He opened the door gently and looked out. Haras was standing in the centre of the stage, staring out into the auditorium.
“It’s no use running, Brady,” he called. “You can’t get away.”
“Haras!” Brady said softly.
As the Hungarian turned, Brady raised the revolver and fired and the report seemed deafening. Haras disappeared with surprising speed into the shadows opposite.
Brady crouched down and Anne Dunning moved beside him. “Where’s the switch that operates the stage light?” he asked softly.
“Right behind us. Shall I turn it off?”
He nodded and a moment later, the theatre was plunged into darkness.
“I’m coming to get you, Haras!” Brady shouted.
A tongue of flame answered him from the darkness. He fired twice in reply and moved across the stage, crouching. Haras went down the stairs ahead of him and ran along the corridor. As Brady turned the corner, the stage door banged.
It was quiet and somehow peaceful out in the alley with the rain hissing down. Brady stood at the end of the footpath and listened to the echo of the Hungarian’s running feet. Faintly from the distance, a car door closed hollowly. A moment later an engine started up.
“That old gun did the trick with a vengeance,” Anne Dunning said from behind and her voice was breathless and excited.
As he turned to answer her, a strange, unearthly wailing sounded far away in the darkness, echoing through the night in a dying fall.
He shivered, standing there with the rain falling on him, and a wave of greyness ran through him. The girl looked up, a strange expression on her face. “What is it?”
“The general alarm at Manningham Gaol,” he said simply. “It means that from now on, they’ll be looking for me.”
(6)
They went back into the theatre and she turned on the lights and sat on a wooden chair, chin cupped in one hand, while Brady told her everything.
When he had finished, she sighed and shook her head in bewilderment. “The whole affair sounds like some horrible nightmare, except for one thing.”
“Haras?” Brady said.
She nodded soberly. “Yes, he makes it all so frighteningly real. The thing is, what do you do now?”
“Try to get to London. It’s all I can do. After all, this Professor Soames character is my only lead.”
“Won’t that be difficult now they know you’re out?”
He nodded grimly. “You can say that again. I was hoping they wouldn’t miss me till breakfast, but something must have gone wrong. I could have been in London with a breathing space to do my checking while they still looked for me in Manningham.”
“The question is, how will you get there?”
“The sixty-four-thousand dollar question with a vengeance,” he told her.
She appeared to be thinking hard. After a while, she said, “Did you know my father was a prisoner in Germany during the last war?”
Brady nodded. “He did mention something about it once.”
“He got out three times,” she said. “Finally, he made it right through Germany and France and over the Pyrenees into Spain. He said the important things to remember were to keep off the roads and to get where you wanted to be in the fastest possible way.”
“It’s a nice theory,” Brady said. “In practice it might be a little more difficult. There’s the night express to London, but I’ve about as much chance of getting on that now as I’d have of breaking into Fort Knox.”
“I’m going to London tonight myself,” she said. “I’ve booked a sleeper. The others went this morning, but I wanted to see some friends before I left. They live about twelve miles out of town. I’ve spent the day with them.”
“The show folded then?”
“I’m afraid it fell flat on its face.” She frowned suddenly. “Wait a minute. I’ve just had an idea. That’s a single sleeper I’ve booked. I hate sharing with a stranger, so I paid the extra. If we could get you on board somehow, you could travel to London in comfort with me.”
“It wouldn’t be possible,” he said. “The station will be crawling with police. They’re bound to watch the trains. I’d never get through the barrier.”
“My father once walked out through the main gates of a German prison camp. He looked so familiar, they didn’t even question him.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“He was wearing a German uniform.”
“And how does that help me?”
“But it’s so simple,” she explained. “Who on earth would think twice about a porter carrying a lady’s luggage to the train? He takes it to her compartment and stays there. It’s as simple as that.”
“There’s the small matter of a uniform to start with,” he said.
She laughed gaily and got to her feet. “You’re forgetting you’re in a theatre.”
He followed her into the wings and she opened the door of the props room, switched on the light and started to rummage in a large, wicker basket.
After a moment or two, she turned triumphantly and tossed a peaked cap across to him. “That’ll do for a start.”
The white metal badge said British Railways and Brady tried the cap on and examined himself in the mirror. It was a couple of sizes too large, which was an advantage, and she came and stood behind him, a dark serge suit with shiny official buttons on it, hanging over her arm.
“The problem’s solved,” she said, her face gay and animated. For a moment, she looked like a young child involved in some new and exciting game.
Brady turned, his face serious. “It’s no good,” he told her. “It means involving you up to your pretty neck and I can’t have that. They’re pretty rough on people who help escaped convicts on the run. You catch that train as you planned. I’ll find some other way of getting to London.”
“I’m involved in this business whether you like it or not,” she said forcefully. “My father thought a lot of you. When I visited you the other day, I could see why, because beneath the anger and the bitterness and the frustration, there was still something of the real Matthew Brady.”
“But you’ll only end up getting hurt,” he protested.
“Let’s put it this way,” she said patiently. “I’m going to help you whether you damned well like it or not.”
He looked at her with something like wonder in his eyes and shook his head. “You’re more of your father’s daughter than I thought.”
She smiled, conscious that she had won. “Let’s get out of here. My digs are just around the corner. We can stay there till train time.”
“What about your landlady?”
“No trouble there. She’s spending the night with her sister. Told me to leave the key under the mat when I left.”
She found a piece of brown paper in which to wrap the uniform and they left, locking the stage door behind them. It was still raining heavily and they went along the alley and turned boldly into the main street.
She took his arm and they walked at a steady unhurried pace, past the lighted windows of the shops, turning into a side street as a police car rounded the corner, skidding slightly on the wet road.
It roared away into the night, bell ringing shrilly and Brady grinned tightly. “They’ll turn this town upside down before they’re through.”
“You’ll be on your way to London before they get properly started,” she said calmly.
The street was lined with old, brownstone Victorian terrace houses, each with a narrow strip of garden running down to the road. She opened the gate to one of them, and as he followed her along the path, Brady shook his head in bewilderment. There was something elusive about her, a quality he couldn’t quite pin down, that made her different from any other woman he’d ever known. Nothing seemed to disturb her composure.