Fallen Into the Pit

well out of the trapdoor and into the straw beside her, Dominic had her by the arm in a hard, sudden grip which made her stare at him in astonishment. Pussy saw the excitement, too, and glimpsed, but did not recognize, the desperation. She asked promptly: “What on earth’s the matter? What’s going on?”

“Listen! I’ve got to go, awfully quickly, so listen seriously, and don’t make any mistakes. There’s something you’ve got to do for me, do you understand? Got to! If you muff it, goodness knows what will happen.”

“I’m no more likely to muff things than you are,” she said, the hackles of her pride rising instantly. “Have I ever let you down? Have I?”

“No, you never have. You’ve always been fine. And listen, this is the most vital thing you ever did for me, and there’s nobody in it but just us two. So you can see how I’m trusting you.”

“Well, and you know you can. Is it something about the case, Dom? Have you found out something?”

“I don’t know—I think so, but I don’t know. It may turn out wrong, that’s what we have to test. I’m taking a chance on something, and you’ve got to work this end of it, and you’ve got to work it right, or I shall be in a spot. And not only me, because everything may come unstuck, and then we’ll be back where we started, or even worse off. So make absolutely sure for me, Pussy, please!”

“You don’t have to go on about it,” she said with spirit “Just tell me what I’ve got to do, I won’t make a mess of it.”

Bright and feverish, his eyes gleamed yellowly in the shadows, burning on her with a frightening light. His hand kept its slightly convulsive hold of her arm. She had never seen him like this before, not even when they found Helmut in the brook.

“You know where the top lane from the station comes up to the gate into the Harrow grounds? The one among the plantations? You’ve got to get hold of my father, tonight, and make him go there with you. Cooke or Weaver, too, if you can get them, but there must be my father, and some other witness, too. You’ve got to get them into hiding in the wood there, near the gate, where they can hear and follow if anyone comes along the path, and you must have them there before nine o’clock. That’s vital. I shall come along there just after nine. I want my father to hear and see everything that goes on, and keep pretty close to me. Is that quite clear?”

“Clear enough! But is that all? What happens then?”

“Nobody knows that yet, idiot!” Dominic’s nerves were a little ragged, and his manners frayed with them; but for once Pussy did not combat the issue. “That’s what we’ve got to find out. That’s what my father’s got to be absolutely sure to see. You’ve got to keep him quiet until something does happen, and you’ve absolutely got to keep him within earshot of us, or I’m wasting my time.”

“But how am I going to do it? What am I to say to him, to make him take me seriously? He may be busy. He may not listen to me.”

“Tell him I’m on to something important. Tell him I’m in a jam— I probably shall be by then,” said Dominic. “If he doesn’t believe I’ve got anything for him, maybe he’ll believe I’ve got myself into a mess, anyhow, trying. But it’s your job. I don’t care what you tell him, provided you get him there. Now I’ve got to go,” he said, wriggling through the straw with a dry rustling, “but Pussy, please, for Pete’s sake don’t let me down. I’m relying on you.” He slid his long legs through the trap, and his foot ground on the rungs of the ladder.

Pussy clawed at his sleeve. “No, wait, Dom! It’s something dangerous you’re doing—isn’t it?”

“I don’t know—I keep telling you, I just don’t know what will happen. It may be!”

“Why not tell him about it, instead of just dragging him about by guesswork in the dark? Wouldn’t it be better? Tell him, and let him help properly, instead of being blindfolded. Think how much better and safer it would be!”

“Oh, don’t be a fool!” said Dominic ill-temperedly. “If I told him, there wouldn’t be any experiment. He’d never let me try it. All I’d get would be a flea in my ear, and we’d be no farther forward. And this is something I’ve started already—if he made me give it up we’d be wasting everything we’ve done. That’s why I’ve got to go off tonight and give the thing a push without Dad knowing anything about it. And that’s why you’ve got to look after his end of it, after I’m gone. Do talk sense! This is something the police couldn’t do, it wouldn’t be right for them. But I can! And then they’ve got to help me finish it, because it’s the only way of getting me out of the mess.” He ended a little breathlessly, and the sick shining of his eyes scared her.

“But can’t you tell me? I could be more use if I knew what you were doing. If anything goes wrong, I shan’t know what to do, because I don’t know what you want. I shan’t even know, perhaps, if something does go wrong. And suppose your father wants you at home tonight? How can you make a good enough reason for not doing what he wants? It’s all so sloppy!” said Pussy helplessly. “A lot of dangling strings!”

“No, it isn’t. I’m going to gobble my tea and be out before my father comes home. I’m not staying to ask any questions, or to answer any. Before nine o’clock I’ve got things to do. And if I’m right,” he said, shivering a little in excitement, so that the ladder creaked as he stepped lower, “you’ll all know what to do. And if I’m wrong, it won’t matter, I’ll have made such a mess of everything, nothing can make it any worse.”

Watching him sink slowly through the floor, like a demon in a pantomime, resolutely drawing away from her and leaving her with all the weight of his project in her hands and none of the fun, she began to protest further, and then stopped, because there was nothing more to say. She would do as he asked, no matter how it enraged her to be treated in this fashion, because heaven knew what mess he would get himself into if she did not. And there would be time afterwards to take it out of him for hogging his secret.

“I can’t stay any longer,” he said, vanishing, “or I’d tell you everything, honestly. You’ll know by tonight. Don’t be late!”

“We’ll be there,” said Pussy, flatly and finally, and slithered after him down the ladder.

Dominic hurried home, by the same road which Charles Blunden’s funeral had taken that morning, on its way to the church. It had been a long funeral, the biggest Comerford had seen for years. The coffin had been hidden under the mass of the old man’s white and gold and purple flowers.

IX—Babes in the Wood