She fell on her knees beside me.
“But how will you do it?” she asked, gripping my hand.
“Harry Bik will get us out. Do you remember him? I brought him
to the Club the night I first saw you. He’s shipping kites back to
America every week. He’ll do it. He’s that kind of a guy. We’ll smuggle
you on to the airfield, and get you across to the other side somehow.
We’ll do it, Netta, don’t worry. When I say I’ll do it, I’ll damn well do
it.”
She began to cry again, her face against my knee.
I played with her hair, stared at the framed picture of a cutie in
yellow pants above the bed. The look in her eyes cal ed me a sucker.
Maybe I was.
Chapter XIX
WHILE Netta was packing a bag, I washed the glasses, wiped them
free of finger-prints, put them and the bottle of Scotch back into the
cupboard. With my handkerchief I picked up the blood-encrusted
poker, washed it, put it back beside Littlejohns.
I entered the bedroom again to find Netta cramming her things
into a big Revelation suit-case.
“There mustn’t be one thing left here that could lead them to
you,” I said.
“I’ve packed everything,” she returned, closing the lid. “Sure?”
She looked around the room, nodded. “Yes.”
“Okay,” I said. “Now we have to think where you can go until I’ve
fixed the plane. It may take a couple of days.”
“I know where to go,” she said. “I’ve been thinking while you were
out of the room. I know now.”
I looked at her. “Where?”
“Madge Kennitt’s flat.”
I gaped at her. “What’s that?”
“Made Kennitt’s flat. No one would think of looking for me there.”
“For God’s sake!” I exclaimed. “Didn’t you know? She was
murdered. You can’t go there.”
“Yes, I can. The place is empty, and the police have finished with
it. Mrs. Crockett wouldn’t try to let it until the murder’s forgotten. It’ll
be perfectly safe for the next three or four days. But that’s not the
only reason why I’m going there. Madge laid in a stock of tinned food
at the beginning of the war. I know where she hid it. I’m sure it’s still
there. I’ve got to eat, and if I go there I don’t have to go out at all until
you call for me.”
“You sure the food’s still there?”
“I think so. At least, I can go and see.”
I didn’t much like the idea, but agreed the food question was
difficult.
“But how will you get in?”
“My key fits her lock. It fits Ju’s as well. They have all more or less
the same locks on all the flat doors.”
“Well, al right,” I said. “But you’ll have to be damned careful.”
I suddenly realized that if Cole’s key opened Madge’s door, then
he might have killed her; might have wiped out the name, Jacobi, that
had been written in the dust. I filed that piece of information away for
future reference.
“I’ll be careful,” she said.
“Okay, then that’s settled. When I’ve fixed things, I’ll come for you
in a car. Be ready any night to move quick.”
She came to me, put her hands on my shoulders. Terror still
lurked at the back of her eyes, but she was quieter, had a grip on her
nerves.
“I can’t thank you enough, Steve,” she said. “Maybe I have been a
fool since last we met, but I’m not bad — not really bad, and I never
forgot you.”
I patted her shoulder, turned away.
“We’re both now in a hel of a mess,” I said soberly. “If we aren’t
smart, and if we play our cards badly, we’re going to be in a real tough
spot. Make no mistake about it. I wouldn’t do this for anyone but you,
Netta.”
She slipped her hand into mine. “I know, and I shouldn’t let you
do it, Steve,” she said. “I lost my head just now, but I’ve got over that
now. If you want to back out, I shan’t blame you, and I’ll manage
somehow. All my life I’ve had to manage. I can still go on fighting
alone.”
“Forget it,” I said shortly. “We’re in this together. But there’s one
thing that bothers me . . .”
She looked searchingly at me. “What, Steve?”
“Peter French. If we quit, he’s going to get away with it.”
She gripped my ann. “Then let him get away with it. We can’t do
anything to him without getting ourselves in a mess. Don’t start
anything like that, Steve. It’ll only come back to us.”
I nodded. “I guess you’re right, only I hate to think a rat like
French . . .”
Her grip on my arm tightened, her eyes opened wide. “Listen,”
she whispered.
“What is . . . ?” I began, but her hand flew to my mouth.
“
That gave me a hell of a jar. I froze, looked towards the door.
She was right. Very faintly from downstairs I heard footsteps.
With my heart leaping like a salmon caught on a line, I stepped to
the electric light switch, snapped out the light.
“Wait here,” I whispered. “Don’t make a sound. Watch your
opportunity. Get out if you can, but don’t leave that bag here. Do you
think you can carry it?”
I could feel her body trembling against mine.
“I’ll try,” she said. “Oh, God! I’m scared. Who is it, do you think?”
“I’m going to find out,” I whispered back. “But don’t wait for me.”
I crept over to the back window, looked down on a sloping roof,
into a yard.
“That’s your way out,” I said, my lips close to her ear. “Give me a
