There could be no doubt that at last Mrs. Wood had gone.
It was some time before Elizabeth could persuade her reason to accept this fact, and longer still before she had sufficient control over her limbs to attempt to move. But after a while she gained some mastery over her emotions; she straightened up and moved forward, still clutching her candlestick, groping with her other hand for the edge of the door.
She had just started to pull it open, when she again heard the sound of stealthy footsteps coming along the passage towards the side door of the inn.
She drew back in renewed alarm. Was it Mrs. Wood returning? She listened with straining ears and presently realised that the footsteps, although muffled, had a more solid sound than the thin patter of a woman’s light sandals. Was it the pedlar? But that was impossible, for she had heard him go out into the yard, and Mrs. Wood had bolted the door after him. Then who could it be?
The answer, no doubt, was that someone — most likely the landlord — had heard a noise and had come downstairs to investigate. If so, she was in imminent danger of discovery. And how on earth would she be able to explain why she was cowering here in the darkness?
One thing was clear; she must not let herself be seen. If it should be the landlord, though, he would most likely look into every room on the ground floor; and he was heading this way.
The footsteps drew nearer, until they halted outside the room where she was hiding.
She drew back behind the shelter of the door, striving with all her might to flatten herself against the wall so that if the door should be pushed open once more she would escape observation as she had done before.
She tried not to heed the warning inner voice which told her she would be very lucky to succeed a second time. She waited, hardly daring to breathe, expecting that at any moment the door would swing back, and she would be discovered at last.
The seconds lengthened into minutes, each one of them seeming like an hour, and still the dreaded moment did not come. And then she realised that faint but unmistakeable sounds were coming to her ears which suggested that far from taking an interest in the door of her hideaway, the new arrival on the scene was engaged in stealthily opening the side door of the inn. She heard his footsteps softly crossing the threshold; in a few moments they were lost to her altogether. Evidently he had gone out into the yard, she thought, and in the first flood of relief she almost forgot that the danger was not yet over. But even as she groped for the door handle to make her escape, a thought came which froze her to the spot.
Whoever had gone out into the yard might return at any moment. If she were to go blundering into the passage now she might run into him.
Every instinct urged flight upon her, but she forced herself to listen to the voice of reason. Once outside this door, she would have a fairly long stretch of corridor to cover before she came to the bend which led to the staircase. Without a light, it would take her some time to grope her way along; and anyone entering by the side door must see her at once, provided he was carrying a light himself, which was almost certain.
There was nothing else for it but to cower in her corner in the dark little room until she heard those footsteps returning. Then all she could hope for was that the owner of them would be satisfied without a further search, and would return to bed. After allowing a reasonable interval to elapse, she could do the same herself. At that moment, to be safe and sound in her bed seemed to Elizabeth to represent the pinnacle of human happiness and achievement.
The second thoughts prevailed, and she remained where she was. Afterwards, she calculated that it could not have been more than half an hour, although at the time it seemed a great deal longer. The worst of her panic had subsided, but she still felt a little weak at the knees. Once she found herself repenting of her decision, and, greatly daring, she peered round the door into the passage. Perhaps if she made a quick dash — even as she poised herself ready, she heard the faint sound of the side door opening. She drew back quickly, her heart starting to pound again. The man had returned. Once again, fear took possession of her.
This time, her ordeal was not protracted. She heard the door quietly closed and bolted, and afterwards stealthy footsteps moved past her room and along the passage until they faded into the distance. Whoever it was had gone, this time presumably for good.
Even though she felt tolerably certain of this she forced herself to wait five or ten minutes longer. The continued silence had subdued her panic, and she felt almost easy again as she crept round the door and felt her way cautiously along the dark passage and up the stairs to her room. As she had supposed, her progress was slow without the aid of a light, and she could only feel thankful that she had not attempted to return while there had been any likelihood of discovery. Even now, she reminded herself, an incautious step might cause her to blunder into some obstacle and raise the rest of the house.
At last, she stood outside the door of her bedchamber. Grasping the knob firmly, she let herself quietly into the room and closed the door thankfully behind her.
She moved towards the bedside table, and, groping for the tinder box, lit her candle once more, setting it down with a great sigh of relief...
As she turned round again a figure moved out of the shadow towards her.
Before she could cry out, an arm like a vice encircled her, and a hand was clapped firmly over her mouth.
Chapter 10
AT CROSS PURPOSES
‘Don’t scream!’ The command was spoken in a low tone, but it carried conviction. ‘If you do, I must take measures we would both have cause to regret.’
She had begun to struggle, but froze into immobility on hearing the voice of her captor. She turned a frightened, incredulous gaze on Robert Farnham.
‘You can’t escape me, so don’t try,’ he warned her grimly, keeping his hand over her mouth. ‘I must talk to you. Promise not to cry out, and I’ll release you at once. You only have to nod your head.’
She continued to stare at him for a moment or two; then she attempted a nod.
He released her and stood back a little, looking at her in silence. Her face was pale and strained; her brown hair tumbled about her shoulders, and from time to time she gave a little shiver. She looked like a frightened child, but no compassion showed in the man’s eyes as they rested on her.
‘So it was you, after all.’ His voice was harsh. ‘I suspected it all along, but I did not want to think it true.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Between shock and fright, Elizabeth could scarcely force her trembling lips to frame the words. ‘You have no right — leave this room instantly!’
He laughed in an unpleasant way. ‘The innocent maiden, eh? Doing it too brown, my girl! It’s not the first time there’s been a man in your room by all accounts, and I dare swear it won’t be the last. B’God, you’ve changed since first we met — but there’s no profit in thinking of that—’
‘So you did recognise me?’ stammered Elizabeth, in her confused state of mind seizing upon the one thing in his speech that made any sense to her.
He pursed his lips. ‘Not at first. You were changed — there was something different about your hair, for one thing. But after I’d passed close to you I knew you, right enough.’
Elizabeth sank into a chair with a weary gesture. ‘Hair styles do change in six years,’ she said mechanically. ‘But this is neither the time nor the place for a discussion of that kind. I am very tired. Please leave me now.’
‘You were not too tired to creep down into the stable yard and keep an assignation with the pedlar,’ he retorted, grimly. ‘And I’ve no intention of leaving here until I get what I came for, so make your mind up to that.’
‘An assignation with the pedlar — I?’ asked Elizabeth, whipped out of her exhaustion by a sudden gust of anger. ‘Upon my word, you must have run mad, sir!’
‘I wish I were indeed mad,’ he replied, sombrely, ‘and then I could think all this a mere hallucination. But you’ll not trick me with you
r airs of injured innocence, madam — I know you for what you are.’
‘Indeed! And what is that, may I ask?’
‘There are no words bad enough to describe it,’ he replied, harshly. ‘To think what you once were — and what you have become!’
She flung back her head and her blue eyes glinted coldly in the candlelight.
‘You shall no longer stay here and insult me. Leave this room at once, or I scream for help!’
‘B’God, you’ll not!’
In two strides he was bending over her, one hand behind her head and the other covering her mouth.
‘I don’t leave this room until you’ve given me the papers,’ he muttered, glaring into her defiant eyes. ‘If it’s necessary to bind and gag you in order to get them, I shall do so, never doubt. So don’t rely on my chivalry, my dear — I know all the tricks practiced by those of your dirty trade.’
Elizabeth stared at him aghast. There was nothing else for it, she thought agitatedly, he must be out of his mind. What ought she to do? One scream from her must succeed in rousing Margaret, who although she was a fairly sound sleeper, could not fail to hear a noise of such an alarming kind through the thin partition wall which divided the two rooms. But if Margaret were to be aroused, so might others, and Elizabeth’s mind shrank from the public scene which must ensue. In her view, dramatic scenes were best confined to their proper medium, the stage; she preferred to avoid them whenever possible in everyday life.
Something of what she was thinking must have shown in her expression, or possibly the man who held her in such an ungentle grip must have known her well enough to guess at her thoughts.
After a moment, he said: ‘You won’t wish to bring the whole house about your ears, I know. Promise not to scream, and I’ll release you.’
She nodded, and at once he stood back from her.
She massaged her cheek where his fingers had dug into it, but for the moment she could not summon up enough energy to speak.
‘You’ve only yourself to blame,’ he said, a trifle on the defensive as he watched her. ‘If you choose to tangle in rough work, you can’t expect to be handled with kid gloves.’
‘I should be less at a disadvantage,’ she said icily, ‘if I had the remotest notion what you were talking about.’
He made an impatient gesture. ‘Oh, for pity’s sake, you don’t think to take me in with such fustian?’
‘It happens to be the truth.’
‘Very likely,’ he said, contemptuously. ‘No doubt we have totally different notions of the truth, you and I. No, it’s no use trying to play the innocent, my girl — I saw you from my window, there in the yard with Potts the pedlar, so the game’s up.’
‘You saw someone else — not me.’
‘Oh? Then exactly where have you been? After I’d spotted the couple through the window, I came along to your room and looked in, suspecting that the female might be you. Sure enough you were missing, and you’ve only just returned. Talk your way out of that, if you can.’
‘I am not accountable to you for my actions,’ replied Elizabeth, coldly. ‘I think, in the circumstances, I’m justified in asking why you should ever have entertained the suspicion that the female with the pedlar was myself.’
‘You want to know how I rumbled you, eh? Very well, I’ve no objection to telling you — it might prove a salutary lesson. The first thing was when I overheard you asking the landlord for a conveyance to take you to Crowle. That place name was one of the few clues I had to this affair. You see, the letter you left in the grate of the house at Lincoln’s Inn Fields was not quite burnt through — it was still possible to make out most of it.’ He shook his head mockingly. ‘Careless, my dear, very careless. To leave no traces behind you is one of the most elementary rules in the game.’
Elizabeth looked at him with a bewildered air. ‘I haven’t the remotest notion what you’re talking about! What letter? I left no letter in a grate — and I have never been in any house at Lincoln’s Inn Fields in my life!’
‘God, what a hypocrite!’ he exclaimed, in a voice of loathing. ‘And this is the girl I once thought I would like to make my wife! I see now what a lucky escape I had, although I thought differently at the time.’
‘Yes, and so do I!’ retorted Elizabeth, with spirit. ‘To think I might have been wed to a raving lunatic!’
For a second a hint of doubt crept into his expression. Then it changed into one of grudging admiration. ‘You’re a damned good actress madam, among your other dangerous qualities, I’ll grant you that! But it’s no good — you’re beaten. I was there this morning outside the inn when you and your companion were looking at the pedlar’s wares, and I heard every word that passed. He offered to deliver a letter for you, and mentioned Crowle. Not only your reply to him but your expression, showed that you knew what he meant, right enough. The assignation for tonight must have been made later, for I’m ready to swear that no sign was given at the time, and I watched you closely enough. I followed you round the town on that damned shopping expedition, too, in case you should hand on the documents to anyone else.’
Elizabeth gave a weak laugh. ‘So that was why! And Margaret thought—’
She broke off; even in the present circumstances a little colour crept into her pale cheeks at the recollection of what Margaret had thought, and how ready she herself had been to credit it.
The man staring down at her caught for a moment a glimpse of the girl he had known six years ago. His expression softened, and he took a step towards her, one hand stretched out in appeal.
‘Elizabeth! I don’t know how you came to be embroiled in this sordid business, but I beg you to get out of it at once. I’ll make a bargain with you, for old times’ sake. Give me the documents, and I’ll return them without implicating you — your part in the affair need not be mentioned. But you must go away from here immediately, the farther the better, so that neither side can trace you. If you are short of money—’
But here she interrupted him, starting to her feet.
‘You are mad! Nothing you say makes sense!’
His expression hardened. ‘Very well, if that’s the way you want to play the hand. But you must take the consequences. And now you can hand over those documents, for I don’t leave without them. No use playing off any more tricks — my patience is running out.’
‘What documents?’ asked Elizabeth.
She was only playing for time, for she knew very well that he must be referring to the packet which had so strangely appeared in the guide book. She was unable to make head or tail of most of what he had said, but this one point was clear enough. Robert Farnham was one of those who seemed determined to gain possession of the letter addressed to J. Martin, Esquire. But it was by no means clear to Elizabeth whether she ought to allow him to have it. What she had just overheard between Mrs. Wood and Potts the pedlar seemed to confirm her feeling that Mrs. Wood had originally placed the letter in A Tour of Sussex, and then afterwards tried to regain possession of it in order, as it now appeared, to pass it on to the pedlar. The motives prompting such a tortuous course of action were too difficult for Elizabeth to fathom in her present exhausted state; but she felt instinctively that they would be discreditable. On the other hand, all that she remembered of Robert Farnham urged her to think well of him. Could the packet be some kind of contraband, and had he any connection with the Customs authorities? But surely the whole affair must be more complex than that, for he was evidently confusing her with some other female; one who by his account was a lady of easy virtue, and who had left lying about somewhere a half-burnt letter which apparently held great significance for him.
His face hardened. ‘Very well, if you will have it so, I must find them myself. I know you haven’t yet handed them over to the pedlar, for I waylaid him after he left you, and gave both him and his pack a thorough turning over. I am not without experience in these matters, so I know I missed nothing.’ He broke off, a puzzled frown wrinkling his brow. ‘It beats me, I m
ust confess, why you didn’t hand them over there and then in the stable yard — why else did you bother to meet him there?’
‘I keep telling you I didn’t.’ Elizabeth was now rapidly recovering from the harrowing experiences of that evening, and her usual common sense was taking charge. ‘Oh, do listen to me for a moment’ — as he made an impatient gesture — ‘and perhaps we can both learn something, for we seem to be talking at cross purposes. You spoke just now of our earlier friendship, and said that you found it scarcely credible that I should have changed so greatly since last we met. Well, I haven’t changed; at least not in essentials.’ He shrugged contemptuously, and made as if to speak, but she brushed the effort aside. ‘No, wait, I beg you to hear me out without interruption. I think you owe me that much at least.’
He subsided, standing quietly before her, his eyes fixed on her face in an unwinking stare.
‘It’s evident that you are confusing me with someone else. You speak of my leaving a letter behind somewhere or other, and of my being involved in some dishonourable business — these things are a complete mystery to me. The only thing that makes any kind of sense is your mention of Crowle. I am indeed going to Crowle. I was recently bequeathed Crowle Manor, and intend to live there during the summer months.’ She paused, and a puzzled frown settled on her brow. ‘Since I arrived at the White Hart, I have come to wonder what there can be at my uncle’s former home to arouse such keen interest in so many of the people I have encountered here. There was the female who travelled with us on the coach, whose name I collect to be Mrs. Wood. She seemed to sit up and take notice when I mentioned Crowle Manor quite casually in conversation with my companion, Miss Ellis. At the time, I thought I must have imagined her interest. I do write stories, you know,’ she explained a little shyly.
Letters For A Spy Page 8