him no proper way for an English gentleman to die.
Another minute and he knew that he must be nearing the bottom of the garden. When he reached it he would either have to turn and fight or attempt to dodge the men who were after him. Deciding that his chances would be better if he started to dodge now, he swerved to the left, ran on for a dozen yards, then stumbled against something that stood out from one one of the big trees. Recovering his balance, he realised that he had run into the foot of a short ladder, and that the tree it leant against must be one of those with a table and seats up in its fork.
Deliberately to limit his freedom of movement was to take a big chance; but, in the circumstances, he thought it should prove worth it. Swiftly ascending the ladder, he pulled it up after him and wedged it among the branches. By groping about he found a small settee. Carefully lowering himself onto it, he strove to check the rasp of his breathing, and drew out his gun. He knew that if he were discovered up there things were going to be extremely awkward; even shooting might not disperse the human pack long enough for him to get down and away with a good fresh start. Concentrating now on his sense of hearing, he tried to fathom what his enemies were doing by the sounds they made.
At first they had raced on past the place where he had taken a sharp turn. But soon they must have reached the wall and, seeing no figure against the skyline climbing over it, returned on their tracks. At a slower pace they came pattering back, arguing loudly over whereabouts in the garden they could have lost their quarry. They were met by a group of inn guests who had come down from the balcony and followed them through the trees. To Gregory’s consternation he could see that some of them were flashing torches. Calling advice and directions to one another, the little crowd scattered and began to hunt among the trees, apparently believing him to be lurking behind one of them but, to his relief, it did not occur to any of those who came near him to flash their torches upward.
For half an hour the search went on; then Gregory overheard a dispute that took place not far from him. One of the servants who had started the chase was insisting to some other men that the murderer had had ample time to climb over the wall before they reached it. His opinion was finally accepted and, apparently, the belief that Gregory must have got away was now becoming general; for the sounds of searching decreased, and soon afterwards there was once more silence in the garden.
From the position of the tree and the way in which the little settee was wedged between two of its branches, Gregory would have been prepared to bet that chance had brought him to the very one on which he had cuddled A-lu-te two and a half weeks before; but he felt now that sitting on it was as near to her as he was ever likely to get again. The thought depressed him greatly, but to have made any further attempt to see her that night would have been absolute madness, and he knew that if he meant to make really certain of still being alive next time the sun set, he must be out of Tung-kwan soon after it rose.
Presumably she and Kâo would still make for the old mouth of the Hwang-ho; but there could be no question of his rejoining them further along their route, owing to the fact that he could not possibly prove to them that he had not ruined their mission by murdering the object of it. Because A-lu-te had, on the spur of the moment, saved him from capture, it did not at all follow that, with a calmer mind, she would be willing to condone what she believed to be his crime; while it seemed quite certain that Kâo would prove hostile to the point of endeavouring to bring about his death.
There was, of course, the matter of his being A-lu-te’s bondsman, and her having made herself responsible to the Council for his returning to the island with her; but it had been agreed that no blame should attach to her should unforeseen circumstances, arising in the course of the mission, cause their separation, and so render it impossible for her to carry out her pact.
This, therefore, was the parting of their ways. One question only remained. Which was his way?
Much the shortest way home—as the crow flies—was through Mongolia, Soviet Russia and one of the Iron Curtain countries into Western Europe. But—quite apart from being no crow—Gregory had a very healthy respect for the M.V.D. He had pitted his wits against the Soviet secret police before, and was prepared to do so again, if it was in the interests of his country, but not just to save himself a few weeks’ extra travel.
The other alternative routes to safety lay north-east, through the Korean battle-front; south, to the troubled zones above the Malay peninsular; or south-east, to Hong Kong. All entailed a difficult, tedious and dangerous journey; but of the three Hong Kong seemed much the best bet, and from there he would have no trouble at all in securing transport back to ‘England, Home and Beauty’.
As the old phrase entered his mind, he sighed. England was forever England, but his Home was empty now, and the Beauty that had been the mainspring of his existence he would never see again.
For the first time it occurred to him that the unfortunate Shih-niang’s death might also be a tragedy for himself. A-lu-te was a lovely person and, while he had now had ample evidence that she was capable of passion, there was no doubt that her mind was mainly dominated by her intellect; so he di
d not think she would have asked of him more than he could give. Life could have been very pleasant married to such an exceptional woman, who combined in herself most of the best qualities of the East and West, in that enchanted Island where Time Stands Still. Whereas now, the future loomed tasteless, unsettled and desperately empty.
Feeling that he must allow at least an hour to elapse for things to settle down again before he left his hiding place, he began once more to speculate on what might really lie behind the night’s events.
Although his theory that the Communists had killed Shih-niang did not altogether fit the facts as they appeared to him, he was still inclined to favour it. The thought turned his mind to Foo. It was now over six weeks since, on the night the snake had been put in his bunk, he had seen that mysterious young man; so, unless the face he had glimpsed in the courtyard of the inn really had been Foo’s, there was no reason to suppose that he had followed them all the way from Antung-Ku. But what about the Communist who had been with the caravan, and later had appeared in the great courtyard of the House of Lin?
Thinking of them both it occurred to Gregory that there was a certain resemblance between them, and he wondered that it had not struck him before. It was no more than that they were the same height and that there was a similarity in their way of walking. The garments worn by caravan travellers—long cloaks, great hats of shaggy fur pulled down over their ears, and hoods against the sand which covered their heads and faces most of the time—lent themselves perfectly to disguise. And, in addition, the little man with the caravan had worn thick-lensed spectacles.
It was just conceivable that it had been Foo, skilfully camouflaged to conceal the fact that he was still on their trail; but the idea did not really hold water. Reluctantly but definitely Gregory had decided that it must have been Foo who had put the snake in his bunk. If so, it was he too who had poisoned the cocktail, thrown Wu-ming overboard and pushed Kâo off the top of the ladder in the hope that he would break his neck. Why, then, if in secret he had been doing his utmost to sabotage the mission and had made two attempts on Gregory’s life, should he have saved him from being stoned on the way up to Yen-an? That just did not make sense; so they must be different people.
The Island Where Time Stands Still Page 31