I
I stood in the shadow of a ventilator and looked along the boat-deck. Overhead a cream and red awning flapped in the stiff breeze. The whole length of the deck was covered with a heavy red pile carpet, and green and red lights make a string of glittering beads along the rail.
Beyond the bridge-deck I could see two immaculately dressed sailors standing under arc lights at the head of the gangway. A girl in evening-dress and two men in tuxedos had just come aboard. The sailors saluted them as they crossed the deck to disappear into the brilliantly-lit restaurant, built between the bridge and the fore-decks. Through the big, oblong-shaped windows I could see couples dancing to the strains of muted saxophones and the throb of drums.
Above me on the bridge-deck three white-clad figures hung over the rail, watching the steady flow of arrivals. It was dark up there, but I saw one of them was smoking.
No one paid me any attention, and after a quick look to right and left I slid from the shadow of the ventilator across the pile of the carpet to a lifeboat; paused, listened, looked to right and left again, and then made a silent dart to the shadows immediately beneath the bridge-deck.
“They keep coming,” a voice drawled above me. “Going to be another good night.”
“Yeah,” said another voice. “Look at that dame in the red dress. Look at the shape she’s wearing. I bet she…”
But I didn’t wait to hear what he bet. I was scared they might look down and see me. Right by me was a door. I slid it back a couple of inches and looked down a ladder to the lower deck. Not far off a girl laughed: a loud, harsh sound that made me glance over my shoulder.
“Tight as a tick,” one of the men on the bridge-deck said. “That’s how I like my women.”
Three girls and three men had just come aboard. One of the girls was so drunk she could scarcely walk. As they crossed to the restaurant I slid down the ladder to the lower deck.
It was dark and silent down there. I moved away from the ladder. The moonlight, coming from behind a thin haze of cloud, was just bright enough for me to see the deck was deserted.
One solitary light came from a distant porthole as conspicuous as a soup stain on a bridal gown.
I made my way towards it, moving cautiously and making no sound. Halfway along the deck, I paused. Ahead of me appeared a white figure, coming towards me. There was nowhere to hide. The deck was as bare of cover as the back of my hand. My fingers closed over the butt of my gun as I moved over to the deck-rail and leaned against it.
A tall, broad-shouldered man in a singlet and white ducks came into the light from the porthole, moved out of it towards me. He went past, humming under his breath, without even looking at me, and climbed the ladder to the upper deck.
I breathed heavily through my nose, and headed for the porthole again, paused beside it, and took a quick look inside. I very nearly let out a cheer.
Paula was sitting in an armchair, facing me. She was reading a magazine, a worried little frown on her face. She looked very lovely and lonely. I had hoped to find her on this deck. I couldn’t think where else they could hide her, but I hadn’t expected to find her so quickly.
I examined the door of the cabin. There was a bolt on the outside and it was pushed home. I slid it back, turned the handle and pushed. The door opened and I went in. It was like walking into a glass-house in mid-summer.
Paula started up out of her chair at the sight of me. For a moment she didn’t recognize me in the white ducks and the cap, then she flopped limply back in the chair and tried to smile. The look of relief in her eyes was a good enough reward for that trip I had made in the packing-case.
“How are you getting on?” I said, and grinned. If she hadn’t been so damned self-controlled I would have kissed her.
“All right. Did you have any trouble getting here?” She tried to sound casual, but there was a shake in her voice.
“I managed. At least they don’t know I’m here yet. Jack and Mike will be out around nine. We may have to swim.”
She drew in a deep breath and got to her feet.
“I knew you’d come, Vic.” Then just when I thought she was going to let her hair down, she went on, “But you shouldn’t have come alone. Why didn’t you bring the police?”
“I didn’t think they would come,” I said. “Where’s Anona?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think she’s here.”
The heat in the cabin made me sweat.
“What happened? Let’s have it quick.”
“The bell rang and I went to the door,” she told me. “I thought it was you. Four Wops crowded me back into the lobby. Two of them went into the bedroom and I heard Anona scream. The other two said they were taking me to the ship. One of them threatened me with a knife. I had an idea he would use it if I gave him the slightest chance.” She made a little grimace. “They took me down in the elevator out into the street. All the time one of them pressed the knife into my side. There was a car waiting. They bundled me in and drove off. As we were driving away I caught sight of a big. black Rolls pulling up outside the apartment. One of the Wops came out with Anona in his arms. This was in broad daylight. People just stared, but didn’t do anything. They put her in the Rolls and I lost sight of her. I was brought here and locked in. They said if I made a noise they’d cut my throat. They’re dreadful little men, Vic.”
“I know,” I said grimly. “I’ve met them. That Rolls belongs to Maureen Crosby. Maybe they’ve taken Anona to her house on the cliffs.” I thought for a moment, asked, “Has anyone been near you?”
She shook her head.
“I want to take a look around the ship before we go. Maureen may be on board. Think it’ll be safe for you to come with me?”
“If they find me gone they’ll raise the alarm. Perhaps I’d better stay here until you’re ready to go. You’ll be careful, won’t you, Vic?”
I hesitated, not knowing whether to try and get off the ship now I had found Paula or make sure first Anona and Maureen weren’t on board.
“If they aren’t on this deck I’ll leave it,” I said, and mopped my face with my handkerchief. “Am I feverish or is this cabin overheated?”
“It’s the cabin. It’s been getting hotter and hotter for the past hour.”
“Feels like they’ve put on the steam heating. Stick it out for ten minutes, kid. I’ll be back by then.”
“Be careful.”
I gave her a little pat on her-arm, grinned at her and slid out on to the deck. I shot the bolt: began to move aft.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing up here?” a voice demanded out of the darkness.
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
A short, thickset man, wearing a yachting-cap, had appeared from nowhere. Neither of us could see the other’s face. We peered at each other.
“How many times do I have to tell you guys to keep clear of this deck?” he growled, and edged closer.
He nearly had me. I saw his arm flash up and I ducked. The sap glanced off my shoulder. I slammed a punch into his belly with everything I had. He caught his breath in a gasp of agony, bent forward, trying to breathe. I hung one on his jaw that nearly smashed my hand.
He went down on hands and knees and straightened out on his back. I leaned over him, grabbed his ears and cracked his skull on the deck.
All this happened in the matter of seconds. I ran back to Paula’s cabin, unbolted the door, threw it open, whipped around and dragged the unconscious man in and dropped him on the floor.
“I walked right into him,” I panted as I bent over him. I lifted an eyelid. He was out all right, and by the pulpy softness at the back of his head he would be out for some time.
“Put him in that cupboard,” Paula said. “I’ll watch him.” She was pale, but quite unruffled.
It took a lot to rattle her.
I dragged him across the cabin and into the cupboard. I had to squash him in, and I got the door shut only by leaning my weight against it.
“Phew!” I said, and wiped off my face. “He’ll be all right in there if he doesn’t suffocate. It’s like a furnace in here.”
“It’s worrying me. Even the floor’s hot. Do you think there’s a fire somewhere?”
I put my hand on the carpet. It was hot all right: too hot. I opened the cabin door and put my hand on the planks of the deck. They were so hot they nearly raised a blister.
“Good grief!” I exclaimed. “You’re right. The damned ship is on fire somewhere below.” I caught her arm and pulled her out on to the deck. “You’re not staying in there. Come on, kid, keep behind me. We’ll take a quick look and then get up on the top deck.” I checked my wrist-watch. It was five minutes to nine. “Jack’ll be out in five minutes.”
As we moved along the deck, Paula said, “Shouldn’t we raise the alarm? The ship’s full of people, Vic.”
“Not yet. Later,” I said.
At the far end of the deck was a door set in the bulkhead. I paused outside to listen, turned the handle and eased the door open.
It was hotter than an oven in full blast in there, and oil in the paint on the walls was beginning to run. It was a nice room : big, airy and well-furnished: half-office, half-lounge. Big windows on either side of the room commanded views of Orchid City beach and the Pacific. A solitary desk-light threw a pool of light on the desk and part of the carpet. The rest of the room was in darkness. Overhead came the sounds of dance music and the soft swish of moving feet.
I entered the room, my gun pushed forward. Paula came in after me and closed the door. There was a smell of burning and smoke, and as I moved to the desk I saw the carpet was smouldering and smoke was coming in little wisps from under the wainscoting.
“The fire’s right below us,” I said. “Keep by the door. The floor mightn’t be safe. This looks like Sherrill’s office.”
I went through the desk drawers, not knowing what I was looking for, but looking. In one of the bottom drawers I found a square-shaped envelope. One glance told me it was Anona Freedlander’s missing dossier. I folded it and shoved it into my hip pocket.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Paula said in a small voice, “Vic! What’s that—behind the desk?”
I peered over the back of the desk. Something was there: something white: something that could have been a man. I shifted the desk-lamp so the light fell directly on it.
I heard Paula gasp.
It was Sherrill. He lay flat on his back, his teeth bared in a mirthless grin. His clothes were smouldering, and his hands, lying on the burning carpet, had a burned-up, scorched look. He had been shot through the head at close range. One side of his skull had been smashed in.
Even as I leaned forward to stare at him, there was a sudden whoosing sound, and two long tongues of flame spurted out from the floor and licked across his dead face.
II
The little Wop stood in the doorway, grinning at us. The blunt-nosed automatic in his small, brown fist centred on my chest. The dark, ugly little face was shiny with sweat, and the dark little eyes were shiny with hate. He had come silently from nowhere.
“Give me that,” he said, and held out his hand. “What you put in your pocket—quick!”
I was holding my gun down by my side. I knew I couldn’t get it up and shoot at him before he got me. I pulled the dossier out of my hip pocket with my left hand. As I did so I saw the sudden change of expression in his eyes: hatred to viciousness. The trigger-finger turned white as he took up the slack. I saw all this in a split second, knowing he was going to shoot.
Paula threw a chair forward to crash on the floor between the Wop and me. His eyes shifted and so did his aim. The gun went off; the slug missed me by about two feet. I was firing at him before he had time to get his eyes off the chair and on to me again. The three bullets cut across his chest like sledge hammers. He was hurled back against the wall; the automatic falling from his hand; his face twisting hideously.
“Out!” I said to Paula.
She bent and snatched up the Wop’s automatic, and jumped for the door. As I ran across the floor I felt it give under me. There was a sudden loud cracking of breaking timber. Heat came up at me as if I were running across red-hot boiler plates. The floor sagged and gave. For one horrible moment I thought I was going down with the floor, but the fitted carpet held just long enough for me to reach the door and the deck.
There was a terrific crash inside Sherrill’s office. I caught one brief glimpse of the furniture sliding into a red, roaring furnace, then Paula caught hold of my arm, and together we raced down the deck.
Tar was oozing out of the hot planks, and smoke was mounting.
Out of the darkness, halfway down the deck, someone took a shot at us. The slug crashed through the wooden partition behind me and ruined a mirror in one of the cabins with a crash of breaking glass.
I shoved Paula behind me, conscious that my white clothes made me look like a phantom out for a night’s haunting.
More gunfire. I felt a slug zip past my face. The gun-flash came from around a lifeboat. I thought I could see a shadowy figure crouching against the rails. I fired twice. The second shot nailed him. He came staggering out from behind the boat and flattened out on the hot deck.
“Keep going,” I said.
We ran on. The deck was so hot now it burned through our shoes. Somehow we reached the ladder leading to the upper deck. Above the roar of the flames we could hear yells and screams and the crash of breaking glass.
We scrambled on to the upper deck. The deck-rail was packed with men and women in evening-dress, yelling their heads off. Smoke made a black pall over the ship, and it was almost as hot up there as on the lower deck.
I could see three or four of the ship’s officers trying to get the panic under control. They might just as well have tried to slam a revolving door.
“Jack must be somewhere around by now,” I shouted to Paula. “Keep near me, and let’s get to the rail.”
We fought our way through the struggling mob. A man grabbed Paula and swung her away from me. I don’t know what he thought he was doing. His face was twitching and his eyes wild. He clawed at me frantically, and I punched him in the jaw, sending him reeling, and then pushed and shoved my way to Paula again.
A girl with the top half of her dress torn off, fell on my neck and screamed in my face. Her breath, loaded with whisky fumes, nearly blistered my skin. I tried to shove her off, but her arms threatened to strangle me. Paula pulled her away, and boxed her ears hard. The girl went staggering into the crowd, screaming like a train whistle.
We reached the deck-rail. Spread out all over the sea and coming in all directions was an armada of small boats. The sea was alive with them.
“Hey! Vic!!”
Kerman’s voice rose above the uproar, and we saw him standing on the deck-rail, not far from us, clinging to the awning and kicking the crazy crowd away from him whenever they threatened to tear him from his hold.
“Come on, Vic!”
I pushed Paula ahead of me. We reached him after a struggle, and after Paula nearly had her dress ripped off her back.
Kerman was grinning excitedly.
“Did you have to set fire to the ship?” he bawled. “Talk about panic! What’s got into these punks? They’ll be off weeks before the tub goes down.”
“Where’s your boat?” I panted, and shoved an elderly roué out of my way as he struggled to climb over the rail. “Take it easy, pop,” I told him. “It’s too wet to swim. All the boats in the world are coming.”
“Right here,” Kerman said, pointing below him. He swung Paula up on to the rail while I struggled to keep the customers from following her. He guided her feet on to a rope ladder hanging down the ship’s side, and she descended like a veteran sailor.
“Not you, madam,” Kerman yelled, as a girl fought her way towards him. “This is a private party. Try a little farther along.”
The girl, hysterical and screaming, threw herself against him and wrapped her arms around his legs.
“For Pete’s sake!” he yelled. “You’ll have my pants off! Hi, Vic, give me a hand! This dame’s crazy.”
I swung myself over the rail and on to the ladder.
“I thought you liked them that way. Bring her along if she’s all that attached to you.”
I don’t know how he got rid of her, but as I dropped into the boat he came sliding down the ladder and nearly knocked me overboard as he landed.
“Take it easy,” I said, and grabbed him to steady him.
Mike had started the outboard engine and the boat began to draw away from the ship. We had to pick our way. The number of boats coming out to the Dream Ship was something to see. It looked like Dunkirk all over again.
“Nice work!” I said, clapping Mike on his broad back. “You guys timed it about right.” I looked back at the Dream Ship. The lower deck was on fire now, and smoke was pouring from her sides. “I wonder how much she was insured for?”
“Did you touch her off?” Kerman asked.
“No, you dope! Sherrill’s dead. Someone shot him and set fire to the ship. If we hadn’t spotted him when we did he would never have been found.”
“A pretty expensive funeral,” Kerman said, looking blank.
“Not if the ship’s insured. You talk to Paula. I want to look at this,” and I pulled Anona Freedlander’s dossier out of my hip pocket.
Kerman gave me a flashlight.
“What is it?” he asked.
I stared at the first page of the dossier, scarcely believing my eyes.
Paula said, “Vic, hadn’t we better decide what we’re going to do?”
“Do? Jack and I are going right after Anona. I want you to tell Mifflin about Sherrill. Get
him to come out to Maureen Crosby’s cliff house fast. It’s going to finish tonight.”
She stared at him.
“Wouldn’t it be better for you to see Mifflin?”
“We haven’t the time. If Anona’s at Maureen’s place she’s in trouble.”
Kerman leaned forward.
“What is all this about?”
I waved the dossier at him.
“It’s right here, and that lug Mifflin didn’t think it important enough to tell me. Since 1944, Anona had endocarditis. I told you they were trying to keep a cat in a bag. Well, it’s out now.”
“Anona’s got a wacky heart?” Kerman said, gaping at me. “You mean Janet Crosby, don’t you?”
“Listen to the description they give of Anona,” I said. “Five foot; dark; brown eyes; plump. Work that out.”
“But it’s wrong. She’s tall and fair,” Kerman said. “What are you talking about?”
Paula was on to it.
“She isn’t Anona Freedlander. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“You bet she isn’t,” I said excitedly. “Don’t you see? It was Anona who died of heart failure at Crestways! And the girl in Salzer’s sanatorium is Janet Crosby!”
III
We stood at the foot of the almost perpendicular cliff and stared up into the darkness. Far out to sea a great red glow in the sky pin-pointed the burning Dream Ship. A mushroom of smoke hung in the night sky.
“Up there?” Kerman said. “What do you think I am—a monkey?”
“That’s something you’d better discuss with your father,” I said, and grinned in the darkness. “There’s no other way. The front entrance is guarded by two electrically-controlled gates, and all the barbed wire in the world. If we’re going to get in, this is the way.”
Kerman drew back to study die face of the cliff.
“Three hundred feet if it’s an inch,” he said, awe in his voice. “Will I love every foot of it!”
“Well, come on. Let’s try, anyway.”
The first twenty feet was easy enough. Big boulders formed a platform at the foot of the cliff; they were simple enough to climb. We stood side by side on a flat rock while I sent the beam of my torch up into the darkness. The jagged face of the cliff towered above us, and, almost at the top, bulged out, forming what seemed an impassable barrier.
“That’s the bit I like,” Kerman said, pointing. “Up there, where it curves out. Getting over that’s going to be fun: a tooth and fingernail job.”
“Maybe it’s not so bad as it looks,” I said, not liking it myself. “If we had a rope…”
“If we had a rope I’d go quietly away some place and hang myself,” Kerman said gloomily. “It would save time and a lot of hard work.”
“Pipe down, you pessimistic devil!” I said sharply, and began to edge up the cliff face. There were foot and handholds, and if the cliff hadn’t been perpendicular it would have been fairly easy to climb. But, as it was, I was conscious that one slip would finish the climb and me. I’d fall straight out and away from the cliff face. There would be no sliding or grabbing to save myself.
When I had climbed about fifty feet I paused to get my breath back. I couldn’t look down. The slightest attempt to lean away from the cliff face would upset my balance, and I’d fall.
“How are you getting on?” I panted, pressing myself against the surface of the cliff and staring up into the star-studded sky.
“As well as can be expected,” Kerman said with a groan. “I’m surprised I’m still alive. Do you think this is dangerous or am I just imagining it?”
I shifted my grip on a knob of rock and hauled myself up another couple of feet.
“It’s only dangerous if you fall; then probably it’s fatal,” I said.
We kept moving. Once I heard a sudden rumble of fall-ling rock and Kerman catch his breath sharply. My hair stood on end.
“Keep your eye on some of these rocks,” he gasped. “One of them’s just come away in my hand.”
“I’ll watch it.”
About a quarter-way up I came suddenly and unexpectedly to a four-foot ledge and I hoisted myself up on it, leaned my back against the cliff face and tried to get my breath back. I felt cold sweat on my neck and back. If I had known it was going to be this bad I would have tried the gates. It was too late now. It might be just possible to climb up, but quite impossible to climb down.
Kerman joined me on the ledge. His face was glistening with sweat, and his legs seemed shaky.
“This has cooled me off mountain climbing,” he panted. “One time I was sucker enough to imagine it’d be fun. Think we’ll get over the bulge?”
“We’ll damn well have to,” I said, staring up into the darkness. “There’s no other way now but to keep going. Imagine trying to climb down!”
I sent the beam of the flashlight searching the cliff face again. To our left and above us was a four-foot-wide crevice that went up beside the bulge.
“See that?” I said. “If we got our feet and shoulders against the sides of that opening we might work our way up past the bulge.”
Kerman drew in a deep breath.
“The ideas you get,” he said. “It can’t be done.”
“I think it can,” I said, staring at the walls of the crevice. “And I’m going to try.”
“Don’t be a fool!” Alarm jumped into his voice. “You’ll slip.”
“If you want to try the bulge, try it. This is my way.”
I swung off the ledge, groped for a foothold, edged my hand along the cliff face until I got a grip and started up again. It was slow and difficult work. The hazy moonlight didn’t help me much, and most of the time I had to feel for handholds. As my head and shoulders came level with the bottom of the crevice the knob of rock on which I was standing gave under me. I felt it shift a split second before it went and I threw myself forward, clawing at the rock bed of the crevice in a frantic effort to get a hold. My fingers hooked into a ridge of rock and there I hung.
“Take it easy!” Kerman bawled, as hysterical as an old lady with her dress on fire. “Hang on! I’m right with you!”
“Stay where you are,” I panted. “I’ll only take you down with me.”
I tried to get a foothold, but the toes of my shoes scraped against the cliff face and trod on air. Then I tried to draw myself up, pulling the whole of my weight with my fingertips, but that couldn’t be done. I managed to raise myself a couple of inches and that’s as far as I got.
Something touched my foot.
“Take it easy,” Kerman implored below me. He guided my foot on to his shoulder. “Now, give me your weight and push up.”
“I’ll push you down, you fool!” I panted.
“Come on!” His voice shook. “I’ve got a good grip. Slowly and steadily. Don’t do anything suddenly.”
There was nothing else to do. Very cautiously I transferred the weight of my body on to his shoulder, then transferred my finger grip to another ridge where I had a better hold.
“I’m heaving,” I panted. “Right?”
“Yeah,” Kerman said, and I felt him brace himself.
I heaved with my arms and shoulders and slid up and on to the floor of the crevice. I lay there, panting until Kerman’s head appeared above the ledge, then I crawled forward and pulled him up beside me. We flopped down, side by side, not saying anything.
After a while I got unsteadily to my feet.
“We’re having quite a night,” I said, leaning against the crevice wall.
Kerman squinted up at me.
“Yeah,” he said. “Will I get a medal for that?”
“I’ll buy you a drink instead,” I said, drew in a deep breath, dug my shoulders into the wall and got my feet up against the opposite wall. By pressing hard with my shoulders and feet I managed to maintain a sitting position between the two walls.
“Is that the way you’re going to travel?” Kerman asked, horrified.
“Yeah—it’s an old Swiss custom.”
“Have I got to do that, too?”
“Unless you want to stay where you are for the rest of your days.” I said heartlessly.
“There’s no other way.”
I began to edge myself upwards. The sharp rocks dug into my shoulder-blades, and it was slow work, but I made progress. So long as the muscles in my legs didn’t turn sour on me I would get to the top. But if they did, it would be a quick drop and a rocky landing.
I kept moving. I’d rather go up this way than attempt the bulge. A third of the way up I had to stop and rest. My legs felt as if I had been running for a hundred miles, and the muscles in my thighs were fluttering.
“How are you doing, pal?” Kerman called, shining his flash up at me.
“Well, I’m still in one piece,” I said dubiously. “Wait until I get to the top before you try it.”
“Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”
I stared again. It was slow work, and my shoulders began to ache. I kept looking up at the star-studded sky. It seemed to be coming closer; maybe that was just wishful thinking, but it inspired me to keep on. I kept on, my breath hissing through clenched teeth, my legs stiffening, my shoulders bruised. Up and up; inch by inch, knowing there was no going back. I had to get up there or fall.
The crevice began to narrow, and I knew then I was passing the bulge. The going became harder. My knees were being slowly forced towards my chin. I was getting less leverage. Then suddenly I stopped. I could go no farther. Above me the crevice had narrowed down to about three feet. Bracing myself, I got out the flashlight and sent the beam along the wall and above me. A scrubby bush grew out of the rock within reach. To my right was a narrow shelf: the top of the bulge.
I put the flash back into my pocket, reached for the bush. I got a grip on it close to where it grew out of the cliff and pulled gently. It held. I transferred some of my weight to it. It still held. Then drawing in a deep breath I relaxed the pressure of my feet against the wall and swung into space. It was quite a moment. The bush bent, but it was well rooted. I swung to and fro, feeling sweat like ice-water running down my spine, then I swung myself towards the ledge and with my free hand groped for a hold. My fingers dipped into a crack: not enough to hold me, but just enough to steady me. I hung there, pressing my body against the wall of the crevice, my feet treading air, my right hand clutching the bush, my left hand dug into the narrow crack in the ledge. One false move now, and I would go down. I was scared all right. I’ve been in some panics in my life, but none like this one.
Very cautiously I began to lever down with my right hand and pull with my left. I moved up slowly. My head and shoulders came up above the ledge. I began to lean forward as my chest touched the edge of the ledge. I hung like that, nearly done, my heart pounding, blood singing in my ears. After a while I collected enough strength to climb another couple of inches. I dragged up one knee and rested it on the ledge. Then, with a frantic effort, I heaved forward and was on the ledge, flat on my back, aware of nothing but the pounding of my heart and the rasping of my breath.
“Vic!”
Kerman’s voice floated up the funnel of the crevice.
I made a croaking noise and crawled to the edge.
“Are you all right, Vic?”
His voice sounded miles away: a faint whisper out of the darkness. Looking down I saw a pin-point of light waving to and fro. I had no idea I had climbed so far, and seeing that light made me dizzy.
“Yeah,” I shouted back. “Give me a minute.”
After a while I got my breath and nerve back.
“You can’t do it, Jack,” I shouted down to him. “You’ll have to wait until I can get a rope. It’s too tricky. Don’t try it.”
“Where will you get the rope from?”
“I don’t know. I’ll find something. You wait there.”
I turned around and sent the beam of the flashlight into the darkness. I was only about thirty feet below the cliff head. The rest of the way was easy.
“I’m going now,” I shouted down to him. “Hang on until I get a rope.”
I practically walked up the next thirty feet, and came up right beside the ornate swimming-pool. Above me was the house. A solitary light burned in one of the windows.
I set off towards it.
IV
The verandah, when I got there, was deserted, and the swing lounging chair looked invitingly comfortable. I would have liked to have stretched out on it and taken a twelve-hour nap.
A standard lamp with a yellow and blue parchment shade was alight in the big lounge. The casement doors leading from the lounge to the verandah stood open.
I paused at the head of the verandah steps at the sound of a voice: a woman’s voice, out of tune with the still, summer night, the scent of flowers and the big yellow moon. The voice was loud and shrill. Maybe it was angry, too, and the edges of it were a little frayed with suppressed hysteria.
“Oh, shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” The voice was saying. “Come quickly. You’ve talked enough. Just shut up and come!”
I could see her in there, kneeling on one of the big settees, holding the telephone in a small, tight-clenched fist. Her back was turned to me. The light from the lamp fell directly on her beautifully-shaped head and picked out the tints in her raven-black hair. She was wearing a pair of high-waisted, bottle-green slacks and a silk shirt of the same colour, and made the kind of picture Varga likes to draw. She was his type: long legged, small hipped, high breasted, and as alive and as quick as mercury.
She said, “Do stop it! Why go on and on? Just come. That’s all you have to do,” and she slammed down the receiver.
I didn’t think the situation called for stealth or super-refined cunning, and I wasn’t in the mood to play pretty. I was leg-weary and bruised and still short of breath, and my temper was as touchy as the filed trigger of a heist man’s rod. So I moved into the room without bothering to tread quietly. My footfalls across the parquet floor sounded like miniature explosions.
I saw her back stiffen. Her head turned slowly. She looked over her shoulder at me. Her big black eyes opened wide. There was a pause in which you could have counted a slow ten. She didn’t recognize me. She saw what looked like an overgrown sailor in tattered white ducks with a rip in one trousers knee, a shirt any laundry would have returned with a note of complaint and a face that had more dirt on it than freckles.
“Hello,” I said quietly. “Remember me? Your pal, Malloy.”
She remembered me then. She drew in a deep breath, pushed herself off the settee and stood firmly on her small, well-shaped feet.
“How did you get here?” she asked, her face and voice were as expressionless as the ruffles on her shirt.
“I climbed the cliff. You should try it sometime when you run out of excitement,” I said, moving into the room. “It’s good for the figure, too; not that there’s anything wrong with yours.”
She bent her thumb and stared at it; then she bit it tentatively.
“You haven’t seen it yet,” she said.
“Is the operative word in that sentence ‘yet’?” I asked, looking at her.
“It could be. It depends on you.”
“Does it?” I sat down. “Shall we have a drink? I’m not quite the man I was. You’ll find my reflexes act better on whisky.”
She moved across the lounge to the cellaret.
“Is it true about the cliff?” she asked. “No one has ever climbed it before.”
“Leander swam the Hellespont, and Hero wasn’t half as good looking as you,” I said lightly.
“You mean you really climbed it?” She came back with a long tumbler full of whisky and ice. It looked a lot more tempting than she did; but I didn’t tell her so.
“I climbed it,” I said, and took the glass. “To your dark and lovely eyes, and the figure I haven’t seen—yet.”
She stood by and watched me drink a third of it. Then she lit a cigarette with a hand that was as steady as the cliff we were talking about, took it from her red, sensual mouth and gave it to me.
Our fingers touched. Her skin felt feverish.
“Is your sister here?” I asked, and set the whisky carefully on the coffee table at my side.
She inspected her thumb again thoughtfully, then looked at me out of the corners of her eyes.
“Janet’s dead. She died two years ago,” she said.
“I’ve made a lot of discoveries since you told me that,” I said. “I know the girl your mother kept a prisoner in the sanatorium for something like two years is your sister, Janet. Shall I tell you just how much I do know?”
She made a little grimace and sat down.
“You can if you want to,” she said.
“Some of it is guess-work. Perhaps you’ll help me as I go along?” I said, settling farther down in the chair. “Janet was your father’s favourite. Both you and your mother knew he was going to leave her the bulk of his money. Janet fell in love with Sherrill, who also knew she was coming into the money. Sherrill was quite a dashing type, and dashing types appeal to you. You and he had an affair on the side, but Janet found out and broke the engagement.
There was a quarrel between you two. One of you grabbed a shot-gun. Your father came in at the wrong moment. Did you shoot him or was it Janet?”
She lit a cigarette, dropped the match into an ashtray before saying, “Does it matter? I did if you must know.”
“There was a nurse staying in the house at the time: Anona Freedlander. Why was she there?”
“My mother wasn’t quite right in the head,” she said casually. “She didn’t think I was, either. She persuaded father I wanted looking after, and she sent Nurse Freedlander to spy on me.”
“Nurse Freedlander wanted to call the police when you shot your father?”
She nodded and smiled. The smile didn’t reach the expressionless, coal-black eyes.
“Mother said they would put me away in a home if it came out I had shot him. Nurse Freedlander made herself a nuisance. Mother got her back to the sanatorium and locked her up. It was the only way to keep her quiet. Then Janet insisted on me being locked up, too, and mother had to agree. She sent me here. This is her house. Janet thought I was in the sanatorium. She found out I wasn’t, but she didn’t know where I was. I think that’s why she wrote to you. She was going to ask you to find me. Then Nurse Freedlander had a heart attack and died. This was too good a chance to miss. Mother and Douglas carried her body to Crestways. Mother told Janet I wanted to see her, and she went over to the sanatorium. She was locked up in Nurse Freedlander’s room, and Nurse Freedlander was put in Janet’s bed. It was quite a bright idea, wasn’t it? I called Dr. Bewley who lived near by. It didn’t occur to him that the dead woman wasn’t Janet, and he signed the death certificate. It was easy after that. The Trustees didn’t suspect anything, and I came into all the money.” She leaned forward to tap cigarette-ash into the ashtray, went on in the same flat, disinterested voice, “It was true what I told you about Douglas. The little rat turned on me and tried to blackmail me and made me buy the Dream Skip. Janet’s maid blackmailed me, too. She knew Janet hadn’t died. Then you came along. I thought if I told you some of the story it might scare Douglas off, but it didn’t. He wanted to kill you, but I wouldn’t let him. It was my idea you should go to the sanatorium. I didn’t think you would get Janet away. As soon as I found out where she was I got Sherrill’s men to bring her here.”
“Was it your idea to shoot Nurse Freedlander’s father?”
She made a little grimace of disgust.
“What else could I do? If he told you she had a bad heart I knew you would guess what had happened. I got in a panic. I thought if we could silence him and get her papers from the police we might be able to carry on. But it does seem rather hopeless.”
“Janet’s here then?”
She shrugged.
“Yes, she’s here.”
“And you’re trying to make up your mind what to do with her?”
“Yes.”
“Any ideas?”
“Perhaps.”
I finished my drink. I needed it.
“You shot Sherrill, didn’t you, and set fire to the ship?”
“You have found out a lot.”
“Didn’t you?”
“Oh, yes. I knew he would let me down if the police caught him. He was a nuisance, anyway. It was quite fun to set fire to the ship. I’ve always hated it. Did it burn well?”
I said it burned very well.
We sat for some moments looking at each other.
“I’m wondering about you,” she said suddenly. “Couldn’t we team up together? It seems so senseless to give all that money to a lot of stuffy old scientists. There must be nearly two million left.”
“How should we team up?”
She bit her thumb while she thought about how we should team up.
“You see, she’s my sister. I can’t keep her here for long. If they find out she’s alive I shall lose the money. It would be better if she died.”
I didn’t say anything to that.
“I’ve been in there three or four times with a gun,” she said, after a long pause. “But every time I start to pull the trigger something stops me.” She stared at me, said, “I would give you half the money.”
I stubbed out my cigarette.
“Are you suggesting I should do it?”
This time the meaningless smile did reach her eyes.
“Think what you could do with all that money.”
“I’m thinking, but I haven’t got it yet.”
“Oh, I’d give it to you. I’ll give you a cheque now.”
“You could always stop the cheque when I had done it, couldn’t you? You could shoot me as you shot Sherrill,” I said, and gave her one of my dumb looks.
“When I say a thing I mean it, and when I make a promise I keep it,” she said patiently.
“And besides, you can have me, too.”
“Can I?” I tried not to sound as unenthusiastic as I felt. “That’s fine.” I stood up. “Where is she?”
She stared at me; her face still expressionless, but far up on her left cheek a nerve began to jump.
“Are you going to do it?”
“I don’t see why not. Give me the gun and tell me where she is.”
“Don’t you want me to write the cheque first?”
I shook my head.
“I trust you,” I said, and hoped I wasn’t over-working the dumb look.
She pointed to a door opposite the casement windows at the far end of the room.
“She’s in there.”
I stood up.
“Then give me the gun. It must be made to look like suicide.”
She nodded.
“Yes; I thought of that. You—you won’t hurt her?”
There was a blank look in her eyes now. Her mind seemed to have wandered off into space.
“The gun,” I said, and snapped my fingers at her.
“Oh, yes.” She shivered, frowned, looked vaguely around the room. “I had it somewhere.”
The nerve was jumping like a frog under her skin. “I think it must be in my bag.”
The bag was lying in one of the armchairs. She moved towards it, but I beat her to it.
“It’s all right,” I said. “I’ll get it. You sit down and take it easy.”
I picked up the bag and slid back the clip.
“Don’t open it, Malloy!”
I turned quickly.
Manfred Willet stood in the open casement doorway. He had an automatic in his hand and it was pointed at me.
V
Maureen cried shrilly. “You fool! Why didn’t you wait? He was going to do it! You stupid, brainless fool!”
Willet’s cold eyes shifted from me to her.
“Of course he wasn’t going to do it,” he said curtly. “He wanted your gun. Now, be quiet, and let me handle this.”
She stiffened and swung round on me. There was a feverish glitter in her dark eyes.
“Weren’t you going to do it?” she demanded. “Weren’t you?”
I shook my head.
“No,” I said, and smiled at her.
“This has gone far enough,” Willet said, and advanced into the room. “Sit down,” he went on to me. “I want to talk to you. And you sit down, too.” This to Maureen.
I sat down, but she didn’t. She stood motionless, staring at Willet, her sharp little teeth gnawing at her thumb.
“Sit down!” he said, and turned the gun on her. “You’re as crazy as your mother. It’s time you were put under control.”
She smiled then, and wandered over to the armchair in which her bag had been lying. She sat down and crossed her lees and went on biting her thumb.
Willet stood in front of the empty fireplace. He held the gun level with his waist and pointing between Maureen and me. There was a gaunt, worried look about his face, and his eyes kept shifting from her to me.
“Where’s Janet?” he asked.
As Maureen didn’t say anything, I jerked my thumb to the door opposite the casement window.
“She says she’s in there.”
“Is she all right?”
“As far as I know.”
He relaxed slightly, but didn’t lower the gun.
“Do you realize there is still a lot of money to be made out of this set-up if you throw in with me?” he said. “We can still get it under control. Where I went wrong was to let her have so much freedom. I didn’t think she was quite so dangerous. I knew she was unbalanced. Her mother was. But I thought they were harmless. I would have acted sooner, but Sherrill blocked me. Now he’s dead it’ll be easy. You are the only obstacle now. Will you take fifty thousand and keep your mouth shut?”
I raised my eyebrows.
“She’s just offered me a million.”
He made an impatient gesture.
“Look, this is a business proposition. Don’t let’s waste time. She hasn’t a million. She wouldn’t have given you anything even if she had anything to give. She’s not in the position to collect the insurance on the Dream Ship. I am.”
“What’s going to happen to her?” I asked, and glanced across at Maureen who gave me a blank empty look from blank, empty eyes.
“I’ll have her put in a home. She has no alternative unless she wants to be handed over to the police and prosecuted for murder,” Willet said, speaking softly and rapidly. “It can all be arranged quietly. Janet isn’t likely to make trouble. I can persuade her to do what I say. She will have the Trust money. You and I will have the insurance on the Dream Ship.”
“Just let me get this straight,” I said. “Did you hatch this little plot from the beginning?”
“We needn’t go into that,” he said curtly.
“It was his idea,” Maureen said. “All along it’s been his idea. He’s been gambling with the Trust. Janet found out. It was he who persuaded mother to lock Janet up in the sanatorium. If
it hadn’t been for Douglas, he would have had me locked up, too.”
“Be quiet!” Willet snapped, and his face hardened.
“I guessed it was something like that,” I said. “Someone to do with the Trust had to be in on it. I began to wonder about you when you were reluctant to report to the other Trustees. Then, when Janet was taken from my secretary’s apartment, I knew. No one except you and me and Paula knew Janet was there.”
“What does it matter?” he said impatiently. “If it hadn’t been for Sherrill and this mad woman it would have worked. But I don’t stand for murder. As soon as they started that game I made up my mind to stop her. And she can be stopped. Are you coming in with me? I’ll split the insurance money with you fifty-fifty.”
“Suppose I don’t?”
“I’m ready for a get-away,” he said. “I don’t want to go, but I will if I have to. I’ll have to keep you both here until I collect the insurance. It won’t be easy, but it can be done. But if you’re smart, you’ll come in with me.”
I looked at Maureen.
“Haven’t you anything to say to all this?”
“There’s nothing she can say,” Willet said impatiently.
“She either goes into a home or to jail. She’s too dangerous to be left free.”
I ignored him and said again, “Isn’t there anything you want to say?”
She smiled then, a tight, hard little smile.
“No; but there’s something I’m going to do.”
She must have had the gun wedged down the side of the chair all the time. The shot sounded like a thunderclap. The gun-flash set fire to the loose cover of the chair.
Willet dropped his gun and took two unsteady steps forward, his hands clutching at his chest. I saw him fold at the knees, then I threw myself out of my chair across the narrow space that divided my chair from hers. I clutched her wrist as the gun came round in my direction. It went off and I felt the gun-flash burn the side of my neck. She and I and the chair went crashing to the floor. I wrenched the gun out of her hand, gave her a hard shove, and scrambled to my feet.
“Okay, okay; take it easy,” Mifflin said from the casement windows, and Jack Kerman and he came into the room.
“You all right, Vic?” Kerman asked.
“Yeah; did you hear all that?”
“We heard,” Mifflin said. “Is he hurt bad?” And he started towards Willet.
“Watch her!” I shouted and jumped forward.
Maureen had made a dart towards the casement window. I made a grab at her, but she was too quick. She ran out on to the verandah and down the terrace steps.
“He’s dead,” I heard Mifflin say in disgust as Kerman and I ran out after her.
We reached the first terrace as she reached the fourth. I grabbed Kerman and held him back.
“Let Mifflin go after her if he wants her,” he said.
Mifflin came thudding down the terrace steps to join us.
“Where’s she gone?” he demanded.
I pointed.
She was running well, and already had reached the lowest terrace. Mifflin started after her; then stopped. She ran straight towards the cliff edge, and she was still running when she went over.
For some moments we stood motionless, listening and waiting. But we heard nothing. It was as if the space between the cliff head and the sea had opened up and swallowed her.
“That’s the best way out for her,” I said and turned back to the house. I felt a little sick.
Even if she was crazy, she had been beautiful, and I always feel sorry when something beautiful gets broken.
As we reached the verandah, I asked, “Did you climb the cliff?”
Kerman nodded.
“I came over the bulge,” he said with an exaggerated shudder. “I’m going to dream about that for the rest of my days. Paula’s somewhere around. She’s looking for Janet Crosby.”
“Now we’ll have to explain the set-up to Brandon,” I said as Mifflin came panting up.
“That should be a lot of fun.”
“Smashed herself to pieces,” Mifflin said, glaring at us. “Now, come on, you two smart punks, get in there and talk!”
We went in there and talked.