As he let his imagination race over the possibilities of her present situation, he groaned. He had just got to get free himself and find her somehow.
Retracing his steps to the gate, which was some twelve feet wide, made of steel bars and hinged on two great posts, he peered through it. The sentry remained as though dumb and ignored his questions but, after a little, Derek managed to attract the attention of a Sergeant-Major and, beckoning him over, offered him a cigarette. The Sergeant-Major took it through the bars of the gate with a polite 'Thanks, old chap.'
'What chance is there of getting out of this place?' Derek asked.
'Not an earthly, until you've been before the Court in the morning,' the man replied, with a friendly grin.
Derek then told his story of Roy's murder and how Lavina had been dragged off by the police.
The Sergeant-Major was sympathetic, but unhelpful. 'Hard luck, that,' he nodded, 'but I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about it.'
After a little hesitation Derek produced his note case. It had about £50 in it and, opening it up so as to make certain that the Sergeant-Major could see its contents, he said:
'I'm not trying to bribe you but I'll make it very well worth your while if you can help me. The girl I was with must be in a shocking state and I've absolutely got to get to her somehow.'
'It's no good, sir,' the Sergeant-Major shook his head. 'I'd help you gladly if I could, but I can't. The sentries on the gate have their orders and no one's to be let out unless an officer signs a written form releasing them.'
'Couldn't you talk to one of the officers for me, then?' urged Derek.
'Yes, I might do that, though I doubt if it will do much good. They're a pretty decent lot in the ordinary way but just now being so overworked makes 'em a bit abrupt and disinclined for conversation. Still, when the Lieutenant does his rounds I'll wait my chance and have a word with him.'
'Thanks—thanks most awfully,' Derek muttered. 'Look, take this on account and drink my health with it tomorrow.' He thrust a couple of pounds into the Sergeant-Major's hand.
'Very good of you, I'm sure.' The notes disappeared into the Sergeant-Major's pocket. 'I can't promise anything, though, and the Lieutenant won't be round for another three-quarters of an hour or so. If I have any luck with him, where'll I find you?'
'I'll be about here. My name's Derek Burroughs. If you give a shout, I'll hear you.'
'Right-o, sir.' The Sergeant-Major gave a perfunctory salute and moved away into darkness.
As Derek turned, he bumped into a tall, thin, bony man who had been standing with a group of others just behind him. The tall man muttered an apology and went on talking to his cronies, a rough-looking lot in caps and scarves who looked as
though they had been rounded up from some public-house.
For a few moments Derek stood still, then he began to walk up and down making a detour here and there to avoid little groups or some of the drunks, who were now huddled, snoring, on the grass; yet he hardly noticed them, his brain was so occupied with the thought of Lavina.
Where had they taken her? To Holloway? No, that would be full to overflowing. Much more probably it would be to some municipal building converted into a temporary prison or a barbed-wire cage for women in some other part, of the Park. Anyhow, wherever she was, she must be in a most desperate state. Derek knew her well enough to realise that the toughness she sometimes displayed was not even skin-deep; it was only a sham armour of silver paper by which she deceived people so that she could force her will upon them. Underneath, she was just a rather fragile, delicately-nurtured girl, with quick sympathies and a special horror of any form of uncleanness.
As he thought of her, cooped up somewhere with a lot of prostitutes, drunks and the riff-raff of the streets, he seethed with rage at his inability to help her. The fact that she was at least indirectly responsible for Roy's death would certainly have driven her half out of her senses with distress and remorse. All his old love for her had surged up again during this long day they had spent together. As he had told her in the afternoon, now that she was married he had every intention of suppressing it and, at the time, he had felt himself quite strong enough to do so; yet now, as he paced up and down, he would have given anything in the world to be able to get to her, put his arms round her, and comfort her.
The three-quarters of an hour he had to wait seemed absolutely interminable and, although he kept the gate in sight, each time he turned about he walked a little farther away from it. He had just covered his maximum distance so far and was about to turn again when somebody tapped him on the shoulder.
Looking up, he recognised the tall man who had been near him when he was speaking to the Sergeant-Major.
'You're Derek Burroughs, ain't yer?' the tall man asked in a husky voice.
'Yes,' said Derek quickly.
'You was torkin' to the Sergeant-Major 'alf an hour ago, wasn't yer? Well, 'e's lookin' for yer.'
'Is he?' Derek started forward towards the gate but the man gripped him quickly by the arm.
'Not that way, mate. The Serg' says to me as 'ow I was to find you and, when I did, bring you to the far side of the camp where there ain't so many people 'angin' around. I think 'e's got some idea in 'is noddle for gettin' you out of this.'
'Thank God,' breathed Derek, and, without further hesitation, he began to stride beside the tall man towards the less crowded section of the encampment.
The barbed-wire cage enclosed an oblong space running north and south, several hundred yards in length. The gate was at the southern end and comparatively few of the prisoners had bothered to move far from it after being ordered inside.
As they advanced, the sleeping forms scattered over the grass grew fewer and by the time they had covered two hundred and fifty yards the last of the prisoners had been swallowed up in the darkness behind them.
Suddenly Derek felt a vague sense of apprehension. There was a rustling in the grass at his rear. Glancing swiftly over his shoulder he saw that three men were padding softly on his heels.
He had just time to avoid a blow that one of the men aimed at his head, by springing aside, and all three were upon him.
In an instant he saw the trap into which he had fallen. The tall man had overheard his conversation with the Sergeant and seen him produce his wallet with the wad of notes in it. His treacherous guide and the three evil-looking thugs who had suddenly appeared now formed a circle round him. He had been lured to a quiet part of the camp so that they could attack and rob him.
The odds were heavy, but in his day Derek had been a runner-up for the Public Schools boxing championship. He was still under thirty and a healthy outdoor life had kept him remarkably fit. But he did not mean to rely on that. Lavina's rescue from the purgatory she must be suffering now depended on his own escape. There were plenty of people within call.
He lashed out, giving one of the men a crack on the jaw that sent him reeling, and at the same moment opened his own mouth to shout for help. But at that very second the tall fellow struck him a savage blow on the head from behind. His shout was never uttered; instead, his back teeth clicked and his front teeth bit into the tip of his tongue, causing him almost to screech with pain. Instantly all four of his attackers flung themselves at him.
He was borne down, kneed a man in the stomach and, wriggling free, staggered to his feet again. With the strength of desperation he hit out right and left, the image of Lavina ever in his mind; and many of his punches got home, as he knew from his smarting knuckles.