For two years after their marriage Bryce remained an apparently firm friend of Lucy and Reggie, even to the extent of becoming godfather to their son Robert. In fact, it was surprising how much interest Bryce took in the family and their habits. In his brusque, matter-of-fact way he managed to find out everything they were doing, and knew of their plans for the future. Not that Lucy or Reggie minded. Bryce seemed to have become part of the family and he never once stepped beyond the hounds of friendship.
And, in the two years, his own fortunes seemed to take a decided turn for the better. From somewhere unknown he accumulated a vast amount of money, most of which he seemed to spend on scientific materials. He threw out vague hints concerning a machine he was building — and that was all. Then, one evening in the late summer, nearly two-and-a-half years after Lucy and Reggie had married matters swept up to a sudden and most unexpected climax.
The first sign came in an urgent phone-call to Lucy as she sat at home waiting for Reggie to return from a business trip down south. Immediately she went to the instrument in the hall and picked it up.
“Hello? Mrs. Denby speaking.”
“This is Bryce, Lucy. I’m speaking from a call-box near Little Oldfield. In case you don’t know where it is it’s some two miles outside Penarton where Reggie went on business today.”
“Oh?” Lucy was clearly mystified. “But — but what—”
“I’m on my vacation at present,” Bryce hurried on. “You remember me telling you it was about due? I’m taking it in the form of a walking tour. This morning, as I was on the tramp down south, who should pass me in his car but Reggie! Naturally I got in with him and most of the day I’ve stayed beside him, except when he’s made his business calls. There’s been a nasty accident,” Bryce continued. “We ran into a telegraph pole through a fault in the car’s steering-column. Reggie’s pretty badly knocked about, though it’s nothing serious. He’s in the Little Oldfield Hospital down here. I sent for an ambulance and that’s where they took him. I thought you ought to know right away.”
“You’re sure he isn’t badly hurt?” Lucy asked, her voice revealing her deep anxiety.
“Convinced of it. Best thing you can do is come down and see him for yourself—”
“I could ring up the hospital and.…”
“That wouldn’t help you to speak to him, though, would it? Never mind ringing up: just get down to Little Oldfield as fast as you can. By that time I’ll have hired a car from the local garage with which to meet you. It won’t take you more than an hour to get here. You take a Penarton train — they’re pretty regular — with a connection for Little Oldfield. How’s that?”
“Yes. Yes, I’ll start off right away. And thanks so much for helping me, Bryce.”
“That’s all right. See you later.”
The line went dead. Lucy stood frowning, disturbed by the queer premonition that something was not ‘quite right’ somewhere. And yet— Finally she turned to the directory, found the number of the Little Oldfield Hospital, and rang them up. There was apparently no mistake. Reginald Denby had been admitted that afternoon, suffering from abrasions and severe shock and his condition was unchanged.
Lucy wasted no more time. She set off for the station, leaving her mother in charge of little Robert, and as the evening was beginning to lower into darkness she found herself alighting at Little Oldfield Station, which was like an oasis on the edge of nowhere.
Outside the station Bryce Fairfield’s tall, bony figure was visible, stalking around impatiently — then the moment the girl emerged from the station he came hurrying towards her, his lank hair disturbed by the restless wind.
“Good!” he exclaimed, putting a protective arm about her shoulders. “You made it in good time, Lucy. Won’t take me long to whisk you down to the hospital.”
“I hope he’s no worse.” Lucy found herself propelled towards an obviously borrowed car. “I rang up the hospital and they said there was no change.”
“He’ll be all right,” Bryce assured her, settling down at the steering wheel. “Nasty accident, but not serious. I wish to heaven it had happened nearer home and I could have had my own car at your disposal. This infernal thing came out of the Flood, I should think.”
Wheezing and protesting, it finally started up and Bryce drove it out of the station-approach onto a graveled road leading between dusty summer beeches. Lucy looked around her and frowned a little. The region seemed incredibly lonely and out of touch with the world.
“Terribly deserted spot, isn’t it?” she asked, hardly able to suppress a little shiver. “I just don’t know this part at all. Where exactly are we?”
“About fifteen miles from the south coast. We’re in a region of old copper mines apparently: you can see the hills that have been created in boring them. Beyond those lies Little Oldfield itself. Won’t take us long.”
Lucy became silent, again obsessed with that queer conviction that something was not ‘quite right’. Bryce’s expression certainly gave nothing away. His lean, saturnine face was without emotion as he drove the ancient car at its fastest, the summer wind setting the back hood flapping in dilapidated disorder in the rear.
It was not long before Bryce deserted the main road entirely and sent the car bumping and bounding along a rutted track, obviously long disused, leading between the somber hills of excavated earth from the mines.
“Bryce, are you sure you’re going the right way?” Lucy turned to him in wonder after a while. “There doesn’t seem to be anything ahead but these copper mines — or what’s left of them. If this is a short-cut.…”
“I know what I’m doing!” he snapped, and drove on.
Lucy gave him another look of surprise, deepening to a growing fear. Then suddenly he pulled up sharply and pointed to a notice board. “See that?” he demanded, and grinned harshly.
Lucy looked, but the board’s inscription did not make sense to her. It said:
FAIRFIELD COPPER PROJECT — KEEP OUT
Then, through her confusion, a light dawned.
“Oh, you mean this land belongs to you?”
“All of it!”
“And that’s why you’re using it as a short cut? It could not have happened better. Maybe we can get to the hospital all the quicker.”
“We’re not going to the hospital, Lucy! Get out of the car!”
Lucy stared. Bryce repeated his command, with such fiendish determination that the girl did not dare hesitate any further. Bryce scrambled out after her and slammed the car door; then when he turned again Lucy noticed that he had an automatic in his hand.
“Just in case you get any funny ideas,” he explained. “Now start walking and do just as I tell you—”
“Bryce, for heaven’s sake! What’s come over you? What about Reggie—?”
“Be damned to Reggie! Carry on!”
Stumbling, terror-stricken, Lucy kept on going, satisfied now that her premonition of something peculiar had been justified. Not that it did her any good now: she was, she felt, at the mercy of a madman.
“Turn left!” Bryce commanded suddenly. She did so, finding herself following a hardly visible track, which led to the top of a mineshaft. Here a cage was standing as if in readiness. Was all this prepared then — she wondered? Evidently so, for she was roughly bundled into the cage and Bryce came and stood beside her. He had equipped the cage with some kind of electric device — not a difficult feat for a man of his scientific knowledge — the flick of a switch setting the mechanism in action and plunging the cage into the depths of the long, disused shaft.
By this time Lucy’s heart was pounding. Everywhere was pitch-darkness and she could hear the harsh, tense breathing of Bryce close beside her. His bony fingers gripped her arm so tightly she half cried out, then she was shoved forward brutally. The hand left her. There was a snap and light came up, filling a long tunnel with a dim glow. Along this Bryce forced her and at last into a well-lighted natural cavern.