She started, and caught her breath, but didn’t shout. She turned to look at Rollison almost wildly, and then closed her eyes, as if giving thanks that he was with her.
He moved so that he couldn’t be seen if Tex looked towards the door.
“I heard the lot,” he said, in a whisper.
“What shall I do?”
“Go with Tex to Norton Street,” Rollison told her, “and then insist on going to the Palace Pier head. Is that clear?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“Fine,” said Rollison. “Don’t tell Tex that “
She seized his hand.
“After everything he’s done, I can’t let anything happen to him,” she said fiercely. “You won’t harm him, will you?”
“Not unless you change your mind,” promised Rollison. “All I want to do is make sure that he doesn’t harm you.”
“Oh, he won’t do that!”
‘‘Hush!” hissed Rollison, and as he did so, thought: “I wonder.”
Whether Tex the Texan would harm Gillian or not, he had certainly made a conquest.
Rollison went to the inner door again, glanced in, and saw Tex on one knee; he appeared to be tying Charlie’s wrists. Here was a man who had done this kind of thing so often before that it seemed like second nature. Rollison turned away, and went outside.
It was remarkable but true that he felt quite sure that Gillian would do exactly what he had told her to. Now his problem was to decide whether it was safe to go to 51, Norton Street ahead of her. He had told M.M.M. that she was in no physical danger, because only she could sell the farm; that was almost certainly true. And the American had made no bones about admitting that he wanted to ingratiate himself, so that he could have the farm.
The reason for the flare of interest in it could be found out later.
“I’ll take a chance,” decided Rollison, “although Monty will probably hate me for it,”
He went across the garden and over the fields, waved and called good-day to the man and boy who were still spreading muck, and knew that each stopped to stare at him. Less than an hour after he had left, he reached the Wheatsheaf Inn, He did not go in the back way, and was not surprised to see M.M,M, standing by the side of the scarlet car, trying to look pleasant but undoubtedly feeling worked up and explosive.
“What happened?” he burst out.
“That’s a long story,” said Rollison. “Let me tell you in the car.”
“We’re not going anywhere without Gillian,” M.M.M. said, fiercely.
“She’s coming,” Rollison said mildly, “and I promise you that she’ll be as right as rain.”
“I want to know what happened, and I won’t step into the car until you’ve told me,” said M.M.M,, who had a reputation for being as stubborn as any two-legged mule. He thrust his chin out and his eyes narrowed, and he looked rather like a musical-comedy lieutenant about to challenge the colonel to a duel.
“All right, old chap,” said Rollison, “it won’t take a jiffy,” For obviously M.M.M. had to be humoured. “The city slicker type who left here went to see her. He offered her five thousand pounds, and Alan . . .”
The telling of the story took two minutes, but only one of these was outside the car, for M.M.M. started to get in immediately Rollison began to talk. His left leg was the artificial one, and he had some difficulty in getting it into any car, as Rollison knew well: the thing to do was allow him to fight that battle for himself. He tugged and cursed— and then suddenly winced and leaned back, all his colour gone.
Rollison had the engine turning.
“What’s wrong ?” he demanded.
“You get cracking,” said M.M.M., and his lips set clamped together between each word. “Just rubbed the old stump a bit. Soon be all right. I thought you wanted to get to Brighton before that blasted Yank.”
He closed his door.
Rollison started off, but did not go at top speed, for M.M.M. would find it difficult to brace himself if it were necessary to brake; so he had to be very careful. He sat back, breathing hard, while Rollison looked in the driving mirror, expecting to see the American’s car at any moment.
They had been travelling for twenty minutes, and were half way to Brighton, when M.M.M. said :
“Sorry, Roily, I’ve got to get this leg unstrapped. Done some damage, I’m afraid. Any hospital would do, or a doctor, at a pinch. Hellish sorry.” He winced. “How about stopping at the next telephone and getting me a cab ? Then you can get moving again.”
“Of course,” said Rollison, promptly.
It was while they were outside a telephone box in a nearby village that Gillian and the Texan flashed past in the green M.G.
7
51, NORTON STREET
“You leave me here and get after ‘em,” said M.M.M. fiercely. “I’U be all right.”
