Джорджетт Хейер: Footsteps in the Dark

He saw her eyes dancing, and smiled ruefully. "Yes, I know, but don't you see that when the Monk finds you're gone to-morrow night he'll know this place is discovered, and clear out. And the devil's in it that I don't know where his get-away is." He shrugged. "Well, I shall have to find it during the next twelve hours, that's all. The first thing to do is to get you out of here."

"By the way, where are we?" Peter asked.

"You're under the Priory."

"I thought as much! But did you get in by the panel in the library?"

"No, I never knew of that. I got in through the cellars of the Bell Inn. The passage leads right under your grounds. I suppose neither of you have the faintest idea how you came here, after the Monk caught you?" They shook their heads. "Then we shall just have to search till we find the way. I can take you back to the Bell easily enough, but it'll mean walking home from there, as I daren't get my car out of the garage for fear of rousing Wilkes or Spindle. And I should say you've had about enough for one night."

"No, we haven't, have we, Peter?" Margaret said. "I agree that we ought to find the way back to the library, but we're quite game to do what you want us to. You didn't come down here just to look for us, did you?"

"I didn't. I came to reconnoitre, and to find where the press is."

"Then before we try and find the way out let's get on with the reconnoitring," Margaret said briskly. "I don't Icel done-up at all now."

Michael looked at her uncertainly, but Peter clinched the matter. "I'm damned if I'll go meekly home at this stage!" he said. "I was right then? It is a printing press?"

"Yes, it's a press all right. I want to locate it first, and make sure how many ways there are of getting into it. I've found one, I think." He led the way out of the square cell, and they found themselves in a low, vaulted passage in which Peter could not stand fully upright.

Turning to the right Michael stopped in front of a stout door similar to the one they had come through, except that it boasted a lock. He tried it, but it did not open. "I think I'll go and get Jimmy Fripp," he said. "He's much cleverer at opening doors than I am, and we shall waste less time in the long run. You'd better come along too, just in case of accidents. Mind your heads." He went before them up the passage, his torch showing them the way. Once a rat stuttered off almost under their feet, but Margaret had gone through too much to be discomposed by a mere rodent.

As they proceeded down the passage the air became noticeably fresher, and the reason for this was soon made apparent, for they saw a square opening in the side of the passage. No light could be seen through it, but it was obviously a window. Peter stopped Michael to point to it. "Ventilation? But aren't we underground?"

"Yes, and that was one of my main difficulties - to find how this place, if it really did exist - was ventilated. Not very easy with all you suspicious people on the watch. Remember that night you saw me, Marg — Miss Fortescue?"

"Margaret will do," she said. "Yes. Were you looking for it then?"

"I was, but I didn't find it till later. Have you ever looked down the well in that bit of the garden that looks as though it were once a sort of pleasaunce?"

"The well? Oh, I know! No, I hate looking down wells. I don't think any of us found it for quite a long time, did we, Peter?"

"I don't think we did. But I'm afraid I never even thought about it."

"You might easily fail to see it unless you happened to stumble on it as I did," Michael said. "The weeds have grown up all round it, and it only sticks up a couple of feet out of the ground. That's it." He pointed to the opening. "Cut right down in the side of the well. Clever, isn't it? Come along; we'll get hold of Jimmy before we start talking."

"Fripp?" Peter said, following at his heels down the passage. "Do you know Charles and I once heard you holding a most suspicious conversation with that fellow?"

"Did you? Yes, it's his one fault, and I can't break him of it. He will talk where he can be overheard."

"Charles set an inquiry agent on to him. Look here, is he an ex-burglar or not?"

"Yes, he's an old lag," Michael answered. "He was my batman during the war, and I took a fancy to him, and kept him on as my servant when we were both demobilised. He's a useful sort of chap on a job like this. Pick any lock under the sun."

Margaret chuckled. "Aren't you afraid to leave anything about?"

"Not a bit. He's one of the very few who do really turn over new leaves. Sorry he upset you. How much did your inquiry agent get hold of?"

"Precious little. But if he's your servant how does he find the time to travel for Suck-All Cleaners?"

"He doesn't. That's a put-up job. The head of the firm is a pal of mine, and he employed Jimmy to oblige me. It's answered fairly well on the whole, though Marson - that's the head of Suck-All Cleaners - was very dubious. Said Jimmy wasn't the right type at all."

"I don't know about that," Peter said. "He very nearly sold a cleaner to my elder sister."

Michael looked over his shoulder, grinning. "I know. I don't think he'll ever forgive Malcolm. You know, I'm sorry to have to say so, but you people have been the most ungodly nuisances I ever came across. If you had let Jimmy alone in the house he'd probably have found that sliding panel."

"If it comes to that," Margaret retorted from the rear, "if only you'd told us who you were we shouldn't have got in your way."

"You don't know how much I wanted to. But I couldn't. I was acting in absolute secrecy. I didn't even know at first that you mightn't be mixed up in this. And you must see that for me to have told you all about myself would have been most dangerous. You might have talked, or let something slip out unwittingly." He paused, and signed to them to stand still. They saw that they had reached the end of the passage, and were confronted by a flight of worn stone steps. "Will you stay here?" Michael said. "And don't talk, because I'm going to open the trap." He went softly up the steps, and they waited in silence for him to reappear.

Presently they saw the torch-light approaching again; Michael came into view, and behind him was James Fripp. This individual greeted them with a headshake. "Well, this is a fine set-out, and no mistake," he remarked, with an entire disregard of the manners usually required of a gentleman's servant. "Some people don't seem able to keep out of trouble, and that's a fact."

"Shut up," said Michael. "Some people can't keep their mouths shut, and you're one of them. Do you know, Mr. Fortescue heard you talking once, and set an inquiry agent on to you?"

"That's a nice thing!" exclaimed Mr. Fripp indignantly. "Set one of them busies on to me? Why, I'm as innocent as a babe unborn! And if anyone told you different they're a liar. Most of the police are, barring Mr. Draycott, who ain't as bad as some," he added gloomily.

"Come and see if you can open a door without damaging the lock," Michael interrupted, and began to lead the way back.

Mr. Fripp said, with an air of unconvincing virtue: "I'll do what I can, just to oblige, but you needn't talk as though I was in the 'abit of picking locks, sir."

"Don't be an ass," Michael said. "Mr. and Miss Fortescue know all about you."

"No one don't know all about me," Mr. Fripp announced firmly. "There's always people ready to swear a man's life away, and I've come across more than most in my time. You didn't ought to pay attention to everything you 'ear, miss."

Margaret assured him that she never paid attention to malicious reports. Mr. Fripp said that it did her credit.

They walked on in single file until they reached the locked door. Peter judged the distance to be about a quarter of a mile, and realised that the passage must run straight beneath the Priory grounds to the Inn.