He didn’t like it.
He would probably be wise to get a message to the police before Brandt arrived, so that it wouldn’t look as if they had caught him and Brandt together with the boodle.
It would be two hours at least before Brandt could get here, even if he did what he was told; but anyone who wanted the contents of that safe as badly as Tex Brandt would almost certainly take a chance in coming.
There was more than the Brandt angle, though: there was the ‘rival’ apparently working through Selby, and using Gillian and M.M.M. to help. Had Tex built up that rival and also his client ? Did it make sense that Tex should first employ and then murder Lodwin and Charlie Habden ?
And what of Gillian and M.M.M. ? They might be patient enough to wait until six o’clock for the promised interview from Old Smith, but no one would want to wait long for the sake of it.
“If I were in their shoes, what would I do?” asked Rollison of himself, as he washed with thick lather from the hot water, and then towelled vigorously. It was odd to feel the stubble on his cheeks, and to see the white bits of the towel sticking to it.
It was nearly twelve o’clock, and he could see the brightness of the sun at the sides of the windows. He looked out of each of the top floor windows, and saw no sign of anyone; the policeman had certainly been moved. He checked all the windows to make sure they were securely fastened, and also checked the doors.
He went upstairs to do the same thing, and looked in at Littleton, lying bound hand and foot on the narrow bed.
He stood over the man.
“Just refresh your memory,” he said, mildly. “Did Brandt threaten to kill anyone else?”
Littleton tried to meet his eyes, but couldn’t.
“You said you’d come clean, remember?” Rollison reminded him, in a harder voice. “But make it really clean. Who else was on his list ?”
In a hoarse voice, Littleton said: “The Selbys, if they wouldn’t play. He fixed the kidnapping of Alan Selby, they’re all ready to sell now—I fixed that myself. If I were you, I’d look after the Selbys before I did anything else.”
Rollison went to the apple storage room, opened the secret door, and crept inside. He switched on his torch, then closed the door behind him. He went along, crouching until he saw the haze of daylight, and stood beneath the opening, listening.
He heard the ordinary sounds of the wooded land; birds calling, small animals rustling, and also heard the drone of an aeroplane. He pushed the cover aside, very cautiously, and looked out. The police might have stationed a man inside this copse of trees, making it as dangerous a place as there could be.
He saw no-one.
He hoisted himself up and on to the ground, pushed back the camouflaged cover, looked round to make sure that he could find the spot again, and slashed a sapling which stood close to some brambles, not far from a fallen birch tree, victim of a storm. The sun was bright against the leaves above him, and he could get his direction from that. Still moving very cautiously, he went towards the cottage. Soon, he was close to the edge of the trees, and here was the moment of greatest danger.
He could see the cottage, the back garden, the smoke— and a man on the roof of the cottage, squatting by the chimney stack, with a pair of binoculars at his eyes. He was watching the farmhouse, and the last place he would look for marauders would be in the copse. But he might glance down. Rollison moved round a little, so that the chimney stack hid him from the watching policeman, and studied the nearby fields and hedges, wondering where other policemen were.
He saw none.
He was fifty yards from the cottage, but as he stepped out of the cover of the trees, he felt as if a thousand eyes were watching him. There was grass land right up to the edge of the drive, so he made no sound.
It was easier than he had realised to get to and from the cottage.
Should he go and see Gillian ?
The thought was hardly in his mind when he saw her coming this way.
21
THE COTTAGE AGAIN
The small kitchen of the cottage was spick-and-span. There was an appetising smell of stewing meat, and a large saucepan was on the big oil stove, steam rising from it, and a slight bubbling sound audible all the time.
M.M.M. was standing by the window and looking out, his whole attitude apparently one of utter dejection. Alan Selby was sitting on the arm of a chair, smoking, staring at M.M.M.’s back. Alan looked much more rested, as if he had slept well, and as if there was an easing of the load on his mind. Gillian thrust open the door which led from the foot of the stairs, and entered the big room.
She stopped.
“Monty, it’s no use standing there and moping,” she said with asperity. “We’ve got to wait until six o’clock and pray that Old Smith will change his mind. Until then, there isn’t a thing we can do.”
M.M.M. looked at her morosely.
“I think it’s just a stall,” he growled. “He’ll never get out, and until he does there’s this danger hanging over us. Gillian, why don’t you do what I advised ? Sell to the first one who makes an offer, and let him deal with Old Smith. That way you’ll be out of danger, the danger’s only here because you own the damned house.”
Alan Selby stood up briskly.
“I think you’re wrong. I think the old idiot realises that he’s got to give way at last, but he won’t do it easily. When he’s agreed to go, I can finish this deal with the man Littleton.”
“You seem to think that because these swine make you promises, they’ll keep them,” M.M.M. said acidly. “Well, I don’t think anyone will keep promises. I think you’ve got to sell out—and I’ve told you I think you ought to sell to Old Smith.”
“You’re just being silly,” Gillian said. “Old Smith couldn’t find enough money to buy the cottage, never mind the farmhouse.”
“He could get a mortgage, you’d get your money, and then the swine want the farmhouse would be forced to deal with him,” said M.M.M. “It’s so obvious it sticks out a mile. You ought to go over again and ask him if he will buy it from you. And he may not be so near the poorhouse as you think, some of these old peasant types have been putting money away for most of their lives. The least you can do is try it. If he owns the place, then Littleton and Brandt will have to deal with him, and you two will be in the clear.”
“If we can get Smith out, and sell ourselves, we’ll get a much better price,” said Alan, still quite briskly. “I think we ought to hold out for as long as we can. Now I’ve had a chance to look at the whole situation clearly, I’m sure that’s the right thing to do. The police will make sure that we don’t run into any more danger. I didn’t realise that until I had a talk with the policeman Grice. I wish to heaven I’d talked to the police before, instead of being so scared.”
“You didn’t tell the police because they threatened me,” said Gillian quietly. “It’s no use blaming yourself, Alan. And I’m sure Alan’s right, Monty. We’ve been through a great deal, and it seems absurd to lose a small fortune because we can’t hold out for another few hours.”
“Gillian,” M.M.M. said in a strangled voice, “I’m asking you for the last time to go and see Smith and offer to sell him the house, as you’ve positively got to get rid of it. That way, he’ll be in trouble, and you won’t. Before you say no again, remember that we’ve been lucky so far—but two people have been killed. Or had you forgotten that? There have been two murders, and there might easily be more. It’s red-hot. And you may not believe it, but I don’t want you to die. In case you’ve forgotten another thing, I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time. I know you’ve never cared a hoot for me. After I lost my leg you softened a bit, and felt almost sorry enough for me to marry me, but thank God I didn’t let myself take advantage of that. Now, I’m telling you that I’m as desperately in love with you as ever—and I don’t want you to run another risk. Go and see Smith. Offer to sell him the house. There’s no other safe thing to do.”