CHAPTER XIX

It reminded me forcibly of Episode III in “The Perils of Pamela.”

How often had I not sat in the sixpenny seats, eating a twopenny

bar of milk chocolate, and yearning for similar things to happen

to me. Well, they had happened with a vengeance. And somehow it

was not nearly so amusing as I had imagined. It’s all very well on

the screen—you have the comfortable knowledge that there’s bound

to be an Episode IV. But in real life there was absolutely no

guarantee that Anna the Adventuress might not terminate abruptly

at the end of any Episode.

Yes, I was in a tight place. All the things that Rayburn had said

that morning came back to me with unpleasant distinctness. Tell

the truth, he had said. Well, I could always do that, but was it

going to help me? To begin with, would my story be believed? Would

they consider it likely or possible that I had started off on this

mad escapade simply on the strength of a scrap of paper smelling

of moth balls? It sounded to me a wildly incredible tale. In that

moment of cold sanity I cursed myself for a melodramatic idiot,

and yearned for the peaceful boredom of Little Hampsly.

All this passed through my mind in less time than it takes to tell.

My first instinctive movement was to step backwards and feel for

the handle of the door. My captor merely grinned.

“Here you are and here you stay,” he remarked facetiously.

I did my best to put a bold face upon the matter.

“I was invited to come here by the curator of the Cape Town Museum.

If I have made a mistake——”

“A mistake? Oh, yes, a big mistake!”

He laughed coarsely.

“What right have you to detain me? I shall inform the police——”

“Yap, yap, yap—like a little toy dog.” He laughed.

I sat down on a chair.

“I can only conclude that you are a dangerous lunatic,” I said

coldly.

“Indeed?”

“I should like to point out to you that my friends are perfectly

well aware where I have gone, and that if I have not returned by

this evening, they will come in search of me. You understand?”

“So your friends know where you are, do they? Which of them?”

Thus challenged, I did a lightning calculation of chances. Should

I mention Sir Eustace? He was a well-known man, and his name might

carry weight. But if they were in touch with Pagett, they might

know I was lying. Better not risk Sir Eustace.

“Mrs. Blair, for one,” I said lightly. “A friend of mine with whom

I am staying.”

“I think not,” said my captor, slyly shaking his orange head. “You

have not seen her since eleven this morning. And you received our

note, bidding you come here, at lunch-time.”

His words showed me how closely my movements had been followed,

but I was not going to give in without a fight.

“You are very clever,” I said. “Perhaps you have heard of that

useful invention, the telephone? Mrs. Blair called me up on it when

I was resting in my room after lunch. I told her then where I was

going this afternoon.”

To my great satisfaction, I saw a shade of uneasiness pass over

his face. Clearly he had overlooked the possibility that Suzanne

might have telephoned to me. I wished she really had done so!

“Enough of this,” he said harshly, rising.

“What are you going to do with me?” I asked, still endeavouring to

appear composed.

“Put you where you can do no harm in case your friends come after

you.”

For a moment my blood ran cold, but his next words reassured me.

“To-morrow you’ll have some questions to answer, and after you’ve

answered them we shall know what to do with you. And I can tell

you, young lady, we’ve more ways than one of making obstinate

little fools talk.”

It was not cheering, but it was at least a respite. I had until

to-morrow. This man was clearly an underling obeying the orders of

a superior. Could that superior by any chance be Pagett?

He called and two Kafirs appeared. I was taken upstairs. Despite

my struggles, I was gagged and then bound hand and foot. The room

into which they had taken me was a kind of attic right under the

roof. It was dusty and showed little signs of having been occupied.

The Dutchman made a mock bow and withdrew, closing the door behind

him.

I was quite helpless. Turn and twist as I would, I could not loosen

my hands in the slightest degree, and the gag prevented me from

crying out. If, by any possible chance, any one did come to the

house, I could do nothing to attract their attention. Down below

I heard the sound of a door shutting. Evidently the Dutchman was

going out.

It was maddening not to be able to do anything. I strained again

at my bonds, but the knots held. I desisted at last, and either

fainted or fell asleep. When I awoke I was in pain all over. It

was quite dark now, and I judged that the night must be well

advanced, for the moon was high in the heavens and shining down

through the dusty skylight. The gag was half choking me and the

stiffness and pain were unendurable.

It was then that my eyes fell on a bit of broken glass lying in

the corner. A moonbeam slanted right down on it, and its glistening

had caught my attention. As I looked at it, an idea came into my

head.

My arms and legs were helpless, but surely I could still _roll._

Slowly and awkwardly, I set myself in motion. It was not easy.

Besides being extremely painful, since I could not guard my face

with my arms, it was also exceedingly difficult to keep any

particular direction.

I tended to roll in every direction except the one I wanted to go.

In the end, however, I came right up against my objective. It

almost touched my bound hands.

Even then it was not easy. It took an infinity of time before I

could wriggle the glass into such a position, wedged against the

wall, that it would rub up and down on my bonds. It was a long

heart-rending process, and I almost despaired, but in the end I

succeeded in sawing through the cords that bound my wrists. The

rest was a matter of time. Once I had restored the circulation to

my hands by rubbing the wrists vigorously, I was able to undo the

gag. One or two full breaths did a lot for me.

Very soon I had undone the last knot, though even then it was some

time before I could stand on my feet, but at last I stood erect,

swinging my arms to and fro to restore the circulation, and wishing

above all things that I could get hold of something to eat.

I waited about a quarter of an hour, to be quite sure of my

recovered strength. Then I tiptoed noiselessly to the door. As I

had hoped, it was not locked, only latched. I unlatched it and

peeped cautiously out.

Everything was still. The moonlight came in through a window and

showed me the dusty uncarpeted staircase. Cautiously I crept down

it. Still no sound—but as I stood on the landing below, a faint

murmur of voices reached me. I stopped dead and stood there for

some time. A clock on the wall registered the fact that it was

after midnight.

I was fully aware of the risks I might run if I descended lower,

but my curiosity was too much for me. With infinite precautions I

prepared to explore. I crept softly down the last flight of stairs

and stood in the square hall. I looked round me—and then caught my

breath with a gasp. A Kafir boy was sitting by the hall door. He

had not seen me, indeed I soon realized by his breathing that he

was fast asleep.

Should I retreat, or should I go on? The voices came from the room

I had been shown into on arrival. One of them was that of my Dutch

friend, the other I could not for the moment recognize, though it

seemed vaguely familiar.

In the end I decided that it was clearly my duty to hear all I

could. I must risk the Kafir boy waking up. I crossed the hall

noiselessly and knelt by the study door. For a moment or two I

could hear no better. The voices were louder, but I could not

distinguish what they said.

I applied my eye to the keyhole instead of my ear. As I had guessed,

one of the speakers was the big Dutchman. The other man was sitting

outside my circumscribed range of vision.

Suddenly he rose to get himself a drink. His back, black clad and

decorous, came into view. Even before he turned round I knew who

he was.

Mr. Chichester!

Now I began to make out the words.

“All the same, it is dangerous. Suppose her friends come after

her?”

It was the big man speaking. Chichester answered him. He had

dropped his clerical voice entirely. No wonder I had not recognized

it.

“All bluff. They haven’t an idea where she is.”

“She spoke very positively.”

“I dare say. I’ve looked into the matter, and we’ve nothing to

fear. Anyway, it’s the ‘Colonel’s’ orders. You don’t want to go

against them, I suppose?”

The Dutchman ejaculated something in his own language. I judged it

to be a hasty disclaimer.

“But why not knock her on the head?” he growled. “It would be

simple. The boat is all ready. She could be taken out to sea?”

“Yes,” said Chichester meditatively. “That is what I should do.

She knows too much, that is certain. But the ‘Colonel’ is a man

who likes to play a lone hand—though no one else must do so.”

Something in his own words seemed to awaken a memory that annoyed

him. “He wants information of some kind from this girl.”

He had paused before the information, and the Dutchman was quick

to catch him up.

“Information?”

“Something of the kind.”

“Diamonds,” I said to myself.

“And now,” continued Chichester, “give me the lists.”

For a long time their conversation was quite incomprehensible to

me. It seemed to deal with large quantities of vegetables. Dates

were mentioned, prices, and various names of places which I did

not know. It was quite half an hour before they had finished their

checking and counting.

“Good,” said Chichester, and there was a sound as though he pushed

back his chair. “I will take these with me for the ‘Colonel’ to

see.”

“When do you leave?”

“Ten o’clock to-morrow morning will do.”

“Do you want to see the girl before you go?”

“No. There are strict orders that no one is to see her until the

‘Colonel’ comes. Is she all right?”

“I looked in on her when I came in for dinner. She was asleep, I

think. What about food?”

“A little starvation will do no harm. The ‘Colonel’ will be here

some time to-morrow. She will answer questions better if she is

hungry. No one had better go near her till then. Is she securely

tied up?”

The Dutchman laughed.

“What do you think?”

They both laughed. So did I, under my breath. Then, as the sounds

seemed to betoken that they were about to come out of the room, I

beat a hasty retreat. I was just in time. As I reached the head of

the stairs, I heard the door of the room open, and at the same time

the Kafir stirred and moved. My retreat by the way of the hall door

was not to be thought of. I retired prudently to the attic, gathered

my bonds round me and lay down again on the floor, in case they

should take it into their heads to come and look at me.

They did not do so, however. After about an hour, I crept down the

stairs, but the Kafir by the door was awake and humming softly to

himself. I was anxious to get out of the house, but I did not quite

see how to manage it.

In the end I was forced to retreat to the attic again. The Kafir

was clearly on guard for the night. I remained there patiently all

through the sounds of early morning preparation. The men breakfasted

in the hall, I could hear their voices distinctly floating up the

stairs. I was getting thoroughly unnerved. How on earth was I to

get out of the house?

I counselled myself to be patient. A rash move might spoil

everything. After breakfast came the sounds of Chichester departing.

To my intense relief, the Dutchman accompanied him.

I waited breathlessly. Breakfast was being cleared away, the work

of the house was being done. At last, the various activities seemed

to die down. I slipped out from my lair once more. Very carefully

I crept down the stairs. The hall was empty. Like a flash I was

across it, had unlatched the door, and was outside in the sunshine.

I ran down the drive like one possessed.

Once outside, I resumed a normal walk. People stared at me

curiously, and I do not wonder. My face and clothes must have been

covered in dust from rolling about in the attic. At last I came to

a garage. I went in.

“I have met with an accident,” I explained. “I want a car to take

me to Cape Town at once. I must catch the boat to Durban.”

I had not long to wait. Ten minutes later I was speeding along in

the direction of Cape Town. I must know if Chichester was on the

boat. Whether to sail on her myself or not, I could not determine,

but in the end I decided to do so. Chichester would not know that

I had seen him in the Villa at Muizenberg. He would doubtless lay

further traps for me, but I was forewarned. And he was the man I

was after, the man who was seeking the diamonds on behalf of the

mysterious “Colonel.”

Alas, for my plans! As I arrived at the docks, the _Kilmorden

Castle_ was steaming out to sea. And I had no means of knowing

whether Chichester had sailed on her or not!