I had to get away. I had to think clearly. I wanted to shout at this man: “I will not do this. Let me give you money.” I was being stupid. He did not want money. He wanted this box. And if I were to save Tristan, I had to find it.
I said as coolly as I could: “How shall I know this box when I see it?”
“I am giving you a diagram of it. It is about six inches by four. You will not fail to recognize it. Do not let anyone see it. Do your search by daylight when you do not have to show a light.”
That seemed significant. The burglars detected by Charley must have been working with this man.
I felt trapped, out of my depth, bewildered, one moment determined to go in search of the box, the next telling myself that I was caught up in something bigger even than the kidnapping of a child.
I had to get away from this place … and think.
“Give me the diagram,” I said.
A black-gloved hand was held out. I took the folded paper and put it into my pocket.
“It is clear,” said the man. “Your child’s life depends on this. This time on Friday. Again, I must warn you not to attempt to trick us. You do not want to be responsible for your child’s death, do you, Mrs. Tregarland?”
I turned away and stumbled out of the house. I don’t know how I managed to drive the car back to Tregarland’s, but I did; no one was aware that I had been out.
For the rest of that evening, I went about in a daze. No one commented. They thought my mood was entirely due to Tristan’s disappearance.
Gordon, Violetta, and I sat at supper, pretending to eat. Old Mr. Tregarland was in his own room. We had decided we would not tell him the news yet. Gordon thought it would be too great a shock for him.
We went to our rooms early, as there was nothing we could do. There was an extension of the telephone in Gordon’s room, so that, if a message came through, he could take it.
There would be no message, I knew; but I could not tell them that.
I undressed and sat in a chair in my dressing-gown, staring out of the window, seeing nothing but the secluded cottage with the creaking door and the eerie gloom—going over every sinister second I had spent there.
I had to find the box. Tomorrow I would go down and begin the search. Clearly it was something of great importance, possibly to the enemy of our country and, if I found it, if I gave it to them, I should be working for these spies. How could I do that? Yet, if I did not, they would kill Tristan.
I should never have gone to that cottage. I should never have become involved with Captain Brent.
I thought of the pleasure of the last month when I had been really happy. I was in love with him in a light-hearted wartime way, as he was with me. One takes one’s pleasures with open hands in wartime without question. We were two free people; neither of us had commitments with other people. Why should we not bring a little joy into those dreary, war-stricken months?
But he was clearly engaged in dangerous work. Naturally, he did not talk of it to me. And I, because of our relationship, had become involved in this without knowing what. Consequently, my child was in danger. There was something about the man in the cottage that was deadly serious. I knew he was in earnest. If I did not produce the box on Friday, they would kill Tristan. And if I told anyone what had happened, they would doubtless kill me, too.
Not that I cared about myself. It would be an easy way out of my troubles, I thought.
That was foolish. I did not want to die. But I could never be happy again if they hurt my child. I had to get that box. I had to give it to them … and never let my child out of my sight again. But how could I do it? How could I steal this important thing from James? It was important, not only to him, but to the country.
I had never been in such a terrible dilemma in my life.
I started. The door was opening. I knew who it was before she came into the room. She was in her dressing-gown, as I was. She said, in that straightforward way which was typical of her:
“What has happened?”
Of course, she was my twin, and there was this special bond between us. She had often known when I was in difficulties without my telling her.
“Violetta,” I said. “It’s you.”
“Who else? Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”
“It has,” I cried hysterically. “Someone’s taken Tristan. I’m out of my mind with worry.”
“We are all the same. But I know something’s happened … today … this evening. What is it, Dorabella? You know you always tell me.”
I thought: She will stop me from doing this. I know it is wrong to do it … but I must save Tristan.
I was silent. She took a chair and, pulling it close to mine, sat down.
“Now tell me everything,” she said.
I stammered: “Perhaps there’ll be a message soon. They … they’ll want money. The old man will have to be told. He’s rich. He’ll pay anything to get Tristan back.”
“Dorabella, you know something, don’t you? Something you’re holding back.”
“I know my baby is taken …”
“We all know that. But there is something else. Come on. You know you could never keep anything from me.”
I began to cry silently and she put her arm round me.
“It’s always better when we share,” she said. She was right. It always had been. Some of those difficulties had seemed gigantic when they loomed before me, and then my sister had come in with her calm common sense and straightened them out.
“If I tell you…”
I heard her breathe deeply and I knew that I had gone too far to turn back now.
“Yes,” she prompted. “When you tell me …”
“You won’t do anything unless I agree. Promise that.”
“I promise.”
“I have become rather friendly with Captain Brent.”
“I know.”
“You know!”
“My dear Dorabella, it was obvious. Those prolonged jaunts into town. The way you looked at each other. I am not blind, you know, particularly where you are concerned.”
“I had a note from them.”
“From whom?”
“The kidnappers.”
“When? Where is it? Why didn’t you say?”
I told her how it had been brought to my room by one of the maids and that it had been lying on the hall table.
“How did it get there? Go on … what did it say?”
I told her.
“Where is it?”
“They took it from me when I went there.” I told her exactly what had happened, and I saw the shocked disbelief dawn on her face.
“This is terrible, Dorabella.”
“I must get Tristan safe.”
“I wouldn’t have thought of anything like this. What on earth have you got caught up in?”
“You see, don’t you, that I have to find that little box. I have to take it to them. I have to go alone and get Tristan.”
“It is obviously of tremendous importance for them to go to such lengths. You can’t do it.”
“I must, I must.”
She said slowly: “The burglary Charley saw … they must have been looking for this box.”
“I think that must have been so.”
“These are dangerous people. They are the enemy. It’s the only explanation I can think of. They can’t go back to the house to try again because the police have been alerted. I’ve always guessed that Captain Brent’s job was not merely to keep an eye on the soldiers. He must be involved in secret work of some kind, and this box doubtless has something to do with it. And as they can’t make another attempt at burglary, you, as the captain’s friend, can go into the captain’s house unquestioned. You can depend on it that your close relationship is no secret. Therefore you can bring out the box and in exchange get your child.”