Cedric looked worried. “She’s such a nice girl, Jerry,” he returned, as they walked to the front door. “I’m so anxious about her. When a girl’s been jilted like that, you never know what the rebound is going to be.” He looked at Jerry with a smirk. “I’ve often thought what a splendid wife she’d make a young fellow like you.”
Jerry laughed. “You’re just the same old Cedric,” he returned, slipping into his overcoat. “Always on the lookout for romance. Why don’t you marry the girl yourself?”
“My dear boy,” Cedric protested. “The very idea! Why, I’m old and done for. Anyway, you must meet her. I’ll try to arrange it. Only just now, she seems very busy. I can’t imagine what she’s doing.”
Jerry grinned. “Well, if she’s breaking the law, you know where to come. As a matter of fact, Cedric, I’m hoping for an important case. If you know of anyone contemplating murder, you might give me a ring.”
He rinsed the glasses under the tap, put the bottle with several empties and turned off the light. He groped his way to the foot of the stairs and as he began the journey to his bedroom on the top floor, the front door bell rang.
For a moment, Cedric was startled. He turned on the hall light and glanced at his watch. It was eleven fifteen. He went to the front door and opened it.
Joe Crawford stood on the step. “I’ve got something for Miss Hedder,” he said, looking at Cedric with cold, baleful eyes.
Cedric, with a startled gasp, took an involuntary step back. He had not expected to see Joe again and the sight of his cold, hard face shocked him.
“What?” he said. “What do you mean, ringing at this time of night?”
He became aware of a taxi waiting and the driver, standing by a big trunk, looked up at him expectantly from the bottom of the steps.
“Shall I bring it up, Guv’nor?” he asked.
Joe turned. “I’ll give you a hand,” he said, then glancing contemptuously at Cedric he said, “This is for Miss Hedder. We’ll take it up.”
“What is it?” Cedric asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. “I don’t know if I want you in my house after the way you spoke—”
“Aw, shut up!” Joe snapped and he ran down the steps and seized the trunk by one of its leather handles. The taxi driver caught hold of the other end and together they staggered up the steps and into the hall.
They let the trunk down with a thud and stood up, both looking at Cedric.
“Blimey!” the driver gasped, “that ain’t full of feathers.”
“Where’s her room?” Joe said to Cedric.
“What is it?” Cedric asked, staring at the trunk uneasily. “Who are you and what do you want to bring that in here for?”
Joe reached out and pulled Cedric towards him. His face was pale and frightening. “Listen, fat,” he said, speaking through set teeth, “where’s her room? I don’t want a lot of talk from you. Show the way and shut up!”
The driver chuckled. He was a fat, elderly man with a flaming red nose and watery eyes.
“Ain’t he a caution?” he said to Cedric. “Been swearin’ and cursin’ like billy-o all the time.” Come on, don’t keep ‘is lordship waiting.”
Speechless with anger and fright, Cedric went upstairs. Joe and the driver, carrying the trunk between them, followed him. They banged the trunk against the wall and they had difficulty in getting it round the narrow curve of the stairs as they reached the first landing. “My stars!” the driver gasped, letting his end down with a thud, “give us a rest, guv’nor. Blimey! I ain’t as young as I was.”
Joe leaned against the wall. His face was livid and his breath came in gasps.
The trunk was obviously too much for him, but he seemed to be making a desperate, frightening effort.
Cedric eyed them uneasily.
“Well, come along,” he snapped, seeing how exhausted they were and gaining some courage. “I want to go to bed even if you don’t.”
Joe snarled at him. “Shut up!” he said, but he seized hold of his end of the trunk and heaved it off the floor.
“Proper young slavedriver you are”,” the driver said with a good-humoured grin. “Well, ups a daisy,” and taking up his end, they went staggering up to the second floor.
Cedric went ahead with as much dignity as he could muster. He threw open Susan’s door and turned on the light.
“I hope she’s expecting this,” he said coldly as they staggered into the little room. “I don’t know if I ought to take it in. I really don’t know, I’m sure.”
“Well, it’s in, old top,” the taxi driver said, letting the trunk down with a thud that shook the house. “If you don’t like it you can blooming well carry it down yourself.”
“He’ll keep his nose out of this,” Joe said viciously.
“Well, come along,” Cedric said, holding open the door. “You can’t stay here. This is a lady’s room.”
They went downstairs and the driver got into his cab. Joe turned on Cedric.
“Tell her she’s not to touch that trunk until I’ve spoken to her,” and without giving Cedric a chance to reply, he went down the steps and got into the cab.
He would really have to talk to Susan, Cedric decided. He liked the girl, but the past two days had been very disturbing.
He again thought of the trunk. What was that odd smell? Where had he smelt it before? What on earth could be in the trunk?
He sat for a long time nursing his fears and his grievance. It was half-past twelve when he heard the front door open and he got up immediately and went into the hall.
Susan looked at him in surprise and confusion. “Good evening, Mr. Smythe,” she said. “I—I thought you’d be in bed.”
“I wanted to speak to you,” Cedric said, looking at her severely. “Really, Miss Hedder, things have come to a pretty pass. I know it’s not my business, but really— I mean, I do think you owe me an explanation.”
Susan coloured. “Why, Mr. Smythe, I—I don’t know what you mean . . .” she began, but Cedric with a dignified gesture stopped her.
“I hope you will spare me a few moments,” he said. “Will you please step into my sitting room?”
“Very well,” Susan said, wondering uneasily what he had discovered.
She followed him into the sitting room and pulling off her pert little hat, she nervously fluffed out her hair.
“Miss Hedder,” Cedric began, taking up his position before the fireplace, “who is this odd person who leaves notes and trunks for you?”
Susan stared at him. “Trunks?” she repeated blankly.
“Well, a trunk. He came here not an hour ago and was most rude. I’ve never been spoken to like that in all my life. If he hadn’t said you were a friend of his, I’d have sent for the police.”
“But I don’t understand,” Susan said, bewildered. “What trunk?”
“This person brought it for you tonight,” Cedric explained. “Surely you were expecting it?”
“You mean—Mr. Crawford?”
Cedric sniffed. “He didn’t mention his name. He was young, quite a hooligan. And he used a dreadful expression. Of course, in the Army . . .” He waved his hand expressively. “But one doesn’t expect to hear that sort of thing in one’s own house.”
“Perhaps I’d better go up and see,” Susan said, seeing the opportunity to get out of the room.” I don’t know anything about a trunk.”
Joe had said he was sending her a steel box. Could this trunk be it, she wondered, on her way up. There was so much she wanted to ask him. Why had Kester Weidmann turned up at the club when Joe had said he would keep him away from Rollo?
As she turned the handle of her door, the telephone began to ring. The telephone was the only luxury in her room. It had been installed by one of Cedric’s late boarders and as it had a few months still to run before the subscription was renewed, Cedric had left it in the room.