by Jim Eldridge
But he wouldn’t be on his own. Marion would be there for him, always ready, always waiting, and he’d gradually come to see her and become fond of her, and then love her as she wanted to be loved.
As she watched she saw a carriage pull up outside Daniel’s house and two men get down from inside it and walk towards the door. Who were they? More men come to see Abigail? Or were they friends of Daniel’s?
Suddenly, with a shock, she saw that both men were carrying pistols. Why? Who were they going to shoot? Daniel wasn’t there, just Abigail. She couldn’t let them shoot Abigail; that would destroy Daniel and Marion would lose him, possibly for ever. What was she to do?
Abigail heard the knock at the door. It must be Greville returning again, she decided. But why?
She walked along the passage to the door, opened it, and was stunned to see two men pointing pistols at her.
‘What …what …?’ she stammered in shock.
‘Get in the carriage,’ snapped one of the men. ‘Someone wants to talk to you.’
Abigail stared at them, and at the waiting carriage with the driver on the top seat, her mind in a whirl. What was happening? I need to gain time, she thought. Slam the door on them and lock it and run out the back.
‘I need to get my coat,’ she said, and began to retreat into the house, but the man scowled and thrust the pistol at her.
‘No coat,’ he barked. ‘Get in the carriage. Now.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Marion watched in shock as Abigail was pushed into the carriage and the two men climbed in after her. They were going to kill her!
Suddenly she knew what she had to do: she had to go with them, follow them, find out where they were taking Abigail and tell Daniel so he could save her. He would be grateful to her for ever, and when Abigail left for Egypt he would spend all his time with her because he’d be so grateful, and gradually – with Abigail gone – he’d come to love her.
As the driver flicked the reins, Marion ran across the road to the rear of the carriage and hauled herself up on the rack at the back. It was something she and her friends used to do back in her home village, going for a ride and then jumping off when the carriage pulled to a halt. She gripped the rack firmly with both hands, and planted her feet on the bottom of it as the carriage began to move off.
Vera Feather was on her knees in the living room sweeping the ashes from the grate when Marion rushed in in a state of panic.
‘Aunt Vera!’ she yelled. ‘Daniel’s Abigail has been kidnapped.’
Vera stared at her, bewildered. ‘What?’
‘I was outside their house when two men arrived. They had guns and they took her and put her in a carriage. I jumped on the back and they drove to a big house in a posh part of town. They took her into the house. I jumped off and came running all the way here. We have to tell Daniel and Uncle John!’
Vera regarded her niece with a stern look of deep disapproval. ‘Marion, your uncle and I have told you before about telling stories …’
‘It’s not a story!’ shouted Marion, her voice desperate. ‘Men with guns! They took her in a carriage to this posh house.’
Vera studied her niece, so obviously distressed. She’d told stories about made-up events before that she said had happened to her, but Vera had never seen her this distraught before. ‘We have to tell Uncle John and Daniel!’
Feather and Sergeant Cribbens listened as Daniel related to them what he’d learnt at the office of the Pure of Heart.
‘If what they told me is true, the late Charles Dixon made his money from crime.’
‘What sort of crime?’ asked Feather.
‘I didn’t ask for details, but according to them it involved robberies and extortion. And, again, if what they said is true, Charles Dixon and his gang were a very dangerous crowd, who killed people suspected of informing on them.’
‘And Caroline Dixon?’
‘They didn’t have anything specific against her, but she must have known what he was up to, and what sort of man he was. It wouldn’t surprise me to find she continued his criminal activities after his death, using his gang.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ burst out Cribbens. ‘They’re just trying to smear the reputation of a fine and generous lady.’
‘But generous with whose money?’ asked Feather. He looked at both his sergeant and Daniel, then said, ‘I’ve been asking questions of a well-connected financial journalist. He admitted he didn’t know where Charles Dixon got his wealth from, but he has questions about Caroline Dixon. It seems she didn’t inherit a great deal of money from her late husband, and the insurance payout following his death wasn’t as great as she’d hoped it would be. In fact, it’s been suggested that Charles Dixon struggled to support his wife in the grand manner in which she desired to be kept. And, since his death, she seems to have amassed a lot of her own cash, though no one seems to know from where.’
‘She does good works!’ insisted Cribbens. ‘She raises money from social events.’
‘Oh come on, Sergeant,’ said Daniel. ‘We know that Caroline Dixon’s main interest has always been in money, where it comes from and how to get her hands on it. Her late husband obviously did a good job of hiding the source of his wealth from the people in society that he cultivated, and I’m fairly sure that she would have done the same.’
‘By robbing banks?’ snorted Cribbens disparagingly. ‘I don’t believe it!’
The three men looked towards the door as they heard a frantic knocking at it.
‘I expect Superintendent Armstrong wants us,’ sighed Feather wearily, getting up and walking to the door. He opened it and they were stunned to see Vera Feather and Marion enter.
‘I’m so sorry to trouble you at work,’ began Vera, but she was interrupted by Marion, who burst out, ‘Abigail has been kidnapped! By men with guns!’
Daniel and Feather stared at her, then at Vera, then back at Marion.
‘You have to do something!’ begged Marion. ‘They’re going to kill her!’
She then told them about how she’d been going towards the house when she saw the two men with guns take Abigail from the house and put her in a carriage, and how she’d climbed on the rack at the rear of the carriage to see where they were taking her, and she’d followed them to a big house. She saw them take Abigail into the house, then she’d jumped down from the back of the carriage and run home.
Feather looked questioningly at his wife, who said, worriedly, ‘I think this time she’s telling the truth.’
‘I am!’ howled Marion.
‘Tell me about the house?’ urged Daniel.
‘It was big,’ said Marion. ‘A big white one.’
‘Where?’ pressed Daniel. ‘What was the name of the street?’
Marion struggled to think. ‘It began with an L,’ she said.
‘Lowndes Square?’ asked Daniel.
Marion nodded eagerly. ‘Yes! At least, I think that was it. It was Lowndes something, I’m sure.’
‘Caroline Dixon’s house,’ said Daniel.
‘We’ll get some men and head there,’ said Feather, getting to his feet and pulling on his coat. ‘We’ll take Marion with us to make sure it is the right place. Vera, you’d better come as well. You can take care of Marion and bring her home afterwards, if this is what we think it is.’
‘No!’ said Marion agitatedly. ‘I want to be there!’
‘We’ll talk about that later,’ snapped Feather. ‘Sergeant, get three men while I fix us up with a van.’
Abigail sat on the bed in the small back bedroom, her hands and ankles firmly tied with stout rope. Caroline Dixon sat on a chair in the bedroom, the pistol held unwaveringly in her hand, pointed at Abigail. The two men who’d brought Abigail to Dixon’s house sat in chairs by the window, watching.
‘Why are you doing this?’ demanded Abigail.
Dixon gave a cruel smile.
‘Because I can,’ she said. ‘And because this way I can bring everything to a safe conclusio
n. I currently have Mr Gerald Carr locked safely in my cellar. When I am ready I shall kill you, and then kill him. Your bodies will be dumped at Carr’s yard in Somers Town. He will have a suicide note in his pocket in which he admits to killing you, and himself. He will say that he was responsible for killing the two men at Madame Tussauds, and the other man, Michaels. He will also admit he was responsible for the bank robberies. He will say he killed himself because he knew the net was closing in on him and he could not face the thought of being hanged.’
‘But why kill me?’ persisted Abigail.
‘Because your death will destroy your partner, Daniel Wilson, and he will feel responsible for it because he didn’t move sooner to stop Carr.’
‘Daniel won’t let you get away with it,’ said Abigail.
‘He won’t have any choice. The evidence that it was Gerald Carr who killed you will be overwhelming. The suicide note will clinch things. The police will stop investigating the murders and the bank robberies.’
‘Carr won’t write a suicide note,’ said Abigail firmly. ‘He knows he’s going to die. He won’t give you that pleasure.’
‘You’re right, he won’t write it. I will. I’ve been sending him notes since he’s been in my cellar, demanding written responses. Failure to reply means a beating.’ She smiled again. ‘Carr is a very stupid man. He doesn’t understand why I really want those examples of his handwriting. Remember, I was – and still am – an artist. Making copies was my speciality. Wax and ink are similar mediums.’
‘It won’t work,’ said Abigail. ‘Word will get out. Someone will talk.’
‘Who?’ asked Dixon. ‘Those who know anything are either dead, or – in the case of you and Carr – will be dead very shortly. All the crimes will have been solved to the police’s satisfaction. I admit it’s been an inconvenience to my business, but one that will resume after a suitable break.’ She looked at the two men sitting watching. ‘And my excellent helpers can’t talk without incriminating themselves. So, you see, it’s the end for you.’ And this time her expression became even crueller, all traces of her smile gone as she said with great venom, ‘And you want to know the real reason why I chose you to do this with, and not your partner, Wilson? Because you are everything I loathe, Fenton. You had everything handed to you on a plate. A glittering university education. Your prestige as one of the world’s leading archaeologists, so I’m nauseatingly told by so many people I meet when your name is mentioned. Class and status, everything gained so easily. I had to work like a dog for whatever I’ve got.’
Daniel, Feather and Sergeant Cribbens squashed into the back of the police van alongside Vera and Marion and two uniformed constables. A third constable sat with the driver on the seat at the front of the van. Feather had authorised a pistol each for himself and Cribbens and the two men cradled the guns carefully in their hands. As the van rumbled over the cobbles, Daniel asked the question that had been puzzling him since Marion and Vera had burst into Feather’s office.
‘What were you going to our house for?’ he asked Marion, curious.
‘I wanted to make sure she was all right,’ said Marion, lowering her head and averting her face from Daniel.
‘Who?’
Marion was silent for a moment, then she said, ‘Abigail. After what happened with her falling into the road.’
Daniel looked at Feather, inquisitively, who shook his head in reply, then asked Marion, ‘How did you hear about Abigail falling into the road?’
Marion looked up at him, distressed, and stammered, ‘I can’t remember. Someone must have said about it.’
Feather looked at his wife, who shook her head. ‘I didn’t know about that,’ she said. ‘What happened?’
‘Someone pushed Abigail so that she fell in front of a horse in Oxford Street,’ said Daniel. Puzzled, he asked Marion, ‘Were you there? Did you see it happen?’
‘Let’s talk about it later,’ said Feather suddenly, sounding very awkward, and he cast a look at his wife, who closed her eyes and pursed her lips as she tried to conceal her distress.
‘I didn’t mean to hurt her!’ Marion cried miserably, and then she burst into tears.
‘You haven’t hurt her,’ said Sergeant Cribbens gently. ‘It’s the men with the guns who are the danger here, not you.’
Vera put her arm around Marion and pulled her to her, but there was an emotional distance between the two of them, and suddenly Daniel realised what had happened. And a look at John Feather showed that he knew, too. Daniel was grateful that at that moment the van pulled to a halt and the driver called down to them, ‘We’re at Lowndes Square, sir.’
Feather opened the door and helped Marion out onto the pavement, Vera, Daniel and the others following.
‘Is it one of these houses?’ Feather asked his niece.
Marion looked along the terrace of large, white, expensive-looking houses, then pointed to one.
‘That one!’ she announced.
‘Caroline Dixon’s,’ said Daniel grimly.
Feather rapped out a command and the constables jumped down to join him, while Vera took the unwilling and still distressed Marion back inside the police van. As they neared the house, they heard the unmistakeable sound of a gun being fired, twice. Daniel and Cribbens broke into a run as Feather turned and told one of the constables, ‘Bring a sledgehammer from the van. We might need it.’ Then he ran after Daniel and Cribbens, who were already at the front door of the house, banging urgently on it and pulling at the bell pull.
‘Police!’ shouted Feather. ‘Open up!’
They pushed at the door, but it was a heavy one that refused to budge. Feather took the sledgehammer from the constable and smashed it hard against the lock, splintering the wood and sending the brass lock and door handle flying in shards of broken metal. He gave the door another smash with the sledgehammer and this time it swung inwards. Feather threw down the sledgehammer and pulled his pistol from his pocket. Daniel had already rushed in and he collided with a dishevelled man holding a smoking gun.
‘Drop the gun!’ shouted Feather, pointing his own pistol at the man.
The man threw his gun down, and Daniel recognised him as Gerald Carr.
‘Where is she?’ he shouted, grabbing Carr by the collar.
‘It wasn’t me!’ said Carr desperately. ‘I didn’t do it!’
‘Where is she?’ shouted Daniel again.
Carr gestured towards the door to the living room.
‘In there,’ he said. ‘She’s dead.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Daniel threw himself into the living room and stumbled over the body lying face down just inside the door. It was a woman, but it wasn’t Abigail. He lifted her head. It was Caroline Dixon, and she was definitely dead.
He rushed back out into the hallway where Carr was being held by two constables.
‘Where’s Abigail Fenton?’ he demanded angrily.
‘Who?’ asked Carr.
With a roar of rage, Daniel reached for him, and Carr cringed away from him, squealing, ‘I don’t know!’
‘Constable, handcuff him and keep a close eye on him,’ ordered Feather crisply. To Cribbens and the other two constables he said, ‘Search the house.’
Daniel was already racing upstairs and Feather ran after him, gun in hand.
‘Abigail!’ shouted Daniel desperately. ‘Abigail!’
They kicked open doors and rushed in and out of rooms. It was in the fifth bedroom they found her, bound and gagged on a bed, with two nervous-looking men standing guard, holding pistols, the same two men who’d attacked Daniel. Feather pointed his pistol at the nearest man.
‘Police, Scotland Yard,’ snapped Feather. ‘The house is full of my men. Use those guns and you’ll hang for sure.’
The men threw their guns down and put their hands up. Feather called for Cribbens.
‘Get the others and take these two into custody. Handcuffs, and leg shackles from the van. Same for Carr. I’m not taking any chances on any
of them trying anything.’
Daniel was hard at work untying the ropes that held Abigail prisoner and removing the cloth tied round her mouth to gag her.
‘How did you know where to find me?’ she asked.
‘It’s a long story which we’ll tell you later,’ said Daniel. He turned to Feather. ‘You’re going to need the van to get this lot back to the Yard. We’ll find a cab and see you back there. And we’ll drop Vera and Marion off first.’
‘Vera and Marion?’ said Abigail, bewildered. ‘What are they doing here?’
‘That’s part of the long story,’ said Daniel.
After Carr and Dixon’s two henchmen had been deposited, handcuffed and shackled, inside the police van, where they were chained to the interior bars, Feather, Cribbens and one of the constables began a search of the house, while Daniel went in search of a hansom cab, leaving Abigail waiting with a grim-faced Vera and a tearful Marion on the doorstep of the house. Abigail wanted to ask Vera and Marion how they came to be there, but the hard expression on Vera’s face told her that this was not the right time to ask that question.
Daniel reappeared with a hansom, at the same time as Feather and his police colleagues exited the house. Sergeant Cribbens gestured at the broken front door.
‘We ought to do something about that, sir,’ he murmured to Feather, concerned. ‘If the place gets robbed while no one’s here, we’ll end up getting the blame. And there’s a lot of expensive-looking stuff inside.’
‘Good point,’ said Feather. ‘You stay here and guard the house. I’ll send a carpenter over, along with a van to pick up Caroline Dixon’s body. You can ride back to the Yard with them.’
He walked over to Daniel and Abigail.
‘You sure you’re all right?’ he asked Abigail. ‘You don’t want to go to a doctor or anything?’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Abigail.
‘In that case, I’ll see you back at the Yard.’ Feather then walked over to Vera and Marion, and held his wife close to him. ‘Don’t be too hard on her,’ he whispered.