Реймонд Маршалл - The Paw in the Bottle

Still she could think of nothing to say.

‘Dawson was odd. Didn’t you think so?’ He paused for a moment to look at her, but almost immediately began again his soft pacing to-and-fro. ‘He seemed suspicious. Why does it matter how Blanche got into the flat? Why does he try to make a mystery of it?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘There’s no doubt Gleb shot her. I don’t understand what Dawson is trying to establish.’

‘He didn’t do it!’ Julie exclaimed, starting up. ‘I know he didn’t!’

Wesley turned quickly. Into his eyes came an alert watchfulness that Julie was too strung-up to notice.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Harry didn’t do it. I know he didn’t.’

‘Why are you so sure?’

‘Oh, I know he was bad, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone. He didn’t carry a gun. Mrs. French once asked him if he had a gun. He said he never carried one and never would. He was speaking the truth then, and he was speaking the truth to-night when he said he didn’t shoot her.’

‘Have you told the police this?’ There was the faintest tremor in Wesley’s voice.

‘Dawson doesn’t believe me. He said only Harry and I were in the flat. If he didn’t shoot her, then I must have.’

‘The fool!’ Wesley was suddenly angry. ‘He didn’t mean it?’

‘No, he was trying to frighten me. But he didn’t. I told him the front door was open—’

‘What! What do you mean?’

‘The front door was open. When Mrs. Wesley came in she forgot to close it.’

Wesley suddenly caught hold of Julie’s wrist, pulled her to him and stared at her fixedly. ‘What’s the door to do with it? What are you hinting at?’

There was something in the glittering eyes that chilled her.

‘Answer me!’

‘I only suggested someone in the passage could have shot her,’ Julie said, trying to free her wrist. ‘Please let go. You’re hurting me.’

He continued to stare at her for a long moment, then re-leased her and turned away.

‘I’m sorry. And what did Dawson say to that?’

‘He said something about the invisible man,’ Julie sat down. Her legs felt shaky. ‘He said the police were watching the passage and no one could have come up or down.’

‘The invisible man! Fancy Dawson saying that.’ There was a feverish look in Wesley’s eyes, but he was smiling, suddenly at ease. ‘And you meant to be helpful, Julie. But you do see no one could have shot her through the doorway? If the police were there — well, is it likely that anyone could have done that?’

‘No,’ she said, wondering at the change in him ‘I suppose not, but I’m sure Harry didn’t do it.’

‘I find your faith in Gleb a little touching. After all, he’s a thief. He had no mercy on you. You have no proof at all that he didn’t shoot Blanche. You don’t love him anymore, do you?’

‘No, I don’t love him, but that doesn’t make any difference. I just feel in my bones he didn’t do it.’

‘It isn’t a very convincing argument. I doubt if a jury would be impressed. Well, we’ll see.’

‘Will they hang him?’ Julie asked, wide-eyed.

‘I don’t know. It’s better not to think about it. They haven’t tried him yet.’ Wesley fumbled in his pocket for his cigarette-case, lit up, and again began to move about the room. ‘I don’t think I could stand a night here, could you, Julie?’

‘No.’

‘Shall we go to the new flat?’

She flinched from the idea of being with him, of beginning their association so soon after what had happened.

‘Could I go there alone?’ she said. ‘I... I’d rather be alone for a little while.’

‘That’s absurd.’ There was an edge to his voice. ‘Neither of us should he alone to-night. We must keep each other company. There’s nothing to worry about. I shall not bother you if that’s what you are thinking. But if you want the use of the flat, Julie, then you must share it with me. Perhaps you have changed your mind? I can’t say that I blame you if you have. Perhaps you don’t want a bank account or a mink coat or the flat? You have only to say so and you are free to do what you like. And by that I mean you can go from here and forget you ever met me.’

Julie stared at him, and her face hardened.

‘You seem to forget you’re giving me all this because you don’t want me to talk,’ she said sharply. ‘I’m going to do what I like. I don’t want you at the flat.’

Wesley smiled.

‘Things have changed now, Julie,’ he said gently. ‘It doesn’t matter if anyone knows I can see. I’m not going into explanations, but my pretended blindness was to do with Blanche. Now she is dead it doesn’t matter. Perhaps one of these days I’ll tell you about it, but not now. I shall continue to pretend I’m blind for a few more weeks, then I shall regain my sight, but it is not important. If you want to be difficult you can talk, but if you do, you won’t get anything further from me. If you behave yourself I will continue to give you money and let you keep the flat; but only if you behave yourself.’

Julie didn’t know if he were bluffing or not. She thought not, but she wasn’t sure, and this indecision infuriated her. She wasn’t going to give up the flat or her money. She would hold on to that on any terms.

‘All right,’ she said sullenly. ‘Then you’d better come, I suppose.’

‘Good.’ There was a new note in his voice. He looked brighter and less haggard. ‘Let’s get out of here. Let’s start a new life together. I’ll promise you a good time.’ He moved to the door. ‘I’ll put some things in a bag and I’ll join you in a moment or so. Don’t be long, will you?’

She finished her packing and when Wesley returned she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. He took her bag.

‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘I’ll get Gerridge to finish the packing to-morrow.’

They went down the passage together. Both of them flinched when they had to pass over the brown stain on the carpet. The lift was opposite the front door and Wesley crossed to it and pressed the automatic button.

Neither of them spoke until the lift came to rest and the doors swung open, then Wesley said: ‘It’ll be good to get away from the place. I’ve always hated it.’

As the lift began its descent Julie happened to glance down. In the corner of the lift was something that attracted her attention. Wesley saw it at the same instant. He made a quick dart forward, picked it up, and put it hurriedly into his pocket. But Julie had recognized it. It was the finger-stall she had put on his finger after he had cut himself on the night of their first meeting.

She was startled that he had concealed it so hurriedly, and saw an odd expression of acute tension on his face as if he were trying to control his feelings and only by the greatest effort had succeeded. She felt sure that behind the black-lensed glasses which he was now wearing his eyes were frightened.

At the time it seemed of no importance to her, just an odd, unexplained incident, but it made an impression on her mind and she was to remember it again later.

The West London Court was crowded when Harry Gleb made a five-minute appearance in the dock. Harry was stupefied when he saw the packed court. He had no idea that he was going to be the object of so many intent and curious eyes and he was badly shaken. After one horrified, shrinking glance, he kept his eyes fixed on the wall above the magistrate’s head.

A great change had come over Harry since the night of his arrest. The charge of murder against him had knocked all the bombast out of him. He looked older; there was a wild, horrified expression in his eyes, as if he believed he was experiencing a terrifying nightmare and was making desperate efforts to wake up. His face was grey and lined and haggard. His mouth twitched and his hands trembled. If Julie could have seen him she would have been shocked. He was no longer the handsome, blustering swashbuckler she had known. He was a trapped, frightened animal with the smell of death in his nostrils.