Cribb touched Thackeray’s arm. ‘That figure, approaching from the right. Watch.’
It was devilish difficult identifying anything at all in the conditions. Thackeray squinted in the general direction, watching for some movement. Sure enough, a figure in a long coat, muffled to the eyes, passed in front of the lighted confectioner’s. Was there a certain stealth about the walk, a hunching of the shoulders, or was that the wishful thinking of a constable desirous of a quick arrest and back to Paradise Street for cocoa? Ah! No question about it: the fellow had mounted the steps of the Paragon and was at the doors trying the handle.
‘Grab him, Thackeray!’
Action at last! No time to look out for traffic. Just a dash across the street, arms going like piston-rods, footfalls oddly muffled in the fog.
The suspect had no chance at all. One second he was stepping cautiously into the darkened vestibule, the next hauled out again, his arm locked agonisingly behind his back, a nutmeg-grater of a beard thrust against his cheek and neck.
‘Let’s have a look at you then,’ panted Thackeray, yanking away the rest of the muffler. ‘Blimey! Not you!’
‘Pursuing my lawful occupation,’ groaned Major Chick. ‘Let go, man. You’re breaking my blasted arm!’
‘Not till I’ve got you across the road.’
‘Neat work, Constable,’ said Cribb, when Thackeray had brought his prisoner to the shop-entrance. ‘Better let go now. Well, Major, what are you doing out in weather like this?’
The Major massaged his arm. ‘Following a suspicious person, dammit. Trailed the blighter all the way from Kensington and then lost him up the street there. Didn’t need much deduction to tell me he was making for the Paragon, though. I see you’ve apprehended him, Sergeant.’
Cribb gave a contemptuous sniff. ‘Albert? He’s assisting us. And you precious near sprung the trap, Major. I might have known we couldn’t throw you off as easy as that.’
‘I think he’s got a firearm in his pocket, Sarge,’ cautioned Thackeray. ‘I felt it as we crossed the road.’
‘You’re a bit late in telling me,’ snapped Cribb. ‘He could have filled the three of us with lead by now, if he’d a mind to.’
‘Well, Sarge, seeing as you told me you don’t suspect the Major . . .’
‘That’s irrelevant. I could have been wrong. I’ll trouble you for that gun just the same, Major. This ain’t the weather for shooting-practice.’
Major Chick delved into his pocket. ‘Merely a pair of opera-glasses, Sergeant. A present from Mrs Body. You can take them if you like, but they’re no damned use at all in the fog.’
Cribb glared at Thackeray, but immediately wheeled round at the sound of footsteps accompanied by the most stertorous breathing imaginable. Beaconsfield had brought back Mr Plunkett.
‘Have you been in there?’ the manager anxiously asked Albert.
‘Yes, sir. I carried out the instructions absolutely.’ Plunkett turned to Cribb. ‘What now, then? Can we all go in?’
Cribb shook his head. ‘That wouldn’t do at all, sir. We’re working to the arrangements in the letter, if you remember. Let me take the dog now, and you can wait for your daughter across the road. Don’t go inside, mind. We’ll watch from here.’
As Plunkett obeyed, it took all Cribb’s strength to keep Beaconsfield from following. The animal seemed to sense the drama ahead.
For more than fifteen minutes the only action was Plunkett’s nervous pacing back and forth along the steps of his music hall. Even the traffic had come to a halt.
Then he paused, rubbed at the glass on one of the doors, and put his face to it. He opened it and someone came out and fell into his arms, weeping. A mass of flaxen curls nestled on his shoulder.
‘Ellen!’ shouted Albert and sprinted across the road, with the others at his heels.
‘Are you quite unhurt?’ her father was asking. ‘Are you safe, Ellen?’
‘Quite safe now, Papa dear.’ She lifted her face, cruelly strained by her experience. She smiled through her tears at Albert. ‘When they had counted the money, they got out through the prop-room window. There was a carriage waiting there.’
‘Escaped!’ declared the Major.
‘Who were they?’ asked Cribb.
‘I still don’t know. A man and a woman. They kept me in darkness all the time, blindfolding me when they wanted to move me. They gave me a light to write the letter and that was all. Even then they stood behind me, out of sight.’
‘You’ve no idea where you were kept?’
‘It cannot have been more than a mile from here, Sergeant, allowing for the time the carriage took. I think I was in a cellar of some description. They didn’t ill-treat me, but I was so terrified, Papa. Please take me home now.’
‘Try to help the Sergeant, Ellen,’ Plunkett appealed. ‘Did you recognise either of their voices?’
‘I couldn’t, Papa, except to say that one was a woman.’
‘Sergeant,’ said Major Chick suddenly, ‘can you hear anything?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘From inside the hall.’ The Major pushed open the door. ‘Curious sort of smell, too. I’m going to look inside.’
‘Go with him, Thackeray.’
They crossed the vestibule together. The noise was clearer there, and certainly coming from the hall itself. To Thackeray it sounded like someone trying to wrap a small present in a huge sheet of brown paper. He opened the door leading to the hall. Smoke billowed out.
‘My God! The place is on fire!’ Like the monstrous creation of some demented scene-designer, the stage was ablaze from end to end. Huge yellow flames leapt to the full height of the proscenium, achieving a brilliance quite beyond the powers of gas and lime. One of the main curtains crashed downwards in a shower of sparks.
‘My hall!’ shouted Plunkett, suddenly with them.
‘The Major’s gone to sound the street fire alarm at the corner,’ said Cribb from behind. ‘There’s nothing you or I can do with a fire like this, sir. It’s a job for Captain Shaw and his men. Albert’s clearing the buildings on each side. Come away, sir. We’ll meet the Brigade at the door.’
They persuaded the manager to sit on the marble steps, with Ellen comforting him. ‘Next Tuesday would have been the greatest honour of my life,’ he was moaning. ‘To have that snatched away like this—it’s unendurable. Who could have done this to me?’
‘It must have been the limelight, Papa. It was unattended for so long. You’ve always said they are dangerous. There was probably an explosion in the lime-tank.’
Albert rejoined them. ‘There’s nobody in either of the adjoining buildings, Sergeant. There shouldn’t be any casualties, even if there’s a lot of damage to property. You’re quite sure there’s no one in the Paragon, Mr Plunkett? It’s a large building and—’ He stopped and turned to Cribb. ‘What’s happened to Beaconsfield?’
The sergeant was dangling the leash absentmindedly in one hand. ‘The dog?’ He glanced into the vestibule, thick with smoke. ‘He shouldn’t be long.’
Albert turned on Cribb in horror. ‘He’s in there, you mean? You let him go into that inferno?’
‘It was before we knew the place was on fire—when Miss Blake came out, in fact. He was curious to have a look inside so I slipped him off the leash.’
‘That doesn’t sound like Beaconsfield to me,’ said Albert bitterly. ‘Poor old animal must have been burned alive. How shall I tell Mama? She’ll call you every name she can lay her tongue to.’
‘You can tell her he was assisting the police in the execution of their duty,’ said Cribb starchily. ‘Just a moment. Take a look through here.’