The Paw in the Bottle

I

Howard Wesley was not tall, although he gave Julie the impression that he was a big man. He was broad-shouldered and powerfully built, and he carried himself erect. In spite of his disfiguring black-lensed glasses she could see he had excellent features and his determined mouth and chin gave him an air of authority. His broad forehead was capped by dark, unruly hair, turning white at the temples. She was surprised later to hear he was only thirty-eight.

Both Julie and Harry stood staring at him, and as he moved into the room they silently gave ground.

‘Is anyone here?’ he repeated.

Harry waved at Julie and grimaced. She realized he was trying to tell her that she had to handle this, and she saw he was right.

She said in a husky little voice, ‘Oh, yes... me.’

Wesley frowned, continued to look in her direction as if he had known all along she was there.

‘And who are you?’ he asked. He took from his hip pocket a gold cigarette-case and selected a cigarette.

‘I’m Julie Holland, the new maid,’ she told him, trying to keep her voice steady.

‘I see.’ He patted his pockets and his frown deepened. ‘I wonder if you could give me a light? I seem to have left my matches in my overcoat pocket.’

She looked wildly round the room. Harry took out his lighter and put it on the table. He pointed at it, and jerked his thumb at Wesley. She was surprised to see how calm Harry was. He scarcely moved and was watching Wesley closely, his eyes hard and alert.

In a way his calmness annoyed Julie, who was shaking all over and had difficulty in breathing. She snatched up the lighter and moved towards Wesley. It was a relief to see that he continued to look at the place where she had been standing and did not turn his head as she approached. To her it was proof that he was blind and couldn’t see them.

She tried to operate the lighter, but her fingers were so shaky that she nearly dropped it.

‘Give it to me,’ he said, and held out his hand.

She gave him the lighter.

‘Where is Mrs. Wesley?’ he asked.

‘She’s away for the week-end, sir,’ Julie said, looked at Harry who had moved to the door. He shook his head at her, and winked.

‘I see.’ Wesley lit the cigarette, held the lighter out in midair. ‘Thank you.’

Julie took it from him, put it on the table. Harry picked it up.

‘Did she say when she was returning?’ Wesley went on, thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets.

‘She didn’t expect you until Monday night. She’ll be back by then.’

‘And you didn’t expect me either?’ He smiled. ‘I hope I haven’t spoilt your evening.’

‘Oh, no, sir,’ Julie said hastily, wondering if he suspected anything. ‘I haven’t anything to do. I... I was tidying madam’s room.’

‘Were you? You smell as if you were going to a party.’ He laughed apologetically. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude, but I have to rely on my nose and ears these days. That’s a very nice perfume you are wearing.’

Julie flushed scarlet and stepped back. It should be nice. It was Blanche’s perfume.

‘I... I wasn’t going out,’ she stammered.

‘Mr. Gerridge is seeing to the luggage,’ Wesley went on. ‘He’s my secretary. He should be up in a moment. Can you give us coffee?’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said, thinking. ‘I must get out of this dress at once.’

‘Let us have it in the study. I have some work to do.’ Wesley turned and appeared to look right at Harry who took a quick step back. ‘I have an odd feeling there’s someone else in the room.’ Wesley went on as he groped for the door handle. ‘Is there?’

He could have reached out and touched Harry. Julie caught her breath sharply, motioned Harry back.

‘Oh, no, sir, of course there isn’t.’

‘I get these feelings,’ Wesley said, frowning. ‘All right, let’s have the coffee as soon as you can,’ and he went out.

‘Phew!’ Harry whispered as soon as the door closed. ‘That was too damned close. Get out of that dress. This other bloke mustn’t see you.’

‘It wasn’t my fault,’ Julie said, near tears. ‘I didn’t know he was coming.’

‘Never mind that. Get out of those clothes!’ Harry urged. ‘Go on, hurry!’

She ran to Blanche’s cupboard where she had left her uniform and then went into the bathroom. It didn’t take her a moment to change.

Harry was listening at the door when she returned.

‘Get their coffee,’ he whispered. ‘Hurry. I want to get out of here.’

‘When am I going to see you again?’ she asked breathlessly. ‘I’m not staying here. This settles it.’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon,’ he said. ‘Don’t go until then. I’ll be right opposite in the Park at three o’clock. Slip out and we’ll talk. Now, get off. I want to get out of here.’

She hesitated for a moment.

‘All right, but it’s no use trying to persuade me. I’m not going to stay.’ She left him, and went quickly to the kitchen.

When she took the coffee into the study, Wesley was sitting in an arm-chair, smoking a cigar. A young man, not much older than herself, whose lean, pleasantly ugly face lit up with a smile when he saw her, was sitting at the desk sorting through a pile of papers. She guessed he was Gerridge, Wesley’s secretary. He waved to a table near Wesley and went on with his work.

As she stooped to put the tray on the table, Wesley said: ‘I suppose you have only just arrived?’

‘I came yesterday, sir.’

‘Well, I hope you will be happy here,’ Wesley returned, as if he doubted it. ‘We didn’t expect to be back so soon. But don’t let us interfere with your week-end plans. You can go out if you want to. We shan’t need anything. I think we’ll spend the week-end at the factory. We’ll only bother you to give us breakfast to-morrow morning. You understand about that? You can order it from the restaurant. We shall be off about nine o’clock. Shall we say breakfast at eight-thirty?’

‘Very well, sir,’

‘How awful for him to be blind,’ she thought, as she went to Blanche’s bedroom. ‘He’s nice and kind. How could he have married that beastly little creature?’

When she had tidied up Blanche’s room she went into the kitchen. She didn’t know what to do with herself. It was still early, and she would have liked to have gone out but she didn’t want to go alone. Instead, she pacing up and down and worried about the future.

She thought about Harry. Before Wesley arrived she had been excited at the prospect of going to America with Harry, now she wasn’t so sure. She found herself thinking of Wesley and comparing him to Harry. It was like comparing a paste diamond to a real one. She suddenly realized that Harry was characterless and shallow, that his clothes were flashy and vulgar. Wesley was rich. Harry would never be as rich as Wesley. If he did steal the furs, how long would eight thousand pounds last? Not long, if they went to America and spent freely, and then what would happen?

‘I might as well face it,’ she told herself. ‘Harry’s a thief. Dawson warned me against him. Hewart hates him. He’s mixed up with that awful Mrs. French. Then there’s Dana. What kind of trouble shall I be letting myself in for if I do marry him?’

If she was going to marry, she ought to marry a man like Wesley. She would get what she wanted then: a big house, clothes, servants, a car, everything! But, of course, Wesley wouldn’t look at her. Besides, he was already married. But suppose she told him about the robbery? He might be nice to her; do something for her. She pulled herself up, suddenly frightened. She mustn’t think like this. It was dangerous. She remembered what Hewart had told her about the girl who had talked. She must get that idea out of her head.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft rap on the door and Gerridge came in, carrying the coffee tray.

‘Hello,’ he said with a friendly grin. ‘I thought I’d bring the tray along. That was cracking good coffee.’

‘I expect you needed it,’ she said, pleased, and took the tray.

‘I’m Tom Gerridge,’ he told her, wandering round the kitchen, hands in pockets. ‘I’m Mr. Wesley’s valet and Man Friday. We may as well get to know each other. You’ll be seeing a lot of me.’

‘Shall I?’

‘Rather. I told Mr. Wesley I thought you were a stunner.’

Julie turned away and began to put the coffee things in the sink.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ he said. ‘It’s true, you know.’ She giggled.

‘No. I don’t mind. But I don’t suppose Mr. Wesley was very interested.’

‘Oh, but he was,’ Gerridge assured her. ‘At least he didn’t say so, but he pricked up his ears all right.’

Julie laughed and began to wash up.

‘Mr. Wesley’s using the dictaphone at the moment,’ Gerridge explained. ‘That’s why I came along to keep you company. You don’t mind, do you?’

‘No, I don’t mind.’

‘That’s fine. How do you like it here?’

‘Not very much,’ Julie said truthfully.

‘I suppose Mrs. Wesley has been up to her tricks?’

‘She has.’

‘The usual practical jokes: stuffed snakes, shutting you in the safe?’

Julie stared at him.

‘How did you know?’

‘Oh, she tries it on everyone. She’s tried it on me. I was locked in that damned safe for ten minutes. I thought I was going to die.’

‘Well, I don’t intend to stay here much longer,’ Julie said firmly. ‘She dangerous.’

‘Oh, but you must stay. You won’t mind Mrs. Wesley once you get used to her. She leaves you alone after a bit. Never bothers me now. And you’ll like Wesley. He’s a first-rate chap.’

Julie leaned against the sink, quite ready now for a gossip.

‘I can’t imagine how he could have married her,’ she said.

‘She wasn’t always like this, you know,’ Gerridge said. ‘When they first met she was the rage of London and she was really marvellous. She swept him off his feet. She knew he had bags of money, and she took advantage of him from the very start. She not only chiselled a fat settlement out of him (she’s squandered every penny of that now) but she also persuaded him to agree that if the marriage broke up she was to have another large sum of money. I think he’s pretty sick about that settlement now. As far as she’s concerned it’s heads I win, tails you lose, and she behaves just as she likes.’

‘But why doesn’t he give her the money and get rid of her?’

‘He can’t afford to. He’s working on an invention that’ll halve the cost and fitting time of pilotless flying equipment and he’s sunk every penny into the research. He just couldn’t afford to pay her off, and she knows it.’

‘I think it’s terrible,’ Julie said, shocked. ‘And to be blind as well.’

‘Yes,’ Gerridge shook his head. ‘He had a big disappointment this week. A French specialist thought he could operate successfully on his eyes. That’s why we went to Paris.’ He glanced at his watch, whistled, slid off the table. ‘I must be back. I said I’d only be away five minutes. I’ll be seeing you again.’

Later, when Julie was in bed, she heard Gerridge call, ‘Good night,’ and she started up, thinking he was calling to her. She liked Gerridge, and smiled to herself when she realized he was speaking to Wesley. She heard the front door close and it occurred to her she was now alone in the flat with Wesley.

‘Well, that’s nothing to worry about,’ she thought. ‘He’s safe. If it’d been Benton I should be scared stiff, but Wesley...’

She was dropping off to sleep when a sudden crash of breaking glass startled her awake. She listened, then jumped out of bed, slipped on her dressing-gown.

‘He must have had an accident,’ she thought, alarmed and went quickly down the passage to Wesley’s room, listened outside the door. She heard movements and she knocked.

‘Who’s there?’ Wesley asked, then, ‘Oh, come in, Julie.’

She opened the door. He was standing in the middle of the room, in dressing-gown and pyjamas, and looked helplessly in her direction. He still wore the disfiguring black-lensed glasses, and she found herself wishing he would take them off. At his feet was a smashed tumbler, the contents of which made a dark pool on the carpet.

‘Hello, Julie,’ he said, with a rueful smile. ‘Come to rescue me?’

‘I heard—’ she began, stopped short when she saw blood running down his hand. ‘Oh! You’ve cut yourself.’

‘The damn thing slipped out of my hand, and when I tried to clear it up I dug a bit of glass into my finger.’

‘I’ll get a bandage,’ Julie said, glad to help him. She quickly brought a first-aid outfit from Blanche’s bathroom. ‘If you’ll sit down I’ll fix it for you.’

‘Thanks.’ He groped about, muttered under his breath, ‘Where’s the chair? I seem to have lost my bearings.’

She took his arm and led him to a chair.

‘It’s sickening to be so helpless,’ he said as he sat down. ‘I don’t know what I should have done if you hadn’t come.’

Not knowing quite what to say, and feeling ill at ease, she remained silent. She stopped the bleeding and wound on a bandage. ‘I’ll put a fingerstall on, then you won’t have any trouble,’ she said.

‘That’s very nice of you. Were you asleep?’

‘Oh, no,’ Julie said, as she slipped a wash-leather fingerstall over the bandage and fastened the tape round his wrist. ‘Is that comfortable?’

‘It’s fine.’ He flexed his fingers. ‘Have I made an awful mess?’

‘It’s all right, but I’ll clear it up.’

She fetched a dustpan and brush, swept up the pieces of glass and wiped the stain with a cloth.

‘It’s all right now,’ she said. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’

He startled her asking, ‘How old are you, Julie?’

‘Twenty-one,’ she told him, wondering why he should ask. ‘And pretty?’

She blushed.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Gerridge says you are and I believe he is a good judge. It’s just occurred to me I shouldn’t be here alone with you. I should have thought of it before. Mrs. Wesley wouldn’t like it.’ He fidgeted with his dressing-gown cord. ‘But I don’t feel inclined to get dressed again and go to my club. I suppose I should, but I’m not going to. All the same I think it would be better not to say anything to Mrs. Wesley that I spent the night here. I shall say nothing and I’ll be glad if you don’t.’

‘Oh, no,’ Julie said, realizing at once that Blanche would be utterly filthy if she knew. ‘I won’t say anything.’

‘Thank you.’ He was unmoved and not in the least embarrassed. ‘It’s a lot of nonsense really, but — well, there it is. You’d better get off to bed now.’

‘Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do for you?’ Julie asked.

‘There is one thing you can tell me before you go,’ he said, and smiled. ‘Did Mr. Benton come here while I’ve been away; Mr. Hugh Benton, my partner?’

Julie nearly said yes, but something in the way he was sit-ting, the way his hands suddenly became still, warned her to be careful. She remembered with a feeling of shame that she had accepted Benton’s hush money.

‘No,’ she said, and hated herself for lying. ‘No one’s been here.’

‘I see.’ He seemed to relax and sank further back into the arm-chair. ‘All right. Good night, Julie. Turn off the light, will you, please? I don’t need it.’

It seemed odd to leave him sitting in the chair in complete darkness: odd and rather sad.

II

Harry Gleb lit a cigarette and threw the match with unnecessary violence into the grate.

‘It’s no good bawling at me,’ he said sharply. ‘She won’t play. I’ve done what I could, but nothing doing. She walks out to-morrow.’

Mrs. French eyed him. Her face was set and cold.

‘She’s got to stay. We’ll never get another chance to put a girl in there. I know Blanche Wesley. If she walks out, we’re sunk.’

Harry shrugged helplessly.

‘I’ve done my best. I can’t make the girl stay if she’s made up her mind to quit, can I?’

‘The trouble with you is you’re soft,’ Mrs. French said harshly. ‘You ought to have taken the little bitch by the scruff of her neck and given her a damn good hiding. That’s what she wants. She’d do what she’s told if you handled her right.’

Harry scowled at her.

‘I’m not beating women up. I don’t stand for it. We’ll have to think of something else.’

‘Can’t you get into your thick head there is nothing else we can do?’ Mrs. French barked. ‘I’ll talk to her.’

‘You won’t!’ Harry snapped. ‘I tell you it’s no good. Leave the girl alone.’

Mrs. French looked at him intently.

‘You’re not going soft on her, are you, Harry?’

That was the last thing Harry wanted Mrs. French to suspect. He was scared of her. She knew too much about him for safety. There was Dana, too. Mrs. French was expecting him to marry her daughter. If she thought he was going soft on Julie there would be trouble. He didn’t trust her. She might do anything — shop him to the bogies.

‘Don’t talk wet,’ he said. ‘Of course I’m not. She means nothing to me. I just won’t stand for violence. You know that.’

‘It won’t come to violence,’ Mrs. French said. ‘I’ll talk to her. Maybe I’ll threaten her, but nothing more. She’ll behave after I’ve talked to her.’

Harry didn’t like this, but he was scared to protest too strongly.

‘All right, but keep your hands off her. I won’t stand for it, Ma. I’m warning you.’

‘You shove off,’ Mrs. French said curtly. ‘When I want to see you again, I’ll send for you. The job’s still on. Our plans stand. She’ll do what she’s told.’

‘Okay,’ Harry said uneasily, and moved to the door. ‘But don’t touch her. I mean it.’

Mrs. French didn’t reply. When he had gone, she stood thinking. Then she picked up the telephone, dialled a number and waited.

Theo came on the line.

‘Who is it?’ he asked in his nasal whine.

‘Come round here,’ Mrs. French ordered brusquely. ‘I’ve a job for you.’

‘What’s up now? It’s late. I was going to bed.’

‘Harry’s gone soft on the Holland girl. She’s being difficult. I want you to have a little talk with her.’

‘That’s different,’ Theo said cheerfully. ‘That’s not a job, that’s relaxation. I’ll be right over,’ and he hung up.

III

Theo sat on a park bench, opposite Park Way, his hands in his pockets, his velour hat tilted to the back of his head. A limp cigarette hung from his mouth and the smoke from it curled up into the still air, making him screw up one eye.

It was early; a few minutes to nine o’clock, and Theo was alone in this part of the Park. Except for an occasional bus there was nothing to look at, but Theo was quite happy to sit in the sunshine. Most of his life had been spent doing nothing; standing at street corners, his mind blank, his body resting. He disliked any kind of activity, regarding it only as a means to an end. And when Gerridge came out of Park Way and climbed into the waiting car, Theo sighed. He knew before very long he would have to get busy. Wesley came out some minutes later. The porter at the door guided him to the car, slammed the door and the car drove away.

Theo stubbed out his cigarette, got to his feet. As he entered the vast hall of Park Way, the porter stepped out of his office and eyed him coldly.

‘And what do you want?’ he demanded suspiciously.

‘Going up to see my sister,’ Theo said. ‘Maid at 97. Any objection?’

The porter was suspicious. Theo could see that.

‘Give her a ring if you don’t believe me,’ Theo went on. ‘Tell her it’s her brother, Harry.’

‘Don’t tell me what to do,’ the porter snapped. ‘I don’t know if Mrs. Wesley would like this.’

‘Tell her, too,’ Theo said, grinning. ‘Tell everybody. Let the newspapers in on it. Spread yourself, pal, I’m in no hurry. I want you to be happy about this.’

The porter turned red. He felt he was making a fool of himself.

‘You hop up quick, then,’ he said. ‘Go on and see her; and don’t stay long. I don’t want the likes of you in here.’

‘Didn’t think you would; that’s why I came,’ Theo said.

He slouched over to the automatic lift, opened the door, stepped in, slammed the lift door and pressed the button to the fourth floor.

He leaned against the side of the lift as it shot up between the floors, and lit a cigarette.

‘I’ve got to make it snappy,’ he thought, ‘or else the old blister might be up to see what’s going on.’

He rang the bell of 97, and waited.

Julie opened the door.

‘Hello, Jane,’ Theo said. His hand shot out. His open palm fitted under her chin and he gave her a violent shove, sending her reeling into the lobby. He followed her in, closed the door, raised his fist threateningly.

‘Don’t squawk. I’ve come from Ma French.’

Julie backed away. She saw before her a short, stocky youth (he couldn’t have been more than nineteen) with untidy black hair that fell over his ears and on to his greasy coat collar. His round, fat face was pasty and his eyes were close-set and cruel. There was something horribly vicious and spiteful about him.

‘Don’t get excited, Jane,’ Theo said, and smiled. His teeth were broken and green. ‘We’re going to have a little talk. Go in there. I want to sit down. I’m tired.’

Terrified, Julie backed into the lounge. Theo slouched in after her, looked round and grunted.

‘Pretty good, isn’t it? Fancy wanting to leave a joint like this.’ He eyed her speculatively. ‘You do want to leave, don’t you?’

‘I’m going,’ Julie said weakly. ‘And no one’s going to stop me.’

‘I am,’ Theo said, and flopped into an arm-chair. ‘Get the weight off your feet, Jane. Me and you’s going to have a little talk.’

Julie made a dash for the telephone, but before she could reach it, Theo had left his chair, grabbed hold of her and swung her round. As she opened her mouth to scream, he smacked her face. She staggered back with a thin wail of pain and fear, over-balanced and fell on her hands and knees.

‘Next time you’ll get my fist,’ Theo said. He caught hold of her arm, dragged her up and shoved her roughly into a chair. ‘What’s the matter with you? Want to get hurt?’ Julie began to cry weakly. Satisfied she’d give no more trouble, Theo went back to his arm-chair.

‘You’re going through with this job or there’ll be a load of grief coming your way,’ he told her. ‘I don’t want any arguments. If you won’t play with Harry, you’ll play with me.’

‘I won’t!’ Julie sobbed. ‘I’ll tell the police! I won’t do it!’

Theo laughed.

‘That’s what you think,’ he said, and took out a limp wallet from his pocket and produced three grimy photographs. ‘Ere, take a look at these. I pinched them from a police photographer. Real life pitchers. They’ll interest you.’

Julie flinched away.

‘I’m not going to look at anything,’ she said wildly. ‘If you don’t go.’

‘Do you want me to hit you again, you silly mare?’ Theo asked, leaning forward. ‘Look at ’em or I’ll bash you.’

He threw the photographs into Julie’s lap. She caught a glimpse of disfigured faces and she swept the photographs to the floor with a shudder.

‘Pick ’em up and look at them,’ Theo said, getting to his feet. ‘I’m not going to tell you again.’

Slowly Julie bent down and her fingers touched the photo-graphs, lifted them. She looked at them, her face twisted into a horrible grimace.

‘That’s vitriol,’ Theo said. ‘Smashing pitchers. Proper life-like they are. I knew that bride. Her name’s Emmy Parsons. She’s a tart. A nigger did that to her. She wasn’t a bad-looking bride before she got splashed. ’Ere, keep looking at ’em. I haven’t finished yet. That other bride’s Edith Lawson. Fooled around with another bride’s man, so she got splashed. See that? And this other one. Got a proper basin, didn’t she? Slap in the puss. She was a real smasher. Used to work in a café in Leicester Square, but she talked too much. A bloke came in one night, ordered a cuppa coffee, and as she ’anded it to him he splashed ’er. I was there at the time.’ Theo grinned. ‘She made a noise like a train going through a tunnel. And listen, Jane. The cops never found out who done it. They wouldn’t find out if it happened to you. And it’s going to happen if you don’t play ball with us.’

Julie shivered, dropped the photographs. The sight of the women’s disfigured faces filled her with cold dread. No other threat could have been more effective.

Theo tapped her shoulder.

‘Look, this is the stuff.’ He held between finger and thumb a little green bottle. ‘I carry it around, see? And don’t think you can run away and hide. I’m good at finding people. From now on I’m going to watch you. One move out of turn and you’ll get it. Keep your mouth shut and do what you’re told and you’ll be all right. But start something we don’t like and you’ll kiss your looks good-bye. Understand?’

‘Yes,’ Julie said.

‘Right. Well, that’s all for this time, Jane. No more nonsense. We want to know how the safe opens by Wednesday. No excuses. Wednesday, or I’ll be along and I’ll shake you up again. Meet us at the Mayfair Street office at eight o’clock, Wednesday. If you’re not there, you’ll be sorry. Understand?’

‘Yes,’ Julie said.

‘Okay. Now where’s the bathroom?’

She didn’t know why he should want the bathroom, but she was too dazed and frightened to think clearly. She pointed.

‘Through there.’

‘Come on, that’s where we’re going.’

‘I don’t want to...’

‘You’re going to start a lot of trouble for yourself if you don’t get out of that habit, Jane,’ he said. ‘Come on.’

She stumbled down the passage to the bathroom with him at her heels. She had a presentiment that something horrible was going to happen to her, but there was nothing she could do about it.

‘Nice joint,’ Theo said, closing the bathroom door. ‘Everything laid on. Almost a pleasure to keep clean. Okay, Jane, just stand by the bath, will you?’

She cringed away from him.

‘Please leave me alone,’ she implored him. ‘I’ll do anything: don’t touch me.’

‘Don’t be a silly mare,’ he said, grinning. ‘You got me outa bed three hours before my time. You’ve mucked up my morning. Brides don’t do that to me.’

‘Please...’

‘And you don’t either, you—’

The obscenity petrified her.

‘See how you like this.’ He aimed a light blow at her face so she brought up her hands. Then he hit her viciously in the pit of her stomach.

‘Didn’t want you to sick over any nice carpet,’ he explained with a cruel little grin, and as she crumpled to the floor and began to retch he sidled out of the bathroom and shut the door.

IV

At three o’clock the same afternoon, Harry sat on the same park bench Theo had occupied in the morning and stared up at the windows of Wesley’s flat. He waited impatiently for Julie, but Julie didn’t come. At a quarter to four he was angry and slightly alarmed.

‘What’s happened to her?’ he wondered uneasily. ‘She can’t have hooked it without waiting for me.’

After waiting another five minutes he got up and walked rapidly to a telephone box not far away. He put through a call to Wesley’s flat, but there was no answer.

He began to get seriously worried.

‘Where the hell has she got to?’ he asked himself as he stood uneasily outside the telephone box and stared up at the blank windows.

It was too risky to go to the flat. For some moments he was undecided what to do, and he was aware of a growing feeling of apprehension. If Ma French had done anything to her! He clenched his fists angrily. It was no good standing here, wondering. He’d have to find out. He waved to a passing taxi, gave an address in Chelsea and sat back, lighting a cigarette with an unsteady hand. If they had done anything to her! He’d make them pay somehow. She was his now. If anyone thought they could touch her, they’d have him to reckon with.

Mrs. French and Dana were having tea in their small service flat when Harry came striding in.

Dana went to him.

‘Why, hello, Harry. I wasn’t expecting you.’

But Harry ignored her, pushing past her and confronting Ma with a look of rage on his face.

‘What’s happened to Julie?’ he demanded roughly. ‘We were going to meet this afternoon. She hasn’t turned up. I’ve rung the flat and there’s no answer. Do you know anything about it?’

Mrs. French met his furious stare calmly.

‘You’re behaving like a damned fool, as usual, Harry,’ she said. ‘Why should you care what’s happened to her?’

He pulled himself together with an effort. He mustn’t let her suspect he was in love with Julie. There’d be time for that when the job was done and he’d received his cut. If either of these women thought he was going off with Julie they’d stop him. He was sure of that.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he snapped. ‘She’s working for us. I’m keeping my eye on her. Now she’s vanished.’

‘You said last night she wasn’t going to work for us,’ Mrs. French reminded him. ‘I think you’re making too much fuss of her. It’s not fair on Dana, Harry.’

Harry glowered at her.

‘Does she mean anything to you?’ Dana demanded, con-fronting him.

‘No! But I want to know what’s happened to her.’

‘Then that’s all right,’ Mrs. French said and laughed. ‘I sent Theo to see her this morning. They had a little chat and she changed her mind about leaving. I expect she’s sulking.’

‘Theo? You sent that stinking rat...’

‘Why not? You said yourself she was being difficult.’

‘Theo!’ Harry was pale, and restrained his rage with difficulty. ‘Did he touch her?’

‘Why all the interest? I thought you said the girl meant nothing to you?’

Harry stood looking first at Mrs. French and then at Dana. Then he swung on his heel and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

‘He’ll soon get tired of her,’ Mrs. French said, as Dana started up to follow him. ‘If he doesn’t, I’ll get her out of the way when the job’s done. Now, don’t be silly about this. There’s nothing to worry about.’

‘Oh, shut up!’ Dana exclaimed, and burst into tears.

V

On Monday evening, Blanche Wesley returned to her flat in a waspish mood. The week-end hadn’t been a success. Benton had been in a difficult, demanding mood and the hotel had been hell. Of course, Hugh hadn’t much money. He gambled recklessly and was up to his ears in debt, but if he thought anything but the best was good enough for her he had better get any further idea of taking her away again for a week-end out of his miserly, pale head. And she hated Brighton anyway. Why it always had to be Brighton she couldn’t think. There had been a continuous wind; it had been chilly and it rained. The hotel was unbelievable. They had refused to serve meals in the bedroom and had given her a bit of butter the size of a halfpenny with her toast. When she had complained the waiter had actually been impertinent, and that fool Hugh had told her there was a peace on. He seemed to think that was funny. She had wanted a fire in the bedroom, but the management had yammered about the fuel shortage. If it hadn’t been for Hugh, who had hustled her away, she would have told the management exactly what she had thought of the hotel. The final blow had been the discovery that the hotel hadn’t any brandy, and that was something she just couldn’t do without. So she was forced to pub-crawl in the pouring rain, and the muck they offered her wasn’t fit even to cook with, and they had the audacity to charge six shillings a glass for it.

And now, as she swept into the spacious entrance lobby of Park Way, she was determined that here, at least, she wasn’t going to stand any nonsense. This was her permanent home; if she wanted a fire she would have one; if she wanted service, she would get it; if she wanted a pound of butter with her morning toast the porter would damn well produce it or she’d know the reason why. If there was the slightest indication that the service had deteriorated during her absence, she would have a row; and what a glorious, flaming, hell-raising row it would be.

But the moment the head porter saw her he was out of his cubby-hole, snapping orders to the under-porter and respectfully welcoming her. The taxi was paid off, her luggage was brought in, her mail, neatly tied with string, was presented to her with a flourish. A lighted match appeared as if by magic when she put a cigarette in her pouting lips.

This was better, she thought, much more like it, and she mellowed under the soothing, respectful attention bestowed upon her.

‘Well, Harris,’ she said, drawing off her gloves. ‘It’s nice to be back again. I’ve had the most damnable week-end. What’s been happening at the flat. Any callers?’

The head porter was used to this inquiry. He was well aware that nothing was too petty to escape Blanche’s attention. Since he received at least five pounds a week from her in tips it paid him to be servile, although his private opinion of her was startlingly obscene.

‘Mr. Wesley and Mr. Gerridge returned to the flat on Saturday night, madam,’ he told her. ‘And a person called to see your maid on Sunday morning.’

Blanche smiled amiably, flickered her long, spiky eye-lashes and revealed her beautiful little teeth.

‘Did Mr. Wesley stay the week-end at the flat?’ she purred.

‘Oh, no, madam, just Saturday night.’

‘Did Mr. Gerridge stay with him?’

‘No, madam.’

Blanche tapped ash off her cigarette.

‘Of course, my maid was there to help him if he wanted help? She didn’t leave the flat?’

‘No, madam, she was there.’

Blanche nodded, delighted. Here, at least, were the ingredients for a first-class row.

‘Going to make something out of this, the little cow.’ the head porter thought to himself. ‘Well, let her get on with it. It’ll give her something to do for a change.’

‘And who was this person who came to see my maid?’ Blanche asked.

‘He told me he was her brother,’ the head porter said, his fat face darkening, ‘but I must say I considered him an extremely undesirable young fellow. I didn’t like the looks of him at all.’

Blanche’s smiled vanished.

‘Then why did you let him up?’ she demanded, a rasp in her voice. ‘Didn’t I tell you to keep an eye on that girl? Didn’t I leave implicit instructions she was not to have a man in the flat? Surely you know by now that these chits of girls are no better than street walkers? Do you think I want my flat turned into a brothel in my absence?’

The head porter saw too late where his runaway tongue had led him.

‘He called at nine o’clock yesterday morning, madam,’ he said uncomfortably. ‘He didn’t stay more than a few minutes. If he had been longer I would have had him down. I assure you there was no time for any nonsense of that sort.’

Blanche gave him a steady stare.

‘You can be immoral at nine o’clock on a Sunday morning as easily as at nine o’clock on Saturday night,’ she said bitingly. ‘From what I hear it seems that these guttersnipes can misconduct themselves in a few minutes without straining their nervous systems, and as for her having a brother I simply don’t believe it. You are a fool, Harris. You have always been a fool and you have every indication of remaining a fool until a grave in some forgotten churchyard claims you.’

‘Yes madam,’ the hall porter said, and bowed humbly. Blanche snapped her fingers at the under-porter who was waiting with her luggage and walked to the lift.

The under-porter gathered up the luggage, winked at the head porter who glared at him, and followed Blanche into the lift.

Sweeping into her flat like a miniature tornado, Blanche managed to reach the bell in the lounge and ring it furiously before Julie was aware that she was in the flat.

Blanche looked searchingly at Julie as she came hurrying in. Julie was pale and there were dark rings under her eyes. This was not to be wondered at since she had scarcely slept the previous night.

‘Get me some brandy,’ Blanche ordered, ‘and hurry. You look thoroughly washed out.’

Julie didn’t say anything. She had been dreading this moment. She fetched a decanter and glass and set them on the table, then picked up Blanche’s suitcase and backed to the door.

‘Don’t go away,’ Blanche said sharply. ‘I want to talk to you. Come here, where I can see you.’ She poured out the brandy, drank half a tumbler of the liquor neat, refilled her glass and lit a cigarette. ‘What have you been doing with yourself over the week-end?’

‘Oh, nothing really, madam,’ Julie said, avoiding Blanche’s searching eyes, ‘I... I tidied up. There was a little sewing...’

Blanche snapped her fingers impatiently.

‘Never mind that,’ she said. ‘Did anyone call?’

‘Oh, no, madam.’

Blanche stared at her.

‘You mean to tell me no one except yourself has been in the flat over the week-end?’

Julie hesitated, then said, ‘Yes, madam, that’s right.’

‘How very odd,’ Blanche said. ‘The hall porter tells me your brother called on you yesterday.’

‘My... my brother?’ Julie stammered, realized a little late that Theo probably had difficulty in getting past the head porter and, as an excuse to get upstairs, had made out he was her brother. ‘Oh, yes, madam. I... I forget. My brother did come to see me. He didn’t stay long. I didn’t let him into the fiat. I hope you don’t mind.’

Blanche sipped her brandy. She felt that if she wasn’t careful the row she was longing to stage might not materialize.

‘I think you are lying,’ she said sharply. ‘I don’t believe you have a brother, and I don’t believe for one moment you didn’t ask this man into my flat.’

‘I assure you, madam,’ Julie said, fear giving her courage, ‘he didn’t come into the flat. He... he’s got a job on a ship and only came to say good-bye.’

Blanche glowered at her.

‘I see,’ she said.

‘There’s no point in pursuing that,’ she thought. ‘The little slut’s slippery, but I’ve not finished with her yet.’

‘So, apart from your brother, no one else has been here?’ she went on, lifting her eyebrows.

‘Had the hall porter told her that Wesley had been back?’ Julie wondered. ‘Had he been off duty?’ Wesley had asked her to say nothing. She stood hesitating, not knowing what to say.

‘Well, speak up!’ Blanche snapped.

Julie decided to risk it.

‘No one else, madam.’

Blanche smiled.

‘Not even, Mr. Wesley, Julie?’ she asked gently.

‘She knows,’ Julie thought. ‘Now, what am I to do?’

But Blanche gave her no opportunity to make excuses. She flared up into a furious rage.

‘So that’s it, is it?’ she stormed, starting out of her chair. ‘Of course, a blind man can’t be too particular. They say all cats are grey in the dark, but I’m surprised he picked on a skivvy!’

Julie felt herself go hot and then cold. But she knew there was nothing she dare do. She had to stay in this flat now until Mrs. French told her she could leave.

‘You’re making a mistake...’ she began.

‘Mistake?’ Blanche’s voice rose to a scream. ‘How dare you lie to me!’ She snatched up her glass of brandy and threw it at Julie. The glass whizzed past Julie’s head, smashed against the wall; some of the splinters narrowly missed her. ‘Get out of my sight, you dirty little slut!’

Julie made a bolt for the door as Blanche looked around for something else to throw at her. She neatly collided with Wesley as he came in.

‘What’s going on here?’ he demanded. ‘Blanche! What’s happening?’

‘I’ll tell you what’s happening!’ Blanche stormed. ‘I was just telling your cheap little mistress what I thought of her!’

Julie ran from the room. But she didn’t go far. As soon as she was out of sight, she paused to listen.

‘You’d better control yourself, Blanche,’ Wesley said quietly. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’

‘I suppose you’ll deny you stayed the night here with that chit?’

‘I stayed here on Saturday night,’ Wesley returned. ‘Does that annoy you?’

‘Then why did she say you weren’t here if you two haven’t been up to something?’

‘Because I told her to. Knowing your grubby little mind I foolishly thought it would save a scene. But I was wrong. Now are you satisfied?’

‘You cheap cad!’ Blanche said furiously, and there came the sound of a blow. There was a sudden crash of breaking glass and a thud as some piece of furniture fell over.

Horrified, Julie peered into the room.

Wesley was standing motionless, his hand to his face. Blanche, livid with fury, faced him. The occasional table lay on its side surrounded by fragments of glass from a smashed vase.

‘Now I hope you are satisfied,’ Wesley said in a strained voice.

‘I’m not, you useless fool!’ Blanche said, and struck him on the other side of his face with her open hand.

Julie caught her breath sharply, but neither of them heard her.

Wesley stepped back.

‘That’s enough, Blanche. You’re drunk. Go and lie down and sleep it off. You disgust me.’

‘Oh! I hate you!’ Blanche screamed at him. She looked wildly round the room, darted to the fireplace and snatched up the poker. There was a murderous expression in her eyes that chilled Julie. As Blanche rushed towards Wesley, brandishing the poker, Julie cried out, ‘Mind! She’s got a poker!’

But Wesley made no move to avoid Blanche, and Julie darted forward, seized Blanche’s wrist as she reached Wesley.

‘Don’t you dare touch him! How could you, when he’s blind?’ she cried.

Blanche wrenched her wrist free, gaped at Julie; her rage dying on her. Then, suddenly, she began to laugh. She turned away, dropping into an arm-chair and shook with gleeful mirth.

‘Oh, Howard, it’s too comic,’ she gasped. ‘The little fool actually thought I was going to hit you.’

Julie was dumbfounded. She felt herself turn white and then red. She was completely bewildered by Blanche’s malicious laughter.

‘Oh, run away, Julie,’ Blanche said, giggling. ‘You don’t have to protect him. I wouldn’t hurt him for anything.’

Julie gulped, backed away, and as she was leaving the room the front door bell rang.

VI

Hugh Benton handed his hat and gloves to Julie, eyed her thoughtfully.

‘Mr. and Mrs. Wesley are at home, I believe,’ he said, raising his pale eyebrows. ‘I’ll find my way in.’ He entered the lounge, stood in the doorway, surveying the poker, the smashed vase and the pool of water on the carpet. His amber-coloured eyes looked quickly at Blanche.

‘Why, hello, Hugh,’ she said gaily. ‘How nice of you to come. I’ve been losing my temper again.’

‘Ah, I’m sorry to hear that.’ Benton moved into the room cautiously. ‘Hello, Howard; glad to see you back. I’m sorry I wasn’t in the office to welcome you. I took a long week-end at Brighton.’

‘They told me at the office,’ Wesley said stiffly. ‘I hope you enjoyed yourself.’

‘Pretty fair, thank you, pretty fair. Weather wasn’t what it might have been.’

‘I do hope you stayed at a good hotel, Hugh, dear,’ Blanche said sweetly. ‘Those cheap little places are so horrid, I always think. No fires, no meals in bed, no butter: dreadful.’

Benton winced.

‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ he said, wandered further into the room. ‘Still it’s difficult now: difficult times.’

‘For goodness’ sake,’ Blanche said impatiently. ‘Where’s Julie? Julie! Clear up this mess at once.’

Julie came in hurriedly, began to pick up the pieces of glass. As she worked, she was aware that Benton stared at her with inquisitive, probing eyes.

‘Have a drink, Hugh,’ Wesley said abruptly. ‘I’m not going out to-night. I have work to do.’

‘Oh, that’s a pity. I was wondering if you two would care to dine at my club,’ Benton said. ‘I’ll have a whisky I think. Can I persuade you to change your mind?’

‘Brandy for me, darling,’ Blanche said as Wesley made his way to the sideboard. ‘I’d love to dine at your club, Hugh, my pet. It’s such a lovely, dull, stuffy old place. Do let’s, Howard.’

‘I have work to do,’ Wesley returned quietly.

‘Well, I’ll go without you then,’ Blanche said. ‘I don’t see why I should be cooped up here all day.’

‘Please yourself,’ Wesley said, brought two glasses to the middle of the room.

Blanche took the drinks from him, and gave the whisky to Benton, who caressed her fingers as she put the glass into his band.

‘Oh, well, perhaps we’ll make it some other day,’ Benton said uneasily.

‘But I want to come to your stuffy old club. Howard never goes out anywhere.’

‘Well, if Howard doesn’t mind.’

‘Why should I mind?’ Wesley asked, groped his way to a chair and sat down.

Julie had cleared up the broken pieces by this time and quietly left the room, but stopped abruptly just outside the open door, her heart missing a beat, when she heard Benton say, ‘Oh, by the way, Blanche, I’ve never had the opportunity of examining this marvellous safe of yours. I was reading about it in the Standard to-night. They say it’s the eighth wonder of the world. Won’t you stop being mysterious and show it to me? I assure you I’m no burglar.’

Julie flattened herself against the wall and listened.

‘Why, of course,’ Blanche said gaily. ‘I didn’t think it would interest you. It is rather fun.’ She gave a hard little laugh. ‘I locked Julie in it the other day.’

‘Why did you do that?’ Wesley asked sharply.

‘Oh, for fun. I wanted to see how she’d react. The little ninny fainted.’

‘That wasn’t very kind, was it?’ Wesley asked. ‘And rather dangerous, too.’

‘She didn’t complain,’ Blanche said carelessly. ‘I must have a little joke sometimes. If she doesn’t like it she can always leave.’

‘I should have thought it was difficult to get maids these days,’ Benton said mildly. ‘She struck me as a willing little thing.’

‘Just because she happens to be pretty in a cheap, sexy way both you and Howard stick up for her,’ Blanche said, a waspish note in her voice. ‘Howard’s so infatuated with her, he sneaked back last night and spent the night with her alone.’

There was a sudden silence, and Julie felt her face burn.

‘Oh, come, Blanche.’ Even Benton sounded embarrassed.

‘I’m not saying anything happened,’ Blanche said, and laughed shrilly. ‘Howard is past chasing girls. But Julie might have tried to chase him.’

‘Shall we drop this, Blanche?’ Wesley’s voice was sharp. ‘I’ve had quite enough of this nonsense for one day, and I don’t think it’s at all funny.’

‘Suppose we get back to the safe,’ Benton put in quickly, as if he saw a quarrel pending and was anxious to prevent it. ‘Will you let me see it? I promise not to tell anyone how it works.’

‘It’s up to Blanche,’ Wesley said coldly. ‘We had agreed to keep the combination to ourselves.’

‘Oh well, if it’s like that...’

‘Nonsense,’ Blanche broke in. ‘Of course he must see it. We have no secrets from nice old Hugh, have we?’

‘Show him if you want to,’ Wesley said impatiently.

‘I feel honoured,’ Benton said, a tiny sneer in his voice. ‘May I finish my drink, and then perhaps you’ll show it to me.’

‘We must all go along,’ Blanche said, and giggled, ‘The safe’s in my bedroom and I must have a chaperon. Besides, Howard can tell you how it works.’

Julie waited to hear no more. Here was her chance. She went quickly down the passage to Blanche’s room. Where could she hide? She looked around for a likely hiding place. The cupboards were no use. Under the bed? Possible, but dangerous. The window recess? Yes, that was much the best place. Julie pulled back the curtains that screened the big windows, then darted back to the door to turn out the light and groped her way once more to the window, drew the curtains carefully and waited with beating heart.

After a few minutes the bedroom door opened and the light was switched on. By peering cautiously through the chink where the curtains met Julie had a clear view of the room.

Blanche and Benton stood before the quilted wall. Wesley wandered over to an arm-chair, and sat down, away from them.

‘Well, this is it,’ Blanche said. ‘The safe is hidden behind this wall, which slides back when I touch this spring. It’s Howard’s idea. He worked the whole thing out himself. He was frightfully clever with his hands before he was blind: now, of course, he’s just frightfully clever,’ and she gave her tinkling little laugh. The sneer made Julie flinch, and she saw Wesley’s knuckles turn white. ‘The spring won’t work,’ she went on, giving Benton a meaning smile, ‘unless a concealed pointer is set at a certain number. I’ll show you the pointer.’

‘Have you turned off the alarm?’ Wesley asked.

‘Oh, no. I mustn’t forget to do that.’ She turned to Benton. ‘If you touch the pointer before turning off the alarm the flat will be full of policemen before you can say Jack Robinson, or whatever it is you’re supposed to say.’ She went over to the bed, fumbled behind the head and Julie heard a sharp click as Blanche turned down a concealed switch.

‘Now the alarm is off,’ she said brightly, came back to where Benton was standing.

‘So that’s how you caught so many burglars,’ he said, reached out and pulled her to him. Blanche seemed startled, looked quickly at Wesley who was sitting motionless in his chair, then she smiled and lifted her face for Benton’s kiss.

‘The beasts!’ Julie thought. ‘How could they when he is in the room with them?’

Blanche pushed Benton away, wagged a warning finger at him, but her face was animated and her eyes showed a naked desire that sickened Julie.

‘The pointer is here,’ she went on, and pulled a square of the quilted wall out of its seating. Julie could just make out a small number dial set in the wall. ‘I turn the pointer to number three, press the catch with my foot, and the door opens.’

The quilted wall had slid back to reveal the shiny steel door Julie had already seen.

‘That’s pretty neat,’ Benton said. His hand fumbled at Blanche but she pushed him away, frowning at him.

‘There’s another alarm fitted to the steel door,’ she explained. ‘Would you turn it off, Howard?’ She turned back to Benton as Wesley got to his feet. ‘It’s in the bathroom. Actually it looks like one of the electric light switches.’

But Benton wasn’t listening. He caught hold of Blanche the moment Wesley had groped his way into the bathroom. They strained together, his mouth crushed down on hers. They stood there, their breath mingling, their eyes closed, swept away by the intenseness of their passion, and neither of them heard Wesley return. Julie put her hands to her face. It was horrible to see him standing there and to know he was unaware of what was going on. Then Julie felt a shiver run through her as she saw Wesley’s fists clench and his mouth harden into a thin line. Could he possibly hear these two, lost in their beastliness?

Suddenly Blanche realized that he had returned, and she pulled away from Benton. She was shaking and had to grip his arms for support. He looked over his shoulder at Wesley and showed his teeth in an angry, frustrated grimace.

‘The alarm is off,’ Wesley said in cold, flat tones.

Blanche was unable to speak for a moment, then with an effort, she said, ‘Howard had better tell you about the burglar trap, I never could understand how it works.’

Benton took out his handkerchief and dabbed his face. ‘What’s the burglar trap, old boy?’ he asked. His voice was unsteady.

‘I’ll show you,’ Wesley said and moved towards the safe. ‘Will you open up, Blanche?’

Julie watched carefully. She saw Blanche turn down a switch by the side of the steel door. There was a sudden hiss of escaping air, the lights in the room flickered and the door slid back.

‘Even if a burglar succeeded in getting so far, and none of them have up to now,’ Wesley said, ‘he would still be trapped if he entered the safe. There’s a concealed beam of light from a lamp on one side of the wall which is projected across the safe so as to fall on a photo-electric cell fixed to the opposite wall.’

Benton leaned forward and peered into the safe.

‘What happens then?’ he asked, looked at Blanche and raised his eyebrows. She shook her head.

‘The interruption of the beam by a person walking into the safe causes a decrease in the current through the cell,’ Wesley went on. ‘This in its turn causes an increase of the grid voltage applied to a triode valve and brings into operation a series of relays which switch on the thruster for closing the door.’

‘That’s very ingenious,’ Benton said. ‘So if I enter the safe, the door shuts and I’d be trapped, is that it?’

‘Yes, and if no one let you out, you’d suffocate,’ Wesley told him.

‘I don’t think I’ll try it then,’ Benton laughed uneasily, dabbed his face again with his handkerchief. ‘There’s some means of controlling the door I suppose?’

‘Of course. You turn out the light that falls on the cell. It’s safe then.’

‘But is all this necessary? It seems so elaborate and must have cost a tidy sum to construct.’

‘It’s more than a toy,’ Wesley said, and moved away. ‘I shall get the cost back eventually on the reduced insurance rates. The insurance company was very impressed with it and consequently greatly reduced their rates. The furs alone are insured for thirty thousand and then there’s Blanche’s jewellery.’

‘I hadn’t thought about the insurance,’ Benton said. ‘Yes, I see. It’s remarkable, and thanks for showing it to me.’

‘And now let’s go to your stuffy old club,’ Blanche said. ‘Do join us, Howard.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said abruptly. ‘I have a lot of dictation to do. But you go.’

‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Benton said, exchanged glances with Blanche. ‘Come as you are, Blanche. You don’t need to change.’

Blanche took down the mink coat from its hanger, slipped it on.

‘Will you close up the safe, Howard?’

‘Yes,’ he said curtly, and waited for them to go.

Julie stepped away from the chink in the curtain and waited too, her heart pounding, terrified that Blanche would suddenly take it into her head to call her. But Blanche was too preoccupied with Benton to think of Julie.

When she heard the front door slam, Julie sighed with relief, and once again peered through the curtains. What she saw rooted her to the floor. Wesley had taken off his black-lensed glasses and was moving about the room, no longer hesitant nor groping. By the brisk way he closed the safe, she realized he wasn’t blind at all. She was so startled by this discovery that she gave a half-stifled exclamation. Wesley heard her. He turned quickly, stared at the curtained recess behind which she was hiding.

Without the black-lensed glasses, which she now realized had been as effective as a mask, he was a stranger to her and his odd, glittering eyes frightened her.

‘You can come out, Julie,’ he said quietly.