by Clara Benson
‘Oh, I heard about that. Was that you?’ said Freddy. ‘Ass. They’ll never catch them now. All right, then, what else do you suggest?’
‘We’ll need evidence if they’re to believe us,’ said Corky. ‘And it was there on the table in front of us. We must get hold of that packet.’
‘Nothing easier,’ said Freddy. ‘I’ll just go and knock on the door and ask for it, shall I? I’m sure they’ll be delighted to hand it over.’
‘You do like your little joke,’ said Corky. ‘Of course I wasn’t suggesting that.’
‘Then what? You don’t want to break into the place, I hope.’
‘We may not have to break anything if the area door’s unlocked or the window’s not fastened,’ said Corky.
‘Of course it will be fastened. What sort of idiot doesn’t lock up at night?’
‘The sort who spends her evenings lying doped and unconscious on a sofa, perhaps? You saw her just then. If we do manage to get in she’ll never wake up.’
‘She might not, but Basil looked perfectly sober to me,’ said Freddy.
‘Tchah! He’s gone to bed, two floors up. He won’t hear a thing.’
Freddy still seemed inclined to shake his head. Corky gave a theatrical start, as though he had just realized something, then regarded Freddy with a sneering expression.
‘Oh, I see,’ he said. ‘You’re afraid! That’s it, isn’t it?’
‘I’m not afraid,’ said Freddy crossly. ‘I don’t want to spend the night in a police cell and then get the boot, that’s all.’
‘Do you mean to say the Clarion would sack you for such a minor transgression as that?’ said Corky. ‘I’d always heard they were a little on the milk-and-water side about this sort of thing, but surely not when there’s a story this big at stake? Don’t you see how important it is? It goes to the very heart of society! If film stars and bigwigs have been corrupted, then what hope is there for the rest of us? Why, we may as well give it all up now and abandon ourselves, unresisting, to the grasping clutches of the Devil himself!’
‘What piffle you do talk,’ said Freddy. ‘Oh, very well, then, I suppose it can’t hurt to try. Mind—if we can’t get in then we must come away.’
‘Naturally,’ said Corky. ‘And if we are successful and this comes off, then I might consider speaking to my editor about offering you a junior position at the Herald. Now, what do you say to that?’
Freddy threw him a pained look and set off back around the corner to the Kibbles’ house without waiting for him. Once in the area again, they saw that Birdie had not moved an inch.
‘Do you suppose she’s all right?’ said Freddy. ‘I wonder whether we oughtn’t to call a doctor. That’s not cocaine she’s taken, surely.’
‘I don’t care what she’s taken,’ said Corky. ‘All I care is that she stays asleep long enough for us to get hold of that package.’ He turned and regarded a door whose peeling paint and rusting lock indicated it had not been used for some time. ‘Hmm. No go there. What about the window?’
‘Locked, of course,’ said Freddy.
Corky moved to examine it.
‘This ought to be easy enough,’ he said, feeling in his pocket. He brought out a penknife, inserted it between the two sashes and began to move it back and forth carefully. ‘I’m trying to dislodge the catch,’ he explained. ‘Ah—there! Simple, when you know the trick.’
‘I thought we weren’t going to break in,’ whispered Freddy, as Corky lifted the lower sash slowly, so as not to make a noise.
But Corky merely gestured for silence again. They waited, to be sure Birdie would not wake up, then Corky climbed in through the window. After a moment, Freddy followed. In a trice Corky had retrieved the package from under the sofa and was unwrapping it, barely glancing at the unconscious woman who lay there.
‘This is the stuff, all right,’ he whispered with glee, then wrapped it back up and put it in his pocket. ‘Now, is there anything else?’
‘Not that I can see,’ said Freddy, who had taken in the rest of the room at a glance. It was so bare that there seemed nowhere to hide anything. ‘Is there anything else under that sofa?’
Corky peered underneath.
‘Nothing. Perhaps we ought to search the rest of the house,’ he said.
‘Look here,’ said Freddy. ‘We can’t just stroll around the place as though we owned it. You said we’d pick up the package and then leave.’
‘Yes, but—’ began Corky.
Just then, there was a sound like a murmur behind them, and they both started and looked around. Birdie had shifted her position on the sofa, although she had not woken up.
‘You see?’ hissed Freddy. ‘Now, you may stay here if you like, but I’m going. It’s late and we’ve got the evidence we came for. You’ve got everything you need for your story—and more—so there’s no sense in hanging about.’
‘Oh, all right,’ said Corky sulkily. ‘I just thought if we searched the house we might find something else of interest.’
‘Well, I hardly think they have any silver to steal, if that’s what you mean,’ said Freddy. ‘It’s pretty obvious they’re not exactly quids in.’
He went across to the window and prepared to swing himself up onto the sill, but before he could do so he heard an exclamation from Corky behind him, and turned just in time to see the door to the room opening. Had he been a split second quicker Freddy might have made a leap for it, but he was too late, and he froze. It was not the sight of Basil Kibble that caused him to stand stock still, but the revolver he was pointing directly at Freddy.
‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ said Basil, without lowering the gun. He was wearing a dressing-gown and a hair-net, and the expression on his face was anything but friendly.
Corky and Freddy gazed warily at the revolver.
‘Don’t I know you?’ said Basil suddenly, looking at Freddy.
Freddy thought quickly. He swayed slightly, and beamed with great affection at Basil.
‘Yes,’ he said, slurring his words a little. ‘Awfully sorry to barge in on you like this, old bean, but you see, Corky here and I have been out on the town this evening—had a rather good night at Bertolino’s, in fact. But Corky’s never been able to hold his drink, and after a few too many martinis there was an unfortunate incident with a waitress. Purely a misunderstanding, of course, and not at all intentional, but naturally she wasn’t going to put up with that sort of thing, so they asked us politely to leave the premises. Actually, now I come to think of it they weren’t all that polite, were they?’ he said, turning to Corky.
Corky hiccupped and shook his head sorrowfully.
‘At any rate, the town may have wanted rid of us but we weren’t quite ready to leave the town. I mean to say, I should never be able to hold my head up again at my club if I slunk back home before four on a Friday night. But Corky has one of those faces that seem to rub doormen up the wrong way. I don’t know what it is, but as soon as they catch sight of him their first instinct is to shy in horror and refuse him entry. We tried a few places without success, but it was getting cold, and it’s no fun standing in the street, so I was just about to resign myself to an early night when I happened to remember that someone had once hinted to me that you were the man to speak to for the really good stuff. I made the mistake of mentioning it to Corky, who insisted we come and find you. I should never have bothered myself, since Kennington is pretty much out in the wilds, but Corky is not one to take no for an answer, so I thought I’d better tootle along with him just to make sure he didn’t get into any more trouble. Anyway, we knocked on the door and couldn’t get a reply, and were beginning to think we must have got the wrong place, but then we spotted your good lady wife through the window, so we knew we hadn’t. She didn’t reply to our knock either, so we—er—thought we’d come in anyway.’
‘Through the window?�
�� said Basil.
‘The door was locked,’ said Freddy, as though it were obvious. ‘Still, I must say I do prefer to use the usual means of ingress and egress where possible, so if you wouldn’t mind, I’d be awfully grateful if you’d open the door and let us be on our way. I have to get Corky back before his probation officer notices he’s missing.’
Basil gave a humourless laugh.
‘You’re a one, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, but I don’t like people breaking into my house in the middle of the night.’
‘Perfectly understandable,’ said Freddy. ‘I beg your pardon and I promise I won’t do it again.’
The apology had no effect on Basil. He levelled the gun first at Corky, then at Freddy. They both raised their hands nervously.
‘I say, there’s no need for that,’ said Freddy, while Corky gave a bleat of agreement.
‘A man’s got the right to protect his own property, don’t you agree?’ said Basil.
‘Yes, but I mean to say, there’s no need to shoot us, is there? Why not simply call the police? We’ll go quietly.’
‘But you know about the stuff. I can’t have you singing as soon as you’re out of my sight.’
‘Why should we do that, when we came hoping to buy some of it off you?’ said Freddy.
‘I don’t believe you came to do anything of the sort,’ said Basil. ‘There are ways and means of striking a quiet deal with a fellow, and this isn’t one of them. Now, if you want my guess, I should say you’re both on the trail of a story, and you think you’ve got one in me. But I much prefer to keep my head down, so I’m afraid that’s bad news for you.’
He raised the gun again.
‘Stop!’ said Freddy. ‘You can’t just shoot two people and not expect a constable to wander along with a notebook sooner or later.’
‘As I said, a man has the right to protect his property,’ said Basil. ‘You broke in through the window, and so as far as I’m concerned, you’re thieves and burglars, come to take what’s mine. If I shoot you no jury will convict me—in fact, I doubt very much I’ll even be charged with anything.’
‘You can’t be sure of that,’ said Freddy.
Basil smiled briefly.
‘My wife and I are well-known singers and entertainers. The public love us, and we’ve never had so much as a whiff of trouble before. All I have to do is turn on the charm, sing a bar or two of some of the old favourites, and I’ll bet you a pound to a penny that after an hour the police will shake my hand and let me go.’
It was clear he meant every word he said. Freddy and Corky glanced at one another in fear, then back at Basil, who raised his gun.
‘I’m sorry about this,’ he said. ‘Now—’
He got no further before there was a loud thud and a groan behind him, and he turned to see that Birdie had rolled off the sofa and was beginning to wake up. Quick as lightning, Freddy and Corky took advantage of his momentary distraction to make for the nearest exit, which happened to be the door through which Basil had arrived.
‘Hi!’ shouted Basil, as they slammed it behind them. There was the sound of a shot, which splintered the door and told them immediately that he had not been joking. With not a second to lose, they took the stairs two at a time and ran to the front door.
‘It’s locked!’ said Corky.
‘Quick! Upstairs!’ said Freddy.
They could hear the sound of Basil cursing behind them as they turned and hared up the next flight. At the top were two doors to the left and right. In one of them—presumably Basil’s bedroom—a lamp had been switched on; Freddy ran into the other, which was dark, and felt the lock for a key. There was none, and so he came out again, bumping into Corky as he did so. Basil, who was older and less fit than the other two, was halfway up the stairs. He raised the gun again. Quickly, Freddy and Corky dashed into the other bedroom and slammed the door shut. Fortunately, this one did have a key. Corky turned it and leant against the door in relief, but Freddy grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to one side—just in time, for there came the sound of another shot, and a hole appeared in the door in exactly the spot where Corky had been standing. Basil began hammering and kicking at the lock.
‘Now what?’ said Corky from the other side of the bed, behind which he was now crouching.
‘He’s going to shoot his way in any second now,’ said Freddy.
He ran over to the window and threw up the sash. Below was a drop of about thirty feet into the area.
‘We can’t go out that way!’ said Corky. ‘The fall will kill us. Or we’ll get impaled on the railings.’
‘We’ll have to go up onto the roof,’ said Freddy. ‘And quick. Come on!’
He was already sitting on the window-sill and preparing to climb out. Corky went pale in the face.
‘What?’ he said. ‘Without a ladder?’
‘There’s a ledge here,’ said Freddy. He lowered himself out. Corky came across to the window and saw that Freddy was standing precariously on a decorative moulding like a cornice just below the window, and that he was holding onto another similar one above.
‘Oh, goodness,’ moaned Corky.
Freddy ignored him and began to move carefully sideways. The kicking at the door became more insistent, and was followed by a loud bang. Corky gulped and shot out of the window after Freddy. Taking great care not to look down, he lowered his feet onto the narrow ledge below the window, felt for the one above it, and began to follow Freddy. Inch by inch they worked their way along the building until they reached a section which was angled into a recess. Here, some decorative brickwork on the corner gave their hands and feet easier purchase, and each paused to rest for a second before continuing. The recessed part of the building had a lower roof-line, and it was for this that Freddy was aiming. It was only a few yards away, but there was no time to lose, for just then a figure leaned out of the window through which they had just escaped, and they saw that Basil Kibble had finally got through the door and into the bedroom. He caught sight of them and gave a shout, but he did not dare shoot at them in that quiet street, for fear of attracting attention. At last Freddy reached his objective, which was another window just beneath the lower part of the roof, and stopped to wait for Corky, who was a little way behind, feeling his way along and whimpering as he went.
‘Quick!’ hissed Freddy. ‘He’ll be here in a second.’
Corky gave a moan, but went a little faster, and at last caught up. He clung to the window-frame with relief.
‘Up here,’ said Freddy, indicating the window. ‘Climb onto the window-sill, then up onto the sash, and from there we can get onto the roof. You’d better go first.’
Corky took a deep breath and pulled himself up gingerly onto the sill, then reached up and grasped the cornicing that ran around the edge of the roof parapet. The window-frame splintered slightly when he stood on it, but a few seconds later he was over and safe. Not a minute too soon, for just then a light went on in the room beyond the window. Freddy started and nearly lost his footing, but quickly regained his balance and made a grab for the parapet. Through the glass he could see Basil, not eight inches away, struggling with the catch. Freddy climbed up after Corky, just as the window opened and a hand reached out. It grabbed at his ankle, but he kicked out and shook it off, and with one last enormous heave was on the roof. The two of them collapsed, panting.
‘What do we do now?’ said Corky. ‘Wait for a passing dirigible?’
Freddy looked about him. They were sitting in the lead gutter between two pitched roofs. Over the parapet in front of them was the way they had just come. He stood up and followed the gutter to the back of the house. It ended in a drain-pipe, which fell vertically for about twenty feet, then bent to avoid an out-house and continued to the ground.
‘We can’t go down there,’ said Corky next to him. ‘We’ll end up i
n their back garden and be back where we started.’
‘Then we shall just have to try next door,’ said Freddy, indicating the roof to his left.
‘Must we?’
‘Do you have a better idea?’
Corky sighed, and followed Freddy across the roof to the next gutter. The moon had risen, and they could see out across the rooftops of London, but there was no time to stop and admire the view. Freddy was already peering down into the yard of the house at the end of the terrace, and testing the drain-pipe.
‘I think we might do it,’ he said. ‘You go first.’
‘But you’ll fall on me,’ said Corky.
‘Don’t be an ass. All right, then, go second if you like.’
‘No!’ said Corky, and hastened forward. ‘If I fall, you’ll tell them to write me a decent obituary, won’t you?’ he said, as he lowered himself carefully over the edge.
‘No, I shall tell them to be sure and say what a plague upon mankind you were.’
‘You wouldn’t!’
‘You’ll never know, so if I were you I should hold on good and tight,’ said Freddy.
Corky grumbled and let himself down. Fearful that the pipe might come away from the wall if they both climbed down it at once, Freddy waited until Corky had arrived safely on the roof of the out-house before starting. At last they were both safely on the ground, and to their joy found that the door in the garden wall, which they had tried before from the street side, was only bolted. Within seconds they were free, and hurrying towards Waterloo in search of a taxi.
‘Well, that was a splendid little adventure,’ said Corky, who had quite recovered his spirits. ‘It ought to make a big splash in tomorrow’s evening edition.’
‘Yes,’ said Freddy. ‘I suppose the Kibbles will make a bolt for it now. Or do you think they might try and brazen it out? After all, we did break in, and that won’t look good in the eyes of the police.’
‘They can try all they want, but we’ve got the stuff,’ said Corky smugly. He patted his pocket. ‘The evidence is here, and they can’t deny it now.’
