culprit? If he had, it would work. Jenkins would swear it was the wrong girl. Then Luke said: 'But I don't intend to bring her this.' 'Ah,' said the Dean. 'In that case, you make it for me to accept your story.'
Now Elspeth was baffled. Luke had told a tale and had no way to back it up. What the point?
Luke said: 'I don't think Miss Carlotti's evidence be necessary.'
'I beg to differ;' Mr. Lucas.'
Then Luke dropped his bombshell. I'm leaving the college tonight, sir.'
Anthony said: 'Luke!'
The Dean said: 'It will do you no good to leave before you can be sacked. There will still be an investigation.'
'Our country is at war.'
'I know that, young man.'
'I'm going to join the army tomorrow morning, sir.'
Elspeth cried; 'No!'
For the first time, the Dean did not have an answer. He stared at Luke with his mouth open.
Elspeth realized that Luke had been clever. The college could hardly pursue a disciplinary action against a boy who was risking his life for his country. And if there were no investigation, then Billie was safe.
A mist of grief obscured her vision. Luke had sacrificed everything - to save Billie.
Miss Rayford might still demand testimony from Billie's cousin, but he would probably lie for her. The key point was that Radcliffe could hardly expect Billie to produce the waitress Angela Carlotti.
But none of that mattered to Elspeth now. All she could think of was that she had lost Luke.
Ryder was muttering about making his report and leaving others to decide.' Miss Rayford made a big fuss about writing down the address of Billie's cousin. But it was all camouflage. They had been outwitted, and they knew it.
At last the students were dismissed.
As soon as the door closed, Billie burst into tears. 'Don't go to war, Luke!' she said.
Anthony said: You saved my life.' He put his arms around Luke and embraced him. 'I'll never forget this,' Anthony said. 'Never.' He detached himself from Luke and took Billie's hand. 'Don't worry,' he said to her. 'Luke's too smart to get killed.'
Luke turned to Elspeth. When he met her eye he flinched, and she realized that her rage must be plainly visible. But she did not care. She stared-at him for a long moment, then she raised her hand and slapped his face, once, very hard. He let out an involuntary gasp of pain and surprise.
You fucking bastard,' she said.
Then she turned and walked away.
.
1 PM.
Each Baby Sergeant motor is four feet long and six inches in diameter, and weighs fifty-nine pounds Its motor burns for just six and a half seconds.
Luke was looking for a quiet residential street Washington was totally unfamiliar to him, as if he had never been here before. Driving away from Union Station he had chosen a direction at random, and headed west. The road had taken him further into the centre of the city, a place of striking vistas and grandiose government buildings. Perhaps it was beautiful, but he found it intimidating. However, he knew that if he kept going in a straight line he must eventually come to a place where normal families lived in regular houses.
He crossed a river and found himself in a charming suburb of narrow streets lined with trees. He passed a building with a sign that read 'Georgetown Mind Hospital', and he guessed the neighbourhood was called Georgetown. He turned into a tree-lined street of modest houses. This was promising. People here would not have full-time household help, so there was a good chance of finding a place empty.
The street turned a corner and immediately dead-ended in a cemetery. Luke parked the stolen Ford facing the way he had come, in case he had to make a fast getaway.
He needed some simple tools, a chisel or screwdriver and a hammer. There was probably a small tool kit in the trunk - but the trunk was locked. He could pick the lock if he could find a piece of wire. Otherwise he would have to drive to a hardware store and buy or steal what he required.
He reached into the back and picked up the stolen bag. Rummaging through the clothes, he found a folder containing papers. He took out a paper clip and closed the case.
It took him about thirty seconds to open the trunk. As he had hoped, there were a few tools in a tin box next to the jack. He chose the largest screwdriver. There was no hammer, but there was a heavy adjustable wrench that would serve. He put them in the pocket of his ragged raincoat and slammed the lid of the trunk.
He took the stolen bag from inside the car, closed the door, and walked around the corner. He knew he was conspicuous, a ragged bum walking in a nice neighbourhood with an expensive suitcase. If the local busybody called the cops, and the cops had nothing much to do this morning, he could be in trouble in minutes. On the other hand, if all went well he might be washed and shaved and dressed like a respectable citizen in half an hour's time.
He drew level with the first house in the street He crossed a small front yard and knocked at the door.
Rosemary Sims saw a nice blue-and-white car drive slowly past her house, and she wondered whose it was. The Brownings might have bought a new car, they had plenty of money. Or Mr. Cyrus, who was a bachelor and did not have to stint himself. Otherwise, she reasoned, it must belong to a stranger.
She had good eyesight still, and she could watch most of the street from her comfy chair by the second-floor window, especially in winter when the trees were bare of leaves. So she saw the tall stranger when he came walking around the corner. And 'strange' was the word. He wore no hat, his raincoat was torn, and his shoes were tied up with string to stop them falling apart Yet he carried a new-looking suitcase.
He went to Mrs. Britsky's door and knocked. She was a widow, living alone, but she was no fool - she would make short work of the stranger, Mrs. Sims knew. Sure enough, Mrs. Britsky looked out the window and waved him away with a peremptory gesture.
He went next door and knocked at Mrs. Loew's. She opened up. She was a tall, black-haired woman, who was too proud, in Mrs. Sims's opinion. She spoke a few words with the caller, then slammed the door.
He went to the next house, apparently intending to work his way along the street. Young Jeannie Evans came to the door with baby Rita in her arms. She fished in the pocket of her apron and gave him something, probably a few coins. So he was a beggar.
Old Mr. Clark came to the door in his bathrobe and carpet slippers. The stranger got nothing out of him.
The owner of the next house, Mr. Bonetti, was at work, and his wife Angelina, seven months pregnant, had left five minutes ago, carrying a string bag, obviously heading for the store. The stranger would get no answer there.
By now, Luke had had time to study, the doors, which were all the same. They had Yale locks, the kind with a tongue on the door side and a metal socket in the jamb. The lock was operated by a key from outside and by a knob inside.
Each door had a small window of frosted glass at head height The easiest way in would be to break the glass and reach inside to turn the knob. But a broken window would be visible from the street so he decided to use the screwdriver.
He glanced up and down the street He had been unlucky, having to knock on five doors to find an empty house. By now he might have- attracted attention, but he could see no one. Anyway, he had no choice. He had to take the risk.
Mrs. Sims turned away from the window and lifted the handset of the phone beside her seat Slowly and carefully, she dialed the number of the local police station, which she knew by heart.
Luke had to do this fast He inserted the screwdriver's blade between the door and the jamb at the level of the lock. Then he struck the handle of the screwdriver with the heavy end of the adjustable wrench, trying to force the blade into the socket of the lock.
The first blow failed to move the screwdriver, which was jammed up against the steel of the lock. He wiggled the screwdriver, trying to find a way in. He used the wrench again, harder this time. Still the' screwdriver would not slip into the socket. He felt perspiration break out on his forehead, despite the cold weather.
He told himself to stay calm. He had done this before. When? He had no idea. It did riot matter. The technique worked, he was sure of that.
