Colin Forbes - The Savage Gorge

His face was now a mottled red, his eyes gleaming with delight. Paula was appalled.

She saw a green Bugatti driving slowly down the road towards Hobart House. Bullerton glared as the gleaming car parked behind Tweed's Audi.

'He's early, damn him.' Paula immediately recog nized the driver.

It was Archie MacBlade, the oil prospector whose picture had been in the newspaper. But a very differ ent MacBlade. He'd had his hair cut, his previously bushy moustache was neatly trimmed. He wore leather driving kit. He looked handsome and she was rather taken by him as he leapt up the steps. Bullerton had turned his back on him, was slowly stomping towards the house.

MacBlade was smiling as he approached Tweed and Paula, holding out his hand. Bullerton looked round, saw the gesture and shouted at the top of his voice.

'Don't start jabbering to them. They're only guests. Come in now! '

'I'm coming,' MacBlade called back. A pause. 'When I am ready.

'I am so pleased to meet you,' he went on, 'Mr Tweed and Miss Paula Grey. Such a distinguished couple, if I may say so.'

'You may say so,' Paula replied with a warm smile. 'And both of us appreciate your generous compliment.'

'In that case,' MacBlade suggested, 'may I invite you both to be my guests for dinner in the Silver Room one evening?'

'That would suit us perfectly. We look forward to enjoying the company of the most professional oil prospector in the world.'

'Once.' MacBlade smiled again. 'I am now retired.'

'Really?'

Paula thought she detected a note of scepticism in Tweed's tone. At that moment there was a frustrated roar from Bullerton, waiting by the door.

'Don't make the mistake of thinking he is drunk,' MacBlade warned just before he left them. 'His capacity for absorbing liquor is limitless. He is just play-acting…'

Paula pursed her lips as she watched MacBlade walk casually to the house.

'We have just seen the real Pit Bull,' she said grimly.

'I'd like to go for a walk on the moor,' Paula decided, 'to get that horror story Bullerton revelled in out of my mind. There are more steps at the end of the terrace.'

' I’ll come with you,' said Tweed. 'There's stony ground higher up. I'll get our motoring gloves out of the car. Then if we trip up we won't rip our hands…'

They walked a long way across recently trimmed grass, then the slope began. So did the rough ground, littered with stones of different colours. Paula, wearing her gloves, reached the edge of the moor first. Behind her, Tweed, who had a very sensitive nose for odours, pulled a face.

Paula eased her way along a narrow path between tall gorse bushes with blackened stems. There were few yellow blooms and even they were drooping. There was something unpleasant about the atmosphere.

'Not like the Yorkshire moors,' Tweed commented.

He used his gloved hand to grasp a handful of gorse, raised it to his nose. The gorse had a greasy feel. They pushed on through the winding path until they reached the top. Along a flat stretch ran a narrow-gauge railway.

'What's this?' Paula asked.

She had bent down to where the last gorse bushes enclosed the path on both sides. She hauled out a long thick steel rod with a wide flat steel top. Tweed peered over her shoulder.

'That,' he told her, 'is like the pillars they once used in coal mines to support the roofs in deep tunnels. And beyond that little railway there are deep runnels in the ground – as though made by heavy trucks.'

'That nauseous smell. What is it?' she wondered.

'Probably from an industrial plant beyond the ridge over there. Belching out pollution, which it shouldn't.'

'I don't like this place. It's creepy.'

Tweed didn't hear her. He was returning downhill along the path at an incredible rate. She followed slowly, watching her footing. Near the bottom of the path she noticed dead gorse piled up in a large heap. Bending down, she carefully removed the branches and foliage. Reaching the ground level she stared.

She had exposed the entrance to a large tunnel. It comprised a new steel pipe at least three feet in dia meter. Taking out a torch, she shone it into the tunnel, which gradually went lower and lower. The metal was perfectly clean.

She rearranged the concealing gorse over the entrance. As she stood up she noticed a large boulder near the end of the path. A marker?

Tweed was far below, heading for Hobart House. The moment she reached the grass her legs flew to catch him up. Out of breath, she arrived to find him standing at the Audi. She was on the verge of men tioning the tunnel when she saw his absorbed expression.

They were driving back up the curving road when she looked back to catch a glimpse of the beauty of the Georgian house. It had the outward appearance of a dream house.

'I sensed deceit and evil inside that house,' she mused.

'They do say that the family can be the bloodiest battlefield,' he replied as though his mind was on something else.

'I noticed that Sable decided not to come out onto the terrace. I suspect she sensed her father's change of mood.'

'Possibly. The strange thing is this case started out with the bestial murder of two women in London. Which is why we came up here. Now I wonder.'

'You wonder what?'

'I'm not being fanciful. You know that's not my style. Now I really do wonder.'

'Wonder what?' she persisted.

'We may by chance have walked in on something which is bigger, much bigger than I ever foresaw.'

They were driving slowly along the hedge-lined lane leading to the Village when Paula glanced at the slim leather executive case Tweed had taken into Hobart

House but had never opened.

'That wouldn't contain those photos Hector gave you – the pics of the two murdered women looking normal?' 'It does.' 'I'm surprised you didn't show them to Lord

Bullerton.'

'Not when Sable and Margot were about.' 'What did you think of Margot? Bit of a wild cat.' 'Sisters often dislike, even hate each other. I thought that Sable was being provocative, the way she fingered her diamond brooch when she came into the drawing room.'

'I rather liked Sable.'

'Maybe,' he replied, 'but you know your own gender.'

'I also thought it odd when Falkirk turned up. Looking for a job? Could it be his host covered him by giving that as a reason? I'm wondering who has hired Falkirk.'

'A number of candidates. Lord Duller ton. Chief Inspector Reedbeck or Archie MacBlade, to name just some prospects… Look in front. I don't believe it.'

A battered grey Fiat had shot out from a gap in the hedge in front of them. Harry Butler, at the wheel, waved to them as he drove at their pace into the Village High Street, turning right towards Gunners Gorge.

'Now where has Harry been the past few hours?' Paula mused.

'I expect he'll tell us.' They had entered Gunners Gorge and Harry drove under the arch leading to the car park of the Nag's Head. 'He may have information from London…'

Parked in one corner was a new Maserati. Harry pointed to it as they stood next to their vehicles.

'That means Lance Mandeville is floating around somewhere – Bullerton's twenty-year-old athletic son. Polite, I gather he is popular in town. I've got something for you, Tweed. It came by courier. I persuaded him to give it to me by showing him my identity folder.'

Tweed broke the seal on the envelope Harry handed him. A brief note from Howard, then a large document on hand-made paper. He scanned it quickly, then passed it to Paula.

'Professor Saafeld's preliminary autopsy report. Now we know how those two women were slaugh tered.'

'Do we?' Paula asked after reading the document Tweed had handed to her. 'Chloroform?'

'Saafeld found traces of it in the nostrils and mouth of the woman murdered in the house next to Lisa Clancy's – but none on the other woman, who was murdered in the house round the corner. The killer had reconnoitred the area earlier. He'd seen the second victim took a lot of time making that lock on her door work. He attacks the other one first by pres sing a pad soaked with chloroform over her nose and mouth. He then cuts her throat, ruins her face. Darting round the corner, he finds his second target trying to get her key to work, comes up behind her, swiftly hauls back her long hair, uses his knife.'