Patricia Wentworth - Ladies’ Bane

“What have you done with them?”

“What have I done with what?”

“As if you didn’t know!” Jacqueline’s voice was deadly.

“Perhaps if you were to tell me-”

“I tell you you know-you know-you know! Pages from that damned diary! You found them!”

“Yes, I found them.”

With the first shock over, thought had steadied. She must play for time. Jacqueline would not shoot her whilst there was something she wanted to find out. She went on in just her ordinary voice.

“How did you know that I had found them?”

Jacqueline’s voice dropped.

“Do you think I didn’t watch you? Every night when you went to bed-every morning when you got up. There’s a very good spy-hole in that room-you’d never notice it was there. They knew how to hide things in those days. And I saw you find the diary. I always knew it was somewhere in the room, but I never thought of there being a hiding-place in the bed. I saw your veil catch and the door fly open. And I couldn’t do anything about it-there wasn’t time. I had to take the long way round to Wraydon, and change into these things, and catch the fast train up. A bit of luck your getting into the slow one. That’s what you did, wasn’t it? But you wouldn’t have given me a second’s thought if you had seen me on the platform like this-now would you? I had it all planned before you found the diary. You had to go because of the money-for Geoffrey.” Her voice changed again. “Where are those papers?”

Something very heavy was passing along the road. There was so much noise that it was useless to speak until it had gone by. As the rumbling died away, Jacqueline laughed and nodded.

“That is when I shall shoot you, my dear Ione-when something like that is passing. And I shall go away and tell Mrs. Robinson how frightened I am about lifts-I walked down the stairs, and there was such a very odd-looking man coming up-I was quite glad when I got past him.”

Ione wasn’t sure-she couldn’t be sure-but she had an odd sense of not being alone any more. She couldn’t say that she had heard a sound from the hall-no one could have heard anything while that great lorry went by. But Jim could have opened the outer door on its safety catch and walked in. He could be standing behind her now in the little hall with no more than the slant of the door between them. It had been half open when she came into the flat, but she had begun to close it before she recognized Jacqueline Delauny. Nobody in the hall could now be seen from where Jacqueline stood.

Into these thoughts there thrust with harsh insistence,

“What have you done with those torn-out leaves?”

Ione allowed her voice to waver.

“Jacqueline, I really can’t go on standing with my hands above my head like this. If you want me to answer your questions you’ll just have to let me sit down.”

There was a small gimcrack chair with a brocade seat about a yard away on the left. Jacqueline considered it. Nothing within throwing distance. She nodded briefly.

“You can sit on that chair-until I’ve finished with you. Keep your hands in your lap, and don’t try anything on, or you’ll be dead before you know what is happening!”

It was a relief to sit down, and she was clear of the door. She didn’t quite know why, but that seemed important. If Jim was there in the hall… She began to wonder why she had thought that he might be there. If he was, then it could be very important indeed. They mustn’t be in the same line of fire. Yes, that was the thing that was eluding her. She must hold on to it. Jacqueline must not be able to hold them both up at once. If she showed any sign of firing at one, the other must be able to rush her. That was it-keep taut, be ready to spring and spoil the aim. And meanwhile time-time-time-

If she could be sure about Jim.

She wasn’t sure. When she had rung him up from the station there had been a kind of leaping gladness in his “Ione!” She had kept her own voice quiet.

“I’m in a call-box on my way to Louisa Blunt’s flat. She’s really gone at last, and I’ve got to measure things up. I suppose you couldn’t-”

“But of course I could! Just give me the address, and I’ll be right along!”

That was the way it had gone. And if “right along” meant what it sounded like, he could have been here by now. But was that the reason why she had thought there was someone in the hall? He could have been there. It mattered so much-but was he?-

It was no more than the faintest of faint hopes.

Out in the hall Jim Severn was standing within touching distance of the partly open sitting-room door. He had walked in whilst the heavy lorry was passing, checked at the sudden rush of noise, and as it died down, heard Jacqueline Delauny laugh and say, “That is when I shall shoot you, my dear Ione-when something like that is passing.” The words were quite incredible, but they froze him where he stood. He listened to Ione saying that she could not go on standing with her hands above her head. He listened to Jacqueline telling her that she might sit. As she moved to do so, he was aware that she was no longer in a direct line between him and Jacqueline. If he couldn’t think of anything better before another of those heavy lorries came by, he could try what a sudden rush would do. The chances were that Jacqueline would swing round, and that meant she would swing away from Ione.

She might not-she might fire first-the revolver might just go off-he might have to take that risk. An agony like cramp took hold upon his mind. He would have to take a chance, and the thing with which he would have to take that chance was Ione’s life.

In this moment, and once and for all, he knew just what it meant to him. He faced it as people do face unescapable danger, and with that the thing that was like cramp let go. He heard the women’s voices and what they said. He would be able to repeat what they said. But it did not take up all his mind. Thoughts and plans came and went there. He thought about standing at the front door and ringing the bell. But Jacqueline had gone too far. She had said what could never be taken back. There would be no way out for her except by shooting, and she would shoot Ione first. No, his original idea of a desperate rush was better than that. Better still, something that could be thrown.

He looked about him. An umbrella-stand-an oak chest-a thin salver of pseudo-oriental brass… With infinite caution he began to move in the direction of the bedroom.

Inside the sitting-room Ione sat with her hands in her lap and thought about time-how it galloped-how it lagged-

Jacqueline’s voice broke in.

“Where are those papers? Have you got them pushed down inside your things? Pull open your shirt and let me see!”

Ione undid the soft white bow at her neck and pulled the shirt away on either side. Even from across the room it was obvious that no pages from a schoolgirl’s exercise-book were concealed there.

Jacqueline spoke angrily.

“Then where are they?”

Ione was doing up her shirt, tying the bow again.

“They’re not here.”

“What have you done with them?”

“They are in a safe place. You won’t really expect me to tell you where, will you? But I can tell you what is in them if you like.”

Jacqueline stamped her foot.

“You read them?”

“Oh, yes.”

“In the taxi-in the train? There wasn’t time before you left the house! What did you do with them?”

Ione kept her voice level.

“Don’t you want to know what Margot said?”

The foot was stamped again.

“What did she say?”

“That you told her Geoffrey said she could have one of the old ropes from the potting-shed. I don’t wonder you were anxious to find those torn-out pages.”