It wouldn’t be long now. A distant clock chimed the quarter past midnight. He’d have to look slippy. Any moment now the police might be looking for him. He sent the cab whizzing up Fitzjohn’s Avenue, and in a few moments he was on the Heath.
A bright moon hung in the sky, lighting the trees and the scrub, throwing heavy black shadows. The place seemed completely deserted. He kept on until he saw a large clump of trees standing by the roadside, then he reached forward and cut the ignition. The engine died with a splutter and the cab coasted towards the trees, finally coming to a standstill in the deepest shadows. George sat for a moment, screwing up his nerve, then he climbed down stiffly onto the road.
The girl poked her head out of the window.
“Why are you stopping?” she asked. “Is there anything wrong?” She seemed quite calm and mildly interested.
George pulled his hat farther down over his eyes.
“Petrol,” he grunted. “I’m sorry, miss; I thought I’d filled up.”
“What a bore!” she exclaimed, opening the cab door. “Now, I suppose I’ll have to walk. Well, it’s not so far. What are you going to do?” George was startled that she should think of him. It was not what he expected from the upper classes.
“I’ll manage,” he said, his hand on the cold butt of the gun.
“If you like to walk along with me,” she said, “I’ll give you a tin of petrol. You’ve got miles to go hack.”
He wished feverishly that she hadn’t been like this. He wished she had flown into a temper and had upbraided him. It would have been so much easier. Now she was making him feel like a rat. His mind flew to Cora. He had to go through with it. He couldn’t return to the flat empty handed. He eyed the girl’s clothes furtively. They were expensive and well cut. He was sure they would fit Cora. He could imagine her face when she saw them: that thought decided him.
“Would you like to do that?” the girl was saying. She had opened her bag and was lighting a cigarette. “You can leave the cab…”
“Don’t be frightened,” George said, pulling the Luger from his hip pocket, and pointing it at her. “This is a—a hold-up.”
She stood staring at him, the match burning in her fingers. Her eyes went to the gun and then back at him. She flicked the match away.
“Oh,” she said, and stood very still.
George kept the muzzle of the gun pointing at her. He looked at her for signs of fear, a change of expression, any reaction which would give him courage to complete this beastly business. But her expression didn’t change. She seemed very calm, and she took the cigarette from her lips as if she were in a drawing-room full of her own kind.
“I’m not going to hurt you, if you do what you’re told,” George went on, making his voice gruff.
“Well, that’s a blessing,” she said quietly. “I most certainly don’t want to get hurt. What do you want?”
George gulped. This was going all wrong. She ought to be frightened, she ought to be grovelling before the menacing threat of the gun.
“I want your clothes,” he said.
A look of complete astonishment crossed her face. “My clothes?” she repeated. “Oh, come. How can you have my clothes? I want them myself; and besides, what in the world would you do with them? You can have my money—not that I’ve got much—but I really can’t let you have my clothes. Do he reasonable.”
“I see,” George heard himself say feebly. He stood baffled. The calm tone of her voice, her obvious disregard for the Luger, the quiet reasoning of her argument, flummoxed him. She opened her bag and took out several pound notes. “That’s all I’ve got. Four Pounds. I Suppose I’ll have to give it to you, but it’ll make me beastly short. You’ve no idea how close Daddy is. He won’t give me a penny more than twenty pounds a month. That’s not much, is it?”
“Well, no,” George said, gaping at her. “I suppose it isn’t.”
“Of course it isn’t,” the girl went on, holding out the money, “but I suppose you want it more than I do, otherwise you wouldn’t be taking such a risk. I do think you’re being awfully silly, you know. You could get six months’ hard for this.”
This was quite fantastic, George thought. I must control this situation. But he made no move to take the money. The girl was so reasonable, so unafraid. He wondered wildly what Frank Kelly would have done in such a situation. He would probably have shot the girl, but George couldn’t do that. Besides, he admired her. She’d got more guts than he had. He had the gun, but he was flustered, near panic, while she was cool and at ease.
“Look here,” he said desperately. “I’m sorry about this, but I’ve got to have your clothes. I don’t want to hurt you, but if you don’t give them to me, I’ll have to…”
She looked at him intently. “You’re not a sex maniac, or something, are you?” she asked, then, before he could say anything, she answered her own question. “No, I’m sure you’re not. Would you like to tell me why you want my clothes so badly. It sounds interesting.”
George stared at her helplessly.
“Do tell me,” she went on. “Let’s sit down.” She went over and sat on the running-board of the car. “I might be able to help you. Don’t look so worried. I’m not going to run away.”
Slowly, bemused, George lowered the gun. It was going all wrong. He knew now that he would never be able to attack this girl, he knew that he was not going to get her clothes, and the reaction of the excitement and strain made him feel giddy. He came over and sat limply down by her side.
“You’ve never done this kind of thing before, have you?” the girl went on. “Not that you’re had at it. You fooled me completely, but I think you’re a hit too kind really to make a success of it, aren’t you?”
George nodded miserably. “I suppose so,” he said. “No, I’ve never done this kind of thing before. But I was desperate. I’d better drive you home now. I—I’m sorry if I frightened you.”
“Well, you did give me a hit of a turn,” the girl admitted, “but now you’re being nice, I don’t mind. But do tell me why you wanted my clothes. I can understand you wanting my money, but why my clothes?”
George hesitated. Then he blurted out, “They were for my girl,” he said. “She’s got nothing to wear…”
“Your girl?”
George nodded. “I promised her I’d get her anything she wanted, and she thought I was bluffing. She said I could get her a complete outfit. She wanted it tomorrow morning.”
“How romantic!” the girl exclaimed. “Why, if I asked Chunks to get me a complete outfit in the middle of the night, the poor lamb would commit suicide. He’d do anything for me. I think I must really try this one on him.”
George clenched his fists. She didn’t understand! And he was so hoping that she would.
She noticed the change of his expression. “I say, I am sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to be funny. I suppose you’re pretty badly in love?”
Instantly George warmed to her. “Yes,” he said. “Is she very lovely?”
George nodded. “She’s marvellous,” he said, looking across the limitless expanse of the Heath. “You see, she doesn’t think I’ve got any guts. She—she won’t have much to do with me. She deliberately laid this trap, knowing that I couldn’t do anything about it. That’s why I tried.” He drew in a deep breath. “I—I stole that taxi.”
“Are you quite sure she’s the right one for you?” the girl asked, looking at him curiously. “She doesn’t sound your type at all.”
“She isn’t really,” George admitted, “but sometimes one can’t help that. A girl like that gets in one’s blood and there’s not much one can do about it. I can’t, anyway.”
The girl thought about this for a moment, then she nodded. “Yes, I can understand that,” she said; “but you ought to be careful. A girl like that could get you into a lot of trouble.”