Читать книгу Pearls Before Swine - Margery Allingham - Страница 4

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The knocking was gentle at first, almost timid, but the quiet sound echoed round the flat like thunder or the noise of guns. In the sitting-room the urgent whispering ceased abruptly, and Campion caught an echo of the thrill of fear which went through those others who heard it. Beside him, Lugg was standing stiffly. He was frowning, and the veins on his forehead stood out clearly under the skin. No one moved, and the knocking came again. It was more resolute this time; still nobody answered.

From outside the faint rumblings of the traffic floated up to the silent flat. These were homely, ordinary noises, hootings, the squeal of brakes, and the cries of paper-sellers shouting the news. But they were far off, belonging to another world.

Within the flat there was silence. The four who lived were as quiet as the one who lay so stiffly on the bed.

The third bout of knocking was violent. The summons was angry and the bell rang shrilly like an alarm, while the knocker shook the panels of the door. Immediately afterwards, as there was no response from within, the lock rattled savagely, and there was an ominous noise as someone put a shoulder to the wood.

At this new sound Mr. Campion raised his head and glanced sharply at his companion.

“I’m afraid that means business,” he murmured. “Wait a moment,” he called amid the noise, “what’s up? What’s the excitement?”

He pulled the door open but did not step back, so that the visitor’s face suddenly appeared within a foot of his own.

The very young lieutenant of the United States Army who stood on the doorstep appeared to be as astonished by Campion as his host was to see him. He fell back a pace, but there was no suggestion of retreat in his square shoulders and serious pink face.

“I’m very sorry,” he said gently, “but I think Mrs. Shering is here, isn’t she? I’d very much like to see her, please.”

He conveyed patience and studious politeness, but also the confident determination of a tank. Campion regarded him dubiously.

“I don’t quite know,” he said at last, “unless ... Tell me, what is she like?”

The boy’s face flushed a deeper crimson, and his pleasant grey eyes grew angrier.

“She came in here about fifteen minutes ago,” he said. “I want to see her at once, please.”

It was a very small hall, and he was a very large youngster. Mr. Campion showed no signs of moving and some sort of impasse appeared imminent when the sitting-room door burst open and the girl who had screamed came running out towards them. Her eyes were unnaturally bright and she was very pale.

“Oh, Don,” she said desperately, looking past Campion. “Oh, Don, take me away.”

He went over to her as though there were no one else in the world, much less in the room. It was a peculiarly youthful movement and Mr. Campion experienced considerable sympathy for him.

“Susan, my dear, who is this?”

Lady Carados did not come out into the overcrowded lobby and did not appear to raise her voice, yet the effect of her personality was by no means lessened by the fact that she spoke from half-way across the sitting-room. She dominated the group immediately, and Mr. Campion began to understand a little more of the present extraordinary situation. He realized that here was a woman who never from babyhood had expected any consideration whatever to stand in the way of her desires. It was not that she was particularly ruthless, but simply that things to inconvenience her had not been allowed to occur. She was frightened now, but he guessed that she was finding the experience invigorating.

“I think everybody had better come in here,” she said. “Now, Susan, who is this?”

Young Mrs. Shering took a firm hold of herself, and Campion, who was watching her closely, decided that his first impression of her had done her less than justice. He was astonished to find that she had been married; she looked not only younger than he had thought, but even more lovely. She stood up to the older woman very well, and it occurred to him that Lady Carados was her prospective mother-in-law, so that in view of the revealing expression on the face of the youngster at her side the position must be very difficult for her, quite apart from the alarming secret in the next room.

It was a considerable kettle of fish all round, he thought, and he eyed her curiously to see if she betrayed any answering feeling for the boy. At the moment her face told him nothing; she was schooled and impassive, her young mouth guarded and her eyes shadowed.

“Why, of course,” she said. “Darling, let me present Lieutenant Don Evers. Don, this is Lady Carados.”

It was naturally done, but all the same it was not quite an ordinary social introduction. Both pairs of eyes were wary, and the woman took in everything the boy’s face had to tell her. He was not disguising much, and she had plenty to read. His bewilderment kept him silent and she was the first to speak.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,” she said, and waited for him to explain.

“Don’s been waiting downstairs for me,” Susan cut in quickly. “When I saw my ambulance we were together, you see. We’d been out to lunch and he was bringing me back to the depot. I changed into my uniform there. But when we turned into the square I was a minute or two late and I considered myself technically on duty, so when I saw the ambulance being stolen, I followed it.”

“Yes, that’s so,” said Evers, in his slow, deliberate way. He was still very doubtful of the position, but he was keeping his end up gallantly. “That’s so,” he repeated. “When Sue saw her ambulance flash by with a strange civilian at the wheel she felt it was her responsibility; so I sent our taxi after it—we were in a taxi when we saw the ambulance.”

Lady Carados was ignoring the girl, but she kept her eyes fixed on the young soldier.

“Did you see anyone leave the ambulance here?” she enquired abruptly.

Again it was the girl who answered.

“We saw it turn into the cul-de-sac, but we were held up for a minute or so by the lights on the corner. When we saw it again it was standing outside here, empty. I would come up here alone, but Don insisted on waiting for me. It wasn’t until I got into the flat that I saw ...”

“That you saw us all, Susan,” said the elder woman firmly.

The two looked at one another, and again it occurred to the watching Campion that young Mrs. Shering possessed unusual determination. Either that, or she was at the end of her tether. All the same, it was she who first gave up the silent battle. She turned to the boy again and repeated her first abrupt request.

“Don, take me away from here.”

“Sure,” he said, closing in on her and taking her arm, adding apologetically as he glanced round the company, “I’m afraid I don’t quite get what’s going on around here yet, you know.”

Mr. Campion could have shaken his hand, and very nearly did so absent-mindedly in the warmth of his fellow-feeling. But meanwhile Lady Carados was pursuing her own line.

“Do you know,” she said, with a flicker of her early charm, “I don’t think I want either of you to leave here at the moment.”

“But I must,” the girl insisted, “I must. I’m on duty, for one thing, and for another, I can’t stay here a moment with ...” She broke off helplessly.

“What exactly is this?” said Evers.

Lady Carados ignored him. “My dear,” she said, putting her hand upon Susan’s arm. “I’m so sorry, but you must wait here—both of you—until Johnny comes. I’ve ’phoned my son, Mr. Campion,” she went on, turning to him. “As soon as Mrs. Shering arrived so unexpectedly, and then you came in, I realized that I’d done a very silly, dangerous thing. So while you were dressing I telephoned my son’s house. Fortunately he’d just got in, and he’s coming round at once. I’m afraid I’ve been rather foolish, but I did what I thought best in an intolerable situation.”

She made the admission as if she were relinquishing a responsibility rather than accepting one. Don Evers looked at her blankly.

“Is Carados coming here?” he enquired.

“Yes,” she said placidly. “At any moment now. It’ll all be all right when Johnny comes. We’ve only got to wait.”

Mr. Campion only hoped she was right; for his own part he was not so sure.

Meanwhile Evers, who alone of them all was unaware of the main dilemma, appeared to have one of his own.

“I don’t think I want to stay, Sue,” he said simply.

The girl did not answer him but she took his arm, and her expression answered one of his questions concerning her. These young people were in love with each other; well, that was another mystery. He glanced at his watch. In fifteen minutes he must go—whatever happened there must be no question about that. In thirty-five minutes he must be in the train.

A laugh on the stairs outside cut into his calculations, and he heard a woman’s voice raised in amusement. He glanced at Lady Carados.

“Did you tell Johnny?” he enquired.

She was listening also, and the look she gave him was as startled as his own.

“No, not everything. Of course not. Not on the ’phone. I simply told him to come here immediately.”

“I see,” said Mr. Campion, adding as someone beat a lively rhythm on the knocker, “I rather think he’s here now, you know, and I fancy by the sound of it he’s brought Evangeline Snow with him.”