Death on the Highway

by Death on the Highway (retail) (epub)

  “Good enough,” said Garfitt, “I’m game.” Mallison, with the heroics engendered by his aperitifs, agreed to charge valiantly for Harrison.

  “There may be no need for it,” said Harrison, as they slightly quickened their pace, “but if they show any signs of trying to stop us, you two go straight ahead.*” *

  As they continued to advance, the group, which contained five men, started to stretch in line across the road, and this movement seemed to prove that Harrison was right. All of them had ugly-looking sticks in their hands, and they were now standing firmly from one side of the lane to the other, looking expectantly towards the oncomers.

  “The one with the black muzzle for me,” said Garfitt softly.

  “That’s a nasty-looking fellow with red hair,” said Mallison, in a solemnly judicial tone.

  “Off you go,” said Harrison.

  At the word Garfitt and Mallison started running for all they were worth towards their opponents. Despite his size, Mallison was certainly in good condition and could maintain a fair turn of speed. Harrison and Henry started running behind them. Mallison and Garfitt ducked their heads simultaneously as they reached the line of men and crashing vigorously into them butted three of them over like ninepins. Garfitt himself went sprawling with the impetus, landing some distance further up the lane.

  “Land out at them, Henry,” shouted Harrison, as they ran, and, as they reached the gap made by the others, they struck at the two men still left standing. The attack had been so sudden that the five men had not had time to make any move against it. Indeed, Harrison and Henry, even though their course was impeded by the men on the ground, were soon past them and up to the others. Mallison had quickly got Garfitt to his feet and before the men had time to decide to follow them vigorously the four of them were inside the garden door of the villa and waiting for the next move.

  All the five roughs were nursing their bruised limbs and looking menacingly towards the door, but their instructions did not seem to have contemplated a “next move.” “Only been told to beat us up,” was Henry’s comment, and that seemed to be the case for, after a hurried consultation, the men gave one last threatening look in the direction of the villa and then departed in the opposite direction.

  As they neared the house, Mrs. Mallison came rushing out to greet them. Mallison was just starting into a Homeric description of the recent struggle when Harrison, seeing the look on Mrs. Mallison’s face, stopped him and said, “What is your news, Mrs. Mallison?”

  “She’s back,” was her exclamation, too excited to say more.

  “Who’s back?” demanded Mallison.

  “Miss Rich, of course,” said Harrison.

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s upstairs, lying down,” answered Mrs. Mallison. “Poor girl.”

  “Tell us what happened, Mrs. Mallison,” said Harrison, as they reached the “market-place.”

  “I was sitting sewing—” was the reply—“it must have been about half-an-hour ago, when there was a terrific ringing on the bell from the garden door. It went on and on, and as Jean and Marie have the habit of waiting ten minutes before condescending to answer that bell, however it is rung, I thought I had better go myself. It was still being rung when I got to the door and it sounded as if somebody was beating on the door with their other hand. I was thinking of some pretty things to say when I did open the door.”

  “Naturally,” commented Garfitt, soothingly.

  “But they all disappeared,” continued Yvette Mallison, “for, as I opened it, the girl fell into my arms. She was gasping for breath, and tears were running down her face. ‘Quickly, quickly,’ she screams. ‘Shut the door.’ Of course I did so and helped her to the house. She was still gasping and could say nothing at all. So I managed to help her upstairs and got her to lie down.”

  “The best thing,” said Harrison. “We mustn’t disturb her until she’s got over the shock.”

  “I’m all right now,” said a voice from above, and they all looked up, to see Miss Rich, pale and somewhat dishevelled but with no trace of hysteria, standing at one of the bedroom windows. “I’ll come down and tell you what happened.”

  “That proves,” said Mallison, with pride, “that you can hear anything in this house.”

  Chapter XVII

  Miss Docket’s Wrist Watch

  At Harrison’s suggestion an adjournment was made to the drawing-room. Garfitt hinted that his self-sacrificing nature would allow him to stay with the Mallisons on the “market-place,” but Harrison explained that, in this instance, he thought that the more people who heard Miss Rich’s story the better, always provided that the individual members of the committee did not feel disposed to interfere.

  “Such condescension is the mark of a noble mind,” said Garfitt.

  Henry was aghast at such insolence, but Harrison did not seem offended, so an apt retort was regretfully suppressed.

  They were all settled comfortably in the excellent armchairs when May Rich appeared. It was a different May Rich to the one who had appeared earlier in the afternoon, full of sparkling life. She was dressed in a light summer frock and her appearance was as attractive as in the beach suit, but her face was drawn and there was a look of horror in her eyes.

  “You’ve had a bad time,” said Harrison, sympathetically.

  “I know it was my own stupid fault,” was the crestfallen reply.

  “And life in the South of France is not as good as it was a few hours ago,” continued Harrison.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” answered Miss Rich, bravely. “I’ve done my job and that’s what I came for.”

  “But that was done before you went back to the hotel,” said Harrison.

  “No it wasn’t,” came the quick reply.

  “Then perhaps you’ll explain why you went back.”

  “You won’t laugh at me?” the girl asked, timidly. “It sounds so silly now.”

  Harrison looked round the room and the girl’s eyes followed him. There was certainly no hint that any of the others would burst into ecstatic mirth at what she said.

  “Just as I was leaving Great Crockham to come here,” said the girl, “Miss Docket noticed that I was wearing a shabby old wrist watch.” Henry looked bewildered and wondered whether Miss Rich had been so badly affected by her experience that her mind was beginning to wander. “You know how impulsive she is. She said it was typical of me that I should give the whole game away by wearing a thing like that. Before I could say anything she had taken her own beautiful gold watch from her wrist and said we’d better exchange. I told her I didn’t want to be responsible for anything so valuable. But she said it would do me good, and she would wear my old thing until I got back again. She might forget to think of me if she didn’t.”

  “A great soul, Julia Dockett,” said Garfitt.

  “She is indeed,” said May Rich, as if defying the world. “There isn’t another woman like her. But I wish she hadn’t forced me to take the watch. It’s been at the back of my mind ever since I left her. All through the night on the train I felt for it every few minutes to see if it was safe, and here it’s been even more of a problem. When I went bathing I couldn’t take it into the water with me, and I didn’t dare leave it with anyone on the beach. So I had to find some hiding place in my room at the hotel.”

  “And that’s why you went back?” asked Harrison.

  “I had to look after it, hadn’t I?” said the girl.

  Henry nodded agreement and received a wan smile.

  “But I warned you of the risk,” said Harrison, gravely. “Surely you could have told one of us where you had put it?”

  “I felt personally responsible for it,” insisted May Rich. “I suppose I was a bit excited after I had talked to you, and I felt I could do anything on my own. I know you don’t understand me, but I think it was part of my job to look after Miss Docket’s wrist-watch. And, besides, the hiding place wasn’t as easy to find as all that.”

  Harrison, realising that
the girl’s highly-strung state was making her rather touchily aggressive, told her gently that he understood perfectly and realised that she thought she had no other course open.

  “I know now how wrong I was,” answered the girl, touched by Harrison’s tone, “but things seemed different then.”

  “And what was this remarkable hiding place?”

  “Well, you can imagine that I looked in every conceivable corner,” said May Rich; “behind the furniture, up the chimney, all the obvious spots, but I wasn’t satisfied. Then I noticed that the wallpaper, fairly high up on the walls, seemed to go in a bit. I got a chair and could just reach it. The wall was certainly hollow behind it. It struck me that there might once have been a ventilator there. So I carefully cut the paper with a penknife so as to make a flap of it and pushed the wrist watch in the hole just behind it. When the paper was fixed back again nobody in the room would have noticed anything at all.”

  “Of course you could have put it in the hotel safe?” said Harrison.

  “I suppose so,” answered Miss Rich, “but I felt perfectly happy about my own little hiding place.”

  “Very bright but somewhat complicated,” commented Harrison, drily. “So you went back and got the wrist watch?”

  “I wish it had been as simple as that,” said the girl, pathetically.

  She looked towards Yvette Mallison appealingly, and said, “Do you mind if I sit next to you? I shall feel happier with a decent woman by my side.”

  Yvette Mallison smiled comfortingly, and the two women sat close together, May Rich holding her hand tightly as she continued her story.

  “When I got back to the hotel there seemed to be nobody about,” she went on. “There was no sign of the Crewes, and I gave a sigh of relief. It looked as if my luck was going to hold. I changed quickly into this dress and threw my things together into the trunk. I did not put on a hat because I thought that might suggest I was going out again, and I thought, if I met anyone, they would think I was just going into the hotel grounds.”

  “Very sensible,” said Harrison.

  “Last of all I climbed on my chair and lifted the wall-paper flap to get the wristwatch. As I took it out, I almost fell off the chair with fright for I heard, quite distinctly, the voices of the Crewes, Archie and Netta.”

  “What do you mean by quite distinctly?”

  “Well, as far as I could tell, they were talking in another room, either just above or just below, for their voices seemed to come through the hole in the wall. Archie seemed very angry and so, I suppose, was Netta, for I should say they were talking quite loudly.”

  “What did they say?”

  “I was so sick with fright I slipped off the chair as quickly as I could, but I think I heard Archie say something like this: ‘I’ve a good mind to give the old cat one twenty-four,’ and Netta answered, ‘You wouldn’t dare, Archie, that’d make her sit up’.”

  “Just a moment,” said Harrison, eagerly; “one twenty-four, you said?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re absolutely certain?”

  “I don’t think I can be wrong.”

  “Write it down, Henry, before we forget it,” said Harrison. “One twenty-four.”

  Henry made the requisite note, and then Harrison turned to Miss Rich and said, “I am so sorry to stop you.”

  “I was glad of the moment’s rest,” was the reply. “The horrible part’s to come. As I said, I was so scared by hearing their voices that I felt like running full tilt out of the place, but I managed to keep my head and went quietly out of my room. I did think that, as they were talking like that, there was little chance of their coming out suddenly and jumping at me. I wandered as casually as possible down the stairs and reached the hall without meeting anybody at all. Just as I was half-way across it, in came Mrs. Crewe with Mr. Hooker.”

  “Of course you saw she knew you had been up to something?”

  “There was no doubt of that,” answered May Rich, with a shudder. “I certainly shall never forget the look she gave me when she saw me. If ever there was an evil person in this world, that’s Mrs. Crewe. For just a moment, all the charm disappeared and her face was like some dreadful painting of the devil’s in an old picture. Still, I tried to keep my courage up and although I felt my knees giving way with fright I walked on.”

  “Splendid,” said Harrison, approvingly.

  “It didn’t do much good,” said the girl, ruefully. “In a second the old woman was up to me, leaving Hooker some distance behind. ‘I want to talk to you,’ she said, very quietly. ‘After dinner, if you don‘t mind, Mrs. Crewe,’ I answered, ‘I’m due out now.’ She gave me a wicked smile. ‘You will do what I tell you,’ she said. ‘Mr. Harrison will have to wait for you.’ I really was terrified then, for I knew there could be no mistake. I looked round to see if there was any help to be got, but there was only Mr. Hooker and he, very gallantly, was waiting until we had finished talking. ‘You’d better come upstairs with me,’ said Mrs. Crewe. ‘I certainly shall not,’ I answered, and I think my voice sounded quite firm although heaven knows how I managed it.”

  All the men were looking at the girl with undisguised admiration, while Yvette Mallison was radiating that womanly kindliness which seemed to be having such a steadying influence on the girl.

  “Then Mrs. Crewe suddenly took hold of my arm,” Miss Rich went on. “I could have screamed with the pain. The mark’s still there.”

  The girl bared her arm and the flesh was to be seen badly bruised by the pressure of Mrs. Crewe’s fingers. They were similar marks to those Harrison had seen on the arms of two other women, Netta Crewe herself and the maid Lucy.

  “Mrs. Crewe’s trade mark, Miss Rich,” said Harrison, grimly. “She specialises in that grip.”

  “At any rate, when I felt that I was all the more determined to try and get away from her. ‘Now will you come?’ she said. ‘I’d rather die,’ I answered. ‘Little fool,’ she said, and started drawing me gently towards the staircase. I was feeling absolutely desperate, and I called out to Mr. Hooker. He started coming across to us, but the awful old woman was holding me in such a way that no one could have suspected anything. She might have been touching my arm ever so gently. She turned to him with a smile and then looked reproachfully at me and said pleasantly so that he might hear, ‘Surely we don’t need to depend on the men all the time, Miss Rich; they’re conceited enough as it is. Let’s have a quiet little time to ourselves.’ Then she looked knowingly at Mr. Hooker and he was obviously undecided what to do.”

  “I know what I should have done,” said Bob Mallison, viciously.

  “Even that opportunity seemed to be vanishing,” continued Miss Rich, “so with a terrific effort I raised the arm Mrs. Crewe was holding up into the air. I suppose she had not expected this, for she still held on to me. Then Mr. Hooker seemed to get suspicious, for he snapped at Mrs. Crewe, ‘Why are you holding the girl’s arm?’ His tone was very fierce, and she seemed so surprised at it that she loosened her grip. I twisted my arm free and ran for dear life out of the hotel. Indeed I kept on running. I must have run all the way here. I really don’t know what I was doing. My nerves must have given out completely, for I must have cried and talked to myself as I went. I can’t imagine what people thought of me.”

  “A terrible experience, Miss Rich,” commented Harrison.

  “I can hardly think I’m safe now,” answered the girl, tightening her hold on Yvette Mallison’s hand. “You really can’t imagine how awful Mrs. Crewe looked.”

  “And the wrist watch?” asked Garfitt.

  “That’s quite safe,” said Miss Rich, plunging a hand into the inner recesses of her garments and producing it.

  They all looked curiously at it and Mallison suggested that he himself should lock it up for greater security.

  “Well, Miss Rich,” said Harrison, “you’ve done two momentous things by going back to the hotel.”

  “Two?” was the bewildered query.

  “Yes,�
� answered Harrison; “quite apart from your own particular adventure, which I assume you were including as one. First of all, you have put Mr. Hooker’s life in the greatest danger.”

  “That can’t be so,” said May Rich, appealingly.

  “I’m afraid there’s no doubt of it,” replied Harrison; “and that means we shall have to work quickly. A bit quicker than I expected. We owe him some return for helping you.”

  Harrison spoke so seriously that none of the others thought of doubting his statement about Hooker’s position, and there was a general chorus of agreement with his last remark.

  “What else have I done, Mr. Harrison?”

  “Something very much on the credit side,” was the answer, to the intense relief of Harrison’s hearers. “By overheating that particular conversation you have carried me a long way further in clearing up my case.”

  “One twenty-four?” asked Garfitt.

  “Exactly,” said Harrison.

  “And why?” continued Garfitt.

  “It seems quite obvious to me,” answered Harrison. “Surely your journalistic instinct will provide an explanation.”

  “I’m blowed if it does,” said Garfitt.

  Henry smiled seraphically. That was a fitting rebuke for the impertinent journalist’s condescension and “noble mind.”

  “For the honour of the house, Ronnie,” said Mallison with mock pathos, “surely you can think of something.”

  “You win, Harrison,” was Garfitt’s gloomy retort.

  “And I propose to keep my winnings,” answered Harrison. “For the present, at any rate.” He turned to Miss Rich. “But I must say, Miss Rich, I appreciate enormously every-thing you have done. You have helped me far more than I could have hoped, and you have more than done your job. I expect Mallison will arrange for your things to be collected from the hotel, and I certainly hope we shall again see you tomorrow morning in that charming beach costume which suits you so admirably.”