by Peter Baron
XXVIII. JIMMY TAKES A HAND
Mr. Thyme’s car ran smoothly into the station yard at Richmond and came to a standstill. The portly little bank manager alighted and held the door open for his guest.
As Jimmy rose, his cigarette case which, unnoticed, had been protruding from his waistcoat pocket, fell out on the seat and, before he could catch it, slipped down between the side of the car and the soft red upholstery.
Only a trifling incident, but one that changed the reporter’s whole course of action.
“Half a mo’,” said Jimmy with rather more urgency than regard for the dictates of grammar, and, bending down, he delved into the depths of the upholstery and retrieved his case.
He retrieved something else as well as he drew his fingers away, and after one startled glance at it covertly slipped it into his waistcoat pocket and got out of the car.
“Do our ways lie parallel?” asked Mr. Thyme courteously, producing a first-class season ticket. “I am bound for the City.”
Craven’s discovery had set his brain working swiftly, and in those few seconds he definitely abandoned all thought of leaving Richmond.
“Er—no,” he excused himself. “I rather want to ring up the office first and do one or two other things. I’d better not detain you. Many thanks for the lift.”
“And the accident,” said Mr. Thyme benignly.
“And the accident,” said the reporter queerly, but Mr. Thyme did not notice his peculiar tone. They shook hands cordially and the bank manager entered the station.
As soon as he had vanished from sight, Jimmy turned thoughtfully and followed leisurely in the wake of the red car which had brought them to the station and had started back a few seconds previously.
Putting his hand into his waistcoat pocket, he produced a small signet ring and studied it with frowning brows.
It bore the initials “L.R.” cunningly interwoven, and he had seen it on Leslie’s hand a hundred times. It was a present from Sir Marcus.
The frown deepened.
Leslie’s ring—in Mr. Thyme’s car—a long red car!
Jimmy quickened his pace.
A few minutes’ brisk walking brought him to the house he had just left. There was no sign of the red car, and he concluded that it had been garaged. He eyed the house speculatively.
Ingress presented no difficulty.
A little way past the main entrance was a green door set in the wall which bordered the road. Presumably a tradesmen’s entrance.
Walking to the door, he pushed it open cautiously and slipped inside, closing it behind him.
A short path flanked by a privet hedge led to the servants’ entrance on the left, and Jimmy found that it protected him from any immediate observation from the house.
Beyond the right-hand side of the hedge stretched the triangular garden which he had admired from the window of the morning room with its owner not half an hour ago, and immediately in front of him was the river, its water lapping gently against the small wooden platform that bordered the lawn.
For some time he stood there debating a means of entry to the house itself. The garden and square white old-fashioned house stood silent and still in the sunlight. No faces showed at the windows or doors: the place seemed devoid of movement.
In the foreground a low outhouse, divided from the lawn by a narrow gravel path, joined the main building. From the outhouse roof it was possible to reach an overhanging balcony on to which four sets of French windows opened.
On the next story were four casement windows, and above four smaller windows, the central pair a little higher than those on either side.
Two of the central windows, he noticed, were shuttered.
Nothing could be simpler than entrance to the house, Jimmy reflected, but there still remained the problem of the other occupants.
The chauffeur certainly would have returned by now, but in all probability would be in the garage, tinkering about with the Packard in the manner peculiar to his kind.
Then there would be the valet. He would be somewhere in the house, as well as the footman who had opened the door to them. Of the rest he knew nothing. Probably butler, cook and odd man.
To move about in a house with five other occupants and remain unseen and unheard was not one of the easiest things to do, but the risk had to be taken. With one last cautious look round the garden he pushed his way through the privet hedge and sped swiftly across the lawn dividing him from the house. Arrived at the outhouse door, he tried the handle softly.
The door was locked. Creeping round to the side wall, he peered cautiously through the open window on to what appeared to be a scullery. The scullery was empty, but a door leading to the kitchen beyond was open and he caught sounds of two people moving about and heard faint snatches of conversation.
“And I says to him, I says...look here, Albert...choose between us...that hussy...last Wednesday...I saw yer...and don’t tell me. .
“No, did you?...Really?...Men is all the same...my George says...”
Jimmy smiled and edged his way to the front of the outhouse again. Not six inches above his outstretched hands was the roof, and a short jump would bring it in easy reach. Provided he were quiet, the occupants of the kitchen would not hear his movements.
Gathering himself for a spring, he leapt lightly and, catching hold of the guttering, drew himself up quietly and sat on the almost flat roof.
So far, so good. He looked warily and searchingly across the garden. It terminated in a brick wall which ran to the water’s edge, and a few yards in front of the wall stood a row of bushes and a tool shed. Silhouetted against the white wall Jimmy realized that, should there be a gardener down there behind the bushes or in the tool shed, the man could not fail to see him.
That again was a risk that had to be taken. But the greatest risk of all was of climbing to the balcony above, since in that position he would be plainly visible to the pedestrians in the Petersham Road, as well as to the gardener. And Jimmy was not particularly anxious to collect a crowd and possibly a policeman. More risk, but unavoidable.
With a wry smile he rose to his feet. Gardener or no gardener, pedestrian or no pedestrian, he was going into that house.
Fortunately the road at that moment was deserted, although far off he saw a small figure coming round the tree-lined bend that led to the Park and the little public-house. However, the figure was too far distant to be able to see much, even supposing he were looking, and Jimmy, taking his courage in his hands, leapt upwards and caught at the base of the balcony.
Two minutes later, white and dusty, he was lying flat on the floor midway between two of the French windows.
He stayed there for some minutes, regaining his breath and peering between the supports of the balustrade to see if his movements had attracted any attention from the people on the opposite side of the river or from the gardener who might be lingering behind the hedge. Apparently, however, his maneuver had passed unnoticed. Listening alertly for any sounds that would betray occupancy of the room outside which he lay, he edged closer to the window and, raising himself to his knees, peered in.
The room, a bedroom, was deserted, and with a satisfied smile Jimmy tried the window. It opened under his touch and, still keeping on his hands and knees, he slipped inside and rose silently to his feet.
The room was a large airy place, uncrowded by unnecessary furniture. Along one wall stood a four-poster bed, and beside it stood a small reading table. At the foot of the bed was a small divan and opposite it a wide fireplace surmounted by a huge gilt mirror. A dressing table and wardrobe occupied other corners and there were two comfortable basket chairs standing against the wall. Under his feet was a soft pile carpet.
Opposite was a door. This was Thyme’s bedroom, he surmised, and the door should lead to a corridor on the first floor.
Slipping across the room, he placed his ear against the keyhole and listened intently.
Apparently satisfied, he opened the door slightly and peered ou
t.
The corridor ran to right and left, carpeted, and the walls hung with occasional pictures. Opposite were two flights of stairs, the right-hand flight leading down to the hall below and the left-hand flight up to the next floor.
Closing the door again, Jimmy leant against the wall and debated.
Convinced that Leslie was held captive somewhere in the house, he had no idea of her exact position, and a tour of exploration without a definite objective was manifestly dangerous, since it meant the risk of encountering a servant at work. A knotty point, and one that——
At that moment his meditations were interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the corridor coming from the right.
Opening the door the fraction of an inch, Jimmy leant at an angle that allowed him to see the full length of the corridor on the right. Almost immediately he saw a tall black-clad figure moving sedately towards the stairs. It was the valet who had attended him earlier in the day.
Jimmy’s face set determinedly as he waited. Much depended on the valet’s course. If he were going downstairs he would not come as fax as the door behind which the reporter crouched. On the other hand, if he were going upstairs or continuing along the corridor, he would have to pass by, and that was exactly what Jimmy wanted.
With bated breath the reporter waited. The valet drew abreast of the first flight of stairs and continued on.
As he passed the bedroom door it opened suddenly and a pair of slender hands reached out, fixed on his throat, and wrenched him inside.
Jimmy’s strangling grip on the valet’s throat choked the cry which rose to the lips of the startled man and, using his arm as a lever, Jimmy forced the valet to his knees and kicked the door shut with his foot.
“Got you, my beauty,” said Jimmy sweetly. “Remain silent and you will remember this day with pleasure—kick up a shindy and you will cross the Great Divide suddenly!”
The valet’s eyes goggled amazedly. Jimmy looked down on his startled face amusedly. The man was not unlike the immortal Malvolio.
Jimmy decided to rechristen him with the name of the famous Shakespearean character.
“Now, friend Malvolio,” he said purposefully, “you are going to quench my insatiable thirst for information, and you are going to quench it accurately! A slight tightening of my hand and you will snuff it sharply! You grasp the general idea?”
The valet nodded hastily.
“Good,” said Jimmy, relaxing his grip slightly. “Now, little one, you have a visitor in this house, haven’t you? Speak up, belovedst!”
The valet’s eyes widened suddenly and he appeared inclined to deny it, but a slight pressure on his throat made him nod hastily.
“A lady visitor?”
The valet nodded.
“How long has she been here?”
“Four days, sir,” replied the valet nervously.
“Better and better,” Jimmy murmured approvingly. “What floor is she on?”
“The next, sir.”
Jimmy nodded. That was not going to present any difficulty. “How many servants are there in this house, besides yourself?”
“Three, sir.”
“And they are?”
“Butler, cook and scullery maid, sir,” answered the valet meekly.
“Sure?” asked Jimmy, his grip tightening suddenly. “What about the footman, chauffeur and gardener?”
“The gardener is away, sir; the chauffeur is in the garage and won’t be in the house till after lunch, and the footman is down in the town. He won’t be back till after tea. He has leave of absence.”
Jimmy hauled the terrorized valet to his feet and glared menacingly at him.
“Are we likely to encounter anyone on the next floor, sweet Malvolio?” he demanded. “Don’t make any mistakes, my dear.”
“Not at this time of the day, sir. They will all be downstairs and would you be a little more careful with my throat, sir——”
“Good,” said Jimmy, absentmindedly tightening his grip. “Who has the key of the room in which the lady is locked?”
The valet gulped for breath.
“I have, sir,” he managed to gasp out. “And my throat, sir——”
“Unbelt it,” said Jimmy. “The key, not your throat.”
The valet felt in his pocket and withdrew a bunch of keys. Holding one up, he handed the bunch to his captor.
“Does anyone else besides you know of the lady’s presence?” asked the reporter.
“No, sir.”
“Right, most sour-faced Malvolio,” said Jimmy cheerfully. “You are now going to lead me to the lady’s room, and a word of warning in your large and ass-like ears. Some fool once said that we learn by our mistakes. He spoke without a proper grip on his subject. Other people will learn by your mistakes. You will be in a far, far warmer place.”
Relaxing his hold a little, Jimmy opened the door and peered out into the corridor. It was still deserted and no sounds reached him.
Feeling in his pocket, the reporter produced a large jack-knife. Opening it, he placed its point against the valet’s neck and released him.
“Lead on, Malvolio,” he instructed sweetly, “and please, for the sake of your doting mother, remember my instructions.”
With eyes almost starting out of his head, the valet led the way up the flight of stairs to a corresponding landing, proceeded up the next flight and walked along the corridor which led from it, coming to a standstill before a door on the left.
“This is the room, sir,” he said in a trembling voice, “and could you be a little more careful with that knife, sir?”
Jimmy handed him the key.
“Open that door,” he directed, “and never mind your neck. I shan’t feel any pain.”
The valet obeyed and, kicking open the door, Jimmy pushed the unfortunate man into the room before him.
A wise precaution.
As the valet entered a small shoe wielded by a dainty hand flashed out and struck him on the side of the head.
With a gasp he reeled sideways, and it was only the sudden intervention of Jimmy that saved him from a second blow.
Stepping into the room, he caught the hand as it descended for the second time, and smiled complacently into the determined face of Leslie.
“A nice arrangement,” he said. “Think what Malvolio saved me.”
With a surprised cry Leslie flung herself into his arms and clung to him, sobbing with relief.
The half-stunned valet leant against the wall.
“Oh, Jimmy,” sighed Leslie. “I’m glad you’ve come. Quick, let us get away from here! I’ve had an awful time. Oh, my dear—and then I nearly brained you!”
The reporter patted her shoulder reassuringly.
“Forget it,” he said cheerfully. “Malvolio stopped your surprise gift and will be engaged in stellar researches for some time!”
XXIX. AN INSPECTOR BAITS HIS LINE
Ten minutes passed, during which Leslie exchanged one kind of captivity for another, and then with a little sigh of contentment she freed herself, blushing as she caught sight of the still dazed valet.
“Feel fit?” asked Jimmy, looking at her anxiously.
“Quite; but my head feels rather a wreck, Jimmy. Is my hair very untidy? And does my nose want powdering, and are my eyes red, and——”
“Whoa!” interrupted Jimmy. “You look splendid, beautiful and——“ Recollecting himself, he turned sharply on the cowering valet.
“Touching the matter of telephones, Malvolio,” he said, “where’s the nearest?”
“If you will follow me, sir,” said the man meekly.
“En evant, comrade,” said Jimmy, and, linking arms with Leslie, he placed the point of his knife behind the valet’s ear and motioned the terrified man to precede them.
The trio proceeded downstairs, past the two landings, reaching the hall without meeting anyone.
The valet pointed to the telephone on the table by the door of the dining room. Urging the man in front of him, Jimmy l
ed Leslie to the instrument.
“Get Elveden at the Yard, Leslie, old thing,” he directed, “while I keep an eye on the life and soul of the party.”
Leslie took up the directory, found the number, and for the next few minutes transferred Jimmy’s directions to the Inspector at the other end of the line.
“Now,” said Jimmy, as she replaced the receiver, “we will take a little walk. Open the door, Malvolio.”
The valet stepped forward and obeyed, standing aside to give them precedence.
Smiling blandly, Jimmy linked arms with him.
“Oh dear me, no, sweet youth,” he said cheerfully. “After you, if you please.”
The valet threw a startled glance over his shoulder in the direction of the servants’ quarters, as though expecting aid to materialize at the last moment, and then with a dejected expression walked submissively out in front of them.
Inspector Elveden strode into Richmond Police Station and, catching sight of Leslie and Jimmy, hurried across to them and clasped the reporter warmly by the hand.
“Great work, Mr. Craven,” he said enthusiastically. “Let’s have the story.”
Jimmy gave him a brief account of what had transpired, and the Inspector stood for a moment thinking deeply.
“You say that you received two visits from the Squid, Miss Richmond?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered coldly. “He came every other day and is due to come today, unless he changes his mind.”
Her tone warned Elveden that the episode at the Nocturnes Club was not yet forgotten or forgiven.
He turned to the Superintendent, who had remained silent up to then.
“You’ve got the valet here?” he asked.
“Yes. Mr. Craven brought him along. Do you want to examine him?”
“Not yet, thanks,” said Elveden. “You say no one else saw you at the house, so far as you know? And nobody warned them?”
“No,” answered Jimmy. “And if you’ve done with us, we’ll be getting a move on now. We’re both dying for a wash, and it’s past four o’clock. Besides, I want to get the story through to the Mail. I’ve been on it long enough and Bagshaw will be tearing his hair. And mine!”