“No, it’s not any good-I couldn’t trust you.” His hand went into his pocket for the knife. “You little blabbing slut! Suppose I show you a cure for a leaky tongue-suppose I cut it out!”
She gave a faint high scream, twisted her wrist away from him, and ran wildly, blindly, desperately, without aim, without thought, without sense of direction.
Chapter XLI
JOHNNY FABIAN stood with the open door behind him and looked across the hall. He saw Anthony and Georgina. And Miss Silver, who had just asked him where Mirrie was. That meant Mirrie wasn’t here, but he had to hear it said.
“Isn’t she here?” The words sounded stupid and empty, because he knew already that something had happened to her.
Miss Silver came towards him.
“Mr. Fabian, you are supposed to have rung her up.”
“No.”
“Someone rang up who gave your name. The line is said to have been very bad. Maggie Bell was listening in. I got on to her as soon as Mirrie was missed. She says Mirrie began by asking you what about the garage. Was it what you wanted? Was there really a flat over it, and would you be able to buy it? The man on the line said, ‘Now listen-’ And then he went on to say that there would not be any flat or any garage unless a deposit was paid tonight, because there was someone else after it, and Mirrie was to slip out of the house with all the money she had and her pearls, and she was not to say a word to anyone.”
Johnny said short and hard,
“When?”
“Just before half-past-seven.”
He looked at his wrist-watch.
“Twenty minutes’ start.”
He turned and went out as he had come in, with Anthony Hallam after him. They exchanged a word or two in the dark. Anthony said,
“Three ways they could have gone-to Lenton, or by this road, up or down. We had better separate.”
Johnny said,
“All right, you take the Lenton road. It’s Sid Turner. He saw me across the street at Pigeon Hill-knew I wasn’t here -tried it on. If he’s on the run he’ll be heading away from town. If he’s got a car it’ll be stolen, and he’d steal a fast one.”
He went round the car to get in, and as he did so Miss Silver slipped into the passenger’s seat. She had picked up the first muffler that came to hand in the cloakroom off the lobby, and a coat used by Mrs. Fabian for walking in the garden or stepping across the road to post a letter. The fact that she had come out without a hat and in her evening slippers with their beaded toes bore witness to the urgency of the occasion. She could have guessed Johnny Fabian’s expression from the tone in which he said, “I must ask you to get out. I can’t possibly take you.”
She replied in words which he had been about to use himself.
“There is no time to be lost. I may be of some assistance. I have excellent sight, and I am provided with an electric torch.”
Johnny ceased to regard her presence. The words filled his mind-“No time to be lost.” But the time might already be lost. Mirrie might be lost. He set his mind away from that. He set it to drive the car, to get the last ounce out of her. They shot past the straggle of houses at Field End and ran on towards Hexley Common.
From the first moment it was the Common that had been in his mind. He didn’t know why. He ought to be able to think, to find a reason, but he couldn’t. He could feel. Or he could shut off the feeling and just drive the car. But he couldn’t think. From the darkness beside him Miss Silver said, “I have reason to believe that there is a warrant out for Sid Turner’s arrest. Inspector Abbott and Inspector Blake were going down to Pigeon Hill this afternoon. It looks as if he had received some warning and had got away. As I heard you say to Captain Hallam, he has probably stolen a car. I cannot see that he has anything to gain by harming Mirrie, but he will not risk driving through a town with her in case she should attract attention. Having taken the money and her pearls, the most obvious thing for him to do would be to put her down in an unfrequented place from which it would take her some time to find her way home. He would naturally wish to secure as long a start as possible.”
Her words and the quiet, composed tone which had carried them passed over the hard surface of Johnny’s mind and found no entrance. He heard what she said, but implicit between them was the dark thing which she did not say. There was one means of securing that Mirrie Field would not return to Field End with any tale for the police. There was the dreadful means of murder-as old as Cain, running like a scarlet thread through all the history of every nation upon earth-the one final answer to every murderer’s need. Johnny shut his mind against it.
They ran up the long slope to Hexley Common. It lay dark under the sky. A chill breeze passed over it. Miss Silver was aware of it as she leaned from the open window to scan the side of the road. She saw the track going off to the left.
“Mr. Fabian, there is a path-”
But he was already slowing down. He got out, and she followed him. She said,
“Where does it go?” And he, “There’s a gravel pit.”
And with that, faint and high, there came the sound of Mirrie’s scream.
Chapter XLII
WHEN SHE HAD RUN from Sid Turner she was in no case to think or plan. A blind panic drove her. The track led straight to the gravel pit and she followed it. It was only when her foot went over the edge and she lost her balance that she knew anything at all. What came to her then was thought in its simplest, most elementary form-“I’m falling.” And with that she fell, out of thought and out of consciousness.
The first thing she knew after that was something pricking her. She didn’t come to all at once. She had been very badly shocked and frightened, and she had had quite a fall. The pricking became more insistent. Her face and hands were scratched, her shoulder hurt. She heard Sid calling her, softly, cautiously. She lay as still as a rabbit and saw a small round disc of light go dancing by. Sid had a torch and he was looking for her. The thing that was pricking her was gorse. She had rolled, and slipped, and slithered down the side of the pit, and she was lying between two gorse bushes. They covered her against the dancing light, and it passed over her and was gone. The fear that had been holding her rigid relaxed and let her go. She lay in a soft trembling heap and prayed that the light would not return. If she was very good always, if she never told another lie in all her life, if she always remembered to say her prayers, perhaps God wouldn’t let Sid find her.
She drew herself up very, very carefully. She was stiff and sore, but there wasn’t anything broken. When she peered from between the bushes she could see the light going away to the left, sliding to and fro over the gorse, and the blackberry trails, and the yellow side of the pit. Sid was walking away from the place where she had fallen. As he went he shone the light over the edge and looked down and called her name.
“Mirrie, you little fool, where are you? I was only joking, you know. You wouldn’t be afraid of me-not of Sid. Just call back, and I’ll get you up. You don’t want to make me angry, do you? Mirrie!”
She began to crawl out from between the bushes. If he went on round the pit-if she could get out whilst he was on the other side-if she could get back on to the road… She hadn’t fallen very far, but if he heard her he would come back and kill her with the knife. She knew what his hand had gone into his pocket for-it was to get the knife. It opened with a spring. She had seen him open it before, the time he had set the point against her throat. If he caught her now he wouldn’t stop at frightening her, he would kill her dead.
She couldn’t climb in her coat. She slipped it off and let it go. The slope where she had fallen was not a steep one. She crawled on it an inch or two at a time, sometimes a little to the left, sometimes a little to the right, according to the lie of the ground. And then just as she got to the top the flickering light and Sid’s voice calling her. They turned and began to come back again. She got her knee over the edge, her other knee, her foot. If she stood up he would see her. If she didn’t stand up she couldn’t run away. The dancing light would pick her up-Sid would catch her and she would feel the knife.