Triumph For Inspector West

“She’s probably with her husband,” Roger reminded him. “Where does Common Road lead to?”

“This part of the Common only,” said Gray, “but once you’re off the road, you can turn in so many directions. If anyone had seen her start from here, it might have been easier. I’ve placed men by the road bridge, and others are searching on either side.”

Roger said: “Well, we’ve got to try.” He glanced along the road as a car slowed down. “Who’s this?”

“One of our men,” said the Barnes inspector. He waited until the driver of the other car came across the road, and Roger saw that he was carrying something in his hand. “Well, what is it, Watson?”

“This might be a lead, sir,” said the driver. He held up a string bag crammed full of packages. “I haven’t examined it closely, but it’s a food parcel. There’s a half bottle of whisky in it, too. We found it near the bridge over the railway.”

“Nice work!” Roger took the bag eagerly, and examined it in the light of the headlamps. The whisky bottle shone, and probably the bag had been packed hurriedly, or the bottle would have been wrapped up. There were two thermos flasks and packages which obviously contained sandwiches; just the kind of things Katie Brown might have brought for her husband.

“What do you make of it?” asked Watson eagerly.

The Barnes inspector said: “Someone might have dropped it during the day, or a couple of lovebirds might have walked off and forgotten it—”

“Forgotten it?” echoed Roger, and his voice was harsh. “With whisky in it? This is almost certainly the woman’s bag, too. It looks as if Katie Brown was to meet her husband by appointment, and they were for him. So she wouldn’t leave them behind by accident; certainly wouldn’t forget to give him the very things he needed. See what I’m getting at?”

Gray said, sharply: “You mean—”and broke off.

“I mean that she was probably waylaid, and might have been attacked. We’ll concentrate men on the bridge area—right or left of the road, Watson?”

“The left from here, sir.”

“I’ll get it laid on,” Gray said, at last touched by a sense of urgency.

A few minutes later, Roger pulled into the side of the road near the bridge. Several men were already there, and another car was standing on the bridge itself. More men were on the way. They gathered together by a lamp, and the Barnes inspector gave instructions. They were to take up their positions two hundred yards from the bridge, and then close in on a signal.

“One blast on a whistle will be enough,” said Gray.

“Think we ought to make too much noise?” asked Roger. “Let’s arrange for the car near the bridge to switch off its headlights, and then flash them three times in succession. How long will the men need to reach their stations?”

“About ten minutes.”

“In ten minutes, then.”

“Right,” Gray said.

The wind was blowing more keenly, and Roger moved about, stamping his feet. There was a silent spell, when no traffic passed, and the wind dropped momentarily. Roger took out his cigarettes, and was putting one to his lips when he heard a scream.

CHAPTER XIV

THE CORDON MOVES IN

THE SCREAM came from their left; it was impossible to judge the distance. It quivered on the night air, then stopped abruptly; as it stopped, the headlamps of the car on the bridge were switched on three times in succession, light slicing the darkness.

“My God, you were right,” Gray gasped.

“This way!” Watson urged.

They plunged in the direction from which the scream had come, their ears strained to catch another sound, but all they could hear was the padding of their own footsteps and the rustle of the grass. The silence was eerie, even sinister. Roger wanted to race ahead, but forced himself to keep pace with the others. They were about two yards apart, flashing their torches to and fro. Other torches were swinging in all directions.

Bushes loomed up in front of them, and Roger’s torchlight shone on a piece of waste paper. Staring toward it, he saw a gap between the bushes.

Watson called out: “Found anything, sir?”

“No. Our bird may be hiding among the bushes,” Roger answered.

“Right, sir.”

After they had made a few yards’ progress, Roger could see why Gray said it was practically impossible to search the Common by night. They would need a hundred men instead of a dozen, and to the Barnes man it must seem almost a waste of time.

Then a man bellowed: “This way! This way! ”

A dozen torches swung toward the call. Roger saw one beam of light moving rapidly, and caught sight of a man running; he was crouching low, and holding one hand in front of his face.

Watson and the Barnes policeman raced after the fugitive; most of the others turned in the same direction. Roger snatched a moment to think, then hustled toward the spot where the policeman had shouted; he wanted to find Katie Brown. His torch shone through the leafless branches of thick brambles.