“He’d think I was shamming, and he’d make sure of me.”
The thought of that fate was just sufficient to nerve her to a desperate attempt to extricate herself from the labyrinth; but now her self-control gave way. She began to hurry along the interminable corridors, and before many seconds had passed she had broken into a run. Soon she was flying headlong down the alleys, slipping as she turned corners in full flight, dashing blindly into hedges which blocked her path in culs-de-sac, and striving only to outstrip the phantom murderer whom she felt at her heels. All thought of caution or direction had gone to the winds as she fled at haphazard down the tortuous paths.
Just as she felt that she could force herself no farther, a wider gap than usual appeared in one of the green walls, and she flung herself into it in the hope that it might be one of the exits. But instead of the broad lawns of Whistlefield, she found before her a tiny open space shut in on all sides by greenery.
A few garden chairs were scattered about it, under the shade of the hedges. One of them had been overturned, and beside it lay, face upwards, the body of a man in grey flannel clothes. Vera had never seen a dead man before; but it needed no second glance to tell her that she had stumbled upon the victim of the tragedy.
“It’s Roger Shandon!”
Almost subconsciously she noted that the body showed no visible signs of violence. Roger seemed to have collapsed as he rose from his chair. She could see no pool of blood which might have pointed to the manner of his death.
Vera’s nerves could withstand the strain no longer. The glimpse of the body proved to be the final touch which was more than she could bear. Almost incuriously she noticed the blue sky darken, turn violet, and then go black. She retreated a couple of paces, only to go down in a faint.
When she came to her senses again, it was to hear the sound of her own name in her ears; but when she looked round she could see no one standing beside her.
“Vera! Are you there? Why don’t you answer?”
Slowly she came back to normal consciousness and the realisation that it was Howard Torrance’s voice continually calling.
“Vera! Answer if you can. What made you shriek like that?”
So she must have uttered some involuntary cry before she fainted. She turned this over in her mind mechanically, hardly yet knowing where she was. Then all at once things came back to her and she rose to her knees. Roger Shandon’s body was close to her, and she turned away her head so as not to see the dead man.
“Vera!”
She pulled herself together and answered with a faint call.
“Thank God you’re all right,” she heard Howard answer.
“Where are you?”
“I’ve come to the centre where the body is. Oh, Howard, what am I to do?”
“The murderer’s gone, I think,” came the reply. “Can you walk at all? Get away from that place at once. No wonder you shrieked when you came upon it. If you’ll call as often as you can manage it, I’ll try to find my way to you.”
With an effort she forced herself to her feet once more. Her strength seemed to be almost gone; but by sheer willpower she succeeded in making her way out of the tiny enclosure into the green corridor. Anything to get away from the sight of the body! It was too grim a reminder of the perils of the Maze.
For a time she leaned against the hedge just outside the centre, trying to gather up enough energy to launch once more into the labyrinth. One horror had at least been banished. Howard said the murderer had escaped from the Maze; she need have no fear of meeting that demon in her wanderings. It seemed hours since she and Howard had come so light-heartedly into that daedalian web. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious; and when she looked back, she seemed to have spent an eternity in the paths of the Maze before she had blundered into the centre.
At last she pulled herself together and called again to Howard.
“Howard! I’m going to try for the way out now.”
“All right! Give me a call occasionally, so that I’ll know you’re all right. By the way, why don’t you blow the horn?”
“I’ve lost it. I dropped it when I thought the murderer was chasing me.”
“I wondered why you didn’t use it, after I’d told you he’d cleared out. Shouting’s no good. I’ve been yelling at the pitch of my voice for long enough, but there’s no one within earshot, evidently.”
Vera set off again. The rest had done her good. Now that the immediate terror of the murderer in the Maze was removed, she felt a different person. The horror through which she had passed began somehow to take on a tinge of unreality. Had she actually seen Roger Shandon’s body lying on the grass, or had it been a mere hallucination sweeping over her when she was on the verge of fainting? She had the feeling that the whole thing might be some walking nightmare which had passed.
And now, by that curious hazard which sometimes happens in mazes, she hit upon the shortest route to the exit. When she was least expecting it, a sudden turn in the corridor revealed one of the iron gates in the outermost hedge.
“Howard! I’ve come to the gate. What a relief!”
“Wait before you go,” Howard’s voice came to her over the intervening partitions. “Listen to me. Once you get outside, run to the house. If you meet anyone on the way, send him down to get me out of this tangle; I seem to have no luck. When you get to the house, find Stenness or one of the other men. Send the lot, if they’re there. Tell them about the murder and tell them
