魔手32

II

Marcus Kent was pleased with me. He told me that I surpassed his wildestexpectations.

“You must have the constitution of an elephant,” he said, “to make acomeback like this. Oh well, wonderful what country air and no late hoursor excitements will do for a man if he can only stick it.”

“I grant you your first two,” I said. “But don’t think that the country isfree from excitements. We’ve had a good deal in my part.”

“What sort of excitement?”

“Murder,” I said.

Marcus Kent pursed up his mouth and whistled.

“Some bucolic love tragedy? Farmer lad kills his lass?”

“Not at all. A crafty, determined lunatic killer.”

“I haven’t read anything about it. When did they lay him by the heels?”

“They haven’t, and it’s a she!”

“Whew! I’m not sure that Lymstock’s quite the right place for you, oldboy.”

I said firmly:

“Yes, it is. And you’re not going to get me out of it.”

Marcus Kent has a low mind. He said at once:

“So that’s it! Found a blonde?”

“Not at all,” I said, with a guilty thought of Elsie Holland. “It’s merelythat the psychology of crime interests me a good deal.”

“Oh, all right. It certainly hasn’t done you any harm so far, but just makesure that your lunatic killer doesn’t obliterate you.”

“No fear of that,” I said.

“What about dining with me this evening? You can tell me all aboutyour revolting murder.”

“Sorry. I’m booked.”

“Date with a lady—eh? Yes, you’re definitely on the mend.”

“I suppose you could call it that,” I said, rather tickled at the idea ofMegan in the role.

I was at Mirotin’s at six o’clock when the establishment was officiallyclosing. Mary Grey came to meet me at the top of the stairs outside theshowroom. She had a finger to her lips.

“You’re going to have a shock! If I say it myself, I’ve put in a good bit ofwork.”

I went into the big showroom. Megan was standing looking at herself ina long mirror. I give you my word I hardly recognized her! For the minuteit took my breath away. Tall and slim as a willow with delicate ankles andfeet shown off by sheer silk stockings and well-cut shoes. Yes, lovely feetand hands, small bones—quality and distinction in every line of her. Herhair had been trimmed and shaped to her head and it was glowing like aglossy chestnut. They’d had the sense to leave her face alone. She was notmade-up, or if she was it was so light and delicate that it did not show. Hermouth needed no lipstick.

Moreover there was about her something that I had never seen before, anew innocent pride in the arch of her neck. She looked at me gravely witha small shy smile.

“I do look—rather nice, don’t I?” said Megan.

“Nice?” I said. “Nice isn’t the word! Come on out to dinner and if everysecond man doesn’t turn round to look at you I’ll be surprised. You’llknock all the other girls into a cocked hat.”

Megan was not beautiful, but she was unusual and striking looking. Shehad personality. She walked into the restaurant ahead of me and, as thehead waiter hurried towards us, I felt the thrill of idiotic pride that a manfeels when he has got something out of the ordinary with him.

We had cocktails first and lingered over them. Then we dined. And laterwe danced. Megan was keen to dance and I didn’t want to disappoint her,but for some reason or other I hadn’t thought she would dance well. Butshe did. She was light as a feather in my arms, and her body and feet fol-lowed the rhythm perfectly.

“Gosh!” I said. “You can dance!”

She seemed a little surprised. “Well, of course I can. We had dancingclass every week at school.”

“It takes more than dancing class to make a dancer,” I said.

We went back to our table.

“Isn’t this food lovely?” said Megan. “And everything!”

She heaved a delighted sigh.

“Exactly my sentiments,” I said.

It was a delirious evening. I was still mad. Megan brought me down toearth when she said doubtfully:

“Oughtn’t we to be going home?”

My jaw dropped. Yes, definitely I was mad. I had forgotten everything! Iwas in a world divorced from reality, existing in it with the creature I hadcreated.

“Good Lord!” I said.

I realized that the last train had gone.

“Stay there,” I said. “I’m going to telephone.”

I rang up the Llewellyn Hire people and ordered their biggest and fast-est car to come round as soon as possible.

I came back to Megan. “The last train has gone,” I said. “So we’re goinghome by car.”

“Are we? What fun!”

What a nice child she was, I thought. So pleased with everything, so un-questioning, accepting all my suggestions without fuss or bother.

The car came, and it was large and fast, but all the same it was very latewhen we came into Lymstock.

Suddenly conscience- stricken, I said, “They’ll have been sending outsearch parties for you!”

But Megan seemed in an equable mood. She said vaguely:

“Oh, I don’t think so. I often go out and don’t come home for lunch.”

“Yes, my dear child, but you’ve been out for tea and dinner too.”

However, Megan’s lucky star was in the ascendant. The house was darkand silent. On Megan’s advice, we went round to the back and threwstones at Rose’s window.

In due course Rose looked out and with many suppressed exclamationsand palpitations came down to let us in.

“Well now, and I saying you were asleep in your bed. The master andMiss Holland”—(slight sniff after Miss Holland’s name)—“had early sup-per and went for a drive. I said I’d keep an eye to the boys. I thought Iheard you come in when I was up in the nursery trying to quiet Colin, whowas playing up, but you weren’t about when I came down so I thoughtyou’d gone to bed. And that’s what I said when the master came in andasked for you.”

I cut short the conversation by remarking that that was where Meganhad better go now.

“Good night,” said Megan, “and thank you awfully. It’s been the loveliestday I’ve ever had.”

I drove home slightly light-headed still, and tipped the chauffeur hand-somely, offering him a bed if he liked. But he preferred to drive backthrough the night.

The hall door had opened during our colloquy and as he drove away itwas flung wide open and Joanna said:

“So it’s you at last, is it?”

“Were you worried about me?” I asked, coming in and shutting thedoor.

Joanna went into the drawing room and I followed her. There was a cof-fee pot on the trivet and Joanna made herself coffee whilst I helped myselfto a whisky and soda.

“Worried about you? No, of course not. I thought you’d decided to stayin town and have a binge.”

“I’ve had a binge—of a kind.”

I grinned and then began to laugh.

Joanna asked what I was laughing at and I told her.

“But Jerry, you must have been mad—quite mad!”

“I suppose I was.”

“But, my dear boy, you can’t do things like that—not in a place like this.

It will be all round Lymstock tomorrow.”

“I suppose it will. But, after all, Megan’s only a child.”

“She isn’t. She’s twenty. You can’t take a girl of twenty to London andbuy her clothes without a most frightful scandal. Good gracious, Jerry,you’ll probably have to marry the girl.”

Joanna was half serious, half laughing.

It was at that moment that I made a very important discovery. “Damn itall,” I said. “I don’t mind if I do. In fact— I should like it.”

A very funny expression came over Joanna’s face. She got up and saiddryly, as she went towards the door:

“Yes, I’ve known that for some time….”

She left me standing, glass in hand, aghast at my new discovery.

 

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