The Savage Gorge

TWENTY TWO

Lord Bullerton looked up. Tweed thought he detected relief in his expression. He raised a clenched fist, crashed it down on his desk.

'Tweed, this man wants me to sell him Black Gorse Moor. I'm not going to do it for any price.'

'A million pounds is a lot of money,' Guile sneered.

'He has also,' Bullerton continued, 'threatened me if I refuse. Look at the thug he's brought with him.'

'I'm a professional carpenter.'

'Look,' Bullerton exploded, 'at his right leg! Just lift the trouser.'

Tweed had already observed the large holster not exposed. In it was sheathed a huge wide-bladed knife. Paula, who had also seen it, had sidled round behind Lepard. In her hand she held the. 32 Browning slipped out of her own leg holster.

Close behind Lepard, she pressed the muzzle hard against the back of his neck. He stiffened. He knew what that meant.

'It would be murder,' he said unconvincingly. 'You'd spend a bad twelve years in Holloway.'

'Don't think so,' said Paula in a hard bitter tone. 'Not with two impeccable witnesses to confirm you were attacking Lord Bullerton.'

'Take it easy,' Guile told Lepard.

'I never do.'

'That's an order I'm giving you,' Guile said in his cut-glass voice.

He was disturbed by the hard tone of Paula's voice. Time to quieten down a dangerous situation.

'Now,' began Paula, talking to Lepard, 'you will do exactly what I tell you. Any tricks and my trigger finger is itchy. Bend slowly forward, undo the straps on your holster. Don't touch that knife.'

Lepard slowly bent down. As he did so Paula kept the Browning's muzzle pressed against his neck. He unfastened the straps, his face a picture of fury. To be humiliated by a woman. He held holster and knife well away from himself.

'Now put it on that table by your side,' Paula ordered. 'I want you to use your elbow to push the whole thing way over that table. That's right. You can sit up straight now.' She looked at Tweed, spoke again to Lepard. 'Don't forget my gun will be inches from your head.'

Tweed stepped forward, hands thrust deep inside his coat. He stared grimly at the billionaire.

'Guile, I'm warning you not to visit Hobart House. Never again slip into the grounds of his property. If you do I'll arrest you at once. You'll be transported in a police car to the Yard, held there while I phone Chief Inspector Loriot of the DST in Paris, ask him to send for your immediate extradi tion to France. I gather he wishes to interrogate you about certain of your activities in Europe. Now, both of you, leave.'

As he stood up Paula saw Guile stare at Tweed with a look of venom she'd never seen on another human being's face. Without a word he walked into the hall through the doorway Tweed had opened, fol lowed by Lepard with Paula holding her gun close behind him.

Margot, close to the front door, unlocked, opened it. They walked out, down the steps towards their parked Citroen.

'I gather they're not wanted on the voyage,' Margot said wittily. She turned to a bank of switches, pressed two. The hall was plunged into darkness, but outside the terrace and beyond were illuminated with search light-like glares.

'Just to make sure they leave,' Margot said with a smile. 'I must get back to my room and homework, if you'll excuse me…'

She reached the top landing and bumped into Lance, who was on his way from his room. He squeezed her arm, ran down the staircase and across the hall to Tweed and Paula.

'Who were those peculiar people?' he asked. 'They never said a word.'

'Some businessmen who came to coax a loan from your father. He refused.'

'He's always being pestered by people who want money. Often over the phone.'

'Excuse me,' Tweed said, 'I have a private call to make.'

In a distant corner, dark despite the lights Margot had turned on again before she left, he pressed Harry's number.

'That you, Harry? Good. Where are you?'

'In a hole in a hedge, watching a Citroen approach from the mansion.'

'Inside are Neville Guile and his henchman, Lepard. They should drive along the lane. I want to make sure they leave. Paula and I will soon be driving up that way. Will pick you up. At the end of the lane the Citroen will turn left for the London road.'

'Got my car parked in a field. See you.'

Tweed returned to where Lance and Paula were chatting amiably.

'I really didn't like the look of the tall one with the cut-glass voice. Slithers when he walks.'

'Good metaphor,' Tweed said with a smile. 'He's a snake.'

'Hadn't we better get back and make sure Lord Bullerton is all right?' Paula suggested firmly.

Lance ran back up the stairs, As Tweed passed a wall of bookcases he paused, felt behind the wide gap behind them, took out the cardboard roll he'd found at the back of the brush cupboard in the kitchen. Paula looked puzzled.

'Why didn't we take that to Lord Bullerton earlier?'

She'd been shown it on their way from kitchen to hall. A lightning-quick reader, she had memorised its contents.

'Not in front of other people. Good job I didn't, considering who his visitors were.'

Entering the study, they found Bullerton seated again behind his desk. He was drinking the last of a double Scotch and another glass was waiting for him on the desk. He waved his glass to them.

'Cheers! And I can't thank you both so much for protecting me.'

Tweed sat down close to him, hammered the roll on the desk.

'What is all this about? You must tell me. It could be a link with my murder investigation.'

'Thought you'd find it. Has Paula also read it? Good. It is a legal document drawn up by Fingle, local solicitor. On Neville Guile's instructions. He has signed it, I have not and won't.'

'You'd be selling the whole of Black Gorse Moor and all the geological material beneath it for a million,' said Paula. 'A cool million pounds,' she repeated. 'What could be worth money like that?'

'No idea,' Bullerton told her. 'But if a crook like Neville Guile offers that much whatever it is has to be worth ten or twenty times as much. Only Archie

MacBlade could tell you. He wants to meet you for a late supper at the Nag's Head.'

'But I thought Hartland Trent and now, presum ably his heirs, had a seventy per cent holding in the moor,' Tweed insisted.

'That was so. Emphasis on past tense. Guile moves fast when a fortune is at stake. I raised the Trent issue with him. He gave that awful giggle of his. He'd used Fingle first to rush through the transfer of Hartland's estate to his son, Barton. Then he offers the twenty- year-old Barton – not too bright – seven thousand pounds for the holding.'

'The robber baron,' Paula exclaimed.

'Young Barton tells Guile he needs ten thousand pounds. He has a pal with a car he's mad to buy. After haggling Guile, apparently reluctantly, agrees to pay ten thousand. Guile has the sale document with him and Barton signs with two neighbours as witnesses. Guile showed me the document.'

'But without your signature on this document I brought in he has nothing.'

'Nothing.'

'If you don't mind,' Tweed said, standing up, 'I'm anxious to talk to Archie…'

Minutes later Tweed, with Paula by his side, was driving the Audi, slowly along the hedge-lined lane. Harry appeared in his headlights, waving.

'Neville Guile didn't take the left turn towards London,' he reported tersely. 'He took the right-hand turn heading for Gunners Gorge.'

'Wait here,' Tweed ordered. 'Your job – guard Lord Bullerton.'

'So we haven't seen the last of Mr Guile,' Paula mused.

'Never mind. We're about to learn the secret of Black Gorse Moor.'