Neck and Neck

by Leo Bruce

  Just then two or three strangers entered the bar. Beckoning us to follow him, Beef picked up his tankard and led the way into the room where we used to have our meals.

  “Now, young fellow, what’s all this excitement? You say you’ve seen Greenleaf? Where?”

  Chapman blew a couple of rings from the smoke of his cigarette.

  “I thought you might be interested so I came in here special, just to tell you. I’ve just come back from Long Alton station. I had to take my boss and his wife down to catch the five-forty. They’re off to London for a day or two. I don’t expect you know, but the evening up-train and the down-train arrive about the same time at Long Alton. Well, I’d got Sir Henry and his missus nicely settled in an empty first-class carriage and I was just off, when she suddenly said, ‘Oh, Bob, I completely forgot. There’s a parcel for me from Fortnum and Mason at the station. It came by passenger train this morning. They phoned about it. Collect it before you go, will you, and take it back to the house.’ So, instead of going straight back to the car I go into the office at the back of the booking-window. They do everything there. The first thing I notice as I go in is that there’s a chap there whose face is familiar. Yet, I thought, he’s not a local. Gracious, I said to myself, I know who that is. That’s that chap Greenleaf who tried to do himself in.”

  He had recognized Greenleaf so easily, it appeared, because he had attended the court when Greenleaf was up for attempted suicide. “The boss had to go,” he said, “and as I had to drive him there I thought I might as well look in. Never know when you’re going to be up in court yourself, do you? Not that I’d ever try that game. I felt like it once when I was seventeen and a skirt turned me down, but I’ve learnt a bit since then, see. Always more fish in the sea, eh?”

  “You aren’t half spinning this yarn out, young Bob,” Beef said.

  He paused for another cigarette, lighting the match negligently with a finger-nail, and then continued his story.

  “As soon as I see him, I think of you two and what I told you about some folks saying they’d seen him in the neighbourhood around the time old Ridley was done in. I said to myself, ‘Bob, this is where you do a bit of Sherlock Holmes.’ You wouldn’t know, but at Long Alton station there isn’t any public telephone. If you want to phone you use the one in the office. As I come in, this fellow Greenleaf goes up to old Jim, the clerk there, and asks if he can phone. I stay well in the background, but, anyway, he wouldn’t know me. ‘Certainly,’ Jim says. ‘Is it local?’ Greenleaf says yes, and Jim says, ‘Well put tuppence in and dial. You know the number, I suppose.’ Greenleaf says yes again and turns towards the phone. It was a bit dark in the office, but as he goes towards the phone I can see his face properly for the first time. Gosh, he looked terrible! Ten times worse than when he was in the dock.”

  “Piling it on a bit, aren’t you?” Beef said, but I could see he was smiling. “I bet you don’t half think you’re a Dick Barton . . .”

  “No, honest, he did. Real wild he looked. First I thought I’d try and get near enough to see what number he was phoning, but then I thought that might make him suspicious of me so I stayed in the background, but near enough to hear what he was saying. I heard him say ‘This is Greenleaf here,’ and then poor old Jim the clerk has to turn round and see me there, and of course he must go and interrupt. He asks me what I want and I tell him about the parcel. Thank God it took a little while to find, but he keeps chattering all the time. However, I got the most important part. I heard him say, ‘I don’t know anywhere else round here,’ and then he suddenly said, ‘What about the Druids’ Stones? I know them. I could find them any time, day or night’, and then just as he rang off I heard the real bit I wanted. ‘Very well, I’ll see you by the stones some time after eleven. Yes, I realise you may be late. I’ll wait, and mind you turn up.’ He slammed down the receiver and stalked out without even a glance at me. He seemed really worked up. I collect my parcel and hurry out to the car, but it was dark then and he’d vanished. This is a job for Beef and me, I say to myself . . . .”

  “What d’you mean by ‘Beef and me’, eh?”

  “Let’s come with you,” he pleaded. “You’ll go out tonight, won’t you, and see who he’s meeting at the Druids’ Stones? I know the place well. Quite a landmark round here. On the hill nearly a mile from Cold Slaughter. Let me come along. I know every inch of the country. I used to play among those stones as a kid. I promise not to say a word.”

  Beef rubbed his chin. “What about your job?”

  Bob laughed. “Didn’t I tell you the boss and his wife have gone away. I’m free as air. I’ll just take the car back and drop her ladyship’s parcel. Bet there’s a nice large pot or two of caviare in that. I’ll have to get round the cook again, I can see. I must pass the word to Doris—she’s my latest—that I can’t meet her tonight. She’ll be wild. Can’t be helped. I’ll come back here on my motor-bike. How’s that?”

  Beef nodded. “All right, Bob me lad, but don’t you go saying anything to nobody about this. It might be dangerous.”

  “I say, do you think so?” Bob said, his voice full of excitement. “Shall I borrow the old man’s revolver?”

  “None of that, now,” Beef said ponderously. “This is not a kid’s game nor one of your Hollywood crook films. I’m just a hard-working detective.”

  “Bet you’re good, though.”

  “What are these stones you keep talking about?” Beef asked.

  “Haven’t you heard of the Druids’ Stones?” Bob replied. “They’re about a mile away. Up on a hill. They’re like Stonehenge only much smaller. I don’t think many people know about them except folk round here. A few old chaps, professors and so on, come and look occasionally, but mostly they’re allowed to become overgrown. You’ll see ’em tonight. Supposed to be haunted, so you’d better look out, Beef. Well, cheerio.”

  “Nice young fellow that,” Beef said, when he had gone.

  “He certainly knows how to manage you, Beef,” I said. “A heavy dose of flattery . . . .”

  “He can see I’m good,” Beef replied, making for the bar. “Pity a few others don’t realise it.”

  17

  The church bell was striking the quarter hour after ten as we stepped out of the Shaven Crown. We had purposely waited until after closing time so that our going out at that time would arouse no comment among the few who had just left the bars. We had arranged to pick up Bob Chapman at the far end of the village. It seemed very dark at first, until our eyes became accustomed to the September night. There was a heavy wind blowing and dark clouds hid the moon for the most part, but every now and then a shaft of light would appear as a rift appeared in the scudding bank of cloud. When we had passed beyond the last house of the village and had come into the open country, I soon became aware of a dark shadow motionless against the stone wall. As we approached the shadow became recognisable as the slim figure of Bob Chapman.

  I had found an old history of Gloucestershire in the inn parlour, and while waiting for our evening meal I had looked up the Druids’ Stones. I could only find one short paragraph about them. A curious irregular circle of stones, the book said, near Cold Slaughter. They are thought to date back to prehistoric times and probably belong to the same period as Stonehenge on Salisbury Plain. There was a comparison between the two, quite a bit about the early customs of that period and a steel engraving of the stones themselves. Then followed a typically Victorian sentence. “Many strange beliefs are still held concerning these stones in the villages around and it would be difficult to persuade any of the local inhabitants to go near them after nightfall.”

  Very comforting, I thought, as we walked forward in silence, with Bob leading, and I was glad of the company of these two. The warmth and confidence that I had felt earlier in the evening as I drank a few pints of beer before the bar fire seemed to vanish when the wind went whistling across the open fields and the rare gleams of moonlight lit now and then the desolate landscape and revealed for a moment or
two the strange twisted shape of a tree or barn.

  Presently we came to an old five-barred gate and I could see beyond the darker shadows of a wood. Bob climbed over and tried to open it, but it was covered with lichen and overgrown and would not budge. It had obviously not been used for a long time. Beef followed, climbing over the gate. With all his bulk, he showed an agility that surprised me. When we had advanced some twenty yards up what had been a ride through the wood, but was now only wide enough to allow us to walk in single file, Bob stopped in a small clearing.

  “This is not the usual way up to the stones,” he said, as Beef and I came close. “I’m taking you up a back way. It’s a bit further round, but I thought it would be better. We might have run into Greenleaf the other way in the dark, but we’re quite safe here. He can’t possibly know this path through the wood.”

  “What about the person he’s meeting?” Beef asked. “He must be a local.”

  “Even if he lives round here, I don’t suppose he could find his way through this wood in the dark. Anyway, there’d be no point in going a long way round.”

  “How much farther is it?” I asked. It was a stiff climb through the wood and I was not in training.

  “Oh, not far,” Bob replied. “We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  Beef looked at his watch.

  “We should be there just after a quarter to eleven. That should be all right. Can we get pretty close without being seen?” he asked.

  “I’ve got all that worked out,” Bob replied, and I could tell from his voice that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. There was a note of confident pride arising, I suspected, from the fact that he was acting as leader to a real detective. Without him, he felt, we should be lost among these trees. “On this side, you see, the wood stretches right up to the stones.” He went on, “The moon will be on our left so we should be able to see what we want if these clouds break at all. Noise is the only danger. We’ll have to go carefully later when we get close. Greenleaf may be there already. Twigs make a hell of a noise at night. Luckily, there’s a wind which will cover a lot. We’d better get on now. I’ll tell you when we’re getting close.”

  We followed on up the steep path. It was heavy going, for the ground underfoot was wet and soggy and every now and then our clothes would be caught by thorns, or we would trip on a half-hidden log, or a branch would block the way. The old police training seemed to stand Beef in good stead and he again surprised me. I was beginning to pant and blow, but Beef moved silently forward and seemed to avoid instinctively the twigs that continually slapped my face or the coil of a blackberry bush that would wind round my legs.

  It seemed a long and wearisome climb before I came upon Beef and Bob Chapman standing motionless under a large beech tree. The path seemed for some time to have become more level and I imagined that we must be reaching the crown of the hill on which Bob had told us the Druids’ Stones lay.

  “That’s the end of the wood,” Bob said, in a low voice, pointing to a patch ahead that was lighter than the surrounding shadows. The wood was so thick that it was impossible to see far in any direction.

  “I think,” Bob went on in a whisper, “it would be best if I went on alone and had a look round. If I’m not back in five minutes you follow with Mr. Townsend.”

  Beef nodded.

  “It’s quite easy. There’s a well-worn path from here to the edge of the wood. Don’t make a noise, though, or we may put them on their guard. If there’s nobody there yet it will be easy. Anyone coming to the stones any other way has to approach them across an open field, and we should easily see them in good time. I’ll come straight back if anyone’s there.”

  For a time we could see his figure moving among the trees, but it soon disappeared. Apart from the wind in the treetops I could not hear a sound, and I thought that it would be fairly easy for us to follow undetected anyone outside the wood. I could see Beef looking occasionally at the luminous dial of his watch, and I too began to feel some of the excitement of the chase. I wondered whom Greenleaf had arranged to meet and why it had been necessary to choose this outlandish spot. A sudden rather unpleasant thought came to me. Had he chosen this place purposely because it was so far from anywhere? Beef interrupted my thoughts by nudging me and pointing to his watch. Then he, too, disappeared down the pathway towards the edge of the wood. I could not help feeling very much alone and defenceless once he had gone. Every sound made me start and every dark shadow assumed human shape. I waited for some moments, perhaps a minute, and then took the path down which the other two had gone. I advanced slowly and as silently as I could. Suddenly I felt a hand on my arm. Stifling a cry I turned and saw Bob at my side. He led me forward a few paces and then lay on his stomach, motioning me to do the same. As I lay down, I became aware of Beef a little way ahead, also prone on the ground. Bob plucked my sleeve and pointed ahead. My eyes had become accustomed to the darkness now and through a thin curtain of branches I could see the open grassland and the dark shapes that must be the Druids’ Stones. They were not tall, like those at Stonehenge, but formed a more complete circle. Bob was still attracting my attention, and as I followed his pointing finger I saw advancing across the grass towards the circle of stones the tall figure of a man. Beef was gazing motionless ahead. I looked round at Bob and saw a look of thrill and triumph lighting up his broad open features. He nodded to me gaily, as if to say, “What did I tell you?”

  As the figure approached it was not difficult to recognise it as the tall ungainly shape of Greenleaf. When he reached the circle he looked carefully around and gave a low whistle. It was an eerie sound in the dark emptiness of the night. He paced up and down and then sat down on one of the stones that lay horizontal on the ground. I looked at my watch and was surprised to find it was only just before eleven. Only three quarters of an hour since we had left the homely warmth of the inn fire, I thought. Out here we seemed to have passed into a different life, something more primitive and nearer to nature itself.

  Apart from the intermittent soughing of the wind, there was complete silence, broken only by the hooting of an owl, the distant barking of a fox and every now and then a rustle somewhere near us in the wood, which I took for a stoat or weasel or some other animal on a predatory prowl. Greenleaf himself was sitting quite still, though every now and then he would turn his head and look around. Though I knew we were completely invisible, it was a curious sensation to watch his head turned towards where we lay and know that his eyes were fixed on the wood.

  Just then Beef turned round towards us and beckoned. Bob motioned me to stay still while he crept silently forward. I could just hear a faint whisper and then I saw Bob disappear into the open in the direction opposite to that in which Greenleaf was facing. I watched him slip forward, a black streak against the faint light, and fade into the protecting shadow of one of the biggest of the stones which stood near to where Greenleaf was sitting.

  He had no sooner got there than I heard a sharp click, and looking up I saw Greenleaf raise his right hand. The moon shone for a moment and I could see the silhouette of his hand, which seemed strangely distorted. Something glinted in the faint light, and with a shock I realised that he was holding a revolver in his hand. He was pointing it towards the moon and looking down the barrel. I could see that Beef had noticed this and I hoped Bob had too. I felt we were responsible for his safety, anyhow.

  Then a new noise broke the silence, and for a paralysing moment I realised that it was coming from within the wood quite close to where we lay. There was a cracking of boughs and a heavy tramp of feet. I looked over my shoulder and saw away to our left a torch shining. Someone else was using the woods that night. I watched as Greenleaf looked up, but was relieved to see that he remained seated. Then not twenty yards to our left a second figure broke out from the woods and made its way towards the stones. Greenleaf made no movement as the newcomer came towards him.

  “What a place to choose,” the newcomer said, and I was surprised that we were near enough
to hear what was said. Beef obviously had been afraid that we might not and had sent Bob nearer. I was just thinking that there was something familiar about the newcomer, his voice and movement, when I heard Greenleaf reply.

  “You know very well, Fagg, I couldn’t risk coming to Bampton Court. Someone was sure to have seen me. This was the only place around here I knew. Anyhow, have you got it?”

  “Not so much of your hurry and bluster, Mr. Greenleaf,” Fagg replied, and now I could clearly recognise the unpleasing features of the manservant of Bampton Court. “This is going to cost you a lot of money. I’ve taken a big risk in getting it. If that blasted private dick gets on to it, it’ll be me who’ll suffer. A hundred quid is what I want for this bit of paper. I know you can’t produce that much now. What I want to know is how much you have brought. Let’s not waste time. Here’s the papers you want. Where’s the dough?”

  Greenleaf put his hand in his breast pocket. “Here’s thirty pounds,” he said. “I’ll let you have the rest in a month when I get that money I told you about.”

  Fagg handed over what looked like an envelope, and for a few minutes they were both silent, while Fagg seemed to be counting the notes, and Greenleaf, producing a small torch from his pocket, was intent on the papers Fagg had given him.

  “Only just right,” Fagg said unpleasantly. “And I’m not worried about the other seventy. You’ll pay that all right. And before a month’s out, because you know very well if you don’t what’ll happen. I’ll have to go to the police and tell them about your little visit to Bampton Court on the tenth of September.”