Part 20 (1/2)
Carol held him closer so he shouldn't see she was crying.
”Give them another ring,” Sheriff Kamp said impatiently to the operator. ”I know there's someone there.” He glanced at his a.s.sistant deputy: a lean, hard-bitten man whom they called Lofty. ”She says there's no answer.”
”I bet she's calling a wrong number,” Lofty said, and spat accurately into the spittoon. ”You know what these dames are.”
After a delay the operator said the line was out of order.
”Get it tested and report back,” Kamp snapped and hung up. He looked worried.
”Think something's wrong?” Lofty asked, lighting a cigarette.
”I don't know,” Kamp said uneasily. ”George ain't too bright. I told him to call me every two hours, and he hasn't been through. These Sullivans-”
He broke off, pulled at his moustache.
”I wouldn't like anything to happen to Miss Banning,” Lofty said. ”She's a swell dame. Think we should go up there?”
”It's a long run,” Kamp said, ”and it's getting late. I ain't keen-”
The telephone rang.
Kamp listened to the operator's voice, grunted, hung up.
”She says the line is down.”
Lofty reached for his revolver belt.
”Let's go,” he said shortly.
”I guess you're right,” Kamp said, got to his feet, lifted down a rifle from the rack behind his desk. ”Looks like there's trouble up there.”
The night was moonless, and as Veda sped down the narrow path towards the plantation she felt as if she were in a dark tunnel miles underground.
She paused for a moment to look back at the lighted windows of the house, and as she did so she caught sight of a dark figure moving towards her as stealthily as a ghost.
Veda had plenty of courage, but for a second or so her heart seemed to stop beating, then with a little cry she whirled round and ran blindly down the path.
She had gone only a few yards when Frank caught up with her. His short fat fingers clamped on to her shoulder and spun her round. All she could see of him was a dim outline. She was aware of the smell of his hair-oil. She was too frightened to scream, and stood motionless, unable to do more than stare at this menacing shadowy figure.
Frank reached out, touched her face with his left hand, then, moving so fast that she didn't see his right hand flash up, he struck her on the side of her head with his rubber kosh.
George Staum stood up, stretched himself. He had no stomach for being alone in the big hall and he was scared. The smooth, silent way in which his two guards had vanished had completely unnerved him, and he expected the Sullivans to materialize out of the walls at any moment.
His hands, slippery with sweat, gripped his rifle so tightly that the muscles in his arms ached. His eyes darted this way and that, and he felt a little sick.
He could hear Magarth moving about on the upper landing, and every so often he would call up to him. He wished now he hadn't been picked for this job, and would have given a month's pay to find himself in the safety of the Sheriff's office.
In the sitting-room, a few feet from him, Max watched him through the crack of the slightly open door. Down the pa.s.sage in the darkness, Frank pressed himself against the wall, edged slowly towards him.
Staum felt danger in the air. It was as if the atmosphere around him were tightening, and he stood still, listening, his face ugly with fear.
A slight sound, no louder than the scratching of a mouse, made him jerk his head round to look down the pa.s.sage. Frank had reached the fuse box and the main switch lever squeaked as he pressed it down.
”Who's there?” Staum croaked, stepping forward.
Then the whole house plunged into darkness.
Magarth ran to the head of the stairs, stopped.
”Staum!” he shouted. ”You all right?”
”There's someone near me,” Staum whimpered. ”Quick! Come down here . . .!”
Magarth didn't move.
There was a sudden startled gasp from Staum; then out of the darkness came the gruesome sound of a man being strangled.
There was nothing Magarth could do for Staum. He wanted to warn Carol of what was happening, but he dared not leave the head of the staircase. It was up these stairs that the Sullivans would have to come if they were to get Steve, and the stairs could not be left unguarded for a moment. He dropped on hands and knees, pushed his rifle forward and waited, helplessly aware that he was now the last barrier left between the Sullivans and their intended victim.
Carol and Steve were talking together when the light went out. Realizing what it meant, Carol nearly fainted; only the thought that she must protect Steve kept her conscious.
Steve was unperturbed.
”A fuse must have blown,” he said. ”They'll fix it in a moment.”
Carol knew then that she must tell him.
”It isn't a fuse, darling,” she said, catching hold of him. ”It's the Sullivans. They're in the house.”
”And you knew it all the time?” Steve asked, his fingers touching her hair. ”I had a feeling something was frightening you. Is Magarth out there?”
”Yes, and the Sheriff's deputy,” Carol said, trying to control the quaver in her voice. ”I'm so frightened, Steve. . . .”
”Go to the door and see what's happening,” Steve said, ”Call to Magarth.”
Below, in the sitting-room, the door closed, Max was talking to Frank.
”The newspaper guy's guarding the head of the stairs,” he was saying. ”You keep him busy. I'm going around the back. I can get on the roof and then I'll take him in the rear. You make enough noise to hold his attention.”
Carol unlocked the bedroom door, opened it a few inches.
”Magarth . . . are you there?” she whispered.
”Stay where you are,” Magarth whispered back. ”They're in the hall somewhere. They've got Staum.”