Part 18 (2/2)
”My head . . . no, he missed . . . my neck . . . blast, it's sore, but I think it's all right. It was that swine Sandor, you know, the-”
”Yes, I know. Don't worry about that now. Are you sure you're all right? You went with the most awful crack, I heard you clear through the door, I thought you'd hit your head on the corn bin.”
”I think that must have been my elbow. h.e.l.l, yes, it was, the funny bone.” He was sitting up now and rubbing his elbow vigorously. ”I think it's paralyzed, probably for life, the stinking swine. I suppose he's made off? I say, he was ripping the saddle open. What in the world-?”
”What in the world-?” The echo came from the shadows just behind us, and we both jumped like guilty things upon a fearful summons. We'd have made very bad agents, Timothy and I. It could easily have been Sandor returning: but it was Lewis, looking for one fantastic second not like Lewis at all, but like something as dangerous as Sandor himself, and straight from Sandor's world.
But almost before we had seen the gun in his hand it had vanished from sight again, and he said: ”Timothy, it's you. I suppose you caught him at it. What the devil brought you down? No, never mind, he's gone and I've got to get after him. Did you see what he took?”
”Packets of some kind, flat packets . . . about the size of those detergent samples they shove through your door.” Timothy abandoned the elbow and began to scramble to his feet. ”He's left one, anyway. I fell on it.”
Almost before the boy's body had left the ground Lewis had pounced on the thing. It was an oblong flat package, not much bigger than a manila envelope, made apparently of polythene. Lewis whipped a knife out and slit a corner of it, gingerly. He sniffed, then shook a few grains of powder into the palm of his hand and tasted them.
”What is it?” asked Timothy.
Lewis didn't answer. He folded the cut corner down and thrust the package back into Timothy's hands, saying abruptly: ”Keep that safely for me, don't let anyone see it. Are you all right?”
”Yes, quite.”
”Then stay with Vanessa.”
”But I-”
But Lewis had already gone. I heard the door of his car open and then slam behind him as he got in. The engine raced to life.
As the Mercedes swung backwards out of the coach house I jumped up and ran out into the courtyard.
The car swept back in a tight arc and paused. I jumped at the offside door and dragged at the handle.
Lewis leaned across and flicked the lock open and I pulled it wide.
”Yes?”
”I'm coming with you. Don't ask me not to, please. I won't get in your way, I promise. But don't ask me to stay away.”
He hesitated only fractionally. Then he jerked his head. ”All right, get in.” As I scrambled in beside him Timothy reached in over my shoulder and pulled open the lock of the back door.
”Me too. Please, Mr. March. I could help, I honestly could. I'd like to.”
Lewis laughed suddenly. ”Come one, come all,” he said cheerfully. ”It's just as well I've handed in my cards, isn't it? All right, get in, only for G.o.d's sake hurry.”
Before Timothy's door was shut the Mercedes had leapt forward from a standing start, swept round with a whine of tires, and was shooting for the narrow archway like a bullet from a gun. Her headlights flicked on momentarily, the archway lighted, leapt at us, echoed past us with a slam like the smack of a sail. The bridge boomed for a second beneath us, and then, lights out, engine silken and quiet, we were running downhill under the tunnel of the dark pines.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
If Lewis by your a.s.sistance win the day . . .
Shakespeare: King John
”I don't suppose he's using lights either,” said Lewis. His voice was rather less excited than if he had been driving to meet a train. ”But take a look and see if either of you can see where he is, will you?”
”Did he have a car?” asked Timothy.
”A jeep. At least, I saw a jeep parked to one side among the trees when I was on my way up. I had a look at it. I'll bet it was his. See if you can see anything.”
The Mercedes swung left-handed into the first arm of the zigzag and Timothy and I peered out and down, through the black stems of the trees. At first I could see nothing, but then, just as Lewis swung wide to take the next bend, I saw a flash of bright light, momentarily, it seemed a long way below.
Timothy and I both exclaimed together: ”There. There he is!” I added quickly: ”There was just a flash a fair way down. It's gone again.”
Timothy said: ”Wasn't there a sort of woodman's hut away down there? I seem to remember noticing it before. When his lights flashed on, I thought I saw it in the beam.”
”Yes, there was,” said Lewis. ”d.a.m.nation.”
”Why?”
”I think I know why he put his lights on. Just beside that hut there's a forest track going off. I can't imagine why he should flash his lights unless he wanted to see his way into it. He'd manage it easily enough with a jeep, but whether we can with this car's another matter. We'll see. Well, supposing you tell us what happened, Tim. What were you doing down in the stable?”
”Something woke me, I'm not sure what it was. A cry or something. Did you call out, Vanessa?”
”Yes.”
”That must have been it, then. . . . But I wasn't sure. You know how you lie awake and wonder what it was that wakened you? Well, I lay and listened for a bit, and I didn't hear anything else, and I thought I must have been mistaken. Then-I don't know ... I felt sort of uneasy; so after a bit I got up out of bed and went to the door. I thought I heard a door open somewhere, so I opened my own door and looked out into the corridor. But there was n.o.body there, and then I definitely heard a sound. I thought it was from Vanessa's room.”
”That would be when he had my inner door open,” I said. ”You might have heard something.”
”Yes? Well, anyway ... It occurred to me then that you might have come, Mr. March, and you might have been going to Vanessa's room, so I thought I'd just made a fool of myself, and I went back into my own room and shut the door. I was wide awake by that time, so I went across to the window and just stood looking out. The moonlight was marvellous, and I just stood looking, and-well, thinking . . . and then I thought I saw someone dodging about among the battlements, over by the gate tower. I couldn't see at all clearly, because of the trees beyond, and the shadows, and at first I thought I was just being imaginative, but after a bit I was certain there was someone there. So I shoved some clothes on and ran along to tell Vanessa. I mean, enough odd things have been happening to make me wonder, if you know what I mean.”
”We know what you mean,” said Lewis.
”I opened the outside door of Vanessa's room to knock on the inner one, but that was wide open, and then I saw the room was empty and the curtains were pulled back all anyhow, and the little door was open. So of course I went out on the roof. I was a bit uneasy now-I mean, you and Vanessa might just have gone for a moonlight walk or something, but I didn't think you'd have left the door open, or the curtain dragged back like that. ... In any case, I kept pretty quiet, and I'd got a fair way round the roof when I saw the car arrive. Everything was dead quiet, so I just stood and waited, where I couldn't be seen. Then you went into the castle, and you hadn't been gone two seconds when I saw him move. I couldn't see who it was, but it was Sandor, of course. He was on the roof beside the gate tower. He ran down those steps into the courtyard. I looked over and saw him go into the stable.”
”So,” said Lewis rather dryly, ”naturally you followed him.”
”Yes. Well, naturally.” Timothy sounded faintly surprised. ”I mean, there was the cry I thought I'd heard, and all the mystery and everything. I don't know what I thought about it, I thought it might have something to do with old Piebald. After all, he was a stolen horse, and I suppose he's valuable. But I tell you I didn't think about it at all, I just went in very quietly, and there he was on the floor, ripping the saddle to pieces.
I think I asked him what he was up to, and then he went for me. I'm sorry if I've done anything wrong and spoilt things.”
”You jumped the gun a bit, but probably not much. He hadn't much time to spare, and I still hope we're not going to lose him. In any case, I'm grateful to you for your care of my wife.”
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