Dennis Wheatley - Sixty Days to Live

With an effort Margery checked her sobbing, dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and, walking over to the mirror, pulled out her compact to make good the traces of tears left on her cheeks.

Sam was furious and he let himself go. 'You must be downright wicked to say such a thing to me on my wedding-day. Hemmingway's my best man and my best friend. I'd trust him anywhere with anything, and I'd trust Lavina to the limit, too. It's just your rotten, filthy imagination.'

She turned then, and faced him calmly. 'I'm sorry, Sam. Terribly sorry. I should never have said that but I did believe it at the time. It was something in their attitude to each other that I can't explain, and my wicked jealousy, I suppose. You see, Lavina's always had everything—everything I've ever wanted; even the rather second-rate boy-friends, whom she couldn't be bothered with but I would so gladly have had, all fell for her.'

Sam stared at her and realised for the first time that she was quite young, not more than twenty-six, and definitely good-looking. Not beautiful like Lavina, but very attractive in her own way; which must have made it all the harder for her that she had had to play the drudge's part while Lavina had all the fun.

Suddenly overwhelmed with a great wave of pity he put his arms round her and kissed her. 'You poor kid,' he said. 'I'm sure you didn't mean it. Let's never think of it again.'

Inside Information

The day after Sam and Lavina were married life at Stapleton Court resumed its uneventful routine. The big reception rooms were closed once more; the caterers had removed all traces of the wedding feast. Gervaise and his elder daughter, Margery, were once again in sole possession of the derelict Georgian mansion; unless one counted an entirely new and disturbing factor which had suddenly entered their quiet lives—the prisoner in the nursery.

After the departure of the wedding guests Gervaise had called in Derek Burroughs, told him of the events which had led up to the decision that Fink-Drummond must be kept a prisoner of the next few weeks and secured his assistance in putting the ex-Cabinet Minister to bed.

It was not until five o'clock the following afternoon that Fink-Drummond came out of his cataleptic state but as soon as he had recovered sufficiently to think and talk coherently he created a very pretty scene.

Gervaise had been sitting in the room reading a book while he waited for his prisoner to come round and he explained at once that, although he disliked Mr. Fink-Drummond very much indeed, he felt himself compelled, in the interests of national safety, to offer him his hospitality for some time to come. Neither arguments nor threats could induce him to take a refusal and he backed up his statement by producing an antiquated revolver that had seen service in the Boer War.

Fink-Drummond raged and stormed. He declared that all the forces of the law should be brought into operation the second he was free; that he would sue the lot of them for conspiracy and forcible detention and that they should see the inside of a prison.

Gervaise pointed out that, if the world came to an end on June 24th, none of them would have to bother themselves on that score. And, on the other hand, if it did not, Mr. Fink-Drummond might possibly be induced to reconsider his decision when he was restored to freedom as, whatever penalties the Law might award against those who had detained him, prosecution and the attendant publicity could only result in his being hounded out of the country.

This gave Fink-Drummond furiously to think and Gervaise left him still thinking; although he took care to shoot the two bolts which he had fixed on the outside of the door that morning, before going downstairs to drink a glass of old Madeira in his comfortable library.

The nursery suite consisted of day-nursery, night-nursery and bathroom. The windows of all three were barred and looked out upon the deserted stable-yard, which was well away from the tradesmen's entrance; so Gervaise was reasonably confident that his prisoner could not escape providing a watchful eye was kept upon him in case he started taking up the floorboards in order to break out through the ceiling below, or something of that kind.

There was, however, one possible danger. Fink-Drummond had to be fed and, although Gervaise intended to take every possible precaution when taking his food to him, in so long a period as six weeks the prisoner might well think of some subtle way in which to surprise, attack and overcome his gaoler. If that occurred since Margery was the only other person in the house, Fink-Drummond would have a free field for escape. In less than a couple of hours he would be back in London, beyond all possible hope of recapture, and free to develop his own schemes which might bring about untold misery and disaster.

Having considered this problem, Gervaise decided to call in Derek as a permanent Assistant Gaoler and, after dinner that evening, he strolled over to see his neighbour.

Derek was willing enough to co-operate but his farm and hothouses were his livelihood and at such a season it wouldhave caused him grievous loss to abandon them permanently. Had he been convinced that the end of the world was really approaching, he would have done so, but he did not believe in the predicted catastrophe for one moment.

However, he put forward a suggestion. Gervaise's nephew, Roy, was back in London doing nothing, and so hard-up that he could not do it with any enjoyment. Couldn't he be persuaded to come down to stay and help his uncle look after the prisoner?

Gervaise considered for a moment. 'That might serve us for a week or so, but by the end of that time I fear Roy would be so bored with the quiet life he would have to lead that he'd refuse to stick it any longer. Besides—I can be quite frank with you, Derek—although I don't suggest that he's a drunkard, Roy likes his liquor and from that point of view I'm afraid he's too expensive a guest for me to entertain for such a period.'

'I think we can get over that,' Derek smiled. 'As long as he's with you each time you take a meal up to Fink-Drummond that's all you really want him for.'

'True. The essential thing is that two people should be present whenever his door is unlocked.'

'Then for the rest of the time there's no reason why Roy shouldn't get out and about a bit. He's always liked the country. I'll lend him a horse to ride each morning and there's a golf club nearby at Dorking where 1 could make him a member. He can fish your lake and swim a bit if the weather's decent; so I don't think he'll be too bored.'

'How about the evenings, though?'

'Oh, I'll come over in the evenings to make up a four at Bridge, or take him down to the "George" where he can get a game of billiards. Roy's a lazy, shiftless devil, but he's a most amusing companion so I shouldn't mind looking after him. As for the drink question, I think we're old enough friends for you not to mind my sending you in a case or two of whisky to keep him going while he's in the house.'

'That's very good of you, Derek—very good of you indeed. I think I can manage the whisky, though, providing you're game to take him about so that he's not running me up a bill for a case of Scotch a week.'

'Right. Let's telephone him now, then, shall we?'

They got on to Oliver for Roy's address and managed to locate him at a small Bloomsbury hotel. It was impossible to explain over the telephone the real reason for his being required at Stapleton Court, but Roy's lack of funds brought him to the quick decision that a week or so in the country would be a welcome economy at the moment. With his usual optimism he was now considering Lavina's half-promise, that Sam might get him a job, as a certainty, so he had no intention whatever of looking for anything else in the meantime and had to hang out somehow until Sir Samuel and Lady Curry returned from their honeymoon. He therefore accepted his uncle's invitation at once and said that he would be down for lunch the following day.