Joe walked past him into the hall. Together they began to mount the stairs.
“I told you to pull out while you could,” Butch said, as they came to the first landing. “Now, see what a jam you’ve got yourself into.”
Halfway up the stairs; Joe decided that now was the time to start something.
His knees went suddenly weak and his heart beat so violently that he felt breathless and dizzy. If he made a mistake now, nothing could save him. If he waited a second longer, the opportunity would pass.
They were exactly halfway up the broad stairs and there would be no more stairs after these. He gulped in a deep breath, swung round and putting both hands on Butch’s chest, pushed savagely. Butch gave a sharp cry, tried to recover his balance, clutched at Joe and then took a blind step back.
Joe struck at him as he fell. Butch heeled over, his fingers sliding off Joe’s arm and away he went down the stairs.
Joe didn’t look back. He flew up the stairs, his head down and his shoulders hunched. He reached the landing as Butch crashed against the banisters, clutching wildly at anything to save himself, but failing to get a grip strong enough to stop the momentum of his falling body. He thudded on the landing below and lay there, stunned.
Joe ran down the long corridor to a small window that overlooked the roof.
He could hear someone—it was probably
Rollo—shouting up the stairs. He put his trembling hands to the window frame and heaved, but the window wouldn’t move. He heaved again feeling a sick, terrifying panic enveloping him. The window was immovable.
Below, he heard Butch cursing as he dragged himself to his feet. He would be up in a moment and then all escape would be cut off.
Joe rattled the window frame, trying to loosen it, but it had not been opened for a long time and paint and dirt had fixed it solid.
He glanced over his shoulder, his breath sobbing in his throat. He could hear Butch stumbling up the stairs. He could also hear Rollo’s great booming voice coming closer. Turning once more back to the window, he crouched and then drove his shoulder through the pane of glass. He stood away and kicked out the remaining splinters as Butch came reeling into sight. Then he ducked through the broken window on to the roof.
“Stop!” Butch shouted, coming to a halt.
Joe paid no attention. He scrambled up the tiles until he reached the top of the gable. He sat astride the gable, his back to the garden, facing the window through which he had come.
The night was hot, and a big moon hung in the sky. Far below, he could see the vast garden and the wood stretching out like a child’s plaything.
Butch peered through the window, his face a blend of savage fury and alarm.
He saw Joe perched on the roof not more than twenty feet from him; he glared at him.
“You’d better come in,” he said, “or I’ll come and get you.”
Joe showed his teeth. He was feeling a little dizzy, but he knew that Butch couldn’t hurt him now.
Rollo came panting down the corridor and shouldered Butch out of the way.
He peered through the window at Joe, sucked in his breath, then he looked at Butch in vicious, snarling rage.
“I told you to watch him, didn’t I?” he said furiously. “What do you think you’re going to do now?”
“I’m going after him,” Butch said. “He can’t get away.”
“Don’t be a fool! You might slip. It’s a long drop down there.”
“I won’t slip,” Butch said, but he made no move to get through the window.
Rollo again looked out of the window at Joe. “Now be sensible, my boy,” he said mildly. “This won’t get you anywhere. You’d better come in before you meet with an accident.”
Joe gripped the warm tiles and leaned forward. “In a little while,” he said, “I’m going to jump. I’ve thought it all out. If I don’t, I’ll talk. I know that, so I’m going to jump.”
Rollo stared at him. Joe’s white face was stark and frightening in the moonlight and Rollo suddenly realized with a feeling of chill that he meant what he said.
“Don’t be a fool,” he urged. “We won’t hurt you. Tell us where the body is and we’ll leave you alone.”
Joe shook his head. “No!” He had difficulty in stopping his teeth from chattering. Although the night was hot and the roof still kept the heat of the summer sun, he himself was shivering with cold fear.
Rollo whispered to Butch “Get a rope. We might drop a noose over him.”
Butch grunted and went away down the corridor.
Rollo turned back to the window. “Let’s be sensible about this,” he said persuasively, as if talking to a child. “You’re young. You don’t want to die. Tell me where the body is and I’ll give you ten thousand pounds. Think of it, my boy. Think what you could do with ten thousand pounds.”
“You don’t understand,” Joe said, peering at Rollo’s great face. “They did everything for me. You’ve no idea how good they’ve been to me. I know what you’re going to do, and I won’t let you. You’ll never find Cornelius now and without him you can’t do anything. That’s why I’m going to jump. It’ll spoil your little game and Mr. Kester will be safe from you.” He glanced over his shoulder, looking down at the garden below.
Rollo saw him sway and clutch at the roof and for a moment he thought Joe was going to fall.
“Take care!” he said in sudden agony, knowing that if Joe fell the chances of finding Cornelius were very slim.
Just then Butch came back. He had a long thin rope in his hand.
Rollo whispered, “Keep out of sight. Don’t let him see you. How will you do it?”
“I’m going to try to get on the roof from some other point,” Butch said. “You keep the little rat talking while I sneak up on him.”
Rollo wiped the perspiration from his eyes. “I think he means to jump,” he said. “He’s mad. He must be. You can’t afford to make a mistake.”
Butch’s face went sullen. “I won’t make a mistake,” he said.
“Be careful. He may try to drag you after him.”
“Just keep him talking,” Butch returned and went away down the corridor again.
Joe, out of the corner of his eye, saw something move. He jerked round and as he did so, there came a faint swishing sound of a falling rope.
“You fool!” Rollo shouted, seeing the rope tighten round Joe’s throat.
It was too late.
With a thin scream of terror, Joe disappeared off the roof. The slack of the rope suddenly whipped tight, and jerked with a loud snap against the tiles.
Butch crawled into sight. He paid no attention to Rollo’s vituperation. He reached the gable, swung himself across it and crept forward to the edge. He leaned forward and looked down at Joe’s white face, as he swung limply at the end of the rope.
* * *
Cedric Smythe had just taken off his coat and waistcoat as he prepared to go to bed when he was startled by Susan’s wild scream. For a moment he stood petrified, then seizing his dressing gown, he hurried along the passage and halted at the foot of the stairs.
The house was in darkness and after the first alarming scream, there was silence. Cedric wished some of his other boarders would join him to find out what was the matter. But apparently they were too preoccupied with sleep to bother with his fears.
“Miss Hedder!” he called. “Are you all right?”
He listened and as he could hear nothing he began a slow and reluctant move up the stairs.
Then suddenly he heard a door open, slam shut, the sound of a key being turned in the lock and hurried footsteps down the passage.
“Oh, my goodness!” he exclaimed under his breath and crouched against the wall, his eyes popping out of his head and his heart racing with alarm.
Susan swept to the foot of the stairs and came down with a rush. She was holding her hat and coat in her hand and she didn’t see him until she was on top of him.