bed over Daisy’s body and, pinning her down with his great bulk, had tied her wrists. Then he had gagged her and tied her ankles as well and shoved her on the bed after he had bound and gagged the drugged lady’s maid as well.
Daisy kept twisting round to look at her with pleading eyes, but Rose was so furious with her she would not even acknowledge her presence.
Poor Daisy was feeling frantic. Billy didn’t know the earl and countess were abroad. What would happen when he didn’t get a reply? She had forgotten about the earl’s secretary. Rose would fire her after this. She would need to return to the old life – the former life with all its poverty and dirt and squalor that she had so conveniently forgotten. If only they could get out of this, if only Rose would forgive her, then she would get back to that bank and type till her fingers fell off with sheer gratitude.
Far below from the street came the sounds of hawkers and the rumbling of carts over the cobbles, the clip- clop of horses’ hooves, and an occasional burst of drunken laughter.
If only I could save us, thought Daisy, then maybe Rose would forgive me. Billy had kept away from them as much as possible. He had not stayed in the frowsty little room during Saturday night. He had visited them on Sunday morning and had lit one candle because the morning was dark and foggy. Thoughtful of the bastard, sneered a voice in Daisy’s head.
Then, as she looked at the candle, she had an idea. She rolled over Rose’s body and fell on the floor. She rolled across the floor until she was at the wall and, manoeuvring herself until her back was against the wall, she began to push herself upright. Then she jumped across the room to where the candle stood burning on a rickety table. Jumping round until her back was facing it, she stretched her bound wrists over the flame. The pain was excruciating but Daisy held her wrist steady until the rope began to singe and then burn. At last she was able to free her wrists. She tore off her gag and bent and untied her ankles.
She rushed to the bed and ungagged and untied Rose. ‘Don’t say a word till I use the chamber-pot,’ said Daisy, pulling that receptacle out from under the bed. She squatted down while Rose crawled stiffly out of bed. ‘I bin holdin’ it in all night,’ said Daisy, reverting to her former Cockney accent under the strain of it all.
‘How do we get out of here?’ asked Rose coldly.
Daisy tried the door.
‘It’s locked,’ she wailed.
‘He’s coming back,’ said Rose, hearing footsteps on the stairs.
Daisy seized a frying-pan from a shelf and stood by the door. ‘I’ll whack the bleeder wiff this the minute he comes in.’
There was a banging on the door and a familiar voice shouted, ‘Open up or I’ll break the door down.’
‘Captain Cathcart!’ shouted Rose. ‘Break the door down. He may be back any minute.’
The door heaved and shuddered as Harry threw his weight on it and it finally crashed open.
Rose flung herself into his arms and then almost immediately withdrew, her face flaming. ‘How did you know where we were?’ she asked.
‘Becket will explain. Becket, take the ladies to my home and telephone Mr Jarvis to bring round a change of clothes for Lady Rose and for Miss Levine. I will wait for this Billy Gardon.’
‘I can’t see our coats or hats,’ said Rose, looking around. ‘Probably sold them,’ said Daisy.
Becket hustled them down the stairs to where two urchins were guarding the captain’s car. He tucked them in with fur rugs and then got into the driving seat.
There was a long silence and then Daisy said in a little voice, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What came over you, you stupid girl?’ said Rose in glacial tones.
Daisy could only hang her head. Her wrists were so painful, she wanted to scream.
‘I will set you up somewhere,’ continued Rose, ‘and then never want to see you again. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, my lady,’ said Daisy. She wanted to cry, but she had cried so much during the night that she felt there were no tears left.
At Harry’s home in Water Street in Chelsea, Becket made tea for them. Daisy whispered to him, ‘Can I sit in the kitchen? And have you anything for my wrists?’ She held them out.
‘Come with me,’ said Becket. He led her downstairs to the kitchen and searched in a first-aid box until he found some burn ointment, gently applied it and bandaged her wrists.
‘How did this happen?’ he asked. ‘Did that monster . . .?’
‘Naw,’ said Daisy wearily. She told him about burning the rope from her wrists.
‘Lady Rose should be kissing your feet, not firing you,’ exclaimed Becket.
‘I can’t blame her. She’s had a bad shock. That’s why I’d better stay down here where I belong.’
Billy Gardon nipped up the stairs to his theatre flat, dreaming of riches to come.
He stopped short when he saw the door hanging on its hinges. He rushed into the room.
A man stepped out from behind the broken door, swung him round and smashed a fist into his face.
Billy fell on the floor and, nursing his jaw, stared up into the blazing eyes of his attacker. He saw a tall well- dressed man with a handsome face. The glaring eyes were black and hooded. Billy thought he looked like the devil himself.
‘On your feet!’ roared Harry. ‘You blackmailing little worm!’
Billy crawled onto his knees and then stood shakily on his feet, nursing his jaw.
‘It was only a bit o’ a joke, guv,’ he whimpered.
Harry pulled a chair up and sat down. He looked broodingly at Billy. If he turned him over to the police, he felt sure it would leak out to the newspapers. It would come out that Rose had been working as a typist and consorting with an ex-chorus girl from one of London’s lowest music halls and her social future would be ruined. And surely a few more weeks at the bank and living in that dreadful hostel would bring her to her senses.
He came to a decision. ‘Pack up,’ he ordered. ‘My man will call on you tomorrow with a steamship ticket to Australia – steerage. If he does not find you – let’s say at ten tomorrow morning – I will go to the police. At the least you will get a life sentence of hard labour for this. You will keep your mouth shut. You will not tell anyone. I have spies all over London,’ lied Harry. ‘How do you think I found you so easily?’
‘I’ll go, guv, honest. Just give me a chance.’
‘Very well. But if any word of this gets out, I shall find you and kill you, and then, I think, report you to the police, who will bury you in quicklime. I do not see why the state should pay for your incarceration.’
When Harry returned home, Becket informed him that Lady Rose was taking a bath and putting on clean clothes. Miss Levine was in the kitchen – ‘But I think a doctor should be called to look at her wrists.’
‘Why?’
Becket told him how Daisy had engineered the escape.
‘Call a doctor. What is Daisy doing in the kitchen?’
‘Lady Rose says she wants nothing more to do with her.’
‘Let’s see about that.’
CHAPTER THREE
Mrs C. E. Humphry,
Harry waited patiently until Rose reappeared, bathed and dressed. ‘Thank you for all you have done,’ said Rose. ‘Have the police arrested that dreadful man?’
‘I am making arrangements to ship him off to Australia and I have frightened him into silence. Otherwise
