Fighting back the fear she did as he said, and presently she called out; “There’s something going on outside the door; I think something has been put up against it.”
June continued to pick feverishly at the knots.
“I think that horrible man is stacking something there; I can hear a crackling sound,” Beverley called out a couple of moments later. “Oh Dad; there’s smoke coming round the edge of the door!”
“Get down here,” Martin called out. “As soon as I’m free we will get out of here ok, don’t you worry!”
June continued to pick furiously away at the knots, and presently he felt his hands loosening.
“You’re doing great,” he called out encouragingly. “We’re nearly there!”
The first whiff of smoke reached them, and they knew that time was fast running out. Martin wriggled his hands furiously, and gradually the bonds slackened, and with a final wrench he pulled one loose, quickly followed by the other.
He turned swiftly and grasped the ropes binding June’s wrists. In a matter of less than half a minute he had her hands free, and then he turned his attention to Beverley.
“Right,” he called out as his daughter’s hands became free, “each of you free your legs, and then we will see what we can do about getting out of here!”
They didn’t need any encouraging. Less than a minute later they stood together at the bottom of the cellar stairs looking up at the smoke now seeping in all round the door. The crackling of flames could be clearly heard, and Martin knew that if they were to avoid slow suffocation by smoke they had to act quickly. He raced up the stairs and tried the door, but the ancient lock held firmly. It was time for brute force.
He retreated a step or two, and then launched himself forward, throwing the full weight of his body against the stout wood of the door. It shook, but nothing happened. He retreated again and made ready for a second attempt.
“June,” he called out. “As soon as the door gives don’t waste time with me; grab Bev and get through! Whatever you do,
don’t
stop,
don’t
look back, just
get out
!”
“But Martin-”
“There’s no time for arguments, do as I say!”
He launched himself forward, and this time the door gave with a splintering crash, and the force of his charge flung him head first across the intervening space under the now blazing stairway, and out into the inferno that was the hallway. He fell and landed heavily on the floor, banging his head on the solid wood of the shattered door. He was vaguely aware of June leaping over him, dragging Beverley with her.
“Dad,” she cried, “Dad!” and then she vanished in a whirl of smoke.
He scrambled groggily to his feet and at just that moment part of the heavy balustrading from the upper landing collapsed and fell directly on top of him. Part of it landed on his head, and now completely stunned, with his clothes already on fire he staggered a few steps towards the front door before his legs gave way as he fell heavily on his face again. He knew instinctively that he had to get up and escape, yet somehow it was now all beyond him. His brain was spinning and his limbs refused to work; everything seemed to be beyond his powers. He suddenly thought of Alicia; he felt she would be relieved to know that at least he had got Beverley out safely. His ears were filled with the crackling roar of the fire around him; he felt the heat of the inferno on his face and felt the acrid reek of the smoke in his lungs. Somehow he was no longer even concerned over what was happening. One part of his mind felt sorry that he would no longer be with Beverley, that he would never be able to be with June, yet another part almost looked forward to seeing Alicia again. He felt sure that she would understand, and then they would be together for eternity. His last impression was of hands grasping and pulling at him. Perhaps Alicia had come for him? It was a wonderful last thought.
When Martin came back to his senses he couldn’t at first figure out where he was or what had happened. If this was the afterlife, it wasn’t as he imagined it would be. The fantasies receded into the background, and he forced his eyes to open. As they gradually came back into focus he realised that far from being dead, he was lying in a hospital bed! Swiftly the memories came tumbling back, the dreadful time in the cellar, the desperate fight to escape the inferno, and the hands that had grasped and obviously pulled him to safety. But what had happened to June and Beverley?
He turned his head sharply at the thought, and saw a man in a white coat looking down at him.
“Are they safe?” Martin croaked, struggling to lift himself from the bed, “For God’s sake man, tell me that they are both safe?”
“Take it easy,” said the man soothingly as he pushed him gently down again. “Your daughter and your housekeeper are perfectly safe. You get some rest, and you'll see them presently.”
“Thank God,” Martin whispered fervently as he collapsed back onto the pillow, “Thank God they are safe!”
He wasn’t even aware of the injection that he was given a few moments later.
Epilogue.
When Martin next woke he felt much stronger and more in command of himself, although his throat was still sore from the smoke he had inhaled. He soon realised that his head was swathed in bandages, as were his hands. He appeared to be in the bed of a private ward in some hospital. Almost as soon as he opened his eyes he felt instinctively he was not alone, and glancing sideway he saw a familiar figure sitting in the chair by the side of the bed.
“Charles,” he exclaimed hoarsely. “You are the last person I expected to see!”
“Hello Martin, I came to Wellworthy as soon as I heard what had happened,” Charles said. “I've only been here a few minutes as it happens; the doctors told me you would awaken almost any time soon. How are you feeling?”
“I've felt better,” Martin admitted groggily. “How come you're here?”
“Oh, it’s simple enough. As I expect you can imagine, there has been quite a lot for me to do. Still, I must say you look surprisingly well in the circumstances; by all accounts you’ve had a very lucky escape.”
“Yes, I suppose you could say that,” Martin admitted ruefully. “To be honest I don’t remember much about the end of everything. All I remember right now is being in a fire and something pretty heavy landing on my head, after that it is all a bit like a dream. I vaguely remember somebody pulling me out, God knows who.”
“I understand that you need to thank the redoubtable Mrs Brent, or Collins as I suppose she should be called, for that. She pulled Beverley out, and then plunged straight back into the flames to find you. I spoke to the local Fire-Chief about it, and he said it was a completely suicidal thing for her to do, because by this time the place was an inferno. Somehow she found you amid the smoke and flames, and dragged you out. Suicidal or not, what is absolutely certain is that without her, you would never have made it.”
“June did it?” Martin echoed. “You’re telling me that it was
she
came back and dragged me out?”
“That’s right; she has to be some sort of heroine I think.”
“Is she, is she ok?”
“Unsurprisingly she’s a bit singed and blistered, and she also suffered quite a bit from smoke inhalation. I expect you will see her soon; she’s in the next ward.”
A huge wave of relief flooded through Martin. “And Beverley?” he asked.
“She was kept in overnight for observation; once they cleaned her up they realised that she was not physically injured and she was told she could be released any time. She’s in the next ward with your housekeeper right now; they seem to have become really good friends. I saw her only about ten minutes ago and I can assure you she’s suffered no lasting harm from this. What it is to be young! Anyway, she is clamouring to be allowed to come along and see you, but I told her I needed to see you first and when I’m finished she can have you all to herself!”
“You have no idea how relieved I am to know they are both ok!”
“I can imagine.”
He looked at Martin for a few moments, and then added; “She isn’t at all like I imagined; Mrs Collins that is. I expected to encounter a real acid hatchet-faced battle-axe. I guess an experience like you shared must change people quite a bit?”
“I’m sure it does.”
There was silence for a few moments.
“What about Collins?” Martin asked at last. “Did you know that he was the one that trapped us in the cellar?”
“Yes, I heard the story from Beverley and Mrs Collins. I’m afraid he didn’t make it. His body was found a few yards from the front entrance; he died from loss of blood. I’ve also heard that the body of the man called Buxted or more properly Burton, has been recovered from the cellar, along with the gun which the police suspect is the one he used to shoot Collins. In fact Springwater House appears littered with bodies; another man with a long criminal history was found in the grounds. It seems he was shot also, and unofficially it seems likely that the gun found with Burton was the one used to kill him. The real mystery, which is explainable by the tale that Beverley and Mrs Collins have related, is that the gun used to kill Burton is of an entirely different calibre.
I’ve had a long discussion with Chief Inspector Davies who is charge of the investigation of all this, providing him with what you had uncovered about this unfortunate business, along with the stories of Mrs Collins and Beverley. Its early days of course, and no doubt you will be interviewed, but that will be a formality.”
“I’m not surprised,” Martin said. “It’s been a rotten business from beginning to end. Look, Charles, if you can find my coat, assuming it hasn’t been burnt to shreds, tucked into the inside pocket you will find the letter left by my late uncle. When you have read it, perhaps you had better pass this on to Davies as well”
“A letter you say?”
The solicitor stood up and rummaged in a clothes locker and finally drew out a charred coat. He fumbled inside and with a small grunt of satisfaction he pulled out the letter that Martin had put there the previous night, yet now seemed a lifetime ago.
“I’ll study this later,” Charles said, resuming his seat.
“What about Edwards,” Martin asked, “or whatever his real name is?”
“Ah, yes. Well, Davies was a bit cagey about that, I was left with the impression that he knew of the man by reputation. Naturally ‘Edwards’ is an alias. Nobody knows who he really is, all he would admit was that over the years there have been many deaths linked to him. It would seem that what you heard is essentially true; he is a professional assassin of the highest standard, and only works for the world’s wealthiest people. Needless to say there has been no trace of him since you last saw him. Personally, I doubt that he will be traced.”
“And the house?”
“Not much left of that I’m afraid, and what there is will have to be pulled down. If you can get Mrs Collins' agreement re the flat, which is intact, I suggest you just sell the site. Hopefully, she will not want to stay on there after all this.”
“I agree; fortunately there will not be a problem; she has already agreed to surrender the lease.”
“Now how on earth did you manage that?”
“That,” said Martin deliberately, “is a bit of long story; I’ll tell you later.”
“Hm, sounds interesting,” Charles said, and rose from the chair again. “Anyway,” he added, “I have to go now; I’ve quite a few things to do if all this mess is to be cleared up. I’m really glad you are ok, and I’m sorry I doubted you to begin with but I’m glad it’s sorted out; I only wish it could have been done in a much less dramatic manner.”
“I guess that makes two of us,” Martin commented wryly. “It has been quite an experience.”
“Yes,
it has certainly been that. I’ll look in again tomorrow; meanwhile, I’ll let Beverley know that she can come in to see you now. Cheerio, Martin.”
“
Bye
Charles; thanks for everything.”
The door closed, and Martin laid back thinking. Now that it was all over it seemed somehow unreal. That so much could have happened, and all in the span of about a week, was hard to take in. He had only come down to Springwater House in an effort to stave off depression, and the trip had all but cost him his life. What was worse, indirectly it had brought at least three other people to their own sad end. It was a sobering thought. He looked up as the door opened again, gently at first, and then it was flung wide.
“There, I told you my Dad was a tough old bird,” cried Beverley as she rushed through the doorway closely followed at a more sedate pace by June. She said the words brightly, yet there were tears in the corners of her eyes. “He may be singed,” she added as she bounded forward, “but he will be as good as new in no time, you’ll see!” As she reached the bed she flung her arms round him and hugged him as if frightened he might escape.
“Whoa,” Martin exclaimed, “with a squeeze like that you could be a professional wrestler!”
“Not so much ‘an oven ready chicken’ as a bit of a phoenix,” June commented, crossing over to the far side of the bed and smiling down at him. “How are you feeling?”
“Like somebody clouted me with a bargepole,” he said hoarsely, “but I’ll live!”
He caught sight of the bandages on her hands, and the badly singed state of her hair.
“I hope the burns aren’t too bad?” he added.
“I think June deserves a medal,” Beverley announced. “She’s the bravest person I’ve ever met! Do you know what she did?”
June looked embarrassed. “Now don’t exaggerate, Bev,” she protested.
“She dragged me out through the flames,” Beverley continued undaunted, “and before anyone could do anything to stop her, she went straight back in! I was sat outside bawling like a silly kid, and she just went straight back in! I thought I’d lost both of you, but minutes later she dragged you out! I couldn’t believe it, you were both on fire, I could see the flames all round you, but she wouldn't let go until two fire-fighters pounced on you! I didn’t know whether to scream with delight or cry my eyes out! I think she’s the most wonderful person I’ve ever known!”
Martin looked up at June’s embarrassed face, and then reached up a bandaged hand towards her.
“Charles told me,” he said quietly. “I owe you my life. I’ll never forget that.”
“It wasn’t like that,” she protested. “I didn’t know what I was doing! If I’d stopped to think, I would never have done it!”
“Don’t you believe it, Dad,” Beverley cut in. “The fire engines and emergency services were already pouring in through the gateway when she went in. There were police, ambulances, you name it, but it was June that saved you!”
“Police, ambulances, fire engines?” Martin asked, “I’ve been wondering about that. How did they get to the house so quickly?”
“Georgie,” Beverley answered straight away.
“Oh good grief,” he exclaimed as it suddenly dawned on him that he forgotten all about the missing child. “Georgie; is she ok? There’s been so much going on. Please tell me she is all right?”
“Don’t worry dad, she’s fine,” Beverley answered at once. “She stayed in the hospital last night too, and Charles is taking us both back to the school this afternoon. Boy, will we have a story to tell!”
“But what happened?”
“We were in the tree house,” Beverley explained, settling down on the side of the bed. “I know we shouldn’t have been but, well, you know how it is?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but continued; “Anyway, we decided that we couldn’t go back to the school without spending one more night there. You weren’t supposed to know, that’s why we put dummies in the bed. We hadn’t been there long when I realised I’d forgotten to bring my camera. I left Georgie where she was and came down the tree to go back indoors to get it, and suddenly, I was grabbed from behind by this horrible man. He clapped his hand over my mouth so that I couldn’t cry out. I was terrified; I thought he was going to kill me. He marched me away to a tree up by the fence near to the lane where there was another man waiting. He told me that if I made so much as a sound he was going to cut my throat!”
She stopped for a moment, looking at the horrified gaze on her father’s face.
“It’s all right Dad, he didn’t do it!” she went on, happily stating the obvious. “Anyway, it turned out that Georgie saw the man grab me. She told me afterwards that to begin with she was so frightened she didn’t do anything for quite a while, but eventually she came down from the tree house. She still didn’t know what to do for the best and that was when she realised she had forgotten her mobile! She thought first of all that she should come back into the house to wake you up. She came in through the kitchen, and she heard voices in the hallway. She looked through the keyhole, and what she saw frightened her even more. She went out the way she has come in, deciding that she had to go for help.
She was halfway towards the front gate, but luckily in the shadow of the trees when she saw another man coming up the drive, and there was something about the way he was moving that frightened her.
She hid in the shrubbery until he had gone by. She watched him go up to the front of the house, and then she ran down to the gate. She was going to run all the way down into Wellworthy, but part the way down the lane a car pulled up alongside her, and Mr What’s-his-name, Perkins I think it was, the man we met when we had lunch at the Rose and Crown, got out and spoke to her. I think by this time it was all getting a bit too much for her; she told me that she fainted! She must have been really scared, because I’ve never known her do anything like that before!