The Girl in the Cellar

CHAPTER 44

Jim Fancourt hung up, dressed, and went out. The first thing he did was to go round to where Anne had been. Lizabet had to face him. She didn’t want to, but she had to do it. For the first time in her life she came up against the consequences of her own actions and saw them for what they were. She cried, and was told that it was no use crying-it wouldn’t help her, and it wouldn’t help Anne. And there was no help in Janet. She couldn’t get away. She had to answer, and bit by bit the picture of what had really happened in the night came into view. And Janet stood by. She kept her there, and she made her answer. Lizabet would never have believed that she could be so cruel.

And then, before she could even burst into tears, there was Jim Fancourt asking more questions, and more, and more.

By the time they had got everything out of her and Jim had gone she was fit for nothing but to lie on her bed and cry. And Janet left her to do just that. She went out and left her all alone.

Jim Fancourt went to New Scotland Yard. He had to wait, and the time that ticked away was like endless ages. Where was she? Why had they taken her? What were they doing to her? Where was she? Interminably, over and over, the words said themselves. There was no end to them. They got him nowhere. All they did was to make it clear as daylight that if he lost Anne he lost everything in the world worth having.

He did not know how long he had to wait, but when the fresh-faced young policeman came in and said that Inspector Abbott would see him now it seemed to him as if a lifetime had gone by.

The young policeman preceded him, opened the door, announced him by name, and he came into the same room that he had been in before, with Frank Abbott looking up and giving him a friendly greeting. He said, ‘She’s gone-’ and saw Frank’s face change.

‘What!’

‘She’s gone-they’ve got her.’

‘My dear chap-’

‘Everyone said don’t be in a hurry, don’t rush her. And what’s the result? She’s gone.’

‘Anne!’

‘Yes, Anne.’

‘Sit down and tell me about it.’

‘I can’t sit. I’ll tell you about it-it’s soon told. She’s gone- that’s all.’

In the end he produced a fairly coherent version of Lizabet’s story.

‘She doesn’t know what sort of car it was, and her description of the man would fit almost anyone.’

Frank said tentatively, ‘Look here, don’t be angry-It is possible that she recognised these people and went with them because she knew them.’

‘No, it’s not possible! That girl admitted as much. She said the fellow put his arm round her. And there was something about a cloth on her face. She was chloroformed and carried off-I’ve no doubt about that. She wouldn’t have gone of her own free will. I tell you she wouldn’t!’

‘It doesn’t seem very likely. You don’t think her memory came back suddenly when she saw someone she knew- someone out of her past life?’

‘No, I don’t. There would have been no need to chloroform her in that case. Once we got that girl Lizabet to speak, there was no doubt about it-she was chloroformed and she was carried off.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine. Either it’s money, or she knows too much-or they think she does. They must know that she saw the murdered girl. If they’re not sure what she remembered, what perhaps she saw-if they don’t know what she knows-don’t you see she’s in the most frightful danger?’

Frank nodded.

‘I took up the question of who had been to see that house with the agents. We haven’t been to sleep over the matter, you know. There were two orders to view-one on the twelfth, and the other on the thirteenth. The one on the thirteenth looks like the right one. It was given to a Mr Mailing- an old man with a beard, very chatty. He said he wanted to take in his grandchildren for the holidays, and he thought he wanted a furnished house, but what did they think? The people at the house-agents put him down as much talk and no performance. The beard could have been a disguise. They said he kept the key overnight.’

‘Why did they let him go round alone? That’s not usual, is it?’

‘No, it isn’t. I asked them the same thing, and they said he was such a nice gentleman… Yes, yes, I know-it’s a clear case of do first and think afterwards. There are people like that, you know. What they suggest seems all right at the time. It’s only afterwards that it strikes you as peculiar. And Mr Marsh who runs the place was away sick. The second string, Mr Dowding, is a nice old boy-not accustomed to taking responsibility, I should say. The house had hung on their hands. It’s been left to two sisters who are very particular, and Mr Marsh is tired of sending people to see it. Mr Dowding was thrilled at the chance of letting it while his partner was away.’ Frank shrugged his shoulders.

Jim said impatiently, ‘Yes, I know. I saw him.’ He paused, and came out with, ‘What do we do now?’