‘Ches here,’ I said. ‘Can you talk?’
I heard her catch her breath sharply.
‘Yes. What is it?’
‘I wanted you to know I’ve found a way out,’ I said. ‘I think it’s going to be all right, I think I’ve really got it fixed.’
There was a pause. I could hear her quick breathing.
‘Do you really mean that?’ she asked finally.
‘Yes. It’s going to be all right. We’re both going to be in the clear.’
‘But how?’
‘I can’t talk over an open line. I wanted you to know right away. It’s going to be fixed, and you don’t have to worry any more.’
‘I see.’ Her voice sounded curiously flat, ‘Well, all right.’
‘You can relax now,’ I said. ‘You just take it easy.’
‘All right,’ and the line went dead.
I put down the receiver, frowning. Her reaction puzzled me. I had expected her to have been pleased and relieved. It was almost as if she were disappointed that I had found a solution.
As it was still too light to go out to Seabome’s place, I sat on! my terrace and brooded, waiting impatiently for the sun to go down. It wasn’t until half past eight that I got the darkness I had been waiting for.
I left the bungalow and went down to the Pontiac. Then I drove over to Seaborne’s house.
It took me a little time to get the licence plates off the Pontiac. I had to work by my flashlight and the screws had rusted in, but I got the plates off finally. Then I went up the drive to Seaborne’s garage, unlocked the doors and shut myself in before turning on the overhead light.
The rear number plate on the Cadillac came off easily enough and I put on the Pontiac’s plate. Then I came around to the front of the car. There I found the screws on the front pi were badly rusted in and I had a struggle to shift them.
I was lying on my back, half under the car, struggling with the screws when suddenly I heard a faint noise outside.
I froze, gripping the spanner, while I stared up into the darkness of the Cadillac’s engine. I heard nothing except the faint sound of the sea coming in-shore and die sighing of the wind in the palm trees. I remained motionless, my ears straining, my heart thudding, still sure I had heard a sound outside, but not quite convinced that my imagination was playing me tricks.
As I heard nothing, I finally decided I had imagined the noise and I bent once more to the task of shifting the last of the obstinate screws.
I had just got the screw free when I heard the garage doors creak.
My heart seemed to turn a somersault. From where I lay I could see part of one of the doors: it was opening! I knew it couldn’t be the wind. I had pushed the doors shut. It could mean only that someone was forcing the doors open.
I began to wriggle out from under the car. Before I could get clear of the front bumper, the overhead light in the garage went out. Then I heard the garage doors swing wide open.
It was too early for the moon. The sky I could see through the open doors was inky black with only a few stars. I was in a hell of a panic as I forced myself out from under the car.
Then, just as I was getting to my feet, the Pontiac number plate clutched in my hand, there was a blinding flash of light followed instantly by complete darkness.
For a second or so I crouched motionless, completely witless, then I heard the sound of someone running away, and immediately my mind adjusted itself and I realized what had happened.
Someone had crept up on me with a flashlight camera and had taken a photograph of me as I crouched before the damaged Cadillac, the Pontiac number plate in my hand.
A surge of fear and rage ran through me. I dropped the number plate and ran out of the garage.
Whoever it was who had taken the photograph was now running up the road. I could hear the sound of the footfalls distinctly, and from the sound I knew it must be a man running. No woman could run as fast and as evenly as that.
I went after him. Rage gave me added speed, but the darkness of the moonless night hindered me.
At least I knew the road. I knew a couple of hundred yards or so beyond my bungalow was a big clump of flowering shrubs and palm trees. Beyond this clump was the open road, and it remained open until it reached the highway. On either side of the road were sand dunes that offered no cover. If this man got beyond the clump of shrubs, I must catch him, unless he could run a lot faster than I, and I doubted that.
I hared down the road faster than I’ve ever run before. And then as I drew near the clump of shrubs and palm trees, I pulled up, panting, to listen. I heard nothing, and that told me the man had run off the road and had taken shelter in the shrubs.
I had no doubt that this man was the one who had telephoned Lucille and then me this morning.
This man was set to blackmail me. He had a photograph of me now that could get me a ten-year sentence, and I was determined he wasn’t going to slip through my hands. I’d fix him if it was the last thing I did.
I wished now I had brought my flashlight with me. The darkness pressed in on me, and I could only see the dim outline of the palms against the dark, night sky. Somewhere just ahead of me, this man was hiding. I moved forward, being careful to make no sound as I reached the clump of shrubs. It was then I realized the difficulty that faced me. The shrubs loomed out of the darkness as a big dark mass. I was sure he was in there somewhere, but, without a light, he was going to be difficult to flush.
The noise I made as I moved into the shrubs must have told him I was in there looking for him.
I got half-way into the undergrowth, then I stopped to listen. There was no sound. I was sure he was close by, probably within touching distance, crouching in the darkness, probably as scared as I was and hoping I would pass him.
Without a light, my only chance of finding him would be to walk directly on to him. The dry leaves of the shrubs brushed my face as I moved forward. My groping hands reached out into the darkness and I listened, hoping to hear him start out of his cover.
Then suddenly my foot touched something that yielded under my weight. I heard a quick gasp that could have been made only by a man startled into sudden sound. I reached out into: the darkness and my hands touched a face. I was dimly aware of a shadowy figure that rose up out of the shrubs. I pulled; back my arm, clenching my fist, but I was a shade too late.
I heard a swish of something that came down violently I towards me. I swayed to one side, throwing up my arms in an attempt to protect my head. Something hard smashed down on my shoulder, driving me to my knees. Before I could recover, there was another swishing sound and I received a violent blow on the top of my head. I felt myself falling forward into a lonely vacuum of darkness.
II
Somewhere in the far distance, a clock struck nine. The gentle musical beat-beat-beat of its chimes came to me from a long way off, But it was a familiar sound. I was vaguely surprised to realize I was listening to the chimes of my own clock that stood on the overmantel in my lounge.
I opened my eyes. The lighted white ceiling rushed down at me, then as abruptly, receded. There was a throbbing going on inside my head with the violence of a hammer beat.
I hurriedly shut my eyes and kept them shut until the clock had stopped chiming, and then, more cautiously, I opened them again.
I was lying on my settee. I put my hand to the back of my head and felt a hard lump and a dry knot of blood. As I slowly sat up, I heard myself give a grunting groan, and again I had to shut my eyes. The hammer beat inside my head began to lessen, and after a minute or so, I was able to sit upright and stare around the lounge.
All the lights were on. On the occasional table near by was a bottle of my best whisky and a container of ice. This whisky I had been keeping for a special occasion, and I vaguely noticed that a quarter of it had gone.
