parcel of notes. “Put your coat on,” he said. “Never mind anything else, we’ll bring them back here.
Yes, she thought, just get yourself and me into police hands, and I might even sit back and leave the rest to them, and to you.
“But we still have to avoid notice. The car…”
“It doesn’t matter now,” he said with decision. “If the police are on the look-out for me, so much the better, I’ll gladly pull in and hand over to them. The others won’t know details like our registration… or will they?” he wondered blankly, pulled up short at the thought of their complete isolation all day from the bulletins of the B.B.C. “Oh, lord, why doesn’t Reggie put a proper radio in here? They bring the transistor, of course, damn the thing! We haven’t a clue what they’ve been putting out all day, but I'll bet the gang have had a constant radio watch operating. You can pick up the police broadcasts, too, if you hunt round the wave bands. Many a time I’ve listened in to their two-way conversations about stolen cars. Ours is just the sort of item they’d be batting back and forth all day long.”
“Those people may not be all that efficient,” said Bunty scornfully, shrugging into her coat. She stooped to unplug the electric fire. “Don’t forget the main switch, you know where it is, I don’t. Look what a bad blunder they made, killing her…”
He said: “Yes…” in so low and bitter a voice that she was suddenly visited by a private revelation of the love he had felt for that wretched girl upstairs, and the hooks it still had in his deepest sensitivities.
“Here, you have this!” He thrust the parcel of money upon her. “I’d rather… You found it. And you wouldn’t believe,” he said, “what a bad moment it gives you to have several thousand pounds of someone else’s money in your hands, when you’re broke every month-end without fail.”
“It sticks to my fingers, too,” she said, shaken by the knowledge that she was uttering no more than the truth. “Poor Pippa! ” she added, and the connection was clear enough. “But we’re luckier. It’s better than fifteen thousand pounds to us, it’s evidence for you.”
The room looked as they had found it. When he threw the main switch there would be nothing but the tins and the broken china in the bin to show they had ever been here. Luke looked round him alertly, approved what he saw, and thrust the gun carefully into his right coat pocket, barrel foremost, a dormant devil. There remained, of course, out of sight but not out of mind, that pale blonde girl upstairs, impenetrably asleep in the pale blond room.
Outside the windows the world already looked dark; in reality it was no more than dusk. When they put out the lights within, the light without would revive and blossom almost into day.
Luke leaned into the broom cupboard, “Ready? I should get out to the front door, it’ll seem dark at first. I’ll bring a torch, there’s one they keep in the store here.”
She didn’t move. She knew the geography of this house now rather better than that of her own. And she was going nowhere without him. Her honour was involved. What you pick up of your own will you can’t in decency lay down. You must carry it as long as there’s need, until it can stand alone, and walk alone, and not be challenged by anyone.
The light went out, and the window bloomed gradually into greenish, bluish pallor, lambent and enchanted, casting a faint gleam upon shapes inside the room. She waited with the flat packet under her arm, clutched tightly against her heart; and in a moment light, assured steps brought him to her side. A hand felt delicately in the gloom after her free hand, and found and clasped it.
And in that moment they heard it, the engine of the car that was winding its way cautiously along the sunken lane towards the house. A slow, sly, casing note, moving in methodically and without haste by the only approach, sure of closing the box on whatever was within. They heard it stop, somewhere round the curve of the grassland, beyond the trees. They stretched taller in the brief silence, waiting for it to start up again; and faithfully it throbbed into life and came on, with the deliberation of fate itself. Nearer now, but still with swelling ground between. But for the twilight silence it might have passed for traffic somewhere on the road, innocent and absorbed, not touching them.
Bunty thought hopefully, the police coming back. And as though she had spoken aloud, he said in a whisper: “No!” And after a moment of listening with held breath: “Not the same car.”
He drew her out into the hall, and loosed her hand gently, and she heard him climbing the stairs in long, ranging, silent steps, three at a time. She groped her way after him, and found him in the large front bedroom, crouched at the window. Her eyes were already adjusting to the half-light, she could see clearly.
She saw the car creep very gently round the curve of the drive, shy in the shelter of the trees. She saw it halt to breathe, to observe the house in darkness, and then to accelerate and slide onward, reassured, into the gateway. Reassured? Or galvanised into more open action by fear that the place was indeed empty, that the birds were flown? It came on without concealment now, but quietly, hissed on to the edge of the gravel, rolled round before the door.
The doors of the car opened before it was still. Silently and purposefully two men slid out of it, one on either side, and then the motor cut out as suavely as a held sigh, and the driver slithered just as noiselessly from behind the wheel. Three figures, mute, shapeless and anonymous, deployed across the width of the gravel court, and looked up contemplatively under shading hat-brims at the blind frontage of the house. And two of the figures, quite suddenly and smoothly and naturally, as though these were the inevitable fruit you would expect to see ripening there, had guns in their hands.
Luke drew back from the window, caught Bunty in his arm, and swept her away through the doorway to the landing, closing the door of the bedroom silently behind them. Silence was everything now. Neither of them risked a word, even in a whisper. Thank God they’d switched off all lights before the car came within sight of the house. But they were both remembering what the police sergeant had said in the morning. He and his companion had seen a light in one of the windows here “from up the coast road a piece.” So might these men have seen one, a quarter of an hour ago. Bunty and Luke hadn’t thought to be cautious about showing lights. Mrs. Chartley had reported her presence to the police, so why disguise it? And now it was too late to worry. Simply get out of here by the only remaining way, and pray that the searchers were merely following up one possibility, and would come to the conclusion that the house was empty, and go away to hunt somewhere else.
But the guns, flowering miraculously in hands that had seemed to conjure them out of empty air, hadn’t looked at all tentative, or in the very slightest doubt of their premises.
Neither of them stumbled on the stairs, even in that quietly frantic rush they made; neither of them fouled any of the gay, impermanent fixings of the hall. They could hear the faint, deliberate crunch of gravel under cautious feet as the invaders cased the windows; but the darkness inside was sufficient to swallow all movement, and the glass in the panel of the front door was pebbled and opaque without light to bring it to life. Luke felt his way through the living-room door, and closed it gingerly after them just as a hand eased up the latch of the front door,
