'I still think we ought to have come in my four-wheel-drive.' Philip protested.
'And you'd have risked running into Buchanan if you'd tried to collect it from outside the Priory.'
'Your Merc will never make it along that track across Lyman's Tout.'
'Who said we were going to try?' Newman enquired.
'Then where the devil are we going?'
'Straight to Grenville Grange, residence of a certain Mr Leopold Brazil.'
'Asking for trouble…'
' 'L'audace, toujours I'audace,' as Danton once said, or something like that. I checked the map. We turn out of Kingston here to reach the entrance to his drive.'
'And when we're challenged by a posse of guards?'
'I bluff our way in. You seem to have forgotten that once I was a foreign correspondent.' Newman said jauntily. 'In that game you learn to get in anywhere.'
'Prepare for battle.' Marler commented.
The entrance to Grenville Grange appeared suddenly off a lonely road on the heights of the Purbecks. Two massive wrought-iron gates were thrown back and an open pebble drive stretched beyond them. Philip saw the dark hulk of Grenville Grange half a mile beyond. No sign of any guards, no sign of life.
'Stop the car a minute if you're going in there.' Philip said.
'All right. But why?' asked Newman, pulling up.
I want to go back and persuade Eve to wait for us back down the road. You heard what Marler said.'
'Good idea. She'll only get in the way. I'd been thinking about that same problem myself…'
Eve had stopped her Porsche a dozen yards behind them, behind the high grey stone wall which bordered the road. She raised her dark eyebrows as Philip approached and flashed him her inviting smile.
'I'll bet Bob Newman could horsewhip me. Tell him it's a free country.'
'Eve.' Philip perched his elbows on the edge of her open window. This could be very tricky. Dangerous, even…'
'But you'll protect me, won't you? If it came to a pinch I think even Bob would come to my aid. Who is the chap in the back? Haven't seen him before, have I?'
'Eve, I'm asking you to reverse the way we came. We'll come back for you.'
'Bet you will.' she said sarcastically. Tell Newman I'll be on his tail. I'm bloody stubborn.'
'You are,' snapped Philip.
'Now don't lose your temper.'
Philip shrugged, hurried back to Newman, climbed in beside him.
'She's not having any.' Newman remarked.
'I couldn't persuade her. How could you tell?'
'Her expression. Yours. Now what's she up to? She's running towards us. I suppose I'd better try and make her see sense.'
Eve poked her head in at Newman's window. She looked back at Marler.
'Hello, nice man. Who are you? Maybe you'd buy me a drink soon. My favourite tipple is vodka.'
'Go home.' said Newman.
Eve lit a fresh cigarette from the one she had been smoking. She blew out smoke, away from Newman's face. Her manner became serious.
'Bob, I could be useful. I have cat's eyes.'
'And cat's claws no doubt.'
'I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Are you calling at this place or just checking on it? If the latter, you see where the drive forks, one bit going up to the big terrace entrance, the other section curving round the back of this architectural masterpiece? That second fork would take you round the back and then away from Bleak House down a slope to the sea. Near the cliff's edge – and you'd better watch that – it curves round the end of a drystone wall on to Lyman's Tout.'
'How do you know that?'
She had Newman's attention now and he gazed straight at her, his curiosity aroused.
'Because when Philip took me up Lyman's Tout I noticed the drive coming round the house through a gap where the drystone wall had crumbled. I'm observant. Trust me…'
She ran back to her Porsche. Newman drove forward at a slow pace, studying the dark house, which was very big. All the shutters were closed but as they got closer he noticed they had been painted black recently. Black. Awful!
The dark hulk seemed to move towards them and Philip saw that at the end they would pass round were several large barns – very like the barn General Stern-dale's old Bentley had been partially parked inside. Here the great doors were all closed.
'Let's hope she knows what she's talking about.' Newman commented. 'She's on my tail – if she drops back I'm going to get suspicious.. .'
Ever since they had left Wareham the weather had been unpredictable. And there had been no more rain overnight. Philip was pondering these factors as they cruised past the barns.
'You might make it back along the track over the top of Lyman's Tout even in your Merc.' he remarked. 'I think the mud might have hardened. I don't promise anything.'
There was still no sign of anyone occupying Grenville Grange. Newman was not reassured as he rounded the end of the house and saw a pebbled track continuing towards the sea which petered out into ruts halfway down the slope towards the cliff edge. He turned off the engine and the car slid slowly down the slope and inside the ruts, which were hardened, probably due to the lack of rain and the severe frost.
'What do you think?' Marler asked.
'Something's not right. Those wide-open gates bother me.'
'Why?' asked Philip.
'They suggest someone is expected. So I'd expect there to be staff inside the house. Everyone shut up. We're close to the cliff edge.. .'
He switched on the engine for more control. The wind off the sea had hit them like a hammer blow as they came round the end of the house and started down the barren slope. The sea gleamed an intense blue and great white horses showed on mountainous waves thundering in.
Reaching the end of the drystone wall, Newman eased the car round the end, glancing to his left. The cliff edge was very close. Behind him Eve drove her Porsche slowly, a few feet from his tail. As he negotiated the turn inland onto Lyman's Tout he watched her in his rear-view mirror. She had the sense to ease her way round, following Newman's example. He parked the car close behind the drystone wall, which was higher than his roof. Eve parked behind him.
'What now?' Philip asked.
'We watch that place for awhile. You and Marler stay a distance behind me to guard my rear. Take Eve with you if you have to drag her.'
He lifted the large pair of 'birdwatcher' binoculars he had borrowed from Butler, got out, found the ground was hard, wandered back, and lay down on the ground at a point where he could see the house round the end of the wall.
He could feel the cold seeping through his clothes as he focused, waited. Marler, Philip and Eve had disappeared behind huge rocks some distance to his rear. Patiently, he waited. He heard nothing above the whine of the wind, the dull thud of the monstrous waves against the cliff base far below. Then something round and metallic pressed against his neck, the muzzle of a gun. He froze.
'I'm holding a loaded shotgun, chum,' a familiar voice said. 'Blow your head off. My head still aches from your catching me off guard in that bar. Now, what are you doing here on private property? Might as well talk before I pull the trigger
The voice of Craig, a more sophisticated voice now, and even more menacing.
Pete Nield, Harry Butler's partner, was a great contrast in appearance and manner to the man he worked closely with. Whereas Butler dressed in denims and a shabby windcheater, Nield, unlike the burly Butler, was slim and a snappy dresser.
Nield wore a check sports jacket and fawn slacks with a razor-edged crease. His white shirt was spotless,
