Harrison looked gratefully at Henry and smiled to himself at the interview which he imagined must have taken place between Henry and the old French cook. Henry’s French was negligible and he assumed that the woman’s English would be in the same state. Still, Henry had a way of getting what he wanted, and Harrison was certain that he and the lady called Marie were already fast friends.
“Now we have to get on with the job,” said Harrison, “and the quicker the better. We have no time to waste. Mrs. Crewe knows I am in Toulon and also knows why. She must be planning against me at this very moment. The first thing to do is to get hold of Miss Rich. That’s your job, Mr. Mallison.”
“For heaven’s sake, drop the ‘Mr.’,” said the other.
“Very well,” answered Harrison.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Well, Mallison,” said Harrison, “you know the Sport Hotel and you’ve met Miss Rich. How far away is it?”
“About a quarter of an hour’s walk.”
“I want to see her as soon as possible,” said Harrison. “Have you a car?”
“Can’t afford it,” answered Mallison, looking at his wife.
“He thinks we can,” said she, definitely; “I say we can’t.”
“Can you hire one?”
“Oh, yes,” said Mallison, “I have a friend a little way down the lane. I often hire his.”
“Do you drive it yourself?”
“After a fashion,” was the reply.
“After a fashion,” repeated Yvette, with her eyes turned up to the ceiling.
“Then you had better hire it straight away,” said Harrison. “Drive down to the hotel. You’re trying out a car you’re thinking of buying. You’ll get hold of Miss Rich and take her for a run. I take it she’ll either be in the hotel or on the beach. If she’s on the beach—by the way, is that what they call it here?”
“The plage,” corrected Mrs. Mallison, solemnly.
“If she’s on the plage,” continued Harrison, “make certain she goes back to the hotel so that the porter or somebody there can know what she is going to do. It’s very thin and the Crewes are going to spot it soon enough, but minutes are valuable and we may just get away with it.”
“I wish I were coming with you, Bob,” exclaimed Garfitt.
“Your turn will come soon enough, young man,” said Harrison. “Is that all quite clear, Mallison?”
“Quite,” answered Mallison, who was looking a little alarmed. “But I’m not much of a diplomatist. I may not be able to persuade Miss Rich.”
“Miss Rich is quick enough in the uptake,” said Harrison, and Henry nodded cordial agreement. “I expect she’ll realise it’s something to do with me. Even if she doesn’t, you’ve got to work it somehow. A great deal depends on it.”
“My great bear will do it,” said Yvette. “But it must not be a reason for being too gay.”
Mallison looked reproachfully at his wife, and rose laboriously from the table. Obviously in honour of the occasion, he donned a beret in a slightly better state of repair than the one he had worn in Toulon.
“All dressed up,” exclaimed Garfitt as he went on his mission.
They were soon seated outside the house in the “market-place” and Harrison looked placidly contented with a cigar of his own particular brand in his mouth.
“There is only one other thing,” said Harrison, turning to Mrs. Mallison, “what about your servants?”
“They are married, Marie and Jean, and very old,” was the answer.
“Henry, I expect, can vouch for Marie—” said Harrison.
“I certainly can, sir,” answered Henry.
“And Jean?” asked Harrison.
“So old he cannot think,” said Yvette Mallison. “He is a child again. Marie is so good that I have him, too. He cares for the chickens and the vegetables. I think he earns his food.”
“He was the old man in the straw hat we saw as we came in?” asked Harrison.
The others looked at him in surprise. Neither of them had seen him.
“That’s the man,” said Mrs. Mallison, with a rippling laugh. “He wears it always. Bob says he sleeps in it, and has never removed it since the day he first admired himself in it in the shop, and that was when he was a very young man.”
“Of course,” said Garfitt, from the depths of a deck chair, “it is just possible that this Jean is employed by highly expert criminals, and that the straw hat and second childhood are only an unusually effective disguise.”
“Marie would see through any disguise, you can be sure,” answered Mrs. Mallison.
“And,” added Henry, “if he was only waiting to spy on Mr. Harrison, he has had to hang about for years to do it.”
“Many of my best stories have evaporated equally quickly,” Garfitt said, half to himself.
“So really that disposes of Jean and Marie,” said Harrison. “And that is all the help you have?”
“Absolutely,” was Yvette Mallison’s reply.
“And you would notice any stranger who came wandering round?”
“Certainly I should.”
“It is quite important that you should,” said Harrison. “Despite Garfitt’s effort—and, by the way, I think the less ingenuity you display in that direction the better, if you don’t mind, Garfitt—there are likely to be odd people about in the next few days and all of us may have to keep our eyes open.”
Garfitt muttered of ingratitude, and composed himself to sleep, and silence fell on the small company. Whether it was out of respect for Garfitt’s obvious desire for tranquillity or whether it was the result of the glowingly warm atmosphere Henry was unable to determine before he, too, was wrapped in sleep. The click of a gate roused him suddenly. He looked towards his master and saw that he must have certainly smoked more than one cigar in the interval. His mind had obviously been unresting, and the answering smile which Henry received seemed to hint that, in the interval, his master had been satisfactorily sorting a few more pieces of the jigsaw puzzle.
Looking down the garden path they saw Mallison escorting a maiden who hardly bore any resemblance to the overstaid May Rich whom they had met at Miss Docket’s house in Great Crockham. Here was an attractive creature bubbling over with the joy of living. A very gaily-coloured beach suit with wide trousers and provoking little coat was topped by a large straw hat of no particular shape but of devastating effect. Carefully careless curls of hair peeped out from under, and the face itself was a revelation. Healthy cheeks and dancing eyes made it a pleasure to look upon, and the way she walked with a swinging ease of self-assurance made the transformation complete.
Harrison’s look conveyed strong approval, and she came up to him and shook hands cordially. Henry was speechless, and merely stared at the wonder. When addressed in his turn, he could hardly answer. Garfitt had woken up and murmured something about heaven and the presence of an angels. He sprang from his chair and, with a low bow of almost Spanish grandeur, offered it to the vision. Introductions were made and Garfitt was settling down to be his most gallant but was cut short by Harrison.
“I don’t want to disappoint any of you, but I’m afraid I can’t work by committee,” he said.
“What do you mean, Mr. Harrison?” asked Mallison.
“That drawing-room you spoke of, Mr. Mallison—I’m sorry, Mallison—do you mind if we occupy it?”
“Not at all,” was the reply.
“And what are we going to do?” asked Garfitt, disconsolately.
“You and Mallison are going to watch for any suspicious characters who come along the lane by the house,” answered Harrison. “And I shall be grateful if you watch pretty carefully.”
“Good enough,” said Mallison. “Go ahead, Mr. Harrison.”
“‘Mr.’,” repeated Harrison, with a smile.
“Oh, that’s different,” answered Mallison, leading him into the house, escorted by Miss Rich and Henry.
“Congratulations,” said Harrison, when they were all
settled down.
“Don’t laugh at me, Mr. Harrison,” answered May Rich, “I’m only obeying your orders.”
“I’m certainly not laughing at you,” said Harrison. “You look simply splendid. I wonder what Miss Docket would think. In fact, I can’t decide where the real May Rich comes into it at all.”
“She’s somewhere underneath,” came the answer, and the girl’s eyes twinkled. “I expect she’s a bit more as you see me than the queer object who did her duty at home. But I did my job, you must admit, and I looked the part.”
“True enough,” said Harrison. “And that’s exactly why I wanted you to come here. Doing your job and looking the part in different surroundings.”
“I’m doing my best,” said Miss Rich, “and I think I’ve found out a little for you.”
“Very well then,” said Harrison, “start away.”
“I settled in pretty quickly,” was the answer, “and looked around to see how I ought to behave. I have read about the South of France and seen pictures in the illustrated papers and all that sort of thing, but I wasn’t certain how to go on. First of all, I decided to be pretty lavish—with tips and all the odd expenses. I’m afraid I have been rather extravagant, but I think I was right.”
“I’m certain of that,” said Harrison.
“Then I chatted with most of the hotel servants,” Miss Rich continued. “Not to get information, you know, just in the friendliest spirit. I seemed to be quite at home after a few hours. People asked me to play tennis—I can play. I’ve bathed with other people—I can swim, too. And I don’t think the Crewes are suspicious of me.”
“Have they spoken to you?”
“Yes, once or twice, just casually. They seemed quite pleased to talk to me. I think the lavishness accounted for that.”
“True again,” said Harrison. “I feel you have an instinct for doing the right thing.”
“That’s very nice of you, Mr. Harrison,” she answered, with a smile. “But I liked doing it and I have thoroughly enjoyed myself. Of course, I have only done what you have told me to, keep my eyes open. The Crewe called Archie made a magnificent effort to pump me last night. I invented a charming history of the Rich family, and really felt like asking him some questions about himself. But those weren’t my instructions, so I didn’t do it.”
“Good,” said Harrison. “Now for your impressions.”
“It’s not easy to sum up,” was the reply. “They seem quiet enough. A reserved English family, living mainly at a reasonable hotel. Never rude but never friendly. Yet, if one watches them quietly, they are always on the alert. They talk a lot together, and Mrs. Crewe always seems to be issuing instructions—by her manner, one would guess that. The younger Crewes are not nearly as much with Mrs. Crewe as one would think. Publicly all three seem inseparable, but the hotel is empty most of the day, except for luncheon, and I have seen one or other drive off in a car when I think they did not realise they were being noticed. But there are other people to add to your complications, Mr. Harrison.”
“Drina Esberg, for example?” asked Harrison.
May Rich looked at him with bewildering astonishment.
“How on earth—” she started.
“Don’t worry, Miss Rich,” said Harrison, in an even tone; “an explanation would be easy enough but the point is—” he paused as if thinking carefully for the exact phrase—“I regard Miss Drina Esberg as the keynote to the whole of this ugly business.”
It was now Henry’s turn to look astonished. His master had certainly made some progress since arriving in the South of France. Henry himself could see very little justification for such a belief, and he waited impatiently for what Harrison would say next.
“Of course, an explanation of that would be slightly more difficult,” Harrison continued, “but you will forgive me if I don’t try to give you one at the moment.” Henry’s face fell. “You see, Miss Rich, you are here to tell me things.”
“Of course,” answered May Rich; “but that was rather a surprise. And I suppose you’ve heard of Mr. Hooker, too?”
“I confess I haven’t,” said Harrison. “Ought I to have heard of Mr. Hooker?”
“He completes the party,” answered Miss Rich. “He’s supposed to be an American millionaire.”
“Supposed to be?”
“Well, Mr. Harrison, you have implanted such a suspicion of my fellow creatures inside me that my first reaction was to decide he was a crook and hand in glove with the Crewes. He arrived here the day after them and really didn’t seem to know them very well or to be particularly keen about knowing them either. Of course he may be acting. But one thing he certainly isn’t acting, he’s head over heels in love with Drina Esberg.”
Henry looked at Harrison and saw in his eyes a look of deep satisfaction. Then he glanced at Miss Rich with admiration. Whether she realised it or not, she had certainly carried out her task to Harrison’s extreme contentment.
“Really, Henry,” said Harrison, bringing out his case, “I must have a cigar, whether it’s against the rules of the house or not. Will you allow me, Miss Rich?”
“Certainly,” was the reply, “if I may have a cigarette.”
Henry hastened to offer one, while Harrison said, with a laugh, “I still cannot forget Miss Docket’s companion.”
“That was the only blemish,” answered May Rich, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “To keep in character I even gave up smoking. I went through tortures for it sometimes.”
“Now for a little more detail,” said Harrison, pulling happily at his cigar. “First about Drina Esberg.”
“I don’t know how much you know about her yourself, Mr. Harrison,” came the answer. “She’s a kind of cabaret singer. Not at all a bad voice and quite attractive. She is singing this week at the Casino. She started the day before Hooker arrived—that was the day the Crewes got here. And Archie Crewe immediately settled down to play her accompaniments. That’s what they told me at the hotel.”
“Did you gather why?”
“Not particularly,” said Miss Rich. “Everybody thinks she has been let down, and it’s pretty sporting of him to help her.”
“And, by your tone, you don’t?”
“I don’t,” said Miss Rich. “I should say she loathes him, although he seems pretty keen on her. He’s not openly jealous of Hooker, but one can see occasionally that he doesn’t like him hanging around. If it didn’t sound rather absurd, I have rather the impression that the Crewes are keeping a close watch on this Esberg girl all the time.”
“I shouldn’t be at all surprised,” said Harrison, emphatically.
“You really think so?” asked May Rich.
“If my ideas are in any way correct, it would be inevitable,” Harrison. “But tell me what you have noticed?”
“When I went to the Casino last night,” said May Rich, “I noticed that whenever she finished singing, the Crewe girl pounced on her and wouldn’t let her leave her side for a moment. When Hooker joined them at their table, they were left alone together for a while, but Netta Crewe sat at a table nearby and kept her eagle eye on them. When she comes to tea at the hotel the whole crowd seem to watch her. And the look in the Crewe girl’s eyes—”
“Jealousy again?”
“Yes, she seems to hate her brother having anything to do with Drina Esberg. She must be frightfully devoted to him. It’s a queer circle. Netta Crewe jealous of Archie Crewe and Archie Crewe jealous of Hooker.”
“You said Drina Esberg had tea in the hotel. Doesn’t she stay there?”
“Oh no,” was the answer, “I expect she has a room somewhere in La Plage. Although,” she added, “I’ve never seen her about during the day.”
“And Hooker,” said Harrison; “anything more to tell about him?”
“I’ve talked to him,” answered Miss Rich. “But he’s one of those bright Americans who are able to talk without saying anything they don’t want to.”
“I must meet Mr. Hooker,” said Harrison.
“You’ll like him,” was Miss Rich’s comment; “but you’ll find him hard work.”
“And now about yourself,” said Harrison. “You hadn’t better go back to the hotel.”
“Oh, I must,” answered May Rich, her face falling.
“It may not be safe,” said Harrison. “Henry, ask Mr. Mallison to come in here, will you?
“You may not realise it, Miss Rich,” he continued as Henry went out on his errand, “but these people are desperate and stick at nothing. Directly they find you have been talking to me they might behave very unpleasantly to you—which is putting it very mildly. You have done your job and done it excellently. You have helped me to see daylight much more quickly than I expected and I’m more than grateful. Stay here and we’ll send for your belongings.”
Mallison came into the room before May Rich could reply, and Harrison turned to him. “Anything suspicious?” asked Harrison.
“A queer gentleman in the lane who seems to talk no known language,” said Mallison. “I went out and had a word with him, but I couldn’t make head or tail of him. Doesn’t seem inclined to go away. I’ve put Jean on to him, and that’ll keep him occupied for some little while. Shall I get the local policeman?”
“Hardly worth it,” answered Harrison. “If the man is watching the house he’ll have some good excuse for being there. Jean’s a good idea. Tell him to do his best to keep the man from going away.”
Mallison went off again.
“You see,” said Harrison, turning to Miss Rich, “it isn’t safe. They know I’m here and they’re on the watch.”
“But I want to go back,” answered Miss Rich; “I don’t mind the risk. I’ll take care of myself. And if I see any sign of danger I’ll come straight back here.”
“You may not see any sign of danger before it’s too late,” said Harrison.
“I’m not afraid,” said the girl.
“You’re very foolish,” answered Harrison, “but if you must go be certain to be with other people when the Crewes are about—and barricade your bedroom door.”
“I don’t expect I shall stay long,” was her reply, “but I must go.”
“Very well,” said Harrison. “Mallison had better go with you.”
Death on the Highway Page 20