He attended the West London Court when Harry Gleb made his brief appearance and studied Harry with pale re-vengeful eyes. It gave him some satisfaction to see the fear and suffering on Harry’s face.
The same evening he went to Segetti’s Restaurant off Jermyn Street. He was known in the grill-room, as Blanche and he went there often when Wesley worked late at the factory. Benton had a sudden nostalgic desire to go there that night, to sit in his usual corner and to commune with Blanche in spirit. But as soon as he entered the crowded grill-room and saw Segetti bearing down on him he realized he had made a mistake. Without Blanche at his side he felt naked in this atmosphere of riches, good food and smart talk. With Blanche, the restaurant had seemed an exciting and friendly place, but now it made him nervous, undermined his confidence. It was a sharp reminder that from now on he was going to be alone. He had no business in a luxury restaurant on his own. He became immediately an oddity : a fish out of water without some richly furred and smartly dressed woman at his side.
Already people were glancing curiously at him as he stood self-consciously in the doorway. Already he knew he had created a problem for Segetti. But it was too late to slink away, and he walked quickly down the red-carpeted aisle towards Segetti, who was coming to greet him.
“My usual table,” he said, his pale eyes venomous. “I shall not stay long.”
“Of course, Mr. Benton,” Segetti said immediately, and as he led the way to a vacant table. he murmured : “Poor madam, we shall miss her sadly. A dreadful, monstrous thing.”
Benton sat down.
“She liked coming here,” he said, and looked up into the black Italian eyes. “No other place gave her more pleasure.”
Tie would have liked to have taken Segetti into his confidence; to have told him how lonely he was and that the grillroom was full of memories for him. But there was a fatal quality in Benton that made people dislike him. He saw now dislike in Segetti’s eyes, and a faint tinge of red rose out of his collar and flooded his face.
“To hell with him!” he thought, furious with himself. “I don’t want his pity.”
He ordered smoked salmon, which he didn’t eat, and a bottle of Blanche’s favourite brandy. He sat at the table brooding, unaware now of the curious glances that were shot at him. The brandy in the bottle sank rapidly. He knew he was getting a little drunk, but he didn’t care. The brandy released the bitter, hard core in him that stifled him.
Then suddenly he saw Wesley and Julie come in. He recognized Wesley immediately by the black-lensed glasses and the queer, half-hesitant walk. Julie he didn’t recognize. He saw only a good-looking girl in a flame-coloured evening gown, her glossy dark hair dressed to her shoulders. Round her white throat was a string of glittering diamonds. For a moment or so he paid her no attention. He stared at Wesley, scarcely believing his eyes. How could he do such a thing? he asked himself. How could he come with a woman to a public restaurant not five days after his wife had been brutally murdered? Was this why he hadn’t come to the factory? Had he suddenly gone off the rails and was living with this woman? Who was she?
He shifted his bloodshot eyes to stare at Julie. Where had he seen her before? Then suddenly he stiffened, leaned forward, his pale lips tightened. Julie! Blanche’s maid! He passed a hot, dry hand across his eyes, then stared again. There could be no doubt about it, although he scarcely knew her in the gown which he now thought he recognized. Blanche had had a gown like that. He remembered it well : the gown she had worn the night she had given herself to him for the first time : a gown that conjured up a complete picture of their association together. Surely it was not the same gown, he thought, sick with horror. And those diamonds! They were Blanche’s! Wesley had decked this servant in Blanche’s things! To Benton it was an unforgivable blasphemy against Blanche. He felt hot blood rush to his head. The lights of the restaurant seemed to grow dim and a suffocating band encircled his throat. He was on his feet now, a choking, murderous rage consuming him.
He became vaguely aware that someone was holding him by the arm and a soothing voice was asking if he were unwell. He threw off the restraining hand with an ugly oath and walked stiff-legged, his face white and twitching, his eyes burning, to Wesley’s table.
A sudden hush fell on the restaurant. People turned in their chairs to look at him. They watched him pause at Wesley’s table and point with a quivering finger at Julie.
“Tell that dirty little bitch to take off your wife’s dress!” Benton said in a cracked, hysterical voice. “How dare you, you damned housemaid !”
His hand shot out and made a grab at the diamond necklace but Julie struck his hand away and screamed. Wesley jumped to his feet. A young Army officer, dining at the next table, sprang forward and hit Benton savagely across his mouth with the back of his hand, sending him reeling back.
“You drunken swine!” the officer cried excitedly.
Two waiters had come up swiftly. They caught hold of Benton’s arms. Segetti, mentally wringing his hands, waved them to take Benton away. They began to drag him to the door.
“Leave me alone!” Benton shouted, struggling furiously. “Take your hands off me!” Then his voice broke and he began to sob: great rasping sobs that sent a chill through those who heard him. He went limply now, muttering and sobbing, supported by the two embarrassed waiters. The glass doors swung behind him.
IV
During the days that followed Blanche’s death, Julie achieved an ambition that had tormented her from early childhood. At last she had as much money as she wanted, a flat in the West End and a mink coat. It was unbelievable. If it hadn’t been for Wesley she would have been beside herself with joy. But Wesley worried her.
Julie considered all men were alike. They were different only in their approach. As far as she was concerned they wanted only one thing. She found Wesley attractive, and when he insisted on staying with her in the new flat she was prepared to accept him as a lover. But it came as a shock to her pride when Wesley made no attempt nor showed any desire to be intimate with her. He was friendly and kind but impersonal, and it worried her. With other men she had always known where she was and could anticipate each move, but with Wesley she was mystified and frustrated, and as the days passed she began to hate him, suspecting that he could not forget that she was his wife’s maid and that was the reason why he was so cold to her.
To punish him she demanded expensive presents, but instead of being annoyed he seemed pleased and urged her to greater extravagance. He took her to Asprey’s in New Bond Street and bought her a gold and enamelled toilet set. He bought her a gold cigarette-case and lighter. He took her to the Savoy for lunch, the Berkeley to dinner and to Ciro’s to dance. They went riding in the Row. They went to cinemas and theatres. But all the time she was aware of this impersonal barrier between them, and raged against it.
Since the night of the murder she hadn’t had a moment to think of Harry Gleb. Wesley saw to that. Her days and nights were fully occupied in reckless spending, visits to night clubs, theatres and cinemas. There was no radio in that flat and no newspapers were delivered. She had no means of learning of Harry’s remand or that Mrs. French and Dana hadn’t yet been caught. She was kept so busy that she didn’t even suspect that to all intents and purposes she was a prisoner. No news of the outside world reached her. No one telephoned nor wrote to her. Wesley never left her for a moment.
She was quick to realize, however, that Wesley was willing to give her anything she wanted, and for some days now she had been hankering after Blanche’s wardrobe.
She decided it was time to broach the subject.
Before doing so she took care to make herself look as lovely as she knew how. She was in pyjamas and a polka-spotted red and white silk dressing-gown that Wesley had given her the day before. She looked attractive and she knew it, but Wesley was unmoved. He sat in an arm-chair before the fire and studied her without interest.
“What particular mischief are you up to now?”
She smiled
and made to sit on his lap but he pushed her gently away.
“Go and stand by the fire where I can see you.”
He was exasperating, she thought, but it was no use letting him see how angry he made her.
“I want some clothes,” she began. A cigarette hung from her carefully painted lips and she had her hands in her pockets, drawing the thin silk tight across her small buttocks. She squinted a little as the smoke of the cigarette drifted past her nose and she surveyed Wesley with calculating shrewdness.
“But surely you have enough clothes for the present. Aren’t you ever contented, Julie? As soon as you have one thing you want something else.”
“I don’t like the clothes you’ve bought me. I’ve been thinking. There are all those clothes at the flat. They fit me. Why shouldn’t I make use of them?”
Wesley stared at her fixedly. She expected opposition and was braced for it.
“They are Blanche’s clothes.”
“She doesn’t need them now; I do.”
“I merely mentioned the fact to remind you that she has worn them. I thought perhaps you would feel squeamish to wear the clothes of a dead woman.”
She was genuinely astonished.
“But why? Of course, I wouldn’t wish to wear the dress she was murdered in—that’d be horrible, but the other clothes, why not? Why should they be wasted?”
“Has it occurred to you that I might dislike to see you in my wife’s clothes?”
“Why should you? She had hundreds of dresses. There must be dozens she wore when you were blind. Why should it matter to you if you don’t know them?”
He suddenly laughed.
“You have an answer for everything. What a little ghoul you are. All right, Julie, have them by all means. I want you to be happy.”
She was quick to seize that opportunity.
“Why?”
He stretched his legs towards the fire and smiled at her.
“Why not? Why shouldn’t I try to make someone happy?”
“And what do you get out of it?”
“I have a charming companion, and besides, it interests me to see you emerging from your chrysalis. Why do you look so suspicious? Don’t you believe people help others without an ulterior motive?”
“Men don’t help me without a motive. You said you wanted me to be your mistress. You have a funny idea of a mistress, haven’t you?”
“I don’t recollect saying anything of the kind. I have no intention of making you my mistress, as you so crudely put it. I offered you a home, security and a thousand a year. I made no conditions. It is you who are interpreting the terms, and wrongly. I want nothing from you except to know you are happy.” He paused to light a cigarette, went on: “Suppose you run along and change? If you want those dresses we’d better go over to the flat and get them.”
“You don’t have to come. I can get them without bothering you.”
“Don’t deprive me of your company, Julie; and besides, the hall porter might think you were stealing them.”
She felt colour rise in her cheeks.
“Aren’t you going to the factory anymore?” she asked, to change the subject. “Should you spend so much time with me?”
“I can manage the factory quite well from here, Julie. Are you anxious that I shall run out of money? There’s no need to be worried. I have very able assistants.” He was obviously laughing at her. “Will you get changed now? I wouldn’t like you to catch cold.”
She slammed the door as she left the room. It was the only way in which she could express her feelings.
She didn’t notice how pale he was as they rode up in the lift to the flat in Park Way. She was far too excited at the thought of possessing all those lovely clothes even to look at him. She had no misgivings about entering the flat again. Even the faint brown stain on the carpet meant nothing to her. Blanche might never have existed, and Harry was but a vague uneasy stirring of conscience far at the back of her mind.
While she was choosing the dresses Wesley paced up and down, his hands deep in his pockets, his chin on his chest. And when she selected one particular dress and held it up for inspection, he said suddenly with a rasp in his voice : “No! Not that one. Put it back!”
“But I like it,” she said, and her mouth set obstinately. “It’s just right for my colouring. Why shouldn’t I have it?”
“Put it back!”
She saw the lines of pain on his face and the glitter in his eyes and recognized the danger signals. There were plenty of other dresses to choose from and with a little shrug she put the dress back.
“Aren’t you nearly ready?” he demanded impatiently. “You’ll never wear all those things.”
“Oh yes, I will. You don’t think I’m going to miss an opportunity like this? All my life I’ve longed to have masses of clothes : I’ve got them now.”
At last she was ready to leave. She had packed two large suitcases with the clothes she had chosen, but even then she wasn’t satisfied. The room, she knew, contained jewellery and furs. She was reluctant to leave without some of them.
“Couldn’t I have some jewellery?” she asked, and smiled coaxingly. “Those dresses will look awfully bare without something to set them off.”
He stared at her for a long uncomfortable moment.
“You’re never contented, it seems, Julie. Well, all right. I suppose I’d better find you something.”
He turned off the alarms to the safe and opened it, and began to look through the drawers in the steel cabinet. She joined him but he turned quickly, standing between her and the drawers.
“I said I would find you something. Will you please sit over there until I have decided what you shall have?”
“But why can’t I choose for myself? I know what I want.”
“If you don’t sit down, you won’t have anything.”
She was angry, but again the glitter in his eyes subdued her, and with a sulky shrug she walked to the window. But she needn’t have worried : his selection took her breath away, especially the diamond necklace he so carelessly dumped on the table.
“Oh! How beautiful! Can I really have them? Are you giving them to me?”
“I’m lending them to you. Everything you are using is lent, Julie.”
She gave him a quick puzzled glance, but she was too excited to bother about terms and conditions. These jewels were for her to wear. She could worry about whether she was to keep them or not later. She wanted to try on the necklace immediately but he wouldn’t let her. He seemed suddenly anxious to get away from the flat.
Even when she had the two suitcases full of clothes and the jewellery she still hankered after the furs.
“Couldn’t I have one of the fur coats?” she asked as she put the jewellery in her handbag. “I’d love the Arctic fox. Shall we take it with us?”
He closed the safe.
“No! Be content with the mink coat I gave you, and do stop asking for things. You are not having any of the furs. Aren’t you ever satisfied?” He picked up the suitcases and made for the door. “It’s no use looking sulky. Come on, Julie, don’t behave like a child.”
She followed him into the lift, inwardly fuming. She wanted the Arctic fox now more than anything in the world, but she knew it wasn’t wise at this moment to press for it. Later, she would plan a campaign to get it. She was confident that if she kept on and on at him he would let her have it.
That evening they had gone to Segetti’s restaurant because Julie had wished to show off her diamond necklace in the smartest restaurant in London.
Benton had spoilt their evening, and now, in the taxi going home, she sat frozen with rage.
Wesley had remained calm and quiet during the scene and after. She hated him for being so unmoved, feeling he had slighted her by not being angry with Benton. Brooding about this she could no longer keep silent and burst out : “How dare he call me names like that! The beast! You’re not going to let him get away with this, are you? He was your wife’s lover. You’re no
t going to let him insult me as well?”
Without looking at her he said in a cold, contemptuous voice : “Hold your vulgar little tongue !”
She was so taken aback that she sank against the leather seat of the taxi and lapsed into outraged silence. Neither of them said anything until they were once more inside their flat.
Then Julie rounded on him, her face flushed and her eyes glittered with anger.
“I’m sick of this! I’m not staying with you a moment longer.
I don’t know why I ever came here. You’re always beastly to me.”
Wesley wandered across the room and turned on the electric fire. He looked tired and drawn but there was a sparkle of anger in his eyes, too.
“If you want to go, then go. I won’t stop you, but you’ll take nothing with you. Do you understand? If you leave here you’ll go in your own clothes and not the clothes I lent you. Go to your room. I’m tired of you to-night.”
She went to her room, white with fury because she now realized that whatever he said or did to her could not be bad enough to make her give up this life of luxury she had discovered. She knew she was in a trap, and she raged against it. She hadn’t the strength of character to give up her possessions and go back to the drudgery of the past. It infuriated her to know she hadn’t the power over him as she had over other men. After a while she began to calm down, and she sat on the bed and for the first time began to reason out why he should have done so much for her when it was obvious she meant nothing to him. Why was he doing this when he was contemptuous of her; even disliked her? At first it had been because she knew he could see, but then he had mace out that it didn’t matter if she had talked. If it didn’t matter, why was he still pretending to be blind? Suppose he had been bluffing? Suppose he still had a reason for someone to believe he was blind? But why? Who was he afraid of? Someone in the factory? Benton? The police? She jumped up suddenly. The police? Then it came to her in a flash and the shock staggered her. He had shot Blanche! It was so obvious she couldn’t understand why she hadn’t realized it before. It was a perfect alibi. That was it! No one would suspect a blind man. He had hated Blanche. Gerridge had said if they were divorced he would have had to settle a large sum of money on her and he hadn’t the means. Blanche was carrying on with Benton. The motive was there. He had pretended the operation on his eyes had been a failure when all the time it had been successful. He must have known sooner or later an opportunity would come, and he could murder Blanche in circumstances that couldn’t possibly involve him so long as he kept up the pretence of being blind. And she had given him the opportunity. He had been quick to see how easy it would be to shift the blame on to Harry. That was why he had been so anxious that Blanche shouldn’t know about the robbery.
The Paw in The Bottle Page 19
