Men of Affairs Part 58

"Hush, hush, for pity's sake," she implored. "Here's some champagne--drink it. No, no, it isn't poison--drink--drink," and she filled a gla.s.s that stood upon the table. "Eat these biscuits too, and listen to me."

Of course he did not understand. He drank the champagne and ate the biscuits wolfishly while she talked. It was clear something had happened--some unlooked for reversal of feeling--but beside the food and drink nothing seemed to matter. The good wine felt like new life blood flowing through his veins.

"They're downstairs now," she said. "Making up their minds."

He found intelligence enough to ask:

"They know I'm not Barraclough?"

"I told them, yes."

"You shouldn't," he said simply.

"I thought they'd let you go."

"Well?" He refilled his gla.s.s.

"They said it wouldn't be possible now. That's why I've got to get you away--somehow--somehow."

She was moving desperately up and down the room as though by very desire she would create an opening in the walls.

"Get me away!" he said stupidly. "Why do you want to get me away?"

"Because you're a different man, a splendid man. And they're beasts and brutes."

It was all very confusing, very unbelievable. Richard had a faint impression that it was happening to someone else or in a dream. Why was this wonderful creature worrying about him. The wine was mounting to his head.

"A splendid man," he repeated senselessly. "And you want to get me away. Tha's kind--kind."

"I've a car outside if we could only reach it."

That was a droll thing to say, but it sounded real. He answered as though someone had actually spoken of a car outside and a chance of reaching it.

"Not a hope."

The bottle was empty now, which was a good thing.

"There must be. The windows!"

He shook his head as she ran toward them. If the beautiful lady wanted to play the escape game he might as well take an intelligent interest and play it sensibly.

"No good," said he. "Soon as you lift the shutter bar an alarm starts ringing and they all rush in."

"S'pose we did that," said Auriole with a sudden idea. "Worked in the dark, started the bell, and when they came in made a dash for it."

Sensible talk this, he must reply sensibly.

"No good. One of 'em always stands in the door."

"Then somehow we must get them away from the door into your bedroom."

That was logical, interesting, too.

"Of course we must get them away from the door. Tha's the idea. Tha's the idea," he said.

"Oh! can't you think of a way?" she begged.

It wasn't fair to ask questions. The game was of her invention, not his. Still, in common politeness one must take a hand, show a willingness. It would be awful if she lost patience with him and left him to his loneliness.

He answered that unspoken fear simply as a child.

"But you won't leave me alone again, will you?"

"Can't you realise I'm on your side," she said, shaking him by the arm.

"My side, yes," he repeated. "I'm glad you're on my side. We're friends aren't we?"

To this pleasant reflection he sat down on the hard chair and smiled happily. Friends is a lovely word to play with when one has been over long neglected. He wished she would sit too, and make a pillow for his head, but instead she was flitting from place to place acting in the oddest way. From the camp bed she had dragged Blayney's kit bag and was b.u.t.toning it into an old dressing gown provided for his use.

"I must have a head," she was saying, which sounded idiotic to Richard who saw that her own was beautiful.

He pointed to a bronze bust of Van Diest which had been placed on the mantelpiece a few days before, presumably to act as a reminder of the influence dominating the apartment.

"Try that one," he suggested, laughing inanely.

But Auriole did not laugh. She gave a glad cry and called on him to help. Together they carried the bust and soon had tied it securely inside the dressing gown.

It did not occur to Richard to ask the reason why this strange dummy had been created. It was all of a piece with the dream-like spirit which pervaded everything. Her explanation was voluntary.

"It's to put in your bed," she said. "We'll take out the electric bulbs, then start the bells going. When they come in and you don't answer they'll go into the bedroom. They'll find this and think it's you."

"Think this is me!" said Richard. "That's funny." He broke into a storm of laughter which ended as abruptly as it began, ended from a sudden realisation that all this folly and mummery was a real and solid effort to compa.s.s his escape. "Wait a bit," he said, rubbing his brow fiercely. "It's coming back. I see the idea. Bless you, for trying.

We'll have a shot."

He dragged the dummy into the inner room by the waist cord of the dressing gown which was tied about its neck. The brain fog was gone.

He was surprisingly clear headed now, and an unnatural vitality buoyed him up. The bedroom door swung to behind him and he heard Auriole cry:

"I'm doing the lights, be quick."

And at that moment he had a notion and acted upon it quickly. An old gas bracket over the door helped the operation. When he had finished he kicked over a chair and re-entered the now pitch dark room.

"I've got hold of the shutter bar," he heard her cry.

"Let her go," he answered.

And down in the hall below they heard the big alarm bell clang out the warning.

Clinging to each other's hands they waited, their backs flattened against the wall. And presently it came; the sound of men's footsteps das.h.i.+ng up the stairs. The door burst open and a number of dark shapes poured into the room. Framed in the open doorway, a black silhouette against the light from the well of the staircase, stood Blayney, a pistol in his hand.