The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘ ’Tis well, then.’ Vorontzoff stood up, apparently to go, and Georgina was greatly relieved to think that this trying interview had passed off so smoothly. But, instead of making her a leg, he stood for a moment regarding her with a faintly sardonic smile. Then he said: ‘It remains only for me to offer you my felicitations.’

  She kept her tone light and raised an eyebrow. ‘I cannot think, Monsieur, of any matter upon which felicitations are called for.’

  He pretended amused surprise. ‘Your memory is short, then. Twas but yesterday you declared in the presence of Mr. Fox and myself that you wished to Heaven you were rid of your husband.’

  Georgina did not at all like the turn that the conversation had so suddenly taken, and she replied with marked coldness. ‘Given grounds for annoyance people oft make such thoughtless statements without meaning aught by them. And I count it in ill-taste, Monsieur, that you should remind me of my words.’

  Vorontzoff bowed. ‘I take it, however, that they are one of the things which you would prefer that I should not mention at the inquest.’

  She looked quickly away. ‘Naturally, Monsieur; since an entirely false construction might be put upon them.’

  ‘In that, Madame, permit me to disagree. And at the risk of incurring your further displeasure I offer you my congratulations. Twas neatly done. I much admire the manner in which you handled a situation calling for great resource and courage.’

  ‘What mean you, Monsieur?’ she frowned, endeavouring to hide her rising apprehension.

  ‘I refer to the little secret that we share. Fortunately, I am reasonably confident that no one else suspects the truth.’

  ‘You were speaking of the real reason which prompted you to send that message?’

  ‘Oh, no, Madame. That is quite a minor matter. Since you have already saved my face while saving your own I have scarce given the note another thought. The secret that I have in mind has no connection with the bringing of Sir Humphrey here; ’tis what befell him when he reached your chamber.’

  Georgina paled. Her thoughts were racing. What did the Russian suspect? What could he possibly know? Perhaps he was only trying to draw her out on the off chance that she might have concealed some details of the fatality. In any case she must say as little as possible and choose her words with the utmost caution.

  I—I fail to understand …’ she began.

  ‘You understand very well, Madame,’ he cut her short, and went on with cynical gallantry. ‘Again I congratulate you on your resolution. His was a useless life, and I admire you all the more, in that, finding yourself cornered, you seized the opportunity to take it.’

  ‘Monsieur!’ She sprang to her feet. ‘How dare you make so infamous an accusation?’

  Vorontzoff shrugged. ‘If ’twas not you who actually struck the blow, then ’twas Mr. Brook. The two of you killed Sir Humphrey Etheredge between you.’

  ‘ ’Tis a lie!’

  ‘Calm yourself, Madame, I beg. Your secret is safe with me. But ’tis essential that we should understand one another on certain matters if ’tis to be kept from others.’

  ‘I have no secret!’ Georgina cried; but she was frightened now and she could not keep the huskiness out of her voice as she hurried on. ‘Mr. Brook played no part in the affair. He left me earlier. To that I swear!’

  ‘Indeed!’ The Russian laughed. ‘You admit then that he spent most of the night with you, to my discomfiture?’

  ‘To you I’ll not deny it; though I’ll call you a liar to your face if you repeat me.’

  ‘ ’Twill be a case of the pot and the kettle, then. For I call you one now, in maintaining that Mr. Brook had left you.’

  ‘He had, I tell you! As to the rest, matters befell exactly as I reported. Sir Humphrey arrived in a state bordering on exhaustion. On learning that he had been fooled his rage became uncontrollable. He struck me with his whip, then fell in a fit on the floor after I had fainted.’

  ‘Pardon one slight correction, Madame.’ Vorontzoff bowed. ‘You should have said: “After I flung my scent bottle at his head”.’

  Georgina stared at him with distended eyes as he went on quite casually. ‘ ’Twas the finding of that bottle which gave me the clue to all that had taken place. You said that he must have knocked it from your dressing-table. I am prepared to state on oath that last night it was beside your bed. Moreover, the shoulders of his coat and his cravat were saturated with its contents. How could that have come about had he knocked it from the table with his whip. No, Madame. You threw it at him and it hit him on the temple. He fell and, perhaps, had some sort of fit. Having reduced him to a helpless state you saw your opportunity. I have little doubt but that you played Lady Macbeth and gave the word. Then Mr. Brook took steps to ensure that your victim should not recover.’

  ‘I tell you Mr. Brook had left me earlier!’ Georgina almost screamed.

  The dark Tartar eyes of the Russian held hers as those of a snake holds those of a bird, and he slowly shook his head. ‘You fatigue yourself unnecessarily, Madame, by, yes—as the English say—attempting to pull the wool over my eyes. Mr. Brook sought to protect you from your husband’s whip. He has since kept his hand concealed in a scarf on the pretence of having hurt it; but this morning the weal from the lash showed plain across its back. That mark is a fair match for the one upon your neck. ’Tis the proof that he was with you, and that a brawl occurred before Sir Humphrey had his seizure.’

  ‘I deny it! You are inventing all this for some wicked purpose of your own.’

  ‘Since you disbelieve me, when I am gone, send for Mr. Brook and ask him to show you his hand.’

  Georgina recalled the way in which Roger had flung himself across the bed in front of her. With an awful sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach she realised that the Russian could not have made up his last assertion. What he had said about the scent-bottle could be no more than a shrewd guess, but if Roger’s hand was marked with a weal such a damning piece of evidence could send them both to the gallows.

  ‘Do you—do you intend to disclose this at the inquest?’ she faltered.

  ‘Why no, Madame!’ he reassured her quickly. ‘How could you ever suppose such a thing? Did we not agree but a while back to bear no further malice to one another on account of last night’s events? Now that we are again good friends my only desire is to be of service to you.’

  ‘I thank you, Monsieur.’ She moistened her dry lips, and, realising the necessity of playing up to him, went on after a moment. ‘I am most sensible of the service you propose to render me; and for the future you may indeed count on my friendship.’

  Taking the hand that she extended to him, he kissed it. Then he said quietly. ‘Be assured ’tis a friendship that I shall treasure beyond rubies. It remains only for us to cement it.’

  She gave him a quick, sideways look. ‘What mean you?’

  He caught her glance and smiled. ‘Have I not already made it plain, Madame, that I count the qualities required to participate in such a deed, and to carry it off, an addition to your attractions?’

  ‘ ’Tis a strange form of flattery, Monsieur.’

  ‘Not from a man such as myself. A bold and violent woman touches a responsive chord in my own nature; more especially when such qualities are enshrined in one so superbly beautiful as yourself. At what hour shall I wait upon you tonight?’

  ‘Tonight!’

  ‘Why, yes. For the cementing of our friendship.’

  Her eyes were wide and frightened again, but she knew how vitally important it was to keep his goodwill, so she said hurriedly. ‘Monsieur; you must surely see that it is impossible for me to receive you tonight. Bold and violent I may be in some things; but I am not without a sense of decency. My husband died only this morning and his body still lies unburied in the house. ’Twould not only be unfitting but a most shameful act.’

  ‘I’ll not believe that you are seriously troubled by such squeamishness,’ he smiled. ‘A woman of your metal must know that love
tastes at its best when ’tis salted with death. For myself, were any added incentive needed, the thought of the part you played this morning would provide it.’

  She shrank away from him, exclaiming: ‘Nay! Nay! I will lie with no man tonight.’

  ‘You mock me still, then,’ he said with sudden harshness. ‘Do you accept my friendship or reject it? Answer.’

  ‘I—I accept it,’ she stammered, now terrified at the thought of what he might do if she made him her enemy. ‘But you ask too much of me. Perhaps when I come to London….’

  ‘Do you take me for a fool, Madame! What value can you expect me to place upon any promise you may make after your treatment of me last night. Think you I’ll give you rope to send your Mr. Brook to put a further slight upon me at some future date? No, no! The inquest is tomorrow, and after it my trump-card will have lost its value. You will pleasure me tonight or never.’

  ‘You cannot—you cannot mean that you would tell all you know—all you suspect, unless I consent?’

  He bowed ironically. ‘Madame; you have summed up the situation perfectly. Events have placed you completely in my power; and for having so lightly given Mr. Brook the preference over myself, after having raised my hopes, I mean to make you pay to the last farthing. By eleven o’clock you will see to it that you are alone and that the door of your chamber is unbolted.’

  Something snapped in Georgina’s brain. White to the lips and with her eyes blazing, she cried: ‘I’ll do no such thing! I will not lie with you tonight or at any other time. Nay, never! Not if you were the last man on earth. I will hang rather! Now, get you from my sight! Be gone this instant, or I will ring for my servants to throw you from the house.’

  ‘Such a show of spirit makes you more desirable than ever,’ he mocked her; but he moved quietly to the door. At it he turned and delivered a final ultimatum. ‘You still have two hours in which to think matters over, Madame. No doubt time will restore your calm and reflection bring you wisdom. You can send me a message by your maid. But remember; only your kisses tonight can seal my lips at the inquest tomorrow.’

  6

  The Parting of the Ways

  When the door had closed behind Vorontzoff, Georgina did not give way to either tears or panic. Her rage was white-hot but she knew that this was no time to allow hysteria to overcome her. She had to think, and use her brain calmly and logically in order to decide which she should take of two horrible alternatives.

  The Russian’s threat to make her pay to the last farthing was ample evidence of the intensity of the bitterness she had aroused in him the night before. She had sensed the barbarian streak in him and now knew that it lay more than skin deep. He was vicious, brutal and unscrupulous to the last degree. She felt certain that if he could not have her he was quite capable of destroying her.

  Had she alone been concerned she would have stuck to her guns and taken a desperate gamble, on the Russian being disbelieved; but she had Roger to think of. His swiftly made plan to save them both had proved sound in all essentials. Vorontzoff alone had seen through it; and that only on account of the special knowledge he had of the previous night’s events. He alone had had reason from the start to suppose that Roger had been with her, thus making it easy for him to connect the weal on Roger’s hand with the mark on her neck. He alone had known that she kept the scent-bottle not on her dressing-table, but by her bed. Everyone else had accepted the story she had told in its entirety. And there was every reason now to suppose that, subject to the Russian keeping his mouth shut, it would also be believed at the official inquiry.

  She knew that any chance she had, so far, of escaping the terrible penalty which must follow discovery, she owed to Roger’s quick wits and sure handling of her during those moments of crisis. Now it was her turn. She had it in her power to save the situation; could she do less for him? He would not wish her to, at the price; of that she was certain. But his life was in her hands. Her conviction would mean his too. There was no escaping that; and she could not let him die. She loved him with a greater, deeper, more constant love than she would ever feel for any husband. Whatever it cost her she must save him by her surrender.

  She thought then of what that would mean, and a little shudder ran through her. Somehow, last night the same prospect had seemed at first intriguing, then vaguely distasteful and rather frightening, but no worse than that. Now it was horrible—repulsive. She recalled again Vorontzoff saying that he would make her pay to the last farthing, and wondered what he had meant. She had a fairly shrewd idea. To revenge himself the more fully he intended to treat her with unbridled viciousness and brutality. It had been her sensing of his desire to do that during their first encounter which had frightened her. And now there would be no reason why he should put any restraint upon himself. Last night, if he had handled her roughly, she could have got rid of him by threatening to call for help, and saying that he had forced his way into her room against her will. But she would not be able to do that tonight. He would continue to hold his blackmail over her and force her to submit to his every wish for seven long hours, until dawn at last set her free.

  Little beads of perspiration broke out on her broad forehead and her hands were damp. She wondered with a sick feeling, that made her near to vomiting, whether she could go through with it, even to save Roger’s life and her own. As in a nightmare, ghastly scenes with the Russian and herself as the actors seethed in her brain. Grimly a thought came to her. She had always loved weapons, and in the drawer of her bedside table she kept a beautifully chased Italian stiletto. If the Russian drove her too far she would use it on him.

  If she killed him they would hang her for that. But no; if she swore that he had crept into her room while she was asleep and had tried to rape her, they would let her off. Her eyes glittered dangerously. That was the solution to this dreadful business. The stiletto was sharp as a razor and no wider than her thumb at its broadest part. One swift blow and it would be all over. Then, whatever might happen to her, Count Vorontzoff would have got his just deserts, and, with the closing of his mouth for good, Roger, at least, would be safe.

  At that last thought another struck her. It was going to prove difficult, if not impossible, to keep Roger out of this new development. She never went to sleep before midnight, and whenever she and Roger spent the night apart it was his habit to come to her room and give her a goodnight kiss before retiring to his own. It was certain that he would do so tonight, and as Vorontzoff proposed to come to her at eleven Roger would find the Russian with her. That could now result in only one thing; another killing in her bedchamber.

  She began to consider how she could prevent Roger coming to her, but could see no way to do so. Not having seen her all day he must be consumed with anxiety about her state of mind and desperately anxious to prime her further for tomorrow’s inquest.

  It occurred to her that she could send a note to Vorontzoff putting him off till after midnight, but she feared that if she made the assignation for later then one o’clock he would rebel, and send a reply insisting that she should give him full value for his money. And even a two-hour postponement was no certain guarantee against a clash. Roger would have so much to talk over with her that he might easily remain until long after one, and if she tried to get rid of him prematurely it was certain that he would suspect something.

  It dawned on her then that, as their minds were so well attuned, he would suspect something in any case. It was useless to attempt to deceive him. They could both lie convincingly to other people, when the need arose, but they were not good liars to one another. She knew that before he had been with her for ten minutes the whole miserable story would come out.

  There was only one thing for it. She must send for Roger and tell him the truth. She need not tell him her worst fears. She could spare him those, at least, and she would say nothing of her intentions if driven to desperation; then, hate the thought as he might, he would assume that she was paying no higher price for their safety than she had been apparent
ly quite willing to pay for the Russian’s political influence on the previous night. She must hear anything that he had to say about the inquiry tomorrow, now; and positively forbid him to come in to her later.

  Having made up her mind she scribbled a note, asking Roger to come to her boudoir as soon as he could find an opportunity, and sent it down by Jenny.

  For a quarter of an hour she paced her room consumed with impatience. Then Roger appeared. They exchanged a single look, and without a word, flew to one another’s arms.

  ‘My love,’ he murmured. ‘I have been driven near crazy from the thought of you here alone and uncomforted all day.’

  ‘And I for you,’ she whispered back. ‘Our separation at such a time has proved nigh insupportable to me; yet I knew ’twas wise that we should remain apart.’

  He held her away from him and smiled. ‘Yet all goes well! You need fear nothing from this inquest which is being held tomorrow. The court will consist only of local farmers and shopkeepers from the village; mostly tenants of your own; so naturally subservient from their station. They will accept your father’s version of what occurred before you appear. All you will be called on to do is to confront them dressed in black and give the bare outline of your story. They’ll ask no questions but simply offer you their sympathy.’

  She let him finish, then slowly shook her head. ‘All does not go well, dear Roger. Let me see your hand.’

  With a sudden frown he held it up, bound round with a silk handkerchief. ‘What of it? There is a red weal across the back where ’twas caught by Sir Humphrey’s whip. But no one suspects that. I have given out….’

  ‘Someone not only suspects, but knows it,’ she interrupted.

  ‘Who?’ he gasped.

  ‘Vorontzoff! He was here but half an hour back, and he has guessed the truth.’ She then gave Roger a brief résumé of her interview with the Russian.

  When she had done, he said abruptly. ‘You cannot do this. I will not have it.’