Trusted Like The Fox

by James Hadley Chase

  Sir Hugh beamed.

  “Well, ‘pon my soul,” he said, “this is extraordinary. A storm in a teacup, eh? And what the devil am I to tell James? He’s waiting to put the handcuffs on you.”

  “I’ve won!” Crane thought. “I’ve got him!” And he was so relieved that he burst out laughing.

  “It’s really comic, isn’t it, sir,” he cried. “Poor old James thought I was aiding an escaped convict.”

  Sir Hugh grinned sheepishly. “I don’t mind admitting, my boy, I was a bit worried myself. Well, we can’t let the cat out of the bag, can we? General Crowbridge was one of my chiefs. I wouldn’t upset him for the world.”

  “Perhaps you could tell James you’ve discussed this with me and that you’re satisfied? You don’t have to tell him the whole story, do you, sir?”

  “No, I don’t think so, but wait a minute, Richard, we haven’t finished yet. James got Lady Cynthia’s fingerprints. Did you know that?”

  Crane lost his smile, nodded:

  “Yes, and I had to do something about that because, if you remember, sir, Cynthia once visited Scotland Yard (I hope the old boy won’t inquire about this) and they took her prints for a joke. I didn’t know if they had them on record, but if they had, and told James who she was, it’d have torn it, wouldn’t it? So I persuaded Daphne to put her prints on the watch. She’s a good kid, and, of course, I made it worth her while.”

  “Very wrong of her,” Sir Hugh said, startled. “But I can see why you did it. In fact, Richard, you’ve behaved uncommonly well.”

  Crane got up and walked to the cocktail cabinet, poured out two large sherries.

  You won’t refuse a drink now, will you, sir? I think we both deserve this. I can tell you I’ve been worried stiff about the whole thing and am so relieved to have got it off my chest.”

  Sir Hugh took the glass, frowned at it.

  “This fellow Rogers has disappeared,” he said, suddenly thinking of James. “James says . . . well, of course, it’s absolute nonsense now.”

  Careful, Crane said to himself. You’re not out of the wood yet.

  “Rogers has disappeared?” he said, paused, went on. “Well, knowing the facts, I’m not surprised.”

  “Facts?” Sir Hugh asked, startled. “What facts?”

  “Here again, this isn’t my secret, sir, but I can tell you. I seem to have everyone’s secrets thrust upon me. It’s Daphne’s.”

  “You mean James’s daughter?”

  “Yes. I happen to know her fairly well. She came to me the other week. She was in trouble. Rogers had given her a baby.”

  “Good God!” Sir Hugh gasped, nearly dropping his sherry.

  “She was in a bad way, and I spoke to Rogers, but he’d had his fun and had no intention of paying for it. I told him if he didn’t do something about it by the end of this week I would report the matter to you. I suppose he lost his nerve and skipped. I don’t think we’ll hear any more from Rogers, sir.”

  “And a good thing, too,” Sir Hugh said, his face dark with anger. “We don’t want men like that in the force. Still, we’ll have to find him. Anyway, you did right, my boy. And the girl? What will poor James say?”

  “Against my advice, the girl got rid — anyway, sir, she’s all right now. She shouldn’t have done it, but there it is. Need we tell James? If you said you had heard Rogers had deserted the force and you weren’t going to take the matter further, it would save the old chap a lot of unhappiness. He’s given a grand contribution to the force, hasn’t he, sir? And if you could save him pain, it would be merciful. He does dote on his daughter and it’d be a dreadful blow if the truth came out.”

  Sir Hugh finished his sherry, stood up.

  “You’re a good chap, Richard, and I apologise for even having a moment of doubt,” he said, putting his hand on Crane’s shoulder. “You’ll make Sarah a fine husband. You think always of others. I’ve noticed it before, and I’ll say this: you’ve behaved in all this sad business like a gentleman. My boy, I’m proud of you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Crane stood in the open doorway, looked first at Grace, then at Ellis. They were both tense, but he noticed Grace looked the more frightened of the two. He enjoyed keeping them in suspense, and with a set, expressionless face, he walked into the room, paused, waited for them to speak.

  But they said nothing, as if afraid to break the spell of silence.

  Unable to contain his jubilation any longer, he burst out, “It’s all right! He’s gone!” He gave a short, triumphant laugh. “It was like playing a trout and I hooked him. It was marvellous! He believed everything I said.” He pointed at Ellis. “I lied your scraggy little neck out of a rope. I wish you could have heard me. I was terrific. I had an answer for everything. That old devil James found out so much, but bit by bit I pulled his case to pieces, and Sir Hugh’s gone off, thinking I’m the nicest and kindest person in the world. He — he says he’s proud of me,” Crane added and roared with hysterical laughter.

  Grace put down the shotgun she had been clutching, drew in a shuddering breath. Ellis relaxed on his pillow, but his eyes were watchful, distrusting.

  Crane suddenly stopped laughing when he saw they were both regarding him strangely.

  “What’s the matter?” he demanded. “Aren’t you glad? Can’t you say something — thank you, or something? If it hadn’t been for me you two would be in the hands of the police by now.”

  “And so would you,” Ellis said quietly.

  Crane flushed.

  “I think I’ve had about enough of you,” he said, an ugly look in his eyes. “You’re always trying to stir up mischief. You’ll go today. Safki can look after you, and then when you’re well enough, you’ll be free to do what you like. But you’ll leave here today.”

  “Yes?” Ellis said, his eyes stony. “What about her?”

  “Never mind her,” Crane said. “She stays with me.”

  “Oh, no, she doesn’t,” Ellis returned. “We came together, we leave together.”

  Crane realised that he had let his mask slip and, with an obvious effort, controlled himself. Turning to Grace with his familiar kind, humorous expression he could switch on so easily, he said, “I’m sorry I lost my temper, my dear, but I’ve been through a pretty tough session with the old boy. Did you understand what Ellis said? He wants you to go with him. You’re a free agent, you know. Do you want to go with him?”

  Grace shivered; shook her head.

  “All the same, she is coming with me,” Ellis said quietly. “You can find some other girl to amuse you. Look at her. She’s not much, is she? You can do better than that.”

  “You dry up,” Crane snapped, moved to Grace and took her hand. “I don’t want anyone but you. You know that, don’t you? We can be very happy together if you’ll stay.”

  Grace caught her breath. “Please don’t let’s listen to him. Can’t we leave him? I know he’ll ruin everything if we let him go on and on,” she said with a sob.

  “That rather settles it, doesn’t it?” Crane said, and unseen by Grace, he grinned jeeringly at Ellis.

  “If she knew the truth she wouldn’t want to stay,” Ellis said. His complete control over himself puzzled Crane. “Suppose you tell her what kind of a swine you really are. Then let her decide.”

  Crane laughed uneasily. “Oh, come, there’s no need to call me names,” he said. “But she can decide between us if that’ll make you happy.” He looked down at Grace. “You understood what he called me just now? Well, I want you to know the kind of man he is. He’s a traitor. He’s Cushman — Edwin Cushman, Lord Haw-Haw the second: the chap who broadcasted from Germany. Didn’t you ever hear him on the wireless?”

  Grace shrank back. “I don’t care who he is. He — he doesn’t interest me. I just don’t want to stay in this room any longer listening to his mischief.”

  “But you must care,” Crane said gently. “The police want him, and if they find him, they’ll hang him. You’ll have something to tell y
our grandchildren (if you ever have any grandchildren), Why, he’s a famous criminal.”

  “Please, Richard,” Grace said, wringing her hands. “Please don’t let us talk about him . . .”

  “All right, we won’t,” Crane said, shrugging. “He is rather a tawdry subject for discussion, isn’t he? But I thought you should know the kind of man he is.”

  Ellis snarled at them. “Never mind about me. Tell her about yourself. I’d rather be what I am than you.”

  “Ellis is trying to make out that I murder women for the fun of it,” Crane said, watching Grace closely. “He’s sure I’m cracked, and once I get rid of him, I’ll murder you. He believes I lured Julie down here and killed her. Nothing will convince him she was my sister and the poor darling killed herself. That’s the issue, my dear.” He stepped back, pointed dramatically at Ellis. “He or I. Choose between us: Cushman the traitor or Crane the murderer.”

  “Well, you’ve heard him,” Ellis said to Grace. “Choose, but choose carefully. Ask yourself why he has sheltered us and if he could possibly love you. Look at him. Look at his eyes. Do you think a man like that could love anyone but himself? Remember the policeman. That was cold-blooded murder. Ask yourself what happened to Julie Brewer. Think. This is your last chance. If you stay with him he’ll . . .”

  “Stop it!” Grace cried, turning away. “I won’t listen to you.” She ran to Crane, took his hand. “Please let’s go away and leave him,” she pleaded. “If you really want me, if you don’t think I’ll be a nuisance, I want to go with you.”

  “Of course I want you, my dear,” Crane said and pressed her to him. Over her head, he grinned triumphantly at Ellis. “Incredible, isn’t she? Of all the trusting little fools. Shall I see if I can persuade her to leave me — just for the fun of it?”

  “You’d better, Crane,” Ellis said softly. “You’ll be sorry if you don’t.”

  “Don’t think I’m frightened of you,” Crane said, suddenly scowling. “I’m doing this to please myself — to show you my power over her. I could talk her into anything.”

  “Don’t be too sure,” Ellis said.

  Grace suddenly pulled away from Crane to study his face, as if she suspected they were talking about her.

  He smiled down at her.

  “I don’t want to force you to stay, my dear,” he said, holding her close to him. “Suppose what he said were true? Suppose I was a mental case. You do read about such people. The world is full of diseased minds. You don’t know anything about me. I might be one of those harmless-looking monsters who attack women without warning. Suppose I went for you after Ellis has gone. Won’t you be sorry you didn’t listen to him then?”

  “Please don’t talk like that,” Grace said, her hands on his arms as she looked pleadingly up at him. “I don’t care what happens to me so long as I’m with you.”

  Crane frowned. “But that’s not the point,” he said a little sharply. “I’m asking you — do you believe what he says — that I’m a murderer?”

  She turned away, cried out, “What have I to live for? I’m deaf, shut away from everything. No one wants me. You gave me kindness and happiness. If you kill me I wouldn’t care, but if I went away from you what would become of me?”

  Crane pulled her round, shook her impatiently.

  “Can’t you answer yes or no? Do you think I’d kill you?”

  “If you want to kill me — well, do it,” she cried. “If you don’t love me, then I don’t care what happens to me.”

  “Never mind whether I love you or not,” Crane said, suddenly shouting at her, his face red with anger. “That’s not the point. Do you believe I killed Julie? Now, answer me!”

  “I know you did,” she cried, bursting into tears. “But it doesn’t matter to me. I know you couldn’t help it, Richard. I’m not frightened of you. Only please say you love me and you want me.”

  Crane stepped back as if she had hit him in the face. His colour turned a waxen white.

  “You know?” he repeated stupidly.

  “Oh, yes, I knew last night,” she said, and tried to take his hands, but he shook her off. “When you came out of the darkness . . . I saw your eyes. I knew you weren’t well . . . then I remembered how frightened you were when you saw me in that dress. I kept thinking last night, and I knew Ellis, wicked as he is, couldn’t have invented such a story unless he knew something.” She controlled her sobbing, went on: “It all fitted together. We being here, the policeman dying, her clothes, your fear: it could only mean one thing. But even then I didn’t believe it so I went to the wood after you had gone to bed. I had to . . . I had to find out. I saw the two graves . . . then I knew . . .”

  Crane stood over her, speechless, his face ashen, his hands shaking.

  “Please don’t be upset,” she went on, frantic that she had hurt him. “Perhaps she was cruel to you, but I won’t be. I’ll do anything for you. I love you. I have faith in you. We can go somewhere, start all over again. It’ll be all right. I know it will be all right.” She moved towards him, holding out her arms. “We can fight this horrible thing together,” she went on. It was a tremendous moment in her life. She felt uplifted, ecstatic. She saw herself saving him; reclaiming his poor mind; making him strong and healthy once more.

  Crane suddenly slapped her face.

  “You slut!” he screamed at her. “To talk to me like that. I’ll teach you! How dare you pity me!”

  “Crane!” Ellis said. “Don’t be theatrical. Have a drink and pull yourself together.”

  Crane turned on him.

  “I’ll show you, too,” he shouted, snatched up the bottle of whisky.

  Grace, her left cheek burning, ran to him, gripped his wrist. “Don’t drink that, Richard,” she begged. “It’ll only make things worse. Come and lie down. I’ll . . .”

  “Get out, you slut!” Crane snarled, and pushed her violently so that she reeled against the bed. Ellis caught her wrist, but shudderingly, she pulled away, backed against the wall.

  Crane’s hand shook so badly the whisky splashed on to the carpet. He swallowed half the spirit in the tumbler and flung the tumbler into the fireplace: splinters of glass flew across the room.

  He faced them, his hands clenching and unclenching.

  “I’ll kill you now!” he shouted. “You don’t believe I’ll do it, do you? But I will!” He rounded on Ellis, “and I’ll rub your face in her blood, you stinking little traitor!”

  “Please, Richard,” Grace begged. “Let me hold you. I can make you well. I know I can if you’ll only have faith in me.”

  Crane whipped his hand behind him, pulled out the long, white-handled knife from the sheath concealed by his coat.

  “Run!” he shouted at Grace. “I’m going to kill you. Run and scream like Julie did. Go on your hands and knees, as she did, Beg for your miserable, dreary little life.”

  At the sight of the knife Grace caught her breath sharply, but she didn’t flinch nor move.

  Ellis sat up in bed, leaned forward, studied Crane with cold, dispassionate eyes.

  Crane glared back at them, suddenly puzzled. Neither of them seemed afraid of him. He hesitated, suddenly unsure of himself, aware, too, that he was feeling cold and a little faint.

  “Run!” he shouted. “I’m going to cut you . . . make you bleed . . .”

  “Please put it down, Richard,” Grace said quietly. “I’m not frightened. If we can get through this, it’ll be all right.”

  Crane snarled at her, raised the knife, hesitated, lowered it again. Was he going to faint? God! he felt awful. There seemed no air in the room. He took a staggering step to the window, but it suddenly seemed too far away to reach. The strength in his fingers drained away. The knife was unbearably heavy and when Grace took it from him, he let her, relieved to be rid of it. He slumped into a chair, his legs no longer strong enough to support him.

  “What’s the matter with me?” he muttered thickly, passed his fingers across his face.

  Ellis leaned forw
ard. “You’re poisoned, you fool!” he said. “You’ve taken enough poison to kill an army.”

  Even as Crane heard the taunting voice a red-hot iron seemed to stab him in the stomach. He screamed out, tottered to his feet.

  “Poisoned?” he cried, reached out, grabbed hold of the mantelpiece to support himself.

  “You said I was a fox, Crane,” Ellis said, throwing back the bedclothes and swinging his legs to the floor. From under the bed he produced a pair of crutches, pulled himself upright. “Safki came to see me when you and Grace were in the wood. He brought these crutches and the poison. I put it in the whisky.” His voice rose. “You’re finished, you swine! I’ve won!”

  “No!” Crane screamed. “I don’t want to die. I want to live. Help me! Grace! Save me. Get a doctor! Don’t let me die!”

  Grace ran to him, caught him as he fell, but his weigh dragged her with him to the floor.

  “I don’t want to die!” he raved, while she pillowed his head against her breasts. “I’m afraid to die. Do something for God’s sake! Get a doctor!” He gripped Grace so tightly as he writhed in his agony that she cried out.

  Ellis hobbled over to them.

  “You said you didn’t care when you died, you boasting cur,” he said. “You’ve talked yourself into this. I was determined you wouldn’t touch her.”

  “Help him!” Grace cried wildly. “You can’t let him suffer like this. Please get help . . . get Safki . . .”

  Crane suddenly stiffened. A dry gasping sound came from his throat.

  “He’s finished,” Ellis said, contemptuously.

  Grace felt a shudder run through the great body. She could no longer support him, and he rolled away from her.

  “Leave him,” Ellis said. “Come on. We’ve got to get out of here before anyone comes.”

  But she paid no attention. Sobbing wildly, she turned Crane, looked down at his blue, puffy face, into his fixed, sightless eyes.