My luck seemed to have broken down-for I defy any one to climb a holly hedge. I had to decide which way I would go. If I followed the hedge to the left, it might run along between me and the wall as far as the corner of Churt Row or farther, in which case I should be dished. I couldn’t risk it. I turned to the right and ran along the hedge in the direction of the house-at least that’s the way I figured it out.
I ran for a bit, and then slowed to a walk and listened. I could hear some one tramping about down in the direction of the gate, and I could see an occasional lash from his torch. I thought there was only one man looking for me, which meant that the other was up the Crescent or watching the gate. I was getting my wind back nicely, but I was worried about my clothes. I felt pretty sure I must be horribly begrimed, and I knew I was bleeding from a scratch on the hand, and that my right trouser leg was torn below the knee. I was going to be a fairly conspicuous object whenever I emerged into the light.
The holly hedge ran on to the end of the lawn. My feet left the grass and scrunched on gravel. The hedge went on on my left. It came to a stop about twenty yards farther, at the entrance of a stable yard. There was an open arch, and then I was on cobble-stones old enough to be worn almost smooth. I couldn’t see anything in front of me, but there was the feeling of a closed-in space and a smell of petrol.
I stood still, because something told me to stand still. And then, without any warning, the headlight of a car sent two brilliant shafts across my path.
XL
I stood just where I was. The nearer of the two dazzling lanes of light was about four yards away. I could see shadows round all the cobble-stones on the farther side of the yard; the shadows were as black as spilled ink. I could see the lanes of light, but I couldn’t see the car from whose headlights they sprang. I couldn’t see it, because the wide, dark screen of the open garage door cut off my view.
As soon as I saw that, I moved as silently as I could, until I was standing right against the open door and behind it. Then I had another look.
I had altered my position for the worse as far as seeing anything was concerned. The door made a right angle with the front of the garage. I stood behind the edge of it, and didn’t dare put my head round to see what was on the other side. All I could see was the bright misty dazzle and a lot of cobble-stones, with a dim impression of the wall and the arch through which I had come.
On the other side of the door some one was trying to start up the car, and when the self-starter had buzzed and failed for the third time, I heard him swear vigorously, and I recognized Arbuthnot Markham.
I don’t like a man who swears at his horse or his car. The thing he is swearing about is pretty nearly always his own fault. The way Arbuthnot took it out of his battery made me put him down as a pig-headed ass, but after a bit he got out and cranked her by hand. When he had got her running, he walked across the yard and came back with a suit-case in his hand. That made me sit up and take notice. He’d pressed Anna to stay and made an appointment to meet her at Croydon Aerodrome at three next day, and here he was, starting up his car and ramming suit-cases into it in the deuce of a hurry at somewhere about one in the morning. If it was one, it was to-day that he was going to meet Anna; but I wanted to know why he should be pushing off about ten hours too soon.
He opened the back door on the farther side, threw the suit-case in, and went back again across the yard. By this time I knew what I wanted. I wanted a lift down the drive and out of the gate past the police. I had to think quickly and take a bit of a risk.
As soon as I saw the headlight strike his back, I nipped round the garage door and got behind the car, opening the door on that side as I passed. The garage was in darkness, and it was a hundred to one against his noticing anything unless he came round that side-and I had to risk something.
He came tramping back, threw something heavy into the car, and slammed the door on it. Then he got in on the near side himself and slipped across into the driver’s seat.
As he put her into gear, I came round and got in by the door I had left open. I timed it so that my weight came on the running-board as she moved off. You can’t make thirteen stone feel like a feather, but I did my best, and he never turned his head.
I crawled in about an inch at a time. The suit-cases were on the seat, which was all to the good, because I badly wanted the floor for myself. I left the door flapping, and as we passed the arch and swung out to take the corner, he heard it, swore, reached back, and banged it to. I began to feel rather pleased with myself.
We went softly down the drive, and then, at the gate, checked suddenly. I couldn’t see anything because I was lying particularly low with a rug over me; but I could hear Arbuthnot getting out, and I guessed that the police in an access of zeal had shut the gate. I heard it creak, and then I heard voices. I couldn’t hear what they said, and I didn’t need to. The constable was telling Arbuthnot how he’d chased a dangerous criminal over his garden wall; and Arbuthnot was telling the constable to go to blazes-at least that’s what I thought at the time, but after a minute Arbuthnot got in again, still talking, and to my amazement he was being as polite as pie.
“And you’ll keep a watch on the house?” he said. “I’ve some valuable pictures I shouldn’t like to lose.” And after that it was, “Good-night, constable,” and all the compliments of the season.
We came slowly out of the gate and turned up the Crescent, I heard Arbuthnot whistle through his teeth, and as I looked out from under my rug, I saw him take out his handkerchief and mop his brow.
I came to the conclusion that he wasn’t in a frame of mind to meet the police without getting a nasty jar, and I wondered all over again whether he wasn’t Fosicker after all.
We ran along Churt Row and turned out of it to the left. Presently we were on a main road. After a bit I got cautiously on my knees and took a look out of the window. I didn’t want to get carried out of my way-and my way lay in the direction of Linwood. I wondered if he was making for Croydon. If he was, I had better see about getting out.
I threw off the rug, got up, and said,
“Thanks very much for the lift. I think I’ll get off here.”
I must say I admired his nerve. He swerved about six inches, and it was a minute before he said anything. He slowed down, drew in to the side of the road, and stopped. Then he said,
“What the devil are you doing in my car?”
I got out and stood by his window. It was open. I could see him like a big smudge of shadow leaning forward over the wheel.
“Do you want to call in the police?” I said.
It was a stupid bit of bluff, but I made pretty sure he’d be as anxious to keep clear of them as I was.
“ Fairfax?” he asked; and then, “They are looking for you in my garden, aren’t they? As far as I am concerned, they can go on looking. Do you mind telling me why you were striking matches there about half an hour ago? It was you, wasn’t it?”
I said, “Yes.”
“And how much of our conversation did you overhear when Anna and I came out to look for you?”
“Oh-some.”
“Enough to congratulate me?”
“On your marriage?” I said.
He laughed.
“Where were you? In the bushes?”
“I was nicely placed for listening in,” I said.
He moved round to face me.
“You’re going to Linwood, I suppose? Will you give Anna a message for me? I don’t particularly want to wire or ring up.”