“You poor kid,” murmured Labar. “And what did you say?”
“I told them that I did not care what happened to me. There was nothing on earth that would induce me to agree. Larry laughed and went away. Adèle reviled me like a mad thing for ten minutes or more, and to escape the vituperation I went to bed and pretended to go to sleep. She cooled down at last and I actually did go to sleep. I woke sometime in the middle of the night and found her bending over me. She said I had been moaning and muttering in my sleep and that she had got up to see if there was anything that she could do—but, Harry, there was a knife in her hand. I could swear to that. I feigned to accept her explanation, but I slept no more. In fact, since then I have had very little sleep except at odd hours. I have been afraid.”
“Ah.” Labar’s face was stern. “That was the only direct attempt on your life that you know of?”
“That was all. She was as friendly as possible in the morning, although both she and Hughes were persistent in trying to persuade me to alter my decision. But I was spared much from him because he has been busy making arrangements to get away.”
“Yes. I am going to talk to you about that. Tell me now what would you have done had not the chance presented itself for you to escape?”
She looked down at her feet and shook her head doubtfully. “I don’t know. If I could summon up courage I had made up my mind to kill myself. But I am afraid that if it came to the point I shouldn’t have had enough nerve.”
The fog had lessened considerably while they walked. A watery moon made itself dimly perceptible. Labar stole a glance at the girl’s firm moulded chin and resolute grey eyes. “I am glad I came when I did,” he said. “I am afraid that you would have found the nerve.”
They walked steadily on ever and again having to divert their course on meeting one of the numerous dykes. And while they walked he questioned her, and made mental notes. For Penelope had much to tell. During her sojourn as a prisoner she had used both her eyes and her ears, and where she had been unable to draw conclusions the detective was able to make something in the nature of guesses. He believed that he was on the verge of a discovery that would simplify, if not the question of Larry’s capture, at least the difficulty of establishing his complicity in the Gertstein robbery.
The early dawn broke on a weary couple, but almost as the sun rose they struck a track which followed for a mile or two brought them to a made road. A little later they met an early rising shepherd, who, though he eyed with curiosity the shirt-sleeved and dirty man who was escorting a pretty girl, gave them directions that would carry them back to Rye.
That picturesque town was beginning to stir as they passed through the Ypres Tower almost to the minute twenty-four hours after Labar had left it.
XXIV
Labar’s first business was to interview the wife of his temporary landlord, the retired constable. Into her hands he confided Penelope, with instructions that the girl was to be fed and then allowed to rest.
“And what are you going to do?” cried the girl.
He grinned. “Have a bath and a shave and put on some decent clothes.”
“And then?”
He pressed her hand. “Then I have to attend to Mr. Larry Hughes. I am a lazy man. If I don’t get on with the business while it’s in front of me I’m apt not to do it at all.”
Her eyes clouded, and she clung to his hand as though reluctant to let him go. “But surely you are going to have a rest, too? Can’t you leave this to someone else? You have some of your men down here?”
Labar disengaged himself. “There is nothing at all to worry about, my dear. I shall take good care of myself now, I assure you. There will be no more danger than if I was engaged on a rat hunt.”
“Trapped rats sometimes bite.”
“I propose to do all the biting this time,” he laughed. “Be a good child, and I’ll promise to keep well out of any trouble. If they start shooting, I’ll hide behind Malone. He’s big enough.”
Blowing her a kiss he retired to his own room. His mask of nonchalance dropped from him as soon as he was away from her sight, to be replaced by determined thought. It was not likely that what remained to be done would be so simple as he would have her believe. Spite of everything, he had no notion within some miles of the house where Larry and his gang were located—and, if he found the place, it was nothing more than an assumption that they would still be there. He had first to find them and, supposing that to be successful, he had somehow to recruit a sufficient force to deal with them. That would take time.
He was his usual neat self when he emerged to seek Malone. The sergeant was standing at the door of one of the less fashionable inns puffing at a disreputable briar pipe, and making non-helpful suggestions to a lad who was perspiring over the bonnet of an old Ford car.
Malone moved along the cobbled street to meet the inspector. “Bit late last night, weren’t you, guv’nor? I waited till twelve o’clock for you and then turned in. Just thinking about another start when Barney there has coaxed the old Lizzie into a reasonable frame
