at the beginning of the war. I know where she hid it. I’m sure it’s still
there. I’ve got to eat, and if I go there I don’t have to go out at all until
you call for me.”
“You sure the food’s still there?”
“I think so. At least, I can go and see.”
I didn’t much like the idea, but agreed the food question was
difficult.
“But how will you get in?”
“My key fits her lock. It fits Ju’s as well. They have all more or less
the same locks on all the flat doors.”
“Well, al right,” I said. “But you’ll have to be damned careful.”
I suddenly realized that if Cole’s key opened Madge’s door, then
he might have killed her; might have wiped out the name, Jacobi, that
had been written in the dust. I filed that piece of information away for
future reference.
“I’ll be careful,” she said.
“Okay, then that’s settled. When I’ve fixed things, I’ll come for you
in a car. Be ready any night to move quick.”
She came to me, put her hands on my shoulders. Terror still
lurked at the back of her eyes, but she was quieter, had a grip on her
nerves.
“I can’t thank you enough, Steve,” she said. “Maybe I have been a
fool since last we met, but I’m not bad — not really bad, and I never
forgot you.”
I patted her shoulder, turned away.
“We’re both now in a hel of a mess,” I said soberly. “If we aren’t
smart, and if we play our cards badly, we’re going to be in a real tough
spot. Make no mistake about it. I wouldn’t do this for anyone but you,
Netta.”
She slipped her hand into mine. “I know, and I shouldn’t let you
do it, Steve,” she said. “I lost my head just now, but I’ve got over that
now. If you want to back out, I shan’t blame you, and I’ll manage
somehow. All my life I’ve had to manage. I can still go on fighting
alone.”
“Forget it,” I said shortly. “We’re in this together. But there’s one
thing that bothers me . . .”
She looked searchingly at me. “What, Steve?”
“Peter French. If we quit, he’s going to get away with it.”
She gripped my ann. “Then let him get away with it. We can’t do
anything to him without getting ourselves in a mess. Don’t start
anything like that, Steve. It’ll only come back to us.”
I nodded. “I guess you’re right, only I hate to think a rat like
French . . .”
Her grip on my arm tightened, her eyes opened wide. “Listen,”
she whispered.
“What is . . . ?” I began, but her hand flew to my mouth.
“Someone’s in the flat,” she breathed. “Listen!”
That gave me a hell of a jar. I froze, looked towards the door.
She was right. Very faintly from downstairs I heard footsteps.
With my heart leaping like a salmon caught on a line, I stepped to
the electric light switch, snapped out the light.
“Wait here,” I whispered. “Don’t make a sound. Watch your
opportunity. Get out if you can, but don’t leave that bag here. Do you
think you can carry it?”
I could feel her body trembling against mine.
“I’ll try,” she said. “Oh, God! I’m scared. Who is it, do you think?”
“I’m going to find out,” I whispered back. “But don’t wait for me.”
I crept over to the back window, looked down on a sloping roof,
into a yard.
“That’s your way out,” I said, my lips close to her ear. “Give me a
couple of minutes, then get on to the roof, slide down, and into the
yard. Go to Madge’s place. I’ll get in touch with you in a day or so.”
Her fingers touched my hand.
“Darling Steve,” she said.
“Bolt the door after me, kid,” I returned, pressed her hand,
peered into the passage. I listened, heard nothing, stepped from the
room, shut the door.
I heard Netta slide the bolt. I crossed the passage, entered the
sitting-room, groped my way across to the lamp. I found it after a
moment’s fumbling, removed the bulb, put it carefully on the floor. I
remembered finger-prints, took out my handkerchief, picked up the
bulb, wiped it, laid it down again.
I moved back to the door, stood listening, sweat on my face, my
heart pounding.
For some seconds I heard nothing, then a faint creak came to my
straining ears, followed by another creak. Someone was coming up
the stairs.
I stood against the wall on the far side of the door, waited. I heard
a door handle turn and knew the intruder had reached the top of the
stairs, was trying Netta’s door. I hoped she had the nerve not to
scream. I felt like screaming myself.
More silence. You could cut the stillness in the flat with a knife.
Then suddenly I felt rather than saw the door behind which I was
standing, opening. My mouth went dry, the hair on the back of my
neck moved. Inch by inch the door opened, then stopped. I saw a
white shape, a hand, groping down the wall for the electric light
switch, find it.
The click the switch made as it was snapped down was like a pistol
shot in the silent room. The room stayed dark, and I thanked my stars
I had thought of removing the bulb. I flexed my muscles, clenched my
fists, waited.
There was a long pause, the door didn’t open farther; there was
no sound except my own thumping heart. I waited, my nerves
stretched, my breathing controlled. To my straining ears came a new
sound; someone breathing. I wondered if whoever it was could hear
my breathing, and if that was what made him hesitate.
The door began to open again. I crouched against the wall, ready
to spring.
A dark shadow appeared around the door: the head and
shoulders of a man. I could just make out his blurred outline against
the blind. I knew I was invisible in the darkness, waited to see what
he’d do.
He peered around the room, took another step forward. Then I
heard a new sound, a sharp creak from Netta’s window, as she
pushed it up.
Instantly the man whipped around, dashed across the passage,
tried Netta’s door again.
“I hear you,” he shouted. “Open up! Come on! Open up.”
It was Corridan!
For a moment I was in such a panic I couldn’t move. Then I heard
Corridan throw his weight against Netta’s door, heard the door groan.
I didn’t dare hesitate a moment longer. I kicked over a chair which fell
against a small table. The racket the two things made as they went
over sounded to me like a mine going up.
I heard a startled exclamation from Corridan. A moment later he
entered the sitting-room. I saw him grope in his hip pocket, and I
crept towards him, crouching, prayed he wouldn’t hear me.
A second after the bright beam from an electric torch he had
taken from his pocket fell on Littlejohns.
I heard Corridan catch his breath. In that hard light Littlejohns was
enough to shake the toughest nerve. For a moment Corridan seemed
paralysed with surprise and shock. In that moment, I jumped him.
We went down together like a couple of buffalo, smashed the
small table to matchwood. I slammed my fist in his face, caught the
torch from his hand, flung it with all my strength at the wall. It went