Maurice Procter - Two men in twenty

No goods train came. He came to the end of the enclosing walls before any train passed. Gradually the ground fell away, and he was on an embankment. He did not like this exposed line of flight, and furthermore there was a train approaching at speed. It would have a Diesel engine probably, and the driver would have a clear view of the line. If he saw a man on the line he might mention it to somebody. Cain descended from the embankment and climbed a four-foot wall with a six-foot drop into a road which curved away into the distance, with the embankment on one side and then street after street of small houses on the other. Something about the appearance of these houses told him that he was not in Churlham.

But he had not made a serious mistake, he had merely underestimated the distance he had travelled. Churlham was away over to the right, and the arc of that Diesel train's approach had indicated that the line curved away to the right. If this road followed the embankment for any distance it would take him somewhere near to his destination.

But the road was bleak, and it was bare, and though the street lights were poor and far apart they were too close together for Cain. Also, it was deserted, and his isolation made him feel prominent. He had noticed that behind the wall of the embankment there were advertisement hoardings at intervals, each one facing the end of a street. He found a place where he could climb the wall. On the other side there was a path of sorts, probably made by children. He walked along steadily, upright when he was behind a hoarding, stooping when he had to keep below the level of the wall.

Luck was still with him. If he had followed the railway far enough, he would have walked into the view of the policeman who was watching from the brick hut on the embankment. But he did not even consider going to Naylor Street: it was much too dangerous. And before he came near to the brick hut he left the railway altogether and went in search of the plasterer's yard where he had left his car. He did not have the key of the gate in his pocket, but he had the key of the car. He could climb over the wall and sit all night in the car. In the morning when the plasterer came he could get down out of sight. When the gate was open and the plasterer's back was turned he could simply drive out of the gate and away. It was his own car, and the police did not know a single thing about it. Nobody knew. In the morning about eight o'clock it would not be too difficult to drive right away from Granchester.

* * * * *

At 22 Naylor Street Bill Coggan reflected that he had enjoyed the caresses of too many prostitutes. This young sister-in-law of Cain reminded him of a pro. He could not tell whether she thought he was the world's greatest lover, or whether she was just kidding him. She seemed to be insatiable; shamelessly so; but that also could have been part of her act.

Finally he sat up on the bed. He looked at his watch. Time was getting on, but there would still be a night train to London. 'We've got to go, kid,' he said. 'At least, I'm going.'

That made her abandon any idea of detaining him longer. She put a hand on his thigh. 'You said you'd take me.'

'All right. Put a few things into just one small case. I've got to go next door, as I told you. Get a hat and a coat and look respectable. Now be quick. I expect you to be ready when I come back for you.'

He dressed quickly, but she matched him for speed. She was getting out a week-end case when he left her. He slipped downstairs and got the key of 20. He departed from 22 without locking the door. In the other house he found his money. He put on his hat, packed the smaller of his two cases by simply closing the lid on the garments and accessories which were in it, and slipped into his raincoat.

'Now away, boy, away,' he said under his breath. Was he taking that little cow with him? Like hell he was! She could wait there till she had twins for all he cared.

* * * * *

The observers who had been withdrawn from around 20 and 22 Naylor Street by Superintendent Clay had assembled in the room above Otto Neubaur's shop. There, they had sat on the floor smoking and awaiting orders. The orders came soon after the door of 22 had been seen to open, and in the light from the doorway a man had been seen to enter.

'Take up your positions again,' they were told. 'At the first move, or the first opportunity, get in and make your arrests. Then wait inside for the others to come. Search warrants are on the way.'

The men stole back to their posts. In due time a man was seen to emerge from 22. But before he could be approached he had entered 20 and closed the door. The sergeant in charge of the observers was cautious. The backs of both houses were well covered, by four men. At the front he had three men with him. He took up his position with his back to the wall outside the door of 20, with a man on the other side of the doorway, and he stationed his other two men similarly at 22.

They did not have long to wait. The door of 20 opened, and a man stepped out. He was seized by two men at once, and immediately handcuffed. 'Nip in there and see if he was alone,' the sergeant said to his man.

The plainclothesman obeyed. No. 20, with nothing but four beds and a few pieces of luggage, was the easiest of houses to search. In not much more than a minute he was back. 'Nobody in there,' he reported. 'Nothing at all, hardly.'

'Right. Wait inside with the light out. I'll send you a mate.'

The sergeant took Coggan to 22. 'All right,' he said in a low voice. 'Get them to open the door.'

'It isn't locked,' said Coggan, appalled, hardly knowing what he was saying.

The sergeant opened the door and entered. Coggan was pushed in behind him, ahead of the other two. Flo was sitting on the edge of a chair, with her case on the floor beside her. She had just lit a cigarette. She stared, speechless, at Coggan in handcuffs.

When she found her voice she spat: 'You bloody fool! You led 'em here.'

* * * * *

Left alone in Haddon and Walker's, with a policeman watching the front, Ned France went to the back door. He assumed, from the two men he had seen, that all the detectives loose in the vicinity would also be running in the direction which Cain's lorry had taken. So, if he went in the opposite direction, into the streets from which the men had come, he had a good chance of escaping interrogation until he came to a road block, if there were any road blocks. At least, he reasoned, he had a small area in which he could move about until he had found a place to hide. He was determined to escape, and because of that he remained optimistic. At the same time he knew that he was in great danger.

His key-like picklock was still set to the wards of the lock on the back door. He opened the door and looked out. The back street was deserted. He slipped out, and he locked the door again so that it would not soon be obvious to the police that someone had emerged that way. He turned in the direction from which the running policemen had come. He moved along cautiously, stopping at every corner, waiting and watching for an appreciable time before he crossed a street. He was nervous.

The way was very open, and yet there were many doorways in which a man could stand and watch his approach.

But he covered ground, moving away from Haddon and Walker's. In a perilous journey of five or six hundred yards he did not see another person. He knew then that this whole factory area was cordoned. He would be challenged by the first policeman who saw him. He was indeed in danger.

His confidence ebbed further when he came to the end of a tall warehouse building and saw that he would have to cross a fairly wide, straight, deserted road. Nor could he cross directly. Facing him was the long frontage of a large modern factory which blocked the way for hundreds of yards to left and right. There was an enclosed space, with flower beds, which was somewhat longer than the factory frontage. This space was enclosed by a low wall surmounted by tall iron railings.