The Paw in the Bottle

I

A blonde woman in a silk wrap over an oyster-coloured nightdress jerked open the front door of 97, Park Way and demanded furiously: ‘What do you want; calling at this hour? Didn’t they tell you I haven’t a maid?’ Her pretty, doll-like face was puffy with sleep, and she seemed to have just got out of bed.

‘I’m sorry if I have disturbed you,’ Julie was startled and embarrassed. The woman made no attempt to conceal her rage. ‘I was sent by Mrs. French. I... I understood you were expecting me.’

‘Then for goodness’ sake come in,’ Blanche Wesley said. ‘I’ve been without anyone for days. It’s really monstrous how I’m treated.’

She slouched into the hall lounge. Julie closed the front door and followed her.

‘I can’t talk to you until I’ve had some coffee,’ Blanche went on, and ran her little claw-like fingers through her blonde curls. ‘Now you are here — do make yourself useful. The kitchen’s through there. Just poke around until you find everything. Please don’t ask a lot of silly questions. I have a splitting headache. Just get me some coffee. I’ll be in the end room down the passage.’ She stared at Julie; ‘Why, you’re quite pretty. What a pleasant change. I’m so tired of being surrounded by ugly faces. I can never understand why the working classes are so hideous. But do run along. You can make coffee, I suppose, or can’t you?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Julie said, and smiled brightly.

Blanche winced.

‘That’s lovely, but don’t grin at me, please. My nerves simply won’t stand it.’ She frowned down at her quilted satin slippers, went on, ‘I think it would be nice if you said ‘madam’ when you speak to me. Yes, I think I should like that. It shouldn’t be difficult, or do you think it will?’

‘No, madam,’ Julie said. She turned scarlet, and her smile vanished.

‘Are you angry?’ The pencilled eyebrows lifted. ‘Have I said anything to annoy you? You’ve turned the colour of a beetroot; so unbecoming I always think.’

‘Oh, no, madam,’ Julie said, and behind her back her fists clenched tightly.

‘I probably will, sooner or later,’ Blanche said, with evident satisfaction. ‘Mr. Wesley tells me I am so tactless with menials. I suppose I am, but I do think if one pays good wages one should be able to say what one thinks.’

Julie kept silent. The doll-like face, the enchanting little body, the golden curls that reminded her of a halo, fascinated her.

‘Well, do stop gaping at me,’ Blanche said, frowning. ‘Of course, I’m used to people staring, but I do think it’s a little much when I feel like the wrath of God.’

‘I’m sorry, madam,’ Julie tried to look away, but there was something so bizarre about this woman that she couldn’t take her eyes off her for more than a few seconds.

‘I feel positively ill this morning,’ Blanche went on. She pressed her fingers to her temples. ‘And no one cares a damn if I’m dying.’ Then, with a sudden startling blaze-up of rage, she shouted; ‘For God’s sake get that coffee and stop gaping at me as if I were a blue-bottomed baboon!’

‘I’m sorry, madam.’ Julie backed away. ‘I’ll get it at once.’

She went into the kitchen and hurriedly closed the door.

‘Well, I was warned,’ she said to herself, ‘but I didn’t think she’d he quite like this. Phew! I’ll have to watch my step if I’m to keep this job for long.’

While she waited for the water to boil, she hurriedly slipped of her frock, opened the parcel containing her uniform and put it on.

‘Perhaps she’ll be pleased if I wear my uniform,’ she thought. ‘At least, it’ll show her I know my place,’ and she giggled.

Blanche’s room was ablaze with light when Julie entered carrying a tray. There was a strong smell of brandy and stale perfume in the room and the air was thick and stuffy. Although it was past three in the afternoon the curtains were still drawn, and no windows appeared to be open.

Blanche was wandering about amid overwhelming luxury and confusion. The walls of the room were covered with pale blue quilting. Arm-chairs, a quilted chaise-longue and a blue and white leather pouf were dotted about on the thick, white carpet. The ornate dressing-table was covered with spilt powder, oozing tubes of grease paint, and overturned bottles. Clothes lay about the floor, on the chairs, and over the foot of the bed. Shoes lay in corners where they had been carelessly thrown. A straw hat, almost the size of a sunshade, hung from one of the electric light brackets.

‘What a time you’ve been,’ Blanche said, crossly. ‘You’ll have to be a little quicker than this if we’re to get along together.’ She peered at Julie, went on, ‘Oh, you’ve changed. Why, you look quite nice. What a pretty uniform.’ She pointed to a bedside table. ‘Put the tray down and leave me. Perhaps you’d like to tidy the bathroom, then we’ll have a talk. It’s through there. I’ll be ready for you in a minute or so.’

The bathroom made Julie envious. There was a shower cabinet, a sunken bath, a dressing-table, a massage machine, a Turkish bath cabinet, and a hair dryer: everything an idle, spoilt woman could wish for. And, like the bedroom, this room was also in confusion. The bath hadn’t been emptied. A towel floated on the milky water. Powder was scattered over the floor, and bath salt crystals crunched under Julie’s shoes as she moved about, picking up cleansing tissues and hand towels sticky with cold cream.

Working as quickly as she could, she tidied the room, emptied the bath, wrung out the towel and wiped over the floor with it.

Blanche was still pacing up and down when she returned to the bedroom. On the dressing-table, partly concealed by a powder bowl, was a tumbler half-full of brandy.

‘There you are,’ Blanche said, and smiled. She looked brighter now and more amiable. ‘Did I ask your name? I don’t believe I did.’

‘Julie Holland, madam.’

Blanche dropped in an arm-chair, closed her eyes for a moment, then looked up and gave Julie a long, searching stare.

‘Did you say Mrs. French sent you? I never seem to remember anything these days.’

‘Yes, madam.’

‘Oh, well, I suppose you must be all right. You’ve got references, I suppose?’

Julie handed over the two envelopes.

‘That woman’s so efficient,’ Blanche said a little crossly as she ripped open the envelopes. She glanced at the references, tossed them on the dressing-table. ‘She told you the wages, I suppose?’

‘Yes, madam.’

‘Well, you’d better consider yourself engaged.’ She leaned forward to peer into the mirror. ‘Well see how we get on together. That was very good coffee you made. So long as you keep the place tidy and help me when I want help that’s all I shall expect from you. Your room’s at the other end of the passage. It’s a nice room. I believe in making people comfortable. You can begin at once?’

‘Yes, madam.’

Blanche picked up a comb and began to run it through her blonde curls.

‘I shall be away to-night. I would like you to move in immediately. I don’t like the flat left empty if I can help it. Do you think you can manage that, or don’t you?’

‘Yes, madam.’ Julie was getting tired of standing before this glamorous little doll.

‘And you won’t mind being left alone here for the night?’

Julie showed her surprise.

‘Oh, no, madam. I don’t mind at all.’

‘How brave of you,’ Blanche said languidly. ‘I hate being alone here. Mr. Wesley has been in Paris for the past fortnight and I’ve been terrified. You never know when someone’s going to break in. There are so many burglaries these days and you do hear the oddest noises at night. I sometimes think the place is haunted. But I suppose you don’t believe in ghosts?’

‘No, madam,’ Julie said firmly.

‘It must be nice to have no imagination,’ Blanche said, patting her curls. ‘I’m so sensitive and nervous. There are times when I’m quite positive someone creeps up and down the passage. I suppose it’s because I’m highly strung.’

‘Or tight,’ Julie thought, wanting to laugh. She said, ‘Shall I run your bath, madam?’

‘I suppose you’d better. And then there’s a bag to be packed. I shan’t be back until tomorrow evening. I expect Mr. Wesley about the same time. There’ll be plenty for you to do. All my things want tidying. I’ve had absolutely no one for days and everything gets in such a mess. I don’t know why. Do be a nice girl and open that cupboard. That’s right. You see each of my dresses has a number. It’s on the hanger.’

The room was fitted with three enormous cupboards with sliding doors. The cupboard that Julie opened contained two long rows of dresses, coats, frocks and evening gowns.

‘Each dress has a hat, underwear, gloves and bag to go with it, and, of course, shoes,’ Blanche explained in a tired little voice. ‘It’s my own system. Everything is numbered and it’s simply a matter of keeping the numbers together. Do you think you can manage?’

‘Oh, yes, madam.’

‘There’s a safe over there. You can’t see it. It’s hidden behind the wall. I look after that myself. I keep my furs and jewellery in it. Now I think you’d better run my bath. I simply must catch the five-twenty and time’s getting on.’ She added this as if it were Julie’s fault.

While Blanche was in the bathroom Julie did her best to tidy the bedroom, and as she worked she wondered what she was going to do with herself that evening. She hadn’t expected an evening to herself so soon. If she could only get hold of Harry they might go to a movie together. But how could she get in touch with him? The only hope was Mrs. French. Harry had said she would pass on a message. It was worth trying.

Getting Blanche off was a maddening and exhausting operation. Twice her suitcase had to be unpacked because she changed her mind about what she intended to take with her: then, when all seemed ready and Julie was about to telephone for a taxi, Blanche became fretful and decided not to go.

‘I really don’t think I can be bothered,’ she said, flopping into an arm-chair. Dressed and made up, she was startlingly beautiful: like a painted, irresistibly attractive doll. ‘It’s not as if I like the people. They are too frightful for words. And besides, I don’t feel well. I won’t go... that settles it. You’d better unpack before everything is creased.’

At the best of times Julie loathed packing. She had packed, unpacked, repacked and unpacked again and again packed. Each operation had been supervised by Blanche who had criticized, scolded, and made useless suggestions. Now she was telling her to unpack for the third time. She nearly lost her temper, and longed to throw the suitcase at Blanche, but she managed to control herself and with unsteady hands she once more began to empty the suitcase. When it was nearly unpacked, Blanche suddenly gave an exclamation and beat her hands together.

‘What am I thinking about?’ she cried in apparent anguish. ‘My poor Julie. Of course I must go. I was forgetting Buckie would be there. And I simply must see him. Do hurry and pack again. I’ll miss the train if you don’t hurry. I can’t say how sorry I am to give you all this extra work.’

Julie was at boiling point and near tears. She began to slam the various articles back into the suitcase.

‘Oh, no, Julie, don’t close it yet,’ Blanche went on as Julie was about to slam the lid shut. ‘It’s not very well packed, is it? There was something... of course. I don’t think I want that mauve thing. It’s somewhere at the bottom. You know the thing I mean. It makes me look like death.’

Julie could have strangled her. She snatched the mauve evening gown from the suitcase, disarranging everything as she did so. She looked so distressed and angry that Blanche decided to change her tactics.

‘Would you like that gown, Julie?’ she asked casually. ‘I don’t want it and it seems a shame not to put it to some use, doesn’t it?’

The bottom was knocked out of Julie’s fury. She sat back on her heels and stared up at Blanche.

‘I beg your pardon, madam?’ she said, looked at the gown and touched it with caressing fingers.

‘It is nice, isn’t it?’ Blanche said carelessly. ‘One of Hartnell’s. But the colour makes me look like hell. I can’t imagine why I bought it. Would you like it?’

‘Me?’ Julie said, her eyes lighting up. ‘Oh, yes, I would. Thank you madam.’

Blanche smiled. It was a cruel little smile and when Julie saw it her heart sank.

‘Well, I’ll think about it,’ Blanche said. ‘Of course, I couldn’t give it to you. It cost a hundred and fifty guineas or something like that. But I might let you have it for twenty pounds.’

Sick with disappointment Julie put the gown on the back of the chair, stooped to fasten the suitcase.

‘And I don’t suppose you have twenty pounds to spend on a gown, or have you?’ Blanche went on airily.

‘No, madam,’ Julie said and turned away.

‘What a pity. Oh, well, never mind. It would be absurd really for a girl of your class to wear it. You’d only get yourself laughed at. Perhaps I’ll advertise in The Times. I could do that, couldn’t I?’

Julie looked swiftly at her and caught a gleeful expression on Blanche’s face. It was gone in a moment, but Julie knew then that she was being deliberately baited.

‘All right,’ she thought, ‘have your fun, you filthy little cat. But you won’t catch me like that again.’

‘It’s no use letting her get under your skin,’ she told herself when Blanche had gone. ‘That’s what she is trying to do. Thank goodness I’m free of her for the next twenty-four hours. I don’t care what Harry does to her now. If I can help him put her rotten nose out of joint I’ll do it.’

She decided it would take her at least two hours of hard work to put the flat straight. It was now a quarter to five. She could be ready to meet Harry by seven if she could find him.

She didn’t want to ring Mrs. French’s agency, but there was no other alternative. After some hesitation she put the call through.

Dana answered.

‘This is Julie Holland,’ Julie said, stiffening when she recognized Dana’s husky voice. ‘I want to speak to Mr. Gleb. Can you give me his number?’

‘Hold on,’ Dana said. The telephone was put down with a sharp click. Julie heard her say, ‘It’s the Holland girl. She wants to speak to you.’

To Julie’s surprise, Harry’s voice floated over the line.

‘What’s up?’ he asked sharply.

‘Oh, nothing. It’s all right. I wanted to see you to-night. Mrs. Wesley has gone away and I’ve got the evening off. Can we meet about seven?’

‘Sorry, kid.’ He sounded irritable. ‘I’ve got a date.’

‘But, Harry, surely we can meet. I don’t know when I’ll be free again. I’m all alone here and I’ve got nothing to do.’

‘I’m catching a train to Manchester in twenty minutes,’ he returned. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s something I can’t do anything about. I’ll see you when I get back. I haven’t a minute. So long,’ and he hung up.

‘Damn!’ Julie thought. ‘Oh, damn! Well, you’re stuck. You have no one to talk to, no one to go out with and the whole evening on your hands. What rotten luck to have found him so easily and we can’t meet. He might have been nicer on the ’phone. After all, we are lovers.’ Then, anxious to make excuses for him, she thought it must have been difficult for him with the Dana woman listening in.

Sometime later, lying in bed, she forgot her loneliness. Her room delighted her. It was as comfortably furnished as the other rooms in the flat and had a bathroom adjoining, a telephone, and a portable wireless by the bed.

Julie had been to her flat in Fulham Palace Road and had packed her bags and brought them to her new home. In her new luxurious surroundings she no longer felt neglected nor did she wish for company. The room, the hot bath, the wireless and the comfortable bed more than made up for the disappointment of not seeing Harry.

At eleven-thirty she turned off the wireless and settled down in bed. As she reached out to turn off the bedside lamp she heard a sound that made her pause. Somewhere in the flat a door closed softly. She frowned, aware of a sudden uneasiness, and she waited, listening. And while she waited in the silent little room she remembered what Blanche had said: I hate being alone here. I’m sure it’s haunted. There really are the oddest sounds at night.

‘She was trying to frighten me,’ Julie thought, and she reached once more for the light switch, but paused again as the curtains billowed out. ‘It’s only the wind getting up,’ she reassured herself, but she continued to listen.

The flat was sound-proofed. She could hear nothing now except the steady ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece and her own rapid heartbeat.

With an impatient shrug she turned off the light. But immediately the room was in darkness it became an object of frightening speculation. Was there someone in the flat? Had someone crept into the room? Was it the wind that moved the curtains or was it...?

‘This is ridiculous,’ she thought. ‘There’s nothing in the flat that could possibly frighten me so long as I don’t allow myself to be frightened.’

And then she distinctly heard footsteps and she turned cold. There was no mistaking the sound: soft, stealthy footsteps that crept towards her door.

She reached for the bedside lamp and succeeded only in knocking it to the floor. It fell with a thud on the carpet and, leaning out of bed, her hair over her eyes, her heart pounding, she scrabbled feverishly for it. Then she became aware that in the darkness her door handle was turning and it flashed through her mind that she hadn’t locked the door.

There was a light in the passage and as the door inched open the light crept into the room. She drew back in the bed, crouched down, terrified. A ribbon of light fell across the floor creating menacing shadows. The door ceased to move and she could hear someone in the passage breathing softly.

She waited: too frightened to make a sound, suspended in terror.

Something white and indistinct but moving came round the edge of the door. The scream that had been boiling inside her like a hot, seething ball made a croaking sound through the room. The light went on. Blanche Wesley stood in the doorway. In the shaded light she looked like a mischievous, gleeful little gnome.

Julie screamed again.

‘Did I disturb you?’ Blanche asked innocently. ‘I meant to be so quiet and just have a peep at you to see if you were comfortable.’ The forget-me-not blue eyes never left Julie’s panic-stricken face. ‘I changed my mind and caught the last train home. I’m afraid I frightened you.’ The gleeful smile widened. ‘But you did say you weren’t nervous, didn’t you, or were you boasting?’ She turned off the light and said out of the darkness, ‘Good night, Julie.’

The door closed.

II

Julie came to the conclusion that in some odd, perverted way, Blanche was not quite right in the head. She decided the only thing to do was not to get rattled. Oh, yes, she had been badly rattled last night... but then who wouldn’t have been? And she was still feeling the effects of her fright the following morning. But she had only been rattled because Blanche had taken her by surprise. Next time (and there was sure to be a next time) Julie was determined to be on her guard. The woman was cracked. She drank too much and she liked to bully and frighten. ‘Very well, then,’ Julie said to herself. ‘I know what to watch for and I’ll be ready for her.’ But in spite of trying to adopt a sensible attitude she had a foreboding that she was going to have a bad time with Blanche, and that Blanche had all kinds of beastly little tricks up her sleeve which would succeed no matter how careful Julie was to guard against them. And in this she was right. Not anticipating that Blanche would amuse herself by remote control (as you might say) she fell an easy victim of a practical joke Blanche had prepared for her.

While preparing her breakfast, Julie went to a large store cupboard for some tea and came face to face with the body of a man, lying face downwards on the floor, half-concealed by the shadowy darkness.

For a brief moment she watched herself run out of her body, whirl and run back into it again, and the sunlit kitchen went dark as her senses recoiled from the shock. She found herself half sitting, half lying on the floor, her nerves fluttering, her muscles rigid with fright. It took her several minutes before she could screw up enough courage to look at the body again. A closer examination revealed it to be nothing more frightening than a suit of clothes realistically stuffed with cushions, and she realized that Blanche had scored off her again.

Not quite knowing what she was doing, she removed the cushions, folded the suit and carried it into Howard Wesley’s dressing-room. Passing the mirror in the hall she was startled to see how white and drawn she looked and that her eyes were like holes in a sheet.

She returned to the kitchen, made herself a cup of tea and sat down. ‘If there’s going to be much more of this,’ she thought, seeing how unsteady her hands were, ‘I’ll have to leave. Of course, it was stupid of me to have been so frightened, but who on earth would have thought she’d’ve taken all that trouble — and the beastly thing did look horribly life-like.’

Later, she was putting linen away in a drawer when her hand touched something dry and leathery. Looking down she was petrified to see a gruesome-looking snake coiled up in the bottom of the drawer. Julie had a horror of snakes, and she screamed wildly, dropped the linen and made a mad rush for the door. But when she had recovered from the first paralysing shock, it occurred to her that this might be yet another of Blanche’s little pleasantries and she returned to the room to peer fearfully into the drawer. Although stuffed, with eyes made of glass, the thing was, nevertheless, a snake, and with a shudder, Julie threw the linen in on top of it and slammed the drawer shut. She was now completely unnerved and when the front door bell rang sharply she nearly jumped out of her skin.

She had no recollection of leaving the room nor of opening the front door. She suddenly became aware of a tall, well-dressed man towering above her and who regarded her with pale interest.

‘I suppose Mrs. Wesley isn’t up yet?’ he said in a complaining voice and walked into the lounge hall, handed her his hat and stick. He peeled off his gloves and dropped them into his hat which she held vacantly before her, endeavouring as best she could to collect her scattered wits.

She said no, Mrs. Wesley was not up, and wondered who he could be and what he wanted.

‘I am Mr. Hugh Benton, Mr. Wesley’s partner,’ he told her. He was thin-faced, clean shaven and pale. Everything about him was pale: his hair was fair and lank, his lips were bloodless arid his eyes the colour of amber. He wore an Old Etonian tie and his voice was soft like a man speaking in church. ‘I suppose you are the new maid,’ he went on, and looked her over the way a horse dealer examines a new purchase. ‘Would you tell Mrs. Wesley I am here?’

‘She doesn’t like to be disturbed so early,’ Julie said, uncomfortably remembering the reception she had received at three o’clock the previous afternoon.

‘How interesting,’ he said, and smiled, or rather he showed his small, white teeth. You couldn’t call this automatic grimace a smile. ‘I’ve known Mrs. Wesley a little longer than you and I am well aware of her habits. Tell her I am here, please.’

‘But I... I don’t think...’ Julie began, knowing how furious Blanche might be to be disturbed at eleven-thirty in the morning.

‘You’re not paid to think,’ Benton said, grimacing at her. ‘You’re paid to do as you’re told.’

Julie swung on her heel, her face burning, and went quickly down the passage to Blanche’s room. She was furious with herself for giving this creature such an opportunity to snub her. She rapped sharply on the door, entered the room.

Blanche was lying in bed, a cigarette hung from her lips and a tumbler of brandy stood on the bedside table within reach.

She looked up; her pale, puffy little face hardened.

‘I didn’t tell you to barge in here just when you like, did I?’ she said, and her eyes began to glitter angrily. ‘I’ll ring for you when I want you. Now get out!’

‘I’m sorry to disturb you, madam,’ Julie said quietly, ‘but Mr. Benton has called and insists on seeing you. I told him you were resting.’

The angry expression vanished and Blanche struggled up in bed.

‘Hugh? At this time? I mustn’t keep him waiting. Quick, Julie, tidy the room. Give me my make-up box. Oh, come on, stir yourself, don’t stand there looking like a stuffed fish.’

This was a new Blanche: a fluttering, girlish, excited Blanche who was even more hateful, Julie thought, than the cruel, gleeful, sadistic Blanche.

While Blanche worked on her face with expert swiftness, Julie darted around the room clearing up the inevitable con-fusion.

‘Spray some perfume about the place,’ Blanche commanded as she put colour on her pale cheeks. ‘I’m sure the room stinks.’ She put down the rouge puff, swallowed the brandy and put the glass in the cupboard at her side. ‘And open a window. Do hurry, Julie. You drag yourself about as if your back’s broken.’

Flushed and breathless Julie did as she was told, cleared away the further mess Blanche had made completing her toilet and bundled the soiled towels into the bathroom.

When she returned, Blanche was lying back on her pillows, her lovely arms above her head: a picture of irresistible seductiveness.

‘What that little doll doesn’t know about make-up,’ Julie thought enviously, as she stared at this miraculous transformation from a white-faced little drab to this frail, beautiful creature that now posed before her.

‘Let him come in now,’ Blanche said in a waspish voice, ‘and stop gaping at me.’

Julie found Benton in the lounge. He was smoking and pacing up and down, an irritable, bored expression on his thin face.

‘Is she ready?’ he asked crossly as Julie came in. ‘You’ve been long enough.’

‘Will you come this way, please?’ Julie said, and walking in front of him she had the uncomfortable feeling that he was able to see through her clothes. As she paused outside Blanche’s door, his hand touched her thigh: like a spider running down her flesh, and with a shiver she jerked round.

He reluctantly withdrew his hand, stared at her in his pale way, stepped past her and wandered into Blanche’s room.

‘Ah, Blanche,’ he said in his thin voice. ‘How lovely you look, and so early, too.’ He pushed the door to, but not shut and Julie, her flesh still creeping, heard him say: ‘I have news. Howard won’t be back until Monday. He cabled.’

‘You opportunist,’ Blanche exclaimed, and laughed.

‘Well, why not?’ Benton drawled. ‘Shall we go? I could get away this afternoon. We could have the whole week-end together.’

‘Hadn’t you better close the door, darling?’ Blanche asked archly. ‘You don’t have to shout our misdeeds all over the flat.’

Julie moved quickly away. ‘Ugh! What a pair,’ she thought. ‘They’re welcome to each other. Did this really mean that Blanche was going away this time for a whole weekend?’ She thought immediately of Harry and her heart began to thump with excitement. Would he be hack from Manchester by to-morrow? It was no good making plans just yet. Blanche might not go. Harry might still be in Manchester, and she might easily be again stuck in this vast flat all by herself, and this time for a long, lonely week-end.

Later, Benton came out of Blanche’s room. Julie, who was in the kitchen, heard him walk down the passage, pause, and then retrace his steps. He came into the kitchen, closed the door gently.

Julie set her back against the table and faced him.

‘Is there anything you want?’ she asked coldly.

‘Want?’ he repeated, raised his pale eyebrows. ‘Yes... there was something. I wanted to speak to you.’

She waited, hostile and nervous.

Watching her closely, he took out his wallet, dipped into it with finicky fingers and drew out a five-pound note.

‘Yes,’ he said, folding the note into a fine spill, ‘there was something.’ He tapped the spill on his knuckles and grimaced at her. ‘You are Mrs. Wesley’s personal maid. You may hear and see things that are no concern of yours. A personal maid doesn’t tell tales. Do you understand?’

Julie flushed scarlet.

‘I don’t need to be told that by you or anyone else!’ she blurted out furiously.

Again the pale eyebrows went up.

‘Please don’t be angry. Mrs Wesley can be very difficult. It’s seldom she keeps a maid longer than a week or so. I find it embarrassing. It is time, I feel, that I should establish a business association with her maid — with you. Do you follow what I am driving at?’ He handed the five-pound note to her.

For a moment Julie hesitated. She was in the game for what she could get out of it, wasn’t she? If this pale creature wanted to bribe her, why not take it? Five pounds! Perhaps he would give her more later. But she had to steel herself to meet the amber-coloured eyes when she said, ‘I think so.’

‘Ah. I thought I hadn’t misjudged you. You see, there are certain things I shouldn’t like Mr. Wesley to know about.’ The grimace became strained. ‘He is blind, and blind people are very sensitive — and suspicious. I wouldn’t like to hurt his feelings.’

‘I understand,’ Julie said, and felt a little sick.

‘So long as you see and hear nothing that goes on in this flat we’ll get along well together,’ Benton continued. ‘For instance, I haven’t been here this morning. Do you understand?’

Julie nodded.

‘And I think we’d better keep this little arrangement to ourselves. Mrs. Wesley mightn’t like it.’

Again Julie nodded.

‘Splendid.’ He stood over her, very tall, smelling of lavender water and cigars. He slipped the note into her hand and patted her arm. It was more of a caress than a pat and his touch made Julie shiver. She tried to draw back, but she was already pressed against the table and he hemmed her in. For a horrible moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but he didn’t. He moved away, showed his teeth as he opened the door. ‘There’s more where that came from, Julie. See nothing; hear nothing. It’s simple, isn’t it?’ He went out and as he closed the door Blanche’s bell rang.

When Julie entered Blanche’s room she noticed immediately that the cupboard that had been hidden by the quilted wall stood open. Inside the steel-lined recess, lit by two powerful electric lights, were several fur coats, hanging in a row. Julie, who loved fur and had spent many hours staring enviously at the fur displays in the West End, longing to own a fur herself, recognized them. There was a chinchilla, a mink, a beaver, a sable, a white fox and an ermine. The other side of the cupboard was given up to a steel chest of drawers in which Julie guessed Blanche kept her jewellery.

Blanche was sitting at her dressing-table, rolling on gossamer-like stockings. She glanced up, saw Julie’s staring eyes, followed their direction and smiled.

‘That’s something every burglar in London is talking about,’ she said, with an arrogant movement of her head. ‘No one could ever break in there, Julie. It’s the most perfect foolproof safe ever invented. My husband designed it. I believe as many as six burglars — or is it eight? — I can’t remember, but a number of them have tried to break into that safe. We’ve caught every one of them. They don’t try any more. They know it’s hopeless. Anyone tampering with it in any way causes a bell to ring in the Kensington police station and along comes the Flying Squad in two minutes.’

‘So this is what Harry is interested in,’ Julie thought. ‘What a lesson it’d be for this little beast if she does lose her furs.’

Blanche was saying, ‘Only Mr. Wesley and myself know the combination and where the locks are concealed.’

‘Is there anything I can do for you, madam?’ Julie said, deliberately changing the subject. She didn’t want Blanche to think she was in any way interested in the safe.

‘I’m going away for the week-end. Mr. Wesley won’t be back until Monday. I want you to pack. Here’s a list of things I’ll take with me. I’ve jotted them down for you.’

Expecting a repetition of her last packing experience, Julie took the list and began to lay out the clothes Blanche had chosen. Even when she had packed and Blanche showed no inclination to have the suitcases unpacked, she still waited for Blanche to begin her baiting, but she didn’t. She seemed occupied with her thoughts and, as she dressed, she hummed under her breath and seemed scarcely aware that Julie was in the room.

Suddenly she said: ‘What will you do over the week-end, Julie?’

‘I... I don’t know, madam,’ Julie returned, not expecting this.

‘Well, you mustn’t be idle. You’ll find plenty of sewing to do and you’d better clean the silver. Do make yourself useful and don’t let me have to tell you what to do. There are the flowers, and my shoes want attention and — oh, there’s plenty to do if you look around.’

‘Yes, madam,’ Julie said.

‘You can go out on Sunday, but I don’t want this flat left empty at night. You understand that? And for goodness’ sake don’t bring any strange men in here. I know what you girls are like. The porter knows you are here alone and he’ll keep an eye on you.’

Julie, flushed and furious, turned away.

‘Now don’t get into a pet,’ Blanche said, frowning. ‘I’m not saying you’d do it, but I want you to know it’s something I just won’t have. Come here, Julie.’

Julie went up to her, her face sullen and rebellious.

‘What a pretty figure you have, and what lovely skin.’ Blanche’s fingers, like dry little sticks, touched Julie’s cheek and Julie, shuddering, started back. ‘You mustn’t be afraid of me,’ Blanche said, her eyes lighting up. ‘You’re not, are you?’

‘No madam,’ Julie said uneasily.

‘That’s right,’ Blanche laughed. ‘It’s so silly, but some people do seem afraid of me. I try to be kind to everyone. Of course, I do play practical jokes, but that’s only my fun.’ She was now watching Julie closely. ‘Did the old man in the cupboard frighten you?’

‘Not very much,’ Julie said indifferently.

‘Didn’t he?’ The forget-me-not blue eyes hardened. ‘The other maid had hysterics. It was too funny. And the snake? Didn’t that startle you—’ She laughed gleefully. ‘The snake’s my favourite joke. My husband loathes it. I put it in his bed sometimes.’

Julie turned away. She didn’t want Blanche to see the hatred she felt for her, nor the longing she was sure showed plainly in her face to lay hands on her and shake her.

‘Do you like furs, Julie?’ Blanche asked abruptly as she put the finishing touches to her make-up.

‘You’re not going to catch me with that trick again,’ Julie thought, said, ‘Yes, madam, I suppose I do.’

‘Well, look at mine. Touch them, Julie. I want you to like them.’

Julie didn’t move.

‘Thank you, madam, but I’m not interested in other people’s furs.’

‘Oh, nonsense,’ Blanche said with a gay laugh. ‘Look at them. There’s no woman alive who wouldn’t give her eyes to possess them. That mink cost five thousand and the white Arctic fox... I wouldn’t like to tell you what that cost. Go in and look at them.’

Julie drew near the safe, tried to look disinterested, but the beauty of the coats was too much for her.

‘Take the mink off the hanger,’ Blanche said casually. ‘You can put it on if you like.’

Julie stepped into the cupboard, reached for the mink coat. There was a sudden swishing sound and the steel walls slammed to, shutting her in with a soundless rush of air.

For a moment or so she was too surprised to move or think and a tiny spark of panic began to expand inside her, but she quickly controlled herself.

‘You asked for it,’ she thought. ‘You should have guessed she was up to something. You’ve got to keep calm. She can’t keep you in here for long. She’s catching a train. But I wish there was a little more room. These beastly furs make it so hot and there doesn’t seem to be much air. I suppose she thinks she’ll scare the life out of me. Well, she won’t! I’m not going to lose my head. I’ll sit down and wait until she lets me out.’

Still keeping the threatening panic under control, Julie squatted on the floor. The skirts of the fur coats touched her head and face and worried her.

‘But suppose she goes off and leaves me here? Suppose she really is cracked and doesn’t care?’ she thought suddenly. ‘I can’t last long in here without air. It’s getting difficult to breathe now.’ Then, suddenly, the light went out and hot, choking darkness descended on her.

She heard herself whimper and she struggled to her feet, the soft furs clinging to her. She had always been afraid of confined spaces. This awful breathless darkness made her feel that she was buried alive. She lost her head. Screaming wildly, she hammered on the cold, steel wall; tore, kicked and scratched at the shiny surface like a mad thing. The furs twined round her, impeding her movements, suffocating her. Her hands were as useless as rubber hammers as she beat on the door. She felt she was drowning in a sea of choking darkness and fell on her knees, still screaming. Disturbed by her violence one of the fur coats slipped off its hanger and enveloped her.

III

Consciousness returned slowly, like the awakening from a heavy and uneasy sleep, and she found herself lying on her bed, alone. She stared up at the ceiling for a long time and she cried. She had no idea why she cried except perhaps she had been very frightened and she still had no control over her shaken nerves.

Later, when she could cry no more, she wondered who had carried her from the cupboard to her bed, and immediately thought of Hugh Benton. That his hands had touched her filled her with a shivering disgust.

‘This settles it,’ she thought. ‘I’m not staying. She’s mad and dangerous. I might have died.’

She got off the bed and walked unsteadily along the passage to Blanche’s room. She had a vague idea that Blanche would still be there and she would tell her that she was leaving at once. But Blanche had gone. The big, luxurious room seemed strangely empty without her. The blue-quilted wall once more concealed the doors of the steel-lined cupboard. There was a faint smell of lavender water and cigars in the air, and Julie shuddered. So Benton had been there.

She went to the bedside cupboard and took out a bottle of brandy and a glass. She sat limply on the bed and drank some of the brandy. The silky liquor took instant effect: the unsteady faintness went away.

‘But I’m not going to stay,’ she thought. ‘I’ll pack and get out to-night. There’s no point in waiting. It won’t matter how careful I am she’ll always outwit me. I’ll never have a moment’s peace from her. No, I’m going. I don’t care what Harry says. I’ve had enough.’

It wasn’t only Blanche. She pretended it was, but the sight of those expensive fur coats had frightened her, for all her bravado. It was too risky. The police would suspect at once that she had had something to do with the robbery. As soon as they found out (and they would find out) that she had worked for Hewart, they’d know she was the inside plant. No, she wasn’t going to have anything more to do with Blanche nor with the fur coats.

She heard a bell ringing somewhere in the flat, and for some seconds she didn’t move, then she realized it was the telephone bell and she reached out, picked up the receiver by the bed.

‘Julie?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘Where are you, Harry? I was thinking about you. I must see you. I’m so glad you ‘phoned. It’s extraordinary... just when I was thinking of you.’

‘What’s up?’ His voice was sharp.

‘I must see you,’ she said hysterically. ‘I don’t care how busy you are. I must see you, Harry.’

‘All right, all right. Don’t get excited. I can see you in an hour. Can you get away?’

‘She’s gone for the week-end. Oh, Harry, it’s good to hear your voice.’ An idea dropped into her mind. ‘Come round here. There’s nobody here but me. You can see the place. That’s what you want, isn’t it?’

‘Not over the ‘phone,’ he said, raising his voice. ‘Are you sure no one will come?’

‘Oh, no, no one will come. Mr. Wesley won’t be back until Monday night.’ She looked at the bedside clock. It was half-past four. ‘When will you be here?’

‘Six; a little after, perhaps. Say six-fifteen.’

‘And Harry, be careful when you come in. The porter’s watching the flat.’

There was a short silence on the line.

‘Maybe I’d better not come,’ he said slowly. ‘I don’t want to box this up after all the trouble I’ve taken.’

‘You must come. Take the lift to the top floor and walk down. The owner of the top flat is a Mrs. Gregory. Pretend you’re calling on her.’

‘You’re getting smart,’ he said, and laughed. ‘All right, I’ll be along.’

‘It’ll be wonderful to see you again, Harry.’

‘You bet.’

But as soon as she had hung up she became uneasy, wondering what he would say when she told him she was not going to stay. Then an idea came to her that brought her off the bed and sent her running to Blanche’s wardrobe.

‘I’ll give him the surprise of his life,’ she thought, delighted with the idea. ‘I’ll make myself look so beautiful he won’t be able to resist me.’

It took her some time to choose an evening gown from Blanche’s vast collection, but at last she was satisfied. The gown she had chosen was the colour of a wild poppy, low cut and with a full sweeping skirt. She dressed her thick, dark hair to her shoulders, and, by a quarter to six, she was ready.

Studying herself critically in the mirror she knew Dana couldn’t hold a candle to her as she looked now. She was prettier, younger, less cynical and more seductive. The dress accentuated her beauty as no other dress had ever done. She scarcely recognized herself.

A few minutes after six the front door bell rang, and there was Harry, his grey felt hat at a jaunty angle, his hands thrust into his overcoat pockets. For a moment he didn’t recognize her, then he took a quick step forward, a bewildered smile lighting his face.

‘Julie! You look wonderful! In borrowed plumes! Well I’ll be damned!’ he exclaimed, and meant it. He couldn’t believe she was the same girl. ‘She’s absolutely terrific,’ he thought, bowled over. ‘A real smasher, and I didn’t know it.’ He caught hold of her, but she pushed him away.

‘No, don’t touch me,’ she said sharply. ‘I’m not going to be messed about.’

Startled by the hard expression in her eyes, he became awkward and a little embarrassed.

‘You’re lovely, Julie,’ he said, still gaping at her. ‘Cinderella’s nothing on you. You’re an absolute knock-out. One of her dresses?’

‘Of course. You don’t suppose I could afford to buy this for myself, do you? But come in. I want to talk to you.’

He followed her into the lounge, and for the first time in his life he felt at a disadvantage. Her beauty and her surroundings shook his confidence in himself. He found himself falling in love with her as he stood staring at her. It was something he had never experienced before, and he didn’t know how to cope with it.

Julie was quick to see the impression she had made on him, and exploited it. She stood before the big fireplace and looked at him steadily, her face cold and set.

‘What’s the matter, Julie? Aren’t you going to give me a kiss?’

‘No, I’m not!’ she snapped. ‘I want to talk to you. I’m leaving here. I can’t stand it any more.’

‘Why, what’s the matter? What’s happened?’

She told him about Blanche.

‘You’ve no idea what she’s like,’ she concluded, her eyes flashing. ‘She’s cracked. I mean it. She’s dangerously cracked. She might have killed me. I don’t know from one minute to the next what’s going to happen. I’m afraid to open a drawer or a cupboard. I’m scared to answer her bell. Well, I’m not going to stand it, and I don’t see why I should.’

‘Now, look, Julie, you’re worked up,’ he said, dismayed by her determined expression. ‘You’ll see it differently tomorrow. You’re not going to let a few practical jokes get you down, are you?’

‘She frightens me and gets on my nerves. There’ll be no peace for me as long as I stay here. It’s not worth it. It’s no good, Harry, I’m not staying.’

He went over to the settee and sat down. This was serious. He decided he’d have to tell her why she was here, to show her it wasn’t just something she could chuck up at a moment’s notice.

‘Look, Julie, you may as well know now as later,’ he said, as he took out a cigarette with a none too steady hand. ‘I’m after those furs. You’ve guessed it by now, haven’t you?’

‘Do you take me for a fool? Of course I’ve guessed it. And I don’t like it.’

‘There’s nothing for you to worry about. You’re safe enough,’ he assured her hastily. ‘I want you to find out how that safe operates. It’s the toughest job in town. I’ve made up my mind to crack it and you’re the only one who can help me.’

‘Well, you can’t open it,’ Julie said shortly. ‘She told me about it. It’s wired to the Kensington police station.’

‘There you are!’ he explained, sitting forward. ‘That’s exactly what I wanted to know. What else did she tell you?’

‘She said eight burglars have been caught trying to get into it. How do you like that?’

‘Four,’ Harry said. ‘Not eight. I thought that was how they were caught, but I wasn’t sure. Don’t you see, kid? You can get me all kinds of useful information if you’ll only stick it. Tell me about the furs.’

‘There’s a mink coat. She said it cost five thousand.’ Julie made a little grimace. She couldn’t get the furs out of her mind. Since she had seen them she had been thinking about them, longing to possess them. ‘And a white Arctic fox. That’s a beauty; much too good for that little horror. And there’s also a beaver, a chinchilla, a sable and an ermine.’

‘Seen any jewellery?’

‘No, but I know it’s kept in a steel cabinet in the safe.’

All the time Harry was questioning her he was thinking how he could persuade her to stay. Somehow he had to persuade her to work with him. He had to find a weakness in her and play on it.

‘You said the door of the safe shut when you went in. Did it shut fast or slow?’

‘Like a mousetrap going off,’ Julie said with a shiver. ‘There’s no air in there once the doors are closed. You would die if you were trapped in there for long.’

‘The idea is not to be trapped. Did she close the door or was it automatic?’

‘She wasn’t near it. I don’t really know.’

‘Well, let’s look at it. Take me to her bedroom.’

‘All right, but you understand I’m not going on with this? You can see if you want to, and you’d better take a good look at it. You won’t see it with my help any more.’

He followed her into Blanche’s bedroom feeling more dismayed and helpless than ever. Her hard determination defeated him.

She showed him the quilted wall.

‘It’s behind that. Don’t touch it. We don’t want the police here.’

‘You’re damned right we don’t,’ he said uneasily, and went over to examine the wall. ‘No sign of anything. It’s a pretty neat job. Did the door open outwards or slide to one side?’

‘It slid to one side.’

He stood looking at the wall thoughtfully for several minutes, then he shook his head.

‘No good. We’ll have to find out more about how it works before I tackle it. You’ll have to find out for me, Julie.’

‘I’m not going to,’ Julie said, aware of his uneasiness. ‘I’ve told you. I’m not staying.’

He pulled her to him.

‘Stick it a little longer and I’ll make it a hundred quid instead of fifty. Come on, Julie, be a gutsy kid. You’ve done fine up to now.’

She looked up at him, her full lips near his.

‘No, Harry, I’ve had enough. You see, you’ve told me what you’re up to and that makes me your accomplice. I’m not going to be mixed up with the police, and besides I can’t stand any more from that woman. You just don’t know how she frightens me.’

He had a sudden idea. As soon as it entered his mind he realized to his astonishment how much this girl meant to him now. ‘All right,’ he thought, ‘I may as well face it. She’s knocked me. She’s what I want. I’m not going to lose her. There’s never been anyone like her before. I’m going to have her if I have to marry her, and damn it, that’s what I want to do.’

‘Aren’t you getting a little het up, Julie?’ he said, taking her hand. ‘Two or three more days and the job’s done. Listen, let’s get this job over and we’ll get married. How would you like that?’ He looked at her eagerly. ‘I’ll have enough money to be on easy street for the rest of my days. We can go to America; live on the fat of the land.’

Julie pushed him away and stared at him. This was unexpected, and a little tingle of excitement ran up her spine.

‘Marry me? Go to the States?’

‘Why not? You want fun, don’t you?’ He was excited now. ‘I’ll give you fun. I’ll give you the world on a plate. I love you. Don’t you understand, darling? I’m crazy about you.’

‘If you’re lying...’ she began, her eyes flashing.

‘Of course I’m not. I mean it, Julie. Look, suppose you don’t go through with this. What’ll happen to you? Suppose you break with me? What are you going to do? Go back to Hewart? He won’t want you. Earn four quid a week in a factory? You’ll love that, won’t you? I’m offering you everything you want: clothes, fun, money, and you can have me if you want me. Damn it, I can’t be fairer than that, can I? I have friends in the States. We’ll have a terrific time together. What do you say?’

She studied him for a moment. It was a triumphant moment for her. He meant it! He was in love with her. She had only to play her cards carefully and she would get anything she wanted from him without risks.

‘I love you too, Harry,’ she said, and slipped her arms round his neck. ‘But I’m not staying here. I’m not a crook. All right, I admit I’ve done things I shouldn’t have done, but I’ve kept inside the law. I’ve never done nor am I ever going to do anything that’d land me in prison. And, please, Harry, don’t go through with this. She’s too clever. You’ll be caught. I know you’ll be caught. Then what’ll happen to me?’

He held her to him.

‘That’s torn it,’ he was thinking. ‘Now what the hell am I going to do? I’ll lose her if I don’t look out. I’ll have to see Ma French. She’ll have to find a way round this. She’ll have to find another girl to do the job.’

‘All right, Julie,’ he said, and kissed her. ‘I won’t hold you to it if that’s the way you feel. It won’t make any difference to us. I’m crazy about you, kid. I’ll find a way to getting into that tin box. But you quit. I’ll see you right.’

‘Honest, Harry? You really mean that?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘But why go through with it? Let’s go to the States now. Don’t take the risk, Harry.’

‘I’ve got to do the job,’ he said, a little impatiently. ‘Where do you think the money’s coming from? Listen, Julie, this job’s worth eight thousand to me. I’ve got to do it.’

Eight thousand!

For a moment she was tempted to stay and help him, then caution pushed the idea out of her head. Why should she? He could manage. He would find a way. And then he’d spend the money on her and there’d be no risk.

‘All right, Harry...’ she began.

‘What’s that?’ he broke in, stiffening. ‘Did you hear any-thing?’

Julie pushed away from him.

‘No... what do you mean?’

He went quickly to the door, opened it, closed it immediately.

‘Someone’s in the flat,’ he whispered.

Blanche!

Julie nearly fainted. To be caught in Blanche’s bedroom in her clothes! She stood paralysed with terror.

Quick steps sounded down the passage, coming towards the room.

‘It’s Mrs. Wesley!’ Julie gasped. ‘What am Ito do?’ She made a futile dart to the window. ‘I must hide...’

The door opened. She turned, clenching her fists and stifling a scream. A man came in: a man who wore black-lensed glasses that hid his eyes. He stood in the doorway, the black lenses looked right at her.

‘Is there anyone here?’ he asked, mildly. ‘Blanche, are you here?’

And Julie realized with sick relief that this was Howard Wesley who, of course, couldn’t see her.