The day was chilly1, the air full of moisture, and a thin, cold mist was rising off the marshes2. What breeze there was came from the land and took the mist only a few hundred yards out to sea. The motor-boat telephoned for by Mr. Ember earlier in the day ran into it as she came into Withstead Cove3 to land a passenger. The passenger, who was Mr. Belcovitch, was very glad indeed to be landed. He had no nautical4 tendencies, and would have preferred danger on dry land to safety at sea. He made his way up the beach and, confused by the mist, went into the wrong cave. As he turned to come out of it, having discovered his mistake, he heard footsteps, and promptly5 sheltered himself behind a convenient buttress6.
Henry walked briskly past and, as Mr. Belcovitch stared after him, disappeared into the next cave. He disappeared and he did not return. Belcovitch heard a familiar sound, the sound made by the pivoting7 stone as it swung back into its place. He recognised it, and became a prey8 to some rather violent emotions, of which fear, hatred9, and a desire to annihilate10 Henry were the chief. Henry was unknown to him, therefore Henry was not one of them. His walk, his carriage, his whole appearance marked him out as belonging to that class which Mr. Belcovitch made a profession of detesting11. He possessed12 the secret of the passages, and was therefore in the highest degree dangerous.
Belcovitch followed him as rapidly and as silently as a man can follow whose very existence has for many years depended on his proficiency13 in these respects. He closed the stone behind him with a good deal more care than Henry had taken, and, having done so, went up the steps at a surprising rate and in a moment had his quarry14 in view. Henry had switched on a torch and was proceeding15 at a moderate rate down the main passage. Belcovitch, moving after him like a cat, did some rapid thinking. It would be very easy to shoot, but it would make a noise. He fingered a length of lead piping in one of his pockets and thought with impassioned earnestness of the back of Henry’s neck. Yet, supposing that Ember knew of Henry’s visit—he did not want any unpleasantness with Ember. It would probably be better not to kill Henry in case it should prove that Ember would rather have him alive. It was always better to be on good terms with Ember. Molloy had fallen out with him, and it appeared that at this very moment two comrades were on their way to eliminate Molloy. All this very rapidly.
He decided16 not to kill Henry. It was a pity, because there was a most convenient well into which he could have dropped him. He decreased the distance between them and unfastened the black silk muffler which he wore instead of collar and tie.
Henry pursued his unconscious path, his mind occupied with Jane, and plans, and Jane, and Ember, and Anthony, and Raymond, and Jane again. It is to be regretted that he did not look behind him. The villain17 ought not to be able to steal upon the hero in the dark without being heard, but Henry had not had Mr. Belcovitch’s advantages. The latter had all the tricks of the half-world at his command, and Henry had not.
Just before the laboratory turning Belcovitch came up with a quick run, and that was the first that Henry heard of him. The next instant he felt himself tripped, struggling desperately18 to keep his footing, slipped in the slime, and came down choking, with a black silk muffler tightly knotted about his throat. Belcovitch was a very neat operator. First the trip, then the twist, and then the chloroform bottle. He had never made a crisper job of it. He took Henry by the heels and proceeded to drag him along the passage towards the laboratory, Henry being mercifully oblivious19 of what was happening.
When Jane heard that faint dragging sound, she had just about half a minute to decide which passage it came from, and to get away down the other one. It really took her less than thirty seconds to realise that some one was coming by the way that she herself had come, and to dart20 into the slanting21 passage which held the well. A yard or two down she turned and stood where she had stood to see Ember pass the day before. Whoever was coming had no light. Of course they could see the light from the laboratory and were steering22 by it. It was a man coming; she could tell by the tread. He was dragging something—something heavy. What? Or who? Jane sickened.
A dark figure passed between her and the glow that came from the laboratory. She took three light steps, and saw that what he dragged behind him was a senseless man—senseless or dead.
She heard Ember call out, “Belcovitch, is that you?” And a voice with a strong foreign accent answered.
Then a great many things seemed to happen at once: the steel gate opened; the helpless man was dragged in; and, as the gate fell to, there came Raymond Heritage’s scream.
Jane shook from head to foot. The scream cut like a knife. Why did she scream like that? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? She got her answer in Raymond’s gasp23 of “Henry!”
An inner blackness, much, much worse than that intolerable dark which had oppressed her, swept between Jane and everything in the world. When Raymond said, “Henry!” the light went out of her world and left it black. She heard Ember say, “Is he dead?” but she could not see Belcovitch’s shrug24 and shake of the head. She leaned against the wall and could not move. I suppose that in that moment she knew that she really loved Henry. It hurt—dreadfully.
Then she heard Raymond’s voice again:
“What have you done to him? Devils, devils!” And Ember:
“My dear Raymond, calm yourself. He’s not dead, nothing so crude. Mr. Belcovitch is an artist, and Captain March will come round in a minute or two and be none the worse. I’m sorry you had a shock.”
Light, dazzling light flooded Jane’s consciousness. Henry wasn’t dead. The dark was only a dream, and she was awake again. She was very much awake, and her whole waking thought was bent25 upon the necessity of getting help for Henry before that dream came true.
Ember and Belcovitch would murder him if they had time. Raymond would make what time she could, but in the end they would murder him unless Jane could get help.
She turned, holding to the wall, and moved along the passage. When she had taken a step or two something happened which she could never think of without self-abasement. Her nerve went suddenly, and she began to run. It was only for a dozen steps; then her self-control came into play. She pulled up panting, and, after listening for a moment, crept the rest of the way, reached the steps, and came out into the empty hall, dirty, wet, and as white as a sheet.
As soon as she had the panel shut she ran across the hall and down the corridor to the library. She shut the library door with a sharp push, and was across the room and taking down the telephone receiver before the sound of the bang had died away.
“Exchange!” she said, “Exchange!” and clenched26 her hand as she waited for the reply. It came with a dreamy accent, the voice of a girl disturbed in the middle of Sunday afternoon. Nobody should be telephoning in the middle of Sunday afternoon.
“Can you look up a London number for me? Sir Julian Le Mesurier”—she spelt it. “Please be very quick; please, it’s important.”
“Righto,” said the dreamy voice incongruously.
Silence fell. Jane held on to the telephone, and tried to control her breathing, which came in gasps27. The room seemed full of mist; she shut her eyes.
When Jane started to run down the laboratory passage Jeffrey Ember was superintending the removal of the black silk muffler from Henry’s neck. When they rolled Henry over on to his face he groaned28, and when they tied his hands behind his back with the muffler he tried to kick, whereupon Ember produced a piece of rope and they tied his ankles too.
The sound of Jane’s running feet had come very faintly upon Ember’s ear. Henry was groaning29 and kicking, and Belcovitch was cursing in a steady undertone. It was not until he rose to get the piece of rope that his mind took hold of that faint sound and began to analyse it. There had been a sound in the passage outside—some one moving—some one running. Yes, that was it, some one running, light foot and very fast.
Ember finished tying Henry up and got to his feet.
“There was some one in the passage just now,” he said. “I must go and see. There was something; I heard something. It was like some one running.” He spoke30 as if to himself, and then turned to Raymond.
“You will stay where you are in that chair—otherwise....” He swung round to Belcovitch.
“If she moves, shoot Captain March at once,” he said, and was gone, leaving the gate ajar behind him.
In the library Jane waited for her call. It came with startling loudness—a bell that seemed to ring inside her head—and then the dreamy voice drawling, “Here y’are.”
In Piggy’s study Isobel Le Mesurier said, “Hullo!”
“Is that Lady Le Mesurier?” said Jane.
“Yes, speaking.”
“Please tell your husband——”
And Isobel’s charming, friendly voice, “He’s here. Won’t you speak to him yourself?”
Jane’s hearing, always acute, was strung to an extraordinary pitch. She could hear the girl at the exchange speaking to some one; she could hear Isobel saying, “Piggy, you’re wanted”; and behind these sounds, on the extreme edge of what was perceptible, she heard the click of the panel and Ember’s footsteps as he crossed the polished floor. She knew that they were Ember’s footsteps, and she heard them coming nearer.
Sir Julian was speaking:
“Who is it?”
Jane heard her own voice, and it sounded small and far away.
“Jane Smith, speaking from Luttrell Marches. They’ve got Henry in the passages. He’s hurt. They’ve got a motor-boat in Withstead Cove. Help as quickly as you can. Some one’s coming.”
Ember was half-way down the corridor. Piggy was speaking:
“Anthony Luttrell’s on his way—should be with you any minute.”
Ember turned the handle. Jane called out:
“Oh, can’t you get me that number—oh, can’t you get it quickly?...” And, as the door opened sharply, she dropped the receiver and turned.
Ember came in—a new Ember. There was something terrifying in his look, and he said harshly:
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to telephone,” said Jane. “They take such ages.”
Mr. Ember’s look was terrifying, but Jane was not terrified. As she dropped the receiver something happened to her which she did not understand. Within the last half-hour she had felt an extremity31 of fear and sudden anguish32, violent relief, and again intensest fear and suspense33. From this moment none of these things came near her. She moved among them, but they did not touch her at all. The thing was like a play in which she had her part duly written and rehearsed. There was no sense of responsibility, only a stage upon which she must play her part; and she knew her part very well. She did not have to think, or plan, or contrive34. She knew what to do, and how and when to do it. From the moment that she dropped the receiver at the telephone she never faltered35 for an instant.
Ember looked at her with eyes which saw every tell-tale stain upon her dress and hands. The something in his gaze which should have been frightening became intensified36.
“Lady Heritage wants you in the study,” he said.
Jane knew very well that he said the study because the study was next to the door in the panelling. If she refused to go, he would stun37 her or shoot her here. She did not refuse, and walked down the corridor by his side in silence. They crossed the hall, and Ember kept between her and the stairs. Jane walked meekly38 beside him with downcast eyes until he passed ahead of her to open the study door. In that moment she turned on her heel, sprang for the stairs and raced up them, running as she had never run in her life.
Ember would not risk shooting her in the hall—she felt sure of that—but he was after her like a flash, and she had very little start. She reached for the newel at the top and jumped the last three steps, with Ember about two yards behind. Then down the corridor with a rush and into her room, and the door banged and locked as he reached it.
Jane wasted no time. She thought that Ember would hesitate to break down the door until he had at least tried promises and threats, but she was taking no chances. She heard him speaking as she opened the cupboard door and locked herself inside it. His voice was only a murmur39 as she heaved up the trap-door in the floor and climbed carefully down the ladder upon which Henry had stood that night which seemed like weeks and weeks ago. The catch in the wall at the bottom was a simple handle like the one behind the panelling. She emerged into the garden room, opened the window, dropped out of it, and ran quickly and lightly along the terrace, keeping close to the wall of the house.
Ember talked through the door for five minutes. His remarks ranged from persuasive40 promises to threats, which lost nothing from being delivered in a chilly whisper. At the end of the five minutes he put his shoulder against the lock and broke it. He found an empty room and a locked cupboard. When he had broken the cupboard door and discovered nothing more exciting than Renata’s schoolgirl wardrobe, he went to the open window and stared incredulously at the drop to the terrace. Jane had turned the corner of the house and was out of sight.
Ember came downstairs with the knowledge that he must complete his business quickly if he meant to bring it to any conclusion other than disaster.
He went straight to the library and rang up the Withstead exchange.
“The young lady who was telephoning just now, did she get the number she wanted? She did? Would you kindly41 tell me which number it was?”
There was a pause, and then the information came: Sir Julian Le Mesurier! There was certainly no time to be lost. Molloy and his daughter both traitors42, both spies, both in Government pay! Molloy should be reckoned with by now, and some day without fail he would reckon with Renata.
He came into the hall, and released the spring of the hidden door. As the panel turned under his hand, he heard the purr of a motor coming nearer. It drew up. The bell clanged. Mr. Ember stepped into the darkness and closed the panel behind him.
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1
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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nautical
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| adj.海上的，航海的，船员的 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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buttress
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| n.支撑物；v.支持 | |
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7
pivoting
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| n.绕轴旋转，绕公共法线旋转v.（似）在枢轴上转动( pivot的现在分词 )；把…放在枢轴上；以…为核心，围绕（主旨）展开 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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annihilate
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| v.使无效；毁灭；取消 | |
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detesting
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的现在分词 ) | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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proficiency
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| n.精通，熟练，精练 | |
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14
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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steering
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| n.操舵装置 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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28
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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30
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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35
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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36
intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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stun
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| vt.打昏，使昏迷，使震惊，使惊叹 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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39
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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40
persuasive
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| adj.有说服力的，能说得使人相信的 | |
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41
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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42
traitors
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| 卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 )； 叛徒； 背叛者； 背信弃义的人 | |
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