stood listening, her heart beginning to thump, the sound came again: a low moaning sigh. It was such an uncanny sound that it turned her cold.
Shakily, she crossed the hall and stood close to the cellar door, holding her breath, so tense, her muscles began to ache. The sound came again.
Was Archer having an attack? He had been behaving like an infuriated bull and if he did have a bad heart as he said he had he might have brought on an attack. She cringed at the thought. Suppose he died?
Then very faintly through the door panel as if he were crouched against the other side of the door, she heard him murmur, “Helga? Helga?”
“What is it?” Her voice quavering and husky.
“It’s my heart’ He made a low whimpering sound. “There are tablets in my overcoat pocket. Get them… quickly.”
She looked at the black overcoat lying on the hall chair. With shaking hands she searched the pocket and her fingers closed around a glass phial. She took it out and stared at it. It contained about eight oval shaped tablets. There was no label attached to the phial.
The moan came again.
Without thinking, now in a blind panic, she caught hold of the pole to jerk it free, but it was jammed so tight, she couldn’t move it.
“For God’s sake, Helga… I’m dying,” Archer called. “Give me those tablets!”
The harsh note in his voice tinged with angry impatience her pause. Was he bluffing? She looked at the phial. These could be anything: digestive tablets, sleeping pills… anything.
“Helga? Are you there?” His voice was stronger as if he was afraid she might have moved away and wouldn’t hear him.
If he was bluffing and she opened the door, she would be at his mercy, she thought. But suppose he wasn’t? Suppose he really was having a heart attack?
She moved to the door.
“They’re not there. Would they be in the car?”
“They’re there!” There was now a snarl in his voice. “You haven’t looked! A phial with white tablets in it. Look again! Open the door… I can’t breathe! For God’s sake, Helga, don’t let me die!”
The snarl in his voice stiffened her resolve not to open the door. Moving unsteadily, she went into the sitting- room and closed the door. She crossed to the bar and poured brandy into a glass and swallowed it in one shuddering gulp. Then she dropped on to the settee.
If he died… he died! She dare not risk opening the cellar door. He had shown no mercy to her. Why should she show mercy to him? A blackmailer is the dirtiest thing on earth. Let him die! She would be free of him then forever! But she knew she was desperately trying to justify her action. She knew that it was only because she was exerting tremendous control over herself she wasn’t rushing to his aid.
He’s bluffing, she tried to assure herself. He’s unscrupulous, ruthless and an expert bluffer. She held her head in her hands. But was he bluffing?
Suppose, when Larry returned, they found Archer dead? The thought sickened her. What would they do? How would Larry react? She touched her dry lips with her tongue. If he died she would have to call a doctor. Would the news of his death travel fast? Would the Bank hear of it before they posted the letter? In the event of my death! They certainly wouldn’t post the letter to a dead man. They would act on his instructions and get a messenger to hand the envelope to Herman when he arrived at Geneva.
She struck her clenched fists together in an agony of indecision and despair. Getting to her feet, she opened the sitting-room door to listen.
Faintly, she could hear a sound on the lower panel of the cellar door. Irregular sounds, as if feeble fingernails were tapping on the panel.
“Helga… the tablets…” Archer’s voice was now so faint she could scarcely hear it. “The tablets.”
With her hands pressed to her ears, Helga blundered into her bedroom and threw herself face down on the bed.
The sound of the garage doors slamming shut startled her out of a sleep of exhaustion. Dazed, she scrambled off the bed. She was so unsteady she had to sit down abruptly on the bed or she would have fallen. She looked at her watch. The time was 03.10.
Had Larry returned?
She forced herself to her feet and stumbled out of the bedroom and into the hall. She looked fearfully at the cellar door, and then she went to the front door and opened it
By the porch light, she saw it was snowing heavily and the cold struck at her. She saw Larry coming towards her, holding the envelope she had given him.
It was only the steel in her that prevented her from bursting into tears of relief.
He came up the steps, chewing hard and smiling his warm smile.
“I got it, ma’am! Get inside and… you’ll catch cold.”
She stepped back, her knees trembling and she had to clutch hold of the door to prevent herself falling. He gave her a searching stare and then caught hold of her, pushing the front door shut.
“Are you all right, ma’am?”
“I’m so glad you’re back.” Her voice broke and then the tears came and she leaned against him, shaking and sobbing.
“Hey, ma’am! What’s the matter? Did you…” He stopped as he saw the pole jamming the cellar door. “Did you have trouble?”
“Oh, God… yes!”
He lifted her off her feet and carried her into the sitting-room. Gently, he put her on the settee.
“What happened, ma’am? He didn’t get away?”
She fought to control herself and succeeded. As she dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief, she said, “No… but, Larry… I - I think he’s dead.”
Larry took a step back. His look of concern changed to wide-eyed fright.
“Dead?”
She nodded.
“I nearly went out of my mind!” She beat her fists together. “He said he was having a heart attack.” She had to stop speaking to fight back her tears, then after a moment, she went on, “It was awful! He was moaning and calling to me! He wanted some tablets. I was too frightened to open the door to give them to him. Then he started knocking… and now… there’s no sound… nothing.” She shuddered, her face working. “I’m so frightened. I didn’t know if he was bluffing. I couldn’t let him out… could I?”
Larry stared at her. His face had turned chalk white and his eyes turned remote. After a long silence, he said huskily. “But you don’t know he is really dead?”
“No. Please go and see.”
He flinched and retreated further away from her.
“What will you do if he is dead?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought. For God’s sake, Larry, go and see!”
He retreated further away from her.
“I - I don’t like anything to do with dead people. No… I don’t want to do that.”
She understood and didn’t blame him. After all, she told herself was only an immature boy.
“We must know! I’ll go, but come with me, Larry. He may be bluffing and he might attack me. Will you come with me?”
Larry hesitated, then nodded.
“Sure, ma’am. I’ll come with you.”
Shaking, Helga went into the hall.
“I can’t move that.” She indicated the pole. “Will you try?”
Larry took hold of the pole in his huge hands, twisted and gave it a jerk. It came free. He laid it down along the wall, then catching hold of the chest, he dragged it away from the door which swung open.
Helga saw the lights were on in the corridor below. She moved to the head of the stairs and stood listening. She could only hear the steady roar of the motor, driving the central heating. Gathering her courage, she began to
