It was doubtful whether Cedric startled her more than her horror stricken face startled him.
She shied away from him with a little squeak, hesitated for a second and then made as if to rush on.
Cedric stopped her. “What is it?” he said, looking past her to the upstairs landing as if expecting to see someone creeping down on them. “What’s the matter? You’re frightening the life out of me!”
“I can’t tell you,” Susan said, wrenching herself free. “I can’t tell you now. I’ve got to go out,” and away she went again, down the stairs, into the hall and out into the street.
Somewhere in the far distance a clock struck two. The long Fulham Road was deserted and the moon lit up the faces of the houses and on the windows, making them look like great blind eyes.
A taxi suddenly turned from a side road into the main road and waving frantically, Susan stopped it.
The taxi driver peered at her curiously. “Out late, Miss, ain’t you?” he asked, then added a little wearily, “I was just going home.”
“It’s not far,” Susan panted, jerking open the cab door. “It’s just by the Green Man. I’ll tell you where to stop.”
It did not take more than three or four minutes to reach the Green Man and then Susan leaned forward. “I want Mr. Kester Weidmann’s place. Do you know where it is?”
“You bet I do,” the driver returned. “The millionaire? Wot do you want with ‘im?”
“Oh—I work there. I’m a maid there,” Susan explained after a moment’s frantic thought. “Don’t drive in. Just put me down at the gates. If anyone hears me, I’ll—I’ll get the sack.”
The driver pulled up after a moment. “ ‘Ere you are, Miss.”
Susan got out, gave him his fare and then hurried through the great stone gateway and down the long twisting drive towards the house. She had no idea where she would find Joe, but even if she had to rouse the house, she was determined to see him. He would have to come back with her and remove the trunk. She was determined to accept no excuse nor to listen to any attempt to persuade her to keep the trunk.
Whatever happened he would have to take it away.
It was a long, lonely walk up the drive. She would have been hopelessly lost had it not been for the brilliant moonlight.
The drive was cut through a dense wood and she walked some distance before she caught a glimpse of the house. As she did so, she noticed a big Packard car standing in the drive. Only then did she remember what Joe had said over the telephone. “They’re coming. He’s sent for them.”
Instantly she stepped off the driveway into the thick undergrowth. They— Rollo and the man in the black shirt—were already there. She had been about to walk right into them. What were they doing? Why had Kester Weidmann sent for them? Where was Joe?
She began to move very cautiously through the undergrowth until she got nearer the house. Then she paused again and peered through the bushes. A tall, thin man was standing in the middle of the broad circular drive. He was motionless, his head thrown back; he seemed to be staring at the sky.
A voice called from above. “I can’t pull the little rat up. I’m going to cut the rope and let him drop.”
The thin man who was looking up, granted. “I’ll get out of the way,” he shouted back.
Susan edged forward until she was standing on the fringe of the undergrowth. From there she had an uninterrupted view. She looked up and saw a man sitting astride one of the gables. She recognized him because of his white tie which stood out starkly against his black shirt in the moonlight. What was he doing? She stared, forgetting the man near her, forgetting everything in the sudden feeling of cold horror as her eyes made out the limp figure that dangled at the end of the rope. Even as she recognized the thin frame and the thick untidy hair, the rope suddenly parted and the body fell.
Susan hid her face. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t run away. Her whole body cringed while waiting for the sound of the body to strike the ground. When it came, she fell on her knees, her knuckles forced into her mouth. She felt herself falling forward and for a little while she did not remember what happened.
She must have fainted, she told herself when next she became aware of what was going on. She did not know how long she had been lying on the dry, stubbly grass, but when she peered through the bushes she saw there were three more men in the drive. She recognized Gilroy and the man in the black shirt. The other man, gross and ponderous, she guessed must be Rollo. They were all grouped around Joe’s body, which lay huddled on the cement drive.
She lay flat, watching them, a feeling of horror numbing her senses. It had all been so sudden and so unreal that she knew she would not realize the full hideousness of what had happened until much later. Now, feeling curiously weak and stunned, she was content to lie on the grass and watch these men.
Gilroy said in a soft voice, “Someone’s watching us. I feel their eyes.”
Butch snarled at him. “Shut up, nigger!”
Gilroy continued to stare at Rollo, his great eyes rolled uneasily.
“What do you mean?” Rollo demanded, feeling the short hair on his neck rising.
“Someone’s watching us,” Gilroy repeated. “I’m sure of it.”
Rollo glanced at Butch.
“He’s cracked,” Butch said, looking uneasily at the dark undergrowth.
“Where?” Rollo asked Gilroy. “Who is it?”
Gilroy was staring directly at the bush where Susan was hiding.
Susan became aware of the tense attitude of the men as they turned and looked in her direction. Her blood froze as she realized that they were looking at her and for a moment she forgot that the undergrowth was too thick for them to see her.
She saw them speak together and again they looked in her direction. At that moment, Tom came back carrying a pickaxe and a spade. They turned on him and after a moment’s talk, he and Gilroy picked up Joe between them and moved away behind the woodshed. Rollo and the man in the black shirt conferred together, staring all the time at where Susan crouched and then very slowly they began walking towards her.
For a moment, she remained petrified with terror and then realizing that if they caught her she would never escape, she sprang to her feet and ran madly into the wood.
A shout spurred her on. She could hear someone running after her and the crashing of the undergrowth is a heavy body hurtled forward. She guessed it was Rollo and she did not really worry about him. It was the man in the black shirt who terrified her. He was quick, lean and strong. He would glide soundlessly through the undergrowth and would try to cut her off.
She had no idea where she was running to. As she plunged deeper into the wood, it became darker, but her terror was so great that she kept on, tearing her coat and the brambles and feeling the branches of the trees slashing across her face.
As soon as Susan began to run, Butch sprang forward. So the nigger was right. Whoever it was must not get away. A feeling of exhilaration filled Butch as he swung forward into the wood. This time he would use his hands. Already he felt the urge to get his hands on a throat and to squeeze and keep squeezing.
Rollo was blundering along in the rear making a row like a herd of elephants. The noise he made prevented Butch from picking the right direction and he shouted to Rollo to stand still. Rollo was glad to. The first rush forward had completely winded him and he came to a gasping halt, feeling dazed, breathless and a little faint.
Butch stood listening. To the right he could hear Susan blundering through the undergrowth. Drawing in a deep breath, he began to run forward, moving to the left, moving very fast and silently, preparing to come in in a sweeping circle when he thought he had gone far enough.
Whoever it was running ahead also moved quickly. This irritated Butch and he put on a spurt. Moving at that rate he was unable to keep silent and Susan heard him, alarmingly near. She knew who it was and she wanted to scream for help, but she knew that was the worst thing she could do.