Джорджетт Хейер - Footsteps in the Dark

Michael turned to her with the special smile he seemed to keep for her. "Nowhere," he said.

She laughed. "What a snub! But do tell me what's out of the question?"

It was Peter who answered. "Margaret, it has occurred to me, and to Chas as well, that us not being in that cell to-night may ruin Draycott's plans. He won't say so, but…'

"You're exaggerating," Michael said. "And in any case what you suggest can't be considered for a moment."

"Inspector Tomlinson doesn't agree with you. He thinks it can." Peter looked down at his sister. "What we've been thinking is this, Margaret: if Wilkes and those others happened to go down to-night before the Monk and found us gone, they'd give the alarm. If the Monk goes first, which is even more likely, Draycott will have to close in on him, and let the rest of the crowd go hang. Do you see?"

Margaret looked from him to Michael. "I hadn't thought of that. You think we ought to go back?"

"No, I don't," Michael said.

"I leave it to you, Sis," Peter told her. "I know it won't be nice for you, but do you think you could screw up your courage enough to do it?"

She seemed to consider. "Could you get hold of an automatic for me, Michael? I could hide it in my dress. If I had a gun I'd do it."

Peter nodded. "She's a pretty good shot, Draycott. You can trust her with a gun."

"I can't manage the double pull of a service revolver, or I'd borrow Charles'," Margaret said.

The inspector, who had come up, and had been listening, said: "If you'll consent to be shut up down there again, miss - and if you do I'd like to say that there's very few ladies who've got your pluck - you'll both be fitted with a couple of Colts. Not that I think you'll have any need to use them. All we want you to do is to sit in that cell, as if you'd been there all day, and keep there till Mr. Draycott gives the word for you to come out. We'll draw the bolts back as we come down the passage, but don't come out, either of you. There may be a bit of shooting, you see. While you're behind that stone wall you're safe enough, but we don't want you mixed up with the scuffle there's bound to be outside."

Margaret smiled at Michael, who was frowning. "At that rate I don't see that we shall be in any danger at all. It'll just be rather boring, having to wait. I'm game."

The inspector turned to Michael. "You're in charge, Draycott, I know, and it's for you to give the orders, but if you'll allow me to make the suggestion, the lady won't come to any harm, and it's taking a big chance if she stays up here."

"I know," Michael said. He hesitated. Then he laughed ruefully: "Oh, Margaret, you are a nuisance!"

"No, I'm not. Peter's quite capable of looking after me - and after all, the last thing the Monk would do would be to waste time in shooting us for no reason at all. Consider it settled. When ought we to go down again?"

"Good girl!" Peter said, and went off to tell Charles.

The inspector saw Michael take Margaret's hand, and opened his eyes very wide indeed. He murmured something about going to speak to the sergeant, and withdrew.

"Margaret - I can't tell you what I think of your pluck, and your sportsmanship," Michael said.

She blushed charmingly. "If you're going down there - do you think I wouldn't want to - to be there too?" she asked.

For a moment he looked at her; then, without quite knowing how she got there, she found herself in his arms.

There was a loud cough in the doorway. "Don't mind me," Charles said. "Of course if I were tactful I should silently away. But I want my lunch, and Celia won't start till you come."

Both scarlet in the face, they fell apart. "Oh oh is it ready?" Margaret asked. "We're just coming. And — er - Chas!"

"Yes?"

"We - Michael and I - we're going to be married."

"What a surprise!" Charles said. "I ought to have had warning of this." He grasped Michael's hand. "Congratulations! And do you mind coming in to lunch?"

Over lunch they discussed their plans, and it was decided that Peter and Margaret should descend into their prison again not later than eight o'clock, to be on the safe side. Michael, Tomlinson, Charles, and three of the Flying Squad from Norchester would take up their positions in the house. It would be Charles' duty, aided by the ubiquitous Flinders, to stand by the panel in the library, in case the Monk managed to reach it. Sergeant Matthews had already blocked up the entrance into Mrs. Bosanquet's room, since they were too short of men to spare a couple to stand guard there. The sergeant and one other man were to lie in wait in the chapel, concealed amongst the ruins, and when they saw the Monk go down through the tomb they were to signal with a torch to the house, where a man would be on the look-out from one of the upper windows. Their task was then to stand by the tomb, and hold the stone slab down in case the Monk doubled back to make an escape that way. There was no hiding place in the crypt, and Michael had judged that it would be safer not to attempt to post any men inside the secret entrance. At the Inn, Fripp was to keep a lookout, and as soon as he had seen Wilkes and the two other men descend into the cellars he was to signal from his window to the police lying in wait outside. One of them would speed off at once to the Priory on his motorbicycle to tell Michael that all was well; the other three would enter the Inn, arrest Spindle before he could give the alarm, and bottle up the second entrance.

"Do you still suspect anyone in particular?" Margaret asked Michael when he returned to the Priory shortly after six.

"I'm sure of it," he answered. "I found out one thing that settles it - or so I think."

"I do think you're a tantalising person!" complained Celia.

"I don't like him," Charles announced. "Don't marry him, Margaret. We can't have a policeman in the family. What about our wireless licence? He's bound to find out that it's expired."

They dined early, and as soon as the meal was over Margaret went up to change into the frock she had worn on the previous evening. With a praiseworthy attention to detail she made her hair look tousled, and wiped all the powder off her face. As Charles remarked, in a newly engaged girl this deed almost amounted to heroism.

At eight o'clock they opened the panel and went down those cold, damp stairs, Michael leading the way. It was nervous work, for the Monk might already have entered, unlikely though this was. However, Margaret felt the butt of the Colt she carried in the pocket of Peter's coat, which she had put on, and took heart. If there was going to be any shooting, she thought, someone would get a surprise.

They climbed through the moving stone, and made their way cautiously through the two vaults to the passage. The place was eerily silent, and it was evident that no one had yet come down into it. The light was still on in their cell, and they entered. Then Michael shut them in, and bolted the door, and returned to the library.

"Ugh!" said Margaret cheerfully. "Well, who says the age of adventure is dead? I hope we don't have to wait long."

"Careful!" Peter said. "The Monk moves pretty softly, and we don't want to be overheard. We'd better talk of something else."

This they did while the slow hours dragged past. In spite of the gun in her pocket the long wait began to get on Margaret's nerves, and by eleven o'clock she had no need to assume an expression of anxiety. Her eyes had begun to look a little strained, and she was very pale.

Then they heard that padding footstep, and Margaret instinctively grasped Peter's arm. It came nearer, and then stopped. The shutter slid back, and once more they saw the cowled face at the grille. For perhaps fifteen tense seconds the eyes they could see through the slits observed them. Then, just as Peter had thumbed down the safety catch of the pistol behind him, the shutter closed again, and the footsteps passed on.