by John Creasey
Mannering gave Lithom Hall a miss and drove to the Whites’ cottage.
By then the sun was out, but the trees were still dripping, and there was little prospect of a busy day for the acquisitive Mr. White. A man wearing an old Army waterproof cape was working on the hedge opposite; one of Gadden’s men. He saw another, by the side of the orchard. Would two men be enough to save Gloria from being kidnapped if Fenner discovered where she was staying?
As the dog was here, whoever handled the dog for him would soon pass on the news.
Gloria would have to leave soon; or the guard must be strengthened. Fears crowded on Mannering.
The front door opened and the old man raised a hand in greeting.
“Nice to see you again, sir. You’re just in time for a cup of tea.”
“Thanks,” said Mannering, stepping into the tiny passage. “How’s Lady Gloria?”
“Slept like a top, sir, and she says she feels much better.”
“I do feel better,” said Gloria.
Mannering had a vision of the old Gloria, as she appeared in the kitchen doorway. She was much clearer-eyed, and although the dark circles were there, they weren’t so marked. The one night away from the Hall and the general excitement, had worked like a charm. In the tiny parlour, with a pot of tea in front of them, shadows returned to her eyes; but with the shadows was a look of eagerness.
“Is there any news?” she asked.
“We’ve chased some of the bad men from their lair,” said Mannering lightly. “I don’t think it’ll be long before we get results.”
She closed her eyes; and her hands were clenched.
“And I once said you didn’t believe me!”
“Never mind what you said, think about the problem. Have you had time to write anything out yet?”
“I—I did try to start last night, but I was so tired. And I slept late this morning. But, John, I don’t think I can do anything to help! You know about Father and Wilberforce now, I could kick myself for having forgotten it. And Fenner, of course. He wanted those books desperately. Do you think he had anything to do with—Father’s death?”
“Possibly. Gloria, can’t you think of any special thing about those books that Fenner wanted?” asked Mannering. “Could you make out a list of them for instance—or of some of them?”
“There is a list,” said Gloria.
He sat up sharply.
“Where?”
“It should be in the desk in the study. There were fifty or sixty books. Fenner gave a written list to Wilberforce, who typed it out—there were several copies.”
“That’s fine! But all the same, jot down any titles you remember. Don’t stop trying to recall them, and don’t forget you might hold the key. And Gloria—”
“Yes?”
“I think you’re in some danger yourself.”
“I know; I’m glad, in a way,” she said quietly.
“Well, I’m not. Do you feel safe here?”
“There are two men outside, one at the back and one at the front—White says they’re policemen.”
“They are, just yell if you want them. Anyone else been about?”
She hesitated. “No. The only thing that’s happened is that Leo has wandered off. Apparently he’s always doing it, he sometimes disappears for two or three days on end. He’s a ferocious-looking beast, but I wouldn’t like anything to happen to him,” she added. “The Whites are rather upset. They think he might have gone to see Abel—you haven’t seen him at the Hall, I suppose?”
So she shrugged aside her own danger, and he’d said enough about it.
“No,” said Mannering. “I’ll keep a look out.”
Old White’s plaints about the disappearance of the dog rang in his ears when he left. Could he trust the old man? Was it nonsense to think that the Whites could have had anything to do with Lithom’s death and the violence which had followed? If Abel was involved, they would probably do anything to protect him.
There were slender grounds for suspecting Abel; and Lorna’s hint, the obvious fact that she hadn’t liked the groom.
The suspicion against Higby was much greater.
Abel – Higby – Fenner.
At the gate Mannering turned to wave to Gloria, who was standing in the doorway. She raised her arm, and then turned as if to go in. Something about the poise struck him forcibly. It reminded him of someone else – the similarity was so startling that he stood and stared until Gloria got tired of waving, laughed, and went indoors.
The man working at the hedge came up to him.
“You’re Mr. Mannering, sir, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Detective-Officer Green,” said the hedger, who had taken off his waterproof cape, for the sun was warm now. “If you see the Inspector, sir, tell him everything is all right here, will you? We haven’t seen anyone loitering.”
“I will, gladly.” Mannering put that vision aside, made himself think of Abel, the Whites, the wisdom of leaving Gloria here. He was so full of it that when he reached the village he telephoned to the police-station.
He talked freely.
“Aye,” said Gadden. “I’ve been thinking along those lines myself, Mr. Mannering. I’ve arranged for a radio patrol car to be near that cottage, and for two other men to take up positions there—I’ve taken them away from Lithom Hall.”
“Every time I speak to you, you take a load off my mind,” said Mannering.
Gadden grunted; yesterday he would have laughed. It was almost as if he guessed where he had been during the night. Mannering overcame the momentary feeling of disquiet.
“Anything more?” asked Gadden.
“Yes. Your men at the Whites’ cottage report all’s well,” said Mannering. “Oh, and White tells me that his dog’s missing, and that it often wanders off, sometimes for a day or two. Someone else may have some influence with the brute.”
“Aye—maybe Abel White,” said Gadden drily. “Maybe someone else. If there’s nothing more, I’ll be ringing off, Mr. Mannering. I’ve got my hands full here today.”
“You’ll cope! Goodbye.”
Mannering went back to the car and sat at the wheel. Gadden must be preoccupied, worried; he couldn’t suspect. His own mind was filled with senseless fears. And Gloria was safe enough; sound man, Gadden.
He had a vivid mental picture of Gloria, standing in the doorway, as he drove off.
Lady Bream, Mary Scott and Longley were all at luncheon, Mannering had no early opportunity to talk to Lorna. Longley and Mary talked enthusiastically about the Lithom collection. Lady Bream, at first trying to appear interested, gradually withdrew into herself. Mannering watched her curiously; was she just worried about Gloria? Or was she frightened?
In his room, Mannering locked the door and took out the papers he had taken from Fenner’s bureau. He’d expected little from them – and found little. Some tradesmen’s bills; what looked like a wage account for seven men; several other oddments, but no addresses, nothing incriminating.
He heard the handle of the door turn; that would be Lorna. She saw what he was doing, and asked: “Anything there to help?”
“No.”
“Isn’t there any progress?”
“No.”
Lorna looked at him thoughtfully, gave a slow smile, and said: “Do you mind if I go back to town?”
He was dumbfounded.
“Back? But why on earth should you?”
“I’m having trouble with my husband,” said Lorna.
He relaxed.
“Men can be brutes. What’s he done?”
“He keeps secrets from me.”
“Then he’s needing solace and assurance,” said Mannering solemnly. “Probably he has a crazy idea and is afraid to confide it, in case you laugh at him.”
“I won’t laugh.”
“Remember Gloria?” Mannering asked, and startled her. He went on: “Can you call her to mind? Face, figure, poise?”
“Yes, of course.”
Downstairs, they came upon Wirral in the hall. He seemed tired and harassed, as if the pressure of events was too much for him.
“Ask Higby to come and see me,” said Mannering.
“In the drawing-room, sir?”
“No, in the library.”
Wirral went off, and Mannering led Lorna into the library, where he opened the main drawer of the desk, which controlled all the smaller drawers. The papers inside were neatly arranged in folders. Some were in Lithom’s strong, neat handwriting; some were in Gloria’s; most were typewritten. There were several short lists of books, but he came upon a longer list. There were some sixty titles – and one that struck his eye was The Story of a Bad Boy by Thomas B. Aldrich.
That was one of the books which he had found at Marchant!
This was probably the list.
The door opened, and Higby came in, deferential, pleasantvoiced: “Did you want to see me, sir?”
“Oh, yes, Higby,” said Mannering. “While you’ve been in service here, have there been any thefts of books, do you know?”
“There were a few, sir.”
“Do you know who took them?”
“I believe that his lordship thought he knew, and took action,” said Higby evasively.
“What kind of action?”
“He dismissed the librarian, sir.”
“Oh, I see. All right, thanks.”
Higby inclined his head, and went to the door, but as he was about to leave, Mannering called: “Oh, Higby.”
The footman turned.
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t tell anyone I asked you about that,” said Mannering.
“I won’t, sir.”
The door closed on him.
The list was in Mannering’s hand; forgotten. Lorna stared first at the door and then at him, with a strained expression, almost a look of unbelief. But what he had seen at the cottage, Lorna had seen here.
Two people, a man and a girl, each framed in a doorway.
Lorna drew in her breath.
“John—Higby’s a Lithom.”
Mannering said: “Thanks for not laughing. Feel sure?”
“I can’t imagine why I haven’t seen it before. Same profile, same turn of the head, same hair. A male Lithom!”
“Going back to town?” asked Mannering.
Chapter Seventeen
Stolen Books
The new discovery was vivid in Mannering’s mind when he left Lorna and went to the upstairs library. The first thing he saw was Higby, in his shirtsleeves, staggering under the weight of a pile of books. Longley, in flannel trousers and a khaki shirt, was following him with a smaller pile, and Mary Scott stood by some long shelves, placed on trestles, and pointing.
“Just here,” she directed.
Higby dumped his pile down on the table and wiped his forehead.
“Just the weather for heavy work,” said Longley, banging down his own. “That’s the lot, Higby, thanks.”
“Very good, sir.” Higby went out without a glance at Mannering.
“Come for a job?” Longley asked Mannering.
“I’ve come to make one,” Mannering said.
“You would.” Longley lit a cigarette. He went to the main door and made sure that it was shut, but did not trouble to go to the one at the other end of the room; they were so far away from it that there was little risk of anything being overheard. “Well, I haven’t found a thing. No secret passages, no mysterious cupboards, nothing except a couple of haversacks stuffed behind some of the books. Yes, we’ve had ’em all out,” he went on, as Mannering glanced up at the gallery. “Higby and another footman spent all the morning in here with me, they’ve only just finished. I can’t swear that I haven’t overlooked anything, but I don’t think there’s much chance. I’m pretty sure old Wilberforce knew nothing about books, the Lord knows why Lithom employed him. You were sold on a secret passage to the downstairs study, weren’t you?”
“It wouldn’t have surprised me.”
“I’m disappointed,” declared Mary. “There ought to be a secret passage in a house like this.”
“Well, we’ve looked at the plans—pretty old, some of them, and there’s no indication of one,” said Longley. He smiled at the girl, who was now sitting on top of a pair of library steps, with a book in her hands. The warmth in her answering smile told a story.
“Lady Gloria remembered something that might help,” he said, and took the list of books from his pocket. “Fenner wanted to buy these from Lord Lithom.” He handed the typewritten sheet to Longley. “Convey anything?”
Interest sprang into Longley’s eyes.
“Great Scott, yes! Those books—” he pointed to several piles—“which were found in the hedge at Marchant, are all on the list. Pretty well all, anyhow. Mary, sing out the titles, will you?”
He was eager, excited.
Mary slipped down from the steps, Longley went eagerly to the corner and used a bookshelf as a rest. Mary read out title after title, and Longley made ticks against the corresponding ones on the list. Now and again he paused, searching for a title; in every instance he found it.
So Fenner had stolen the books he’d failed to buy. The whole mystery turned on one question: why did Fenner want these particular books?
Longley said in a keen voice: “Well, now we’re on to something. Damn good thing we’ve got these books.”
“Looks like it,” said Mannering slowly. “Are there any more on the list?”
“Oh, yes. Twenty odd—just a minute.” Longley counted just above his breath. “Twenty-three,” he said, “and they—”
He broke off abruptly.
Mary said: “What’s the matter?”
Longley rubbed his chin. “Er—it doesn’t matter,” he said. “Nothing important.” His grin was rather forced. “What are we going to do now? We could have a search squad in, to take out the books again and then make a thorough search, but I honestly don’t think it’s worth while. How long are you going to leave Lady Gloria at that cottage, Mr. Mannering?”
“A bit longer. Gadden’s strengthened the guard.”
“That’s something,” said Longley, rubbing his chin again. From the moment he had broken off, his manner had changed – much in the way Gadden’s had. “Well, there doesn’t seem a lot more for me to do, does there? Unless you’ve anything in mind?”
“My dear chap, what’s the hurry?” asked Mannering. “Fenner wanted those books—and Fenner stole ’em. So there must be something in the books themselves. You’re an expert in these things, why not see if you can find out what the mystery is. It might be a code, or there might be some papers concealed in one of them.”
“Hmm, yes,” said Longley. “Of course.”
“And you can give Mary some hints in deduction?” murmured Mannering.
“Yes, good idea. Work, Mary!”
Mannering went out, mildly amused yet wary. First Gadden, now Longley looked at him askance; Gadden’s reason he couldn’t guess, but Longley’s was obvious enough. The sergeant had noticed that the books which Mannering had picked out for customers were the other titles on the typewritten list.
He went to his room, left the door ajar, and stood near it. Within three minutes Longley passed the door, walking quickly and on tiptoe. Mannering waited until he judged that the other had reached the top of the stairs, then went into the passage.
Longley was just disappearing below.
He went alongside the stairs to the little cubbyhole where the small exchange was fixed, and Mannering followed, stepping into the alcove where he could hear without being seen. Longley asked for Whitehall 1212 …
After a short pause, he said: “Longley here—put me through to Superintendent Bristow, please.”
The affair of Lithom Hall was preying on Bristow’s mind. He couldn’t set it aside, as he’d like to, and attend to local affairs, for whenever he thought about it, he re
called the Bayswater shooting, and the existence of an armed gang. It riled him to think that but for Mannering, he might never have known of Fenner’s existence – or that Fenner and Kenley were one and the same. From all he had heard, Mannering had been playing the fool again; but if he hadn’t, Fenner might still be masquerading comfortably and safely as Kenley.
The moment he had heard from Gadden, he had put out a general call for Fenner, Dr. Halsted and the Rolls-Royce. The Rolls had been found stranded in the middle of a wood about an hour’s drive from Marchant. So the two men must have transferred to another car, to make pursuit more difficult; even at the cost of throwing away a new Rolls. Moreover, Gadden had since reported discovering more than twenty empty cartridge-cases; the St. Malden police were sure that the thief who had broken into Marchant House had arrived and escaped on horse-back.
Abel White, the head groom at Lithom Hall declared that the late earl’s grey horse had been out during the night.
Gadden had asked Bristow whether he thought it possible that Mr. Mannering would take the law into his own hands.
Bristow had countered: “Any reason for thinking it might have been Mannering?”
“I’d a feeling that he’d been to Marchant House before,” Gadden had said. “And there’s another thing, Mr. Bristow. Through him we found some books which the thief had obviously taken away from the house, and left in a hedge. He didn’t actually find them, but we shouldn’t have found them if he hadn’t been there. Not yet, anyhow. And I’ve been wondering since then, just why he’s taken such an interest in Lady Gloria. He is a relative, isn’t he?”
Bristow had laughed.
“A distant connection by marriage. If you’re thinking that Mannering might be involved in Lithom’s death, to get the fortune, forget it. I wouldn’t put it past him to play the fool, but he’s interested in Lady Gloria because he wants to end her troubles.”