Judy had a sick, impotent feeling. She could drive the car, and she could listen. There didn’t seem to be anything else that she could do. Her mind was like a stopped clock-it was there, but it didn’t work. It was just as if she had been switched over from the normal everyday world into a nightmare. She didn’t know her way in it. There wasn’t any law or any kindness, there wasn’t any pity or humanity or feeling. A monstrous ego held the stage, strutting and posturing there.
They went over the cross roads and up a wooded hill to an open heath bare under the clouded sky. Lona Day went on talking. Her voice came and went in Judy’s ears. Sometimes she heard the words as words, sometimes they just went to build up the picture which was slowly forming in her mind- the narrow passage behind the dining-room-the lift with its open door-Henry Clayton lying there, inert, heavy, dreadfully heavy-and Lona dragging him-
The voice behind her said,
“Nurses learn how to lift, or I couldn’t have done it. And of course the trolley came in very handy.”
The trolley was in the cellar… Judy sickened, as if the cold of that underground place could reach her here. Thought glanced away at an angle. Cold… She hadn’t felt her body until now, but suddenly she became aware of it, rigid and chilled in an indoor dress, driving on for mile after mile through the February evening. She tried not to listen to Lona boasting of how she had hidden Henry Clayton’s body in the tin trunk and piled up the furniture in front of it- “And I locked the front door and put the key back in his pocket, so of course nobody dreamed he had come back into the house.” But whether the words got through or not, the dreadful picture went on forming in her mind.
“… and no one suspected anything. At least it turns out now that Robbins did, though he was asleep when I locked the door, because that daughter of his, the one he gave out was dead, was there-running after Henry, the impudent creature! And it seems she saw us in the dining-room, but I didn’t know that until this afternoon. Whatever Robbins may have thought, or whatever he may have guessed, he hated Henry and he held his tongue. So everything was quite all right till Mr. Pilgrim took it into his head to sell the house- and of course I couldn’t have that. I managed very cleverly about him. Even if they had found the thorn under his saddle they couldn’t have traced it to me. And I was lucky too, because the fall proved fatal. And then Roger came home and began the whole stupid business over again. Really men have no sense. Of course he had to go, but I wasn’t so lucky as I had been about Mr. Pilgrim. He really seemed to have a charmed life. I failed twice, but I brought it off the third time. It was quite easy. I just waited for Miss Freyne to come down from the attic, and up I ran. He was looking out of the window. He never even turned round. He thought Miss Freyne had come back. He said, ‘What is it, Lesley?’ in an absent sort of way, and he never knew who pushed him. Of course when they found Henry’s body something had to be done about it. Robbins was the natural person to suspect, so I worked on that. I had kept Henry’s wallet because I had always felt it would be useful if things turned out awkwardly. As soon as I heard the house was going to be searched I ran up and put it in behind the bottom drawer of the chest in the Robbinses’ room. And then something happened which might very easily have knocked me off my balance. Only it didn’t. I must say I feel pleased about that. Anyone can plan a thing if they have plenty of time, but it’s how you act in an emergency that shows what you are. When Robbins came to the door and said he wanted to see Captain Pilgrim I knew at once that something had gone wrong. I came out of the room and shut the door behind me. He said, ‘Look here, I’m not going to hold my tongue any longer. You were in the dining-room with Mr. Henry that night-my daughter Mabel saw you.’ I said quite simply, ‘Your daughter Mabel is dead’-just like that. And he said, ‘Oh, no, she isn’t. That’s what I gave out to stop the talk. She’s alive, and if I say the word, she’ll come forward and say what she saw and heard. I’d no cause to love Mr. Henry and I’ve held my tongue, but I’m not going to swing for him, and that’s flat. You can have from now till suppertime to get away if it’s any use to you, but that’s as far as I’ll go, and farther than I’ve any right to.’ And he turned round and went away upstairs. I gave him a couple of minutes, and then I slipped off my shoes and went after him. I could hear the police in his room. I opened the door a chink and looked in. They had everything out of the chest of drawers, and Henry’s wallet was lying there on the top of a lot of old papers. They had their backs to me, so I thought it would be a good plan to lock them in. The key was on the inside, but I got it-it didn’t take a moment. Then I went in next door, and there was Robbins over by the window, leaning out. Of course I could see what it was-he was trying to hear what the police were saying there in his room.”
From behind her Judy heard a low rippling laugh-quite a pretty laugh.
“Well, he never knew who pushed him either. Let me see- we’re coming to the end of this common, and I must watch the road and not talk so much. There’s rather a steep lane down, and then the road forks and you go to the right. Pretty, wooded country, but the primroses will hardly be out yet, I should think. After that-let me see-”
Judy heard the rustle of paper behind her. A map was being unfolded and hung over the back of her seat. A flash reflected from the windscreen disclosed the presence of a torch. A little flicker of hope sprang up. If Lona Day had to manage a map and, a torch, would she be able to keep the pistol aimed?… The hope flickered out. She felt the pistol again, pressing steadily against her spine. The map hung over the back of the seat, and that left a hand for the torch.
They came off the heath down a short, steep lane that ran between hedges. Judy found herself wondering whether there was a ditch under the hedge. If there was-suppose she ditched the car… The answer to that one was easy, Lona would shoot her out of hand. She simply couldn’t afford to let her go-not after all the things she had said. But suppose she could back into a ditch-there might be a chance that way. If she could do it quickly enough-if she could make an excuse for reversing and do it then, Lona might be knocked off her balance and there would be just a chance of getting away. It was the only chance she could think of.
There was a click behind her and the torch went out. Lona said in a satisfied voice,
“Yes-that will be all right. I hope you see how stupid it would be to try any tricks with me-you simply wouldn’t have a chance. I have everything planned. I’ve known for three years that I might have to get away in a hurry, though I didn’t expect to be quite so rushed as this. I didn’t think that Mabel Robbins would have been in such a hurry to give her evidence. After all, she doesn’t come out of it particularly well. I meant to get away later on tonight, but as you see, I can meet an emergency, and now it is going to be quite all right. The police will never find me, because I shall just become someone else. I have my ration-book and my identity-card- and I am sure you would like to know how I got them, but I shan’t tell you. Well, perhaps it doesn’t matter if I just give you a hint, because you’ll never be able to tell anyone, will you? You see, Lona Day isn’t my real name, and there was nothing to prevent my getting my ration-book and identity-card in my own name, was there? And I banked Henry’s fifty pounds in that name too, so you see I thought of everything… Now this is where the road forks.”