“Shut up, you fool!” Mrs. French shouted, thumping the table.
Theo stopped laughing and looked across at Julie.
“What’s so funny?” Harry demanded, glaring at him. “you’ll see,” Theo returned, looked again at Julie.
“Shut up,” Mrs. French repeated, turned to Harry. “Don’t pay any attention to him. He’s stupid to-night. We’ll have to take a chance on Julie keeping her head. We can’t take her with us. They’ll find us through her if we do.”
Harry got to his feet.
“All right,” he said, but he wasn’t happy. “How do you feel about this, Julie? Think you can go through with it?”
“You don’t have to worry about me all of a sudden,” Julie snapped. “You were quick enough to drag me into this. Why the sudden concern?”
“If that’s how you feel,” he said, flushing. He turned away. “Anything else?”
“There are other details but we can fix them up between now and Friday. The main thing’s settled,” Mrs. French said. “Friday at eight o’clock.”
“I’ll be running along then,” Harry said, and moved to the door.
“I’ll come with you,” Dana said, pushing back her chair. “I’ve got to see a man,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Sorry. Good night all,” and he went out.
Julie felt a little thrill of delight that Harry should have snubbed Dana like this. Not that she cared, she told herself, she was through with a cheap crook like Harry. But it was nice to see Dana put in her place.
She got up.
“I can go now, I suppose?”
Mrs. French nodded.
And Julie, watch your step. If you try anything smart you’ll be sorry. Theo’s watching you.”
Julie went out of the room without a glance at either Dana or Theo. Her heart was pounding, but she was triumphant. She had found out when they were going to attempt the robbery. Now there was nothing else for her to do but to wait. The responsibility had shifted from her to the police.
She walked quickly along the deserted street, crossed New Bond Street and made her way towards Berkeley Square.
Suddenly she became aware of footsteps behind her and she looked hastily round.
Harry came out of the shadows, took her elbow and moved along at her side. She tried to shake him off, but he retained his grip.
“Now don’t be mad with me, kid,” he said. “It wasn’t my fault. I know that rat Theo had a go at you, but I found out too late to stop him.”
She wrenched her arm free, faced him.
“Get away from me!” she said furiously. “I don’t want to have anything more to do with you.”
He shuffled his feet uncomfortably.
“Don’t go on like that, Julie,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about you. Look, kid, let’s get this job over and then let’s go to the States. I’m sick of this life. I’ve been thinking a lot recently. Why shouldn’t you and me hook up? Come on, give me a smile, and say you’ll come with me.”
She eyed him up and down and nearly laughed. The idea of her marrying this cheap spiv, she thought, when she was going to have a West End flat and a thousand a year of her own! She wouldn’t marry him now if he were the last man on earth.
“Get away from me!” she repeated. “I hate you. You’re nothing but a cheap crook,” and she turned on her heel and I walked quickly down the street.
He came after her and jerked her round.
“What’s the matter, Julie? You love me, don’t you? We mean something to each other. I’m sorry, kid. I know I’ve got you into this mess, but I’ll make up for it.”
“Leave me alone ! How many more times have I to tell you I never want to see you again?”
He stared at her, refusing to believe her.
“Don’t you want to go to the States?” he asked persuasively. “I’ll give you all the fun in the world. Come on, kid, give me a kiss and let’s make it up.”
He reached for her, and stung to anger by his supreme confidence in himself, Julie slapped his face.
“And now leave me alone!” she cried, and turning, she ran down the dark street.
Harry stood still, his hand to his face, a blank, hurt look in his eyes. No woman had ever treated him like this before. It was a shock to him; a shock to his pride. He drew in a deep breath. Well, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He would do everything in his power to win her back. No other woman he had known had been able to resist him; Julie wasn’t going to be the exception. He loved her. When the job was over, and she was away from that flat, she’d be more reason-able, he told himself. It was living in luxurious surroundings that had gone to her head. She’d be all right when she had a place of her own again. She’d want to go to the States with him after a week or so of that.
He shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets and walked quickly away into the darkness.
Theo, who had been watching all this from a shop doorway, leaned forward and spat in the gutter.
CHAPTER FIVE
FROM the moment she had met Wesley in the lobby of the Piccadilly Hotel, Julie had been acutely uncomfortable. And she had been so looking forward to this outing. Up to the moment of meeting him the afternoon had promised well. She was excited and was wearing her smartest outfit. She had had the excitement of making sure Theo wasn’t following her; and dodging from bus to taxi had added spice to what she imagined was going to be a thrilling afternoon. But she had not anticipated how embarrassing it would be to go out with a man who appeared blind. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Wesley had been blind, but knowing he was pretending she was embarrassed by the way people looked at him, made way for him and even offered to help him. There had been a long queue for a taxi outside the hotel, but immediately Wesley appeared, his hand on Julie’s arm, the commissionaire had insisted he should go to the head of the queue, and no one in the queue had raised an objection.
It seemed to Julie, who was a little superstitious, that it was wicked of Wesley to act in this way. She had an uneasy feeling that God would suddenly rise up in wrath and strike him blind to teach him a lesson.
As the taxi drew away, Wesley seemed to sense her embarrassment, and smiling said : “Poor Julie; I’m afraid you’re very uncomfortable. But don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”
“But must you do it?” she asked angrily. “Isn’t it unfair?”
“When you play a part, Julie, you must be thorough,” he returned, a sudden sharp note in his voice. “If we are to get along together you must accept me as you find me.”
Nothing further was said until the taxi driver drew up outside Fowler & Freebody, Estate Agents, in Duke Street.
Mr. Fowler appeared in person and took them into his office.
Wesley explained what he wanted, and Julie caught Mr. Fowler’s startled glance. She saw at once he guessed what was in the wind, and hated him for the shocked expression that jumped into his eyes. But he produced particulars of two flats that he thought might possibly suit. One of them was in Berkeley Square and the other in Vigo Street.
They took a taxi and saw both flats. Julie immediately fell in love with the Vigo Street flat. The bedroom, Julie thought, was too elegant for words. There were silver stars painted on the dark blue ceiling and a pink-tinted mirror covered the whole of one of the long walls.
Wesley stood quietly by the door while Julie examined the room. They were alone and he had taken off his glasses. There was a cynical expression in his eyes as he watched her run excitedly backwards and forwards, through to the bathroom that delighted her and back to the bedroom again.
“I think it’s marvellous,” she exclaimed. “Much better than that stuffy old place in Berkeley Square.”
“So long as you’re pleased, Julie. But I think this is cheap and ghastly,” Wesley said, shrugging. “It’s a tart’s place. Julie.”
“I don’t care!” she snapped, reddening. “I want it.”
He studied her for a moment, then shrugged.
“All right, Julie, if you want
it, have it.”
She was angry with him now. He had taken the gilt off the gingerbread by his criticism. A tart’s place! What did he know about tarts! It was lovely. The stars on the ceiling were marvellous. Lying in bed, she could imagine she was looking at the sky. Well, he wasn’t going to spoil her pleasure. She had to live in it. If he didn’t like it, he could stay away.
“Yes, I want it,” she said.
“Then we’ll go back to the agents and fix it up.”
When they had left the estate agents, Wesley gave her the front door key.
“There you are, Julie. The key to your new home. I hope you will be very happy there.”
She took the key without a word of thanks. She was still angry with him.
“Now, I suppose I’d better get you some clothes,” he told her. “Those days are over for you. No more Bridge Cafés, Harry Glebs or the Black Market for you. You understand that, don’t you?”
“I suppose so,” she said reluctantly. He was right. She would never again be able to meet any of the old gang. Sooner or later the word would get around that she had talked. They wouldn’t want her once they knew that.
He bought her clothes that astonished her. They were severe and plain and beautifully tailored. She didn’t like them, wanting something flamboyant, like the lovely clothes Blanche wore, but Wesley didn’t even consult her, and she had to admit when she studied herself in the mirror that she looked awfully smart and sophisticated. Wesley’s approving nod, when the fitter had gone from the room, pleased her.
But when he bought her a mink coat her rapture knew no bounds, and she immediately forgave him for his criticism of the fiat. She wanted to wear it at once, but he gave instructions for the clothes and the coat to be sent on Saturday afternoon to the Vigo Street flat.
“It’ll be something for you to look forward to,” he said as they left the building. “And now I must get back to the factory. I hope you had a nice afternoon, Julie.”
The gift of the mink coat had so thrilled her that she wanted to be nice to him. She was well aware that when a man gave a girl a costly present like that he expected payment, and she was ready to give payment.
“Wouldn’t you like to come back to my flat, Howard?” she asked, and gave him an inviting look.
He gave her a quick, startled glance, smiling uneasily and patted her arm.
“Not now, Julie. I must get back to work. Good-bye,” and he climbed quickly into the waiting taxi, which drove away, leaving her staring after it.
“The damned stuffed shirt,” she thought angrily. “All right, if he doesn’t want me, I don’t care. I won’t be so free next time. When he’s in the mood, I won’t be.”
The plain-clothes detective, who had patiently followed them all the afternoon, was relieved to see Wesley go. The afternoon had been an exhausting one, and he was anxious to return to headquarters and make his report.
“Now I wonder what his little game is,” he said to himself as he set off after Julie. “Looks as if he’s setting her up in a love nest.” He studied Julie’s slim legs as she hurried along in front of him and sighed. “Can’t say I blame him. For a blind man, he’s certainly picked himself a nice piece.”
Julie, unaware she was being followed, headed for Piccadilly. The evening was before her. She felt in the mood to celebrate.
II
You could get a drink at the Harlequin Club at any hour of the day or night if you didn’t object to paying treble the usual price for it.
Harry Gleb had just come from Mrs. French’s office and he felt in need of a drink. The final details of the robbery had been arranged and he had left Mrs. French and Theo together to discuss the type of car to be used. The more Harry thought about the coming robbery the less he liked it.
“I’ve got cold feet,” he thought, as he climbed the stairs that led to the club. “That’s what’s wrong with me. Well, this is the last job I’ll pull; anyway for some time. I’ve had about enough of it.”
He entered the gaudy little lounge, nodded to the gimlet-eyed doorkeeper and went straight to the bar. At this hour—it was a few minutes past four-thirty—there were in the bar only tarts sitting on stools, sipping whisky, and an elderly man in a corner, reading the evening paper, a plain gin on the table before him.
The barman brightened when he saw Harry. He was bored with talking to the tarts, and hoped Harry would be more entertaining. But Harry wasn’t in a talkative mood. He ordered a double whisky, grunted when the barman tried to engage him in conversation, and moved away from the bar to sit in solitude at a table by the window.
He was thinking of Julie. All night he had thought of her, and a sleepless night didn’t agree with him. He wanted her; wanted her as he had never wanted any other woman before.
“I was a mug to have mixed her up in this business,” he told himself. “If I’d’ve kept her clear of it there’d’ve been no trouble with her. And as soon as I’d picked up the dough we could have hopped on a boat and started a nice little honeymoon in the States. Now, I’ve got my work cut out to win her round. Don’t see how I’m going to do it. We’re doing the job to-morrow, and I’ll have to keep clear of her from then on. The cops’ll be watching her night and day.” He sipped his whisky and brooded. “All very well for Ma French to say leave her in the flat. But it’s cock-eyed, that’s what it is; cock-eyed. The thing to do is to take her with me; hide with her somewhere until things cool off a bit, and then slip out of the country.” He frowned out of the window. “But will she come with me? If she doesn’t, what’s she going to do?” He finished his whisky and was about to order another when he remembered that to-day was Julie’s afternoon off. “Now I wonder what she’s up to,” he thought. “Mooching round the West End looking at the shops, I’ll bet a dollar. Maybe I’ll run into her if I have a look round.” He pushed back his chair and stood up. “That’s what I’ll do. I’ll have a look for her. Maybe I can persuade her to see reason.”
Nodding to the barman, he left the club and, reaching Piccadilly, began to walk slowly towards Park Lane. He walked as far as Hyde Park Corner, then retraced his steps. As he was passing the Berkeley Hotel he spotted her across the street, walking towards the Circus.
“That’s what I call a real bit of luck,” he said to himself. “I knew she’d be around here somewhere. Pretty kid; looks as smart as paint.” He grinned to himself, aware of a surge of excitement going through him. “Blimey !” he thought. “I’ve got it bad. Wouldn’t have thought I’d ever chase after a bride like this; shows what love can do to a fella.”
He darted across the road as soon as the traffic began to slow down for the traffic lights, and hurried along behind Julie. The plain-clothes detective, who was tiring rapidly of following Julie, recognized Harry and whistled softly.
“Now where did he spring from and what’s he want?” he wondered and dropped behind, letting Harry go on ahead of him.
Harry was too intent on pursuing Julie to notice the detective. He overtook Julie as she waited to cross the Circus.
“Hello, kid,” he said, raising his hat. “I want to talk to you. There’s been a change of plan.”
Julie started, looked angrily at him.
“Well, I don’t want to talk to you,” she snapped. “Go away.”
“Don’t be daft,” Harry returned, taking her arm. “This is business. Come on, I’ve got to talk to you. There’s a club round the corner where we won’t be disturbed.”
Julie hesitated. If Mrs. French had decided to postpone the attempt she would have to warn Wesley.
“Oh, all right then,” she said crossly, and went with him along Regent Street.
Neither of them said anything further. Julie didn’t want to talk to him. Meeting him had spoilt her plans for the evening. She had decided to go to a cinema and have supper down West before returning to Park Way. She didn’t want company. She wanted to dream about her new home and her mink coat.
When they entered the Harlequin Club, which was empty now, Harry asked h
er what she would like to drink.
“Nothing,” she said shortly, and sat down at a corner table. “I don’t want anything from you.”
He pulled a face, went over to the bar and ordered a double whisky which he brought to the table.
“Julie, you’re not still mad with me, are you?” he asked, sitting down opposite her. “I’m sorry this business ever started, but we can’t back out now.”
She made an impatient movement.
“You said you wanted to talk business. Say what you want to say and let me go.”
He studied her and, seeing the cold, unfriendly look in her eyes, realized she didn’t love him anymore. The discovery deflated him.
“It’s about leaving you at the flat when the job’s done,” he said uneasily. “I don’t like it, kid. It’s not safe. I want you to come away with me. We’ll hide up somewhere and then hop a boat to the States.”
She stared at him as though she thought he were mad.
“I’m not frightened of being left,” she said sharply. “And I’m certainly not going with you. I told you last night, I don’t want anything more to do with you.”
“Now look, Julie,” he said, shifting forward on his seat. “I’ve got you into this mess. I want to get you out of it. I’m crazy about you, kid. Honest; I wouldn’t be crawling like this if I wasn’t serious. I love you. I’d do anything for you. If I leave you in the flat the cops will be all over you. They’ll pin something on you when they know you worked for Hewart.
Even if they don’t, what are you going to do? You can’t live on three quid a week. Come with me and I’ll give you a smashing time. Look, I’m sick of this life. I only want a bit more money and I’ll be in the clear. After this job, I’m through. I’m going straight and I want you with me. Honest, Julie, I love you so much I can’t live without you.”
It wasn’t what he said, but the way he said it that impressed her; and suddenly she turned sick and cold because she realized something she had refused to realize before. She had once loved him; had given herself to him; and now she was planning to betray him to the police. While she had been fright-ened it had seemed completely unreal: planning something that wouldn’t happen. But now, seeing him before her, hearing him say he loved her and knowing that before long he would be in the hands of the police brought the facts home to her like a blow in the face. For a brief moment she nearly blurted out the truth; nearly told him she had given him away to the police, but the thought of Theo stopped her. There was no turning back. If she admitted that she had told the police, Theo would come after her. There would be no safety for her now until the whole gang was under lock and key.
The Paw in The Bottle Page 14
