Dorothy Eden (44 page)

It was ten o’clock. Jones had been late for work, and Flynn had bathed and shaved before he arrived. He apologized for his lateness, saying that his wife had had a particularly bad night.

“She got upset because I was late getting home, sir.”

“But you rang and told her you would be late.”

“I know I did, but it’s the first time I’ve done it, and it worried her. Goodness knows what she really thought I was up to.” Jones gave a somewhat hollow laugh. “And after that she couldn’t sleep. I was up half a dozen times, making her hot drinks and things. It’s her nerves, you see, sir.”

“Well, it’s a pity you weren’t up to something more diverting last night,” Flynn said ironically. “If one’s going to worry, one might as well have a real cause.”

“It was diverting enough in its peculiar way, sir. I’ve been wondering all night what happened. I was going to ring, but I didn’t want to disturb you. If there had been anyone to be with Nell I wouldn’t have gone home.”

“You couldn’t have done anything here.”

“You say the children didn’t come back, sir.”

“The children didn’t come back. There was a threatening phone call at eleven o’clock, and this morning at eight a mysterious parcel. At eight-thirty the police arrived. So now it’s out of our hands.”

“The police! Oh, sir!”

“Confound you, Jones! Don’t sound so suicidal.”

“But isn’t that—I mean, the fat in the fire, and all that? Of course I don’t know the whole story since nine o’clock last night.”

“No, you don’t.” Flynn’s voice was sharp. “So please keep your criticisms to yourself. Calling the police was the logical thing to do. It should never have been delayed. Criminals are like dictators. A taste of power, and they can’t resist more. Anyway, you and I have bungled it badly enough. The police can’t do worse.”

“I expect you’re right, sir.” Jones was the well trained servant again. “What were you planning to have for lunch, sir? And will you be having guests?”

“Oh, lord—Zoe! She’s sure to be in to find out about our impromptu visit. And we must see that Harriet eats. Better get a cold chicken. Ring for it, don’t go out because the inspector will probably want a word with you at some time.”

“Very good, sir. Dear, dear, what a business this all is. What about the girl sir?”

“The girl?”

“Millie, sir. She was in a proper funk, wasn’t she. I should think the police would just about finish her off.”

It was true that Millie was in a lamentable state of funk. Twice she had been cross-examined by the inspector whose mild eyes, in some strange way, seemed to see right into her. She had stuck stubbornly to the story she had told previously, although she had had an uneasy feeling that the inspector didn’t believe more than half of it. He kept questioning her about the blonde woman, but there she could be convincing enough because she still got the shivers when she thought of that strange, menacing figure. They all believed it was a man who had taken the children, but she knew it was that woman. She just knew it.

She had only to tell of the threatening voice on the telephone, and the plan to leave Arabella outside Woolworth’s, and probably they would trace the children in no time. She was genuinely fearful for the children’s safety, but the fear for her own was greater. If she told, she would also have to confess to taking the earrings. And that meant either jail or losing Fred, or both.

She couldn’t make that sacrifice. She couldn’t really. And anyway the children were all right so far, because hadn’t Jamie rung up this morning?

The inspector did keep on saying in his soft persuasive voice that now the police were investigating it might considerably increase the children’s danger, therefore it was most urgent to trace them immediately. But why should she sacrifice her life for two kids who had everything—an adoring mother, servants, a lovely home. She’d never had any of those things, only that crowded cottage falling to bits with damp, filled with squalling kids and the sound of her mother and father shouting at one another. It had been time something nice happened to her.

Now it had happened, in the shape of Fred. But no sooner had he appeared than he was to be snatched tantalizingly away. No, she wouldn’t let him go, not for all the pampered kids in the world.

If only she hadn’t borrowed those earrings… Mum had always said her vanity would get her into trouble…

Supposing the police tracked down the blonde woman and she told about the earrings…

Then it would have been better if Millie had confessed of her own accord.

She had wanted to scream and scream when they had showed her Arabella’s curls. Jamie was a holy terror, but the baby had been soft and laughing and sweet. It would be so awful if something had happened to her.

Perhaps she should tell…

She felt as if she had been cooped up in the flat for weeks. It was almost as bad as being in jail. And Fred didn’t ring, or come near. It wasn’t fair of him to treat her like this, when he knew what she must be going through. If he wouldn’t come and see her, why shouldn’t she go and see him?

The idea sprang into her mind and grew excitingly urgent. She had stayed faithfully in the flat when Mrs. Lacey had told her not to leave it in case the telephone rang. She had been lonely and terrified for hours, but she had obeyed. Now there was no need to be there, because the inspector and Constable Reilly were shut in the living room, and they could look after the telephone if it rang. She would slip quietly down to the basement and have a word with Fred. If he would just tell her that he still liked her and would be seeing her when this business was cleared up, she would be happy.

It was not difficult to tiptoe quietly through the hall and slip out of the door. She did not take the elevator, but ran all the way down the five flights of stairs, and arrived breathless at the door of the basement flat.

It was a pity that it was Fred’s mother who came to the door. The old lady did not like her, and one look at her face showed that she had not changed her mind.

“What do you want?” she asked rudely.

“I want to see Fred.”

“He’s not here.”

“Then where is he? I’ve got a right to see him, surely.”

“That’s up to you, young lady. But if I was you, I’d wait first to see if Fred wanted to see you.”

“Why shouldn’t he want to see me? He wanted me enough the other night,” Millie was getting angry. “I believe it’s you that’s stopping him.”

Mrs. Helps gave a humorless smile. “My Fred does as he likes, I’m sorry to say. And he’s not backward about making up to girls if he likes them.” Her faded gaze, flicking over Millie, was significant. Millie interpreted it clearly enough. The nasty old woman was speaking the truth. If Fred wanted to see her, he wouldn’t be backward about it. So he obviously wasn’t interested in her any more. But why? Had he thought she was too prudish when they sat in the gardens?

Well, if that’s the way it was, there wasn’t much point in keeping her secret. She might as well be brave and confess to everything. If she had lost Fred, it didn’t really matter if she went to jail…

Disconsolately and wearily Millie climbed the stairs. She had her head down and scarcely noticed where she was going. At the top of the fourth flight she almost bumped into Jones who was coming down from Mrs. Lacey’s flat.

He said, “I beg your pardon, miss,” in his polite voice.

“It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Millie looked up into his long, earnest face, and had a sudden desire to keep him there talking. She hadn’t talked to anyone for so long, because you couldn’t count Mrs. Lacey, or that fault-finding Mrs. Blunt with her do this and do that. “Have you been cross-examined, too ?”

“The inspector asked me a few questions. But I’m sorry to say I couldn’t help him much, being an onlooker only, so to speak. It must all have been a horrible experience for you.”

The sympathy in the man’s voice brought the ready tears to Millie’s eyes.

“Oh, Mr. Jones, if you only knew! I’ve been so scared.”

“Scared? What of?” Jones gave an intimate and teasing smile. “You’re a little too big to be kidnapped.”

“It’s not that I’m frightened of,” Millie blurted out “It’s the voice on the telephone. And that woman with the long hair who watches me!” Suddenly confession, even partial confession, was such a relief that the words tumbled out. “You see, I lost Mrs. Lacey’s earrings, and this woman knows, so she threatens me.”

Jones’s eyes were narrow and interested.

“Have you told this to the police?”

“No, not yet. I was so scared of being sent to jail. But now—” Millie’s tears overflowed once more—“it doesn’t really matter. If it’s my life or the children’s, it ought to be the children’s, oughtn’t it? They’re only babies. Oh, it’s all so awful!”

Millie began to stumble away, blind with tears. Jones’s voice followed her sternly, “You ought to tell the police everything that you think might help. It’s very wrong to hide anything.”

“Should I?” Millie faltered, her courage ebbing again.

“I won’t give you away, but when the inspector comes back this afternoon you should certainly tell him anything that seems important. You say this woman threatened you?”

“Yes. At least—Oh, if only I could talk to Fred. He’d tell me what to do. But his mother says he doesn’t want to see me.” The corners of Millie’s mouth were turned down like a child about to bawl.

“Cheer up,” said Jones. “I’d say the old woman’s making that up. She’s a bit jealous, I wouldn’t wonder. You’ll find Fred will be around. How long is it since you saw him?”

“T-two days.”

“Two days! Good gracious, that’s half a lifetime, isn’t it? I wouldn’t wonder if he’s not on the phone this minute.”

“Oh, do you think so?”

“Could be.” Jones smiled tolerantly. He was really rather nice, with his sharp, black eyes and his teasing smile. But she had no time to think about him now, because it well could happen that Fred was on the telephone. His mother might have told
him
she was down, and he’d be ringing to say he was sorry his mother was such an old b—

With resilient spirits, Millie began to giggle.

“I’d better go, then.”

“Don’t know what Fred’s thinking of, a pretty girl like you. But you tell the inspector all you know, miss. You don’t know what might be a clue, and there’s those poor kids to think of.”

“Yes,” said Millie hurriedly. “Yes, I guess so. Good-bye, Mr. Jones. And thanks for cheering me up.”

F
LYNN INSISTED THAT HARRIET
should come down to lunch. Mrs. Blunt was staying on for a while to see if she could be of help, and Millie was there. Either of them could run down with a message if anything happened. Inspector Burns was working on a plan to have Harriet carefully but invisibly screened that night when she made her second bleak trip with the parcel of money.

So there was nothing to do now but wait.

It was impossible to deny that the hours passed more quickly in Flynn’s company than when she was restlessly and tensely waiting alone. Waiting for what? The telephone to ring with another sinister message? The postman to come? It was too much to hope that the doorbell would ring, and there would be the children on the doorstep. To see them again now seemed like a radiant and completely unrealizable dream. She was bogged down in the dark nightmare. It was only Flynn who kept her even partially sane.

If the police had been there to trace Jamie’s call, all might have been over by now. She should have called them long ago. But if they had been called, something more dreadful than Arabella’s shorn curls might have arrived in the post…

If Flynn, in his determination to help, had not followed her last night, all might have been over by now. The kidnapper might really have been honest…

But again how could one know?

The knowledge to cling to was that the children were still alive. Jamie’s voice had been vigorous and indignant. He was such a grand, tough little boy. Even this bewildering and frightening thing that had happened to him had not cowed him. Joe would have been so proud of him.

“But he needs a father, Harriet darling. He’s going to be too much for you to handle.”

The words seemed to come out of the air. They must have been in her own mind, but for a moment, fantastically, it seemed as if Joe had spoken them.

She was still thinking about them as she went down to Flynn’s flat on the third floor.

It was foolish of her to have forgotten all about Zoe, or not to remember that such a constant visitor would not allow two days to go by without calling on Flynn. Especially after what had happened yesterday.

She had apparently just arrived. As Jones let Harriet in, Harriet heard Zoe saying incredulously, “But you couldn’t have thought I would have them!”

Flynn’s sharp ears had caught Harriet’s footsteps. “Come in, Harriet. I’ve just been telling Zoe everything.”

“Harriet darling, how dreadful!” Zoe burst out with complete sincerity. “But surely you couldn’t have thought I’d play a trick like that on you! Oh, I know I wasn’t very polite the other day, but I guess I was in a bad mood. You shouldn’t have taken it seriously.”

Zoe’s pretty face was so distressed that Harriet found herself liking her more than she had ever done.

“I didn’t really take it seriously,” she said. “But you understand I had to explore every avenue, no matter how unlikely. I wish you had had the children. Then it really would have been only a joke.”

“A pretty unfunny one for us all,” Zoe said. “Do you think I’d let Jamie loose in my room!”

“What was going on between you girls?” Flynn asked inquisitively. “I didn’t hear about this.”

“It’s time those greedy ears of yours missed something,” Zoe said flippantly. “Well, how did you like my room, Harriet?”

Her voice remained light and flippant, but her eyes did not. Those long, sea-green eyes were full of apprehension. Did you see the wedding dress? they were asking. And did you tell Flynn about it?

“Your room was nice,” said Harriet. “And I didn’t know you were so clever at sewing.”

“Zoe sewing!” Flynn exclaimed. “I thought she did nothing but stand in elegant postures!”