Ellis clenched his fists under the sheet. He wanted to shout: “Stop it, you sloppy bitch!” but he kept control of himself, kept his voice steady as he said: “But I don’t understand. Why you two have only met today. He’s joking, isn’t he? You don’t want to marry him, do you?”
She smiled secretly and that smile frightened him. He saw at once how hopeless it was to persuade her; to try to show her that the whole thing was a trap.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “He loved me the moment he saw me. He told me so. I loved him too.”
Again Ellis longed to tear at the fabric of sentimentality that clothed her mind, but again he restrained himself.
“But he can’t marry you,” he persisted. “You’re not in his class. You must realise that. He’s rich, well educated, a gentleman. What are you?”
Again she smiled secretly.
“He says it doesn’t matter. We had a long talk about ourselves after supper. You see, he’s lonely. He needs someone to look after him, and he says he needs someone like me.” She looked wistfully at Ellis. “I couldn’t believe it at first. No one has ever wanted me before. But I believe it now. He wants someone to run this place; not a society beauty as he calls them. I could do it. I could do anything for him. I could learn to do things, and — and — anyway, he loves me.”
But you wouldn’t be happy,” Ellis said, probing, trying to find a weakness in her armour of happiness. “It might be all right for a year or so, but you’ll get fat and coarse. You know you will. Think of your mother. You’ll be like her in a few years — over-blown. Then how do you think he will like you?”
It was a shot in the dark but it brought a deep flush to Grace’s face.
“I won’t be like my mother,” she said angrily. “You don’t know what you’re saying. She was bad — wouldn’t do anything for my father. Well, I’d do anything for him — Richard.”
“You’ll disgrace him. You’re a thief,” Ellis said, feeling that he had gained a point and pressing his advantage. “His friends won’t want to meet you. “Why should they? You having nothing to offer, no manners, no idea how to entertain; why, you can’t even speak grammatically.”
She turned away.
“I won’t stay if you’re going to say things like that.”
“Don’t go,” he said, alarmed. If she left him now he would have no chance of saving her. “I told you I didn’t trust him. I don’t. He’s promised to marry you for a reason. I know he has. He wants you. Don’t you understand?” He groped about for the word, hesitated, went on, “He wants to seduce you, you little fool, and then throw you aside. I know that’s what he plans to do.”
“I won’t listen to you,” she burst out, facing him. “You’re evil. He said you were. He warned me not to listen to you. We love each other, and nothing you can say will make any difference. You’d better get well and go. Can’t you see you’re in the way? You’re not wanted. We both hate you!”
She ran from the room, slamming the door behind her.
Ellis dropped back on his pillow, his face a mask of frustrated anger and despair. He had wanted to tell her to leave Crane and come with him. He would have offered her a home; she could have looked after him, helped him. But it was no use: she wouldn’t listen to him.
He closed his eyes while he thought what he could do now. Perhaps he’d better talk to Crane; warn him not to hurt her: threaten him. But he knew Crane would only laugh at him. If only Scragger were here. Scragger would settle Crane’s hash and take Ellis and Grace away. Once she was away from Crane’s influence, Grace would see reason. But how to get hold of Scragger? Was he on the telephone? It was a chance: unlikely, but a chance.
Where was the telephone book? How to get hold of it without raising suspicion? And then how to reach the telephone which was in the hall? If he could only put through a call to Scragger he might . . .
He suddenly had a feeling that someone was watching him, and without turning his head, he glanced cautiously out of the corners of his eyes towards the window. All he could see was the reflection of the room on the window-pane against the darkness of the night. Yet he was sure that someone was looking into the room and he felt the hair on the nape of his neck bristle.
He could not bring himself to look directly at the window. He had an absurd idea that if he did not look at the window, the person who was looking in mightn’t notice him. Was it the police? Who could it be? It wasn’t Grace or Crane. He could hear them talking in the other room.
Terror suddenly seized hold of him, paralysing every sense except the seeing-sense. Somewhere in the high trees outside an owl hooted, and then silence closed in again, but still the person outside continued to look into the room, stare at him.
Ellis opened his mouth to call to Crane, but thought better of it. He suddenly put out a shaking hand and snapped up the switch on the electric lamp. The room went dark, and instantly he could see the dim shape of trees and hedges through the window in the half-obscured light of the moon. He saw something else too. Something that made him stiffen, chilled his blood, gave him a restricted, choking feeling in his throat. There was a man outside, crouching just below the window, his head and shoulders silhouetted against the semi-darkness.
With a strangled cry, Ellis started up in bed. He saw two staring eyes and a flattened nose against the window-pane, but the face was shapeless, appeared to be non-existent. It was a horrible, terrifying sight: a pair of gleaming eyes, the shape of a flattened nose and a faceless head.
Then the stillness of the room shuddered with the terror of sound — a sound, faint and momentary like the soft scratching of mice.
The window gently opened.
Ellis felt the hot night air on his face, saw the head and shoulders of the man outside moving towards him, and dimly outlined hands on the window-sill.
“Don’t make a noise,” Dr Safki whispered. “It’s me. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Still stupefied with terror, Ellis somehow or other managed to put on the lamp. The shock of seeing the little Hindu as he saw him now and not as an apparition in the moonlight still caught at his throat, and he lay staring at him, feeling the depth of his own fear, wondering at it.
Dr Safki poked his head and shoulders through the window, but he made no further effort to come in.
“Where is he?” he whispered, his great black eyes rolling, the whites gleaming.
“Damn you,” Ellis snarled. “You scared me out of my wits. What do you want? Why do you come sneaking up to the window like that?”
“Ssshush!” Dr Safki hissed fearfully. “He’ll hear us. Keep your voice down. I saw her. I heard what he said, so I came back to warn you.”
Ellis became instantly alert, his own fear dropping from him.
“What do you mean?” he demanded, leaning forward. “Warn me about what?”
“Him,” Dr Safki said, looking towards the door. “I knew what he was up to the moment he said she was Julie Brewer. You must get her away from here. Do you understand? Whatever happens you must get her away from here.”
“But why?” Ellis asked. The dread in the little doctor’s face was contagious. “Speak out, can’t you? Tell me. What’s he going to do?”
The fat face grimaced; the fat shoulders shuddered.
“I can’t tell you,” Dr Safki whispered. “I can’t tell you anything. But I beg you to get her away from here. Whatever you do, get her away.” He leaned over the window-sill and waved his pudgy hands at Ellis imploringly. “Don’t leave them alone tonight. It’s the night that’s dangerous: darkness, silence, sleep . . . there’s the danger.”
Ellis cursed him.
“Speak out, can’t you? What will he do?”
A light step sounded outside the door.
Ellis and Dr Safki became rigid.
“Don’t leave him alone with her tonight,” Dr Safki whispered imploringly, and then dropped out of sight as the door opened.
“All alone?” Crane asked as he entered the room. “I thought I heard y
ou talking.”
“I’m alone,” Ellis said between his teeth, waited.
Crane glanced round the room, looked at Ellis with a half-smile.
“You’ve been alone practically all day, haven’t you?” he said. “Feel like some company for a while?”
He wandered to the open window, looked out, his hands clasped behind his back.
Ellis stared at the starched cuff of Crane’s evening shirt, saw a red smear on the white, glossy surface and suddenly felt sick.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“I suppose you did that yourself?” Crane said, pointing to the scar on Ellis’s face. “That needed courage. I don’t think I should have valued my life so highly as to suffer pain and disfigurement. You’re a funny little man, aren’t you?”
Ellis snarled at him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “Why can’t you leave me alone? I’m ill. Can’t you see I’m ill?”
Crane moved away from the window, pulled up a chair close to the bed and sat down.
“When I was in the R.A.F. I used to listen to your broadcasts in the Mess. We all did. You gave us something to laugh at,” he went on. “You did talk the most utter tripe, didn’t you? I suppose they gave you the stuff and you just spouted it. What did they pay you, Cushman? Tell me about it. I’m interested.”
“I’m not Cushman,” Ellis repeated, cold sweat on his forehead. “What gives you that idea?”
Crane smiled. “It’s your voice,” he said. “It’s unmistakable. Why are you frightened? I’m not going to give you away. I don’t believe in this so-called justice. After all, it’s only another form of revenge. You’re harmless now, Cushman. There’s nothing you can do except run and hide. If I handed you over to the police they’d hang you. What’s the point of that? You’re entitled to your dreary little life. I don’t believe you realised what you were doing. You haven’t the intelligence to work anything out for yourself. I suppose you were browned off with the Army; the Huns offered you a cushy job; you thought they were on the winning side, so you threw in with them. Any weak- minded fool without a sense of duty or a feeling for his country would have done the same.” He laughed suddenly, throwing back his head. “I’m the last person to talk about a sense of duty. We’ve all a traitor within us. Do you remember what Safki said? I don’t believe in law and order. I believe we should all have an opportunity to work out our own destinies. I think it is dangerous to curtail an emotion, to suppress any so-called criminal impulse. I believe that it causes harm to one’s being to attempt to sublimate sex. I don’t believe in right and wrong. I think they are man-invented in order to run this hidebound social system of ours successfully. We’re supposed to have free will; well, then let’s have it. If someone steals my overcoat, I’ll steal someone else’s overcoat. If someone murders my brother, I’ll murder his sister. Don’t you agree?”
“What’s the idea?” Ellis said, glaring at him. “I tell you I’m not Cushman. I’m David Ellis; so shut up talking rot and leave me alone.”
“You disappoint me,” Crane said, shaking his head. “I thought my philosophy of life would intrigue you. Most people think I’m joking when I talk like that, but I’m not. The trouble with you is you’re scared. You set a value on your miserable little life. All you’re worrying about is saving your neck. I’m not going to give you away. Come on, admit it. You’re Cushman, aren’t you?”
“I’m not!” Ellis said viciously, sitting up in bed, his eyes wild. “I tell you I’m not.”
“Safki was out there a moment ago, wasn’t he?” Crane said suddenly. “I saw him cross the lawn from the other window.”
Ellis stiffened.
“Talk — talk — talk,” he said angrily. “That’s all you do. First it’s one thing; then it’s another. I’m not going to listen to you.”
“He told you to get her out of the way, didn’t he?” Crane went on. There was a jeering expression in his eyes. “But how can you? You can’t get yourself out of here, let alone her.”
Ellis clenched his fists furiously. He wanted to sink his nails in the fleshy, sneering face.
“You leave her alone,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I’ll fix you if you touch her.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Crane said, taking out his cigarette-case. “You can’t do anything. Even if you could stand you wouldn’t have an earthly with me. I could break your back across my knee without turning a hair.” He took a cigarette, offered the case to Ellis.
White with rage, Ellis struck the case from his hand. The case shot across the room, and cigarettes spilled on to the carpet.
“You have got rotten manners,” Crane said reprovingly. He lit his cigarette, dropped the match out of the open window. “Why can’t you discuss all this without getting into a wool? I’ve been looking forward all day to talking to you. For goodness sake, man, relax and behave like a normal human being.”
Ellis controlled himself.
“You’re up to some dirty game,” he said. “But I warn you, if you hurt her I’ll make you pay for it.”
“There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing poor Safki can do either. I know too much about both of you,” Crane returned, leaning back in his chair and smiling. “If he gives me away, I’ll give him away. He knows what’s going to happen, but he’s powerless to stop it because he values his hide too much. You’ll be in a similar position. The way this is working out amuses me. You see, I don’t care what happens to myself. I know, sooner or later, someone will find out what’s going on, and then I shall be for it, but I’m having a grand run for my money and I’m going on until I’m caught.” He blew a cloud of smoke to the ceiling, grinned at Ellis. “I don’t put a value on my life: not like you and Safki. If I was told I was going to die tomorrow I wouldn’t give a damn. It’s the immediate present that matters: the future is too uncertain. I’ve always lived like that, and as I get older I care less what’ll happen to me.”
Ellis eased himself further down in the bed. He was puzzled; scared, not knowing how to deal with this man.
“Can’t you speak out?” he said at last. “You’re talking in riddles. What have you done? What are you going to do?”
Crane laughed. “Getting curious at last, are you?” he said. “Well, it’s only fair that as I’ve enough on you to get you hanged you should have the same advantage over me. I don’t care if you give me away, Cushman, but you’d care a great deal if I gave you away, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m not Cushman,” Ellis said obstinately. “I keep telling you that.”
“You’re so afraid of your mean, rotten life, aren’t you? And so’s Safki. You’re both rather slimy little people. You’re a traitor and Safki’s a clumsy, unsuccessful abortionist. He has four deaths on his conscience.”
Ellis then realised why Safki was frightened to speak out. So that was it, he thought. Crane had him where he wanted him: had Ellis where he wanted him too.
“You talk too much,” was all he said. “If I was Cushman, and I’m not, I wouldn’t tell you. What do you think I am — crazy?”
“They’ll have your fingerprints,” Crane said, shrugging his massive shoulders. “I have only to call the police and tell them I think you’re Cushman. They’d check up quick enough as soon as they heard your voice. Would you like me to do that?”
Ellis snarled at him.
“Can’t you leave me alone? If I am Cushman, what does it matter to you?”
“Ethically, nothing at all,” Crane replied, stubbing out his cigarette on the window-sill. “But as a materialist, I am interested. You see I have to be reasonably sure that you can’t make things difficult for me. If I know you are Cushman, then I hold the whip hand. Now, I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll telephone Major-General Franklin-Steward. He’s the Chief Constable. I know him well, and I can ask him for a description of Cushman. I might even hint I know where he can put his hands on him. Old Franklin-Steward is a regular war-horse when he’s roused. He loathes traitor
s and would come after you like a shot. Suppose I do that and then we’ll know how we stand?”
“All right,” Ellis said, looking past Crane out of the window: He was suddenly sick of this feinting. The fellow had him anyway. If he was determined to find out who he was he could do it. “I’m Cushman.” It was almost a relief to admit it. “Now, what are you going to do about it?”
“It’s taken you long enough to make up your mind, hasn’t it?” Crane said; there was a calculated, sly look in his eyes. “I told you before, I’m not going to give you away. I don’t care what happens to you; and if you behave yourself, there’s no need for anyone to know that you’re here.”
Ellis studied him, decided he meant what he said. He couldn’t make the fellow out. There was something furtive, sly about him, and he talked so oddly.
“Well, now you’ve admitted being Cushman I can tell you something about myself,” Crane went on, leaning back in the chair and crossing his legs. “Ill be interested to hear your reactions. I dont get much chance of talking about myself. Safki was the last person I talked to. He was most interesting; had all kinds of scientific ideas about me. Of course you’re different. You’re not well-educated, haven’t many ideas, but I suppose you’re of average intelligence. You may be able to throw some light on the business.”
Ellis made an impatient movement.
“Why must you go on and on? Speak out. Don’t beat about the bush so much. What are you up to?” he said angrily.
“I’m interested in death,” Crane said, smiling. His eyes had darkened and, in spite of his effort to appear nonchalant, he was suddenly keyed up, tense, unsure of himself. “Does that seem strange to you.”
“Your own death?” Ellis asked, suddenly alert.
Crane shook his head. “Oh no,” he said. “My own death doesn’t matter to me at all. I don’t care when I die or for that matter how I die. No, I’m interested in the death of women.”
There was a long pause. Ellis felt a chill run down his spine. “What are you trying to tell me?” he said at last.
Trusted Like The Fox Page 18
