Look to the Lady (25 page)

Behind him the lights of the Gypsy camp glowed in the dusk, and for a moment he hesitated, half drawn by their inviting friendliness. He turned away resolutely, however, and contented himself by hailing them with a long drawn-out whistle that might easily have come from one of the myriad seabirds on the creek. He paused to listen, the heath whispering and rustling around him. Almost immediately the cry was returned, two melodious whistles that sounded pleasantly reassuring. Mr Campion appeared satisfied and strode on his way almost jauntily.

Mrs Dick's stables were only just discernible, a dark rectangular patch in the greyness. He had miscalculated the distance a little, and the walk was longer than he had anticipated. When he reached the buildings at last he stood for a moment in the shadow of a high wall listening intently. There was no sound from within, and, convinced that his approach had not been observed, he began to work slowly round the walls, moving silently and using his torch at intervals.

The building was much as he had expected. A high red wall enclosed the whole of the establishment, forming a large rectangular block, only one side of which was skirted by the rough private track which he had been so careful to avoid in his journey from the main road.

The large iron gates which formed the entrance from the track were locked. Peering cautiously through them, he was relieved to find the place in darkness. The dwelling-house and garden took up the western third of the rectangle. Directly in front of him was a square court with a cottage on his left, while the stables occupied the remaining portion of the whole block. They were built on all four sides of a square, two storeys high, with big wooden gates to the courtyard and a second entrance giving on to the heath on the eastern side, at right-angles to the creek. The drive led on a gentle curve past the front door of the house to the wooden gates of the stable yard.

Alone in the darkness, Mr Campion became suddenly intensely alert. Somewhere in the house he fancied he could hear the murmur of voices. He made no attempt to enter until he had been all round the buildings, however, and by the time he had returned to the front gates once more he was considerably wiser.

The place was in appalling repair and many of the bricks had begun to fluke badly under the influence of the salt air. Mr Campion put his spectacles in his pocket, and, having chosen a suitable spot by the kitchens of the house where an overgrown creeper hung down, began to climb. It was by no means an easy ascent, for the wall was high, and it was surmounted by broken glass which the creeper only just masked. He accomplished it, however, and slid noiselessly to the ground on the other side. Once again he paused to listen, holding his breath. Still there was no noise but the continued murmur of voices somewhere on the opposite side of the house.

Having replaced his spectacles, he set off once more on his perambulation. There were no dogs nor grooms to be seen, and after careful inspection of the stable yard, the wooden doors of which stood ajar, Mr Campion was convinced that the information which he had gathered on one of his many visits that afternoon in London was substantially correct. Mrs Dick's racing stables could hardly be regarded as a going concern. Although there were boxes for twenty horses, only one of them appeared to be occupied.

The cottage by the stable gates was empty also, and evidences of decay were on all sides. Only the lawn and the courtyard were trim. The garden was a wilderness.

Very cautiously he approached the one lighted aperture in the whole establishment; two glass doors giving out on to the lawn. He had been careful to avoid the beam of light which they shed on to the lawn, but now he ventured up to it, the grass deadening his footsteps.

There was a thin net curtain over the windows, but the light inside rendered it transparent as he came nearer. In the relics of what had once been a fine room, five men and a woman were grouped round a table at which a hand of poker was in progress.

‘Not a nice lot,' Mr Campion reflected as he glanced from face to face. There was Matthew Sanderson, looking more astute than ever as he dealt the cards; the horse-faced ‘Major', and Fingers Hawkins, who had held him up on the road, a little ill at ease among his social superiors, but nevertheless in shirt-sleeves. Then there was a grey-headed, narrow-eyed man he did not recognize, and a little insignificant Japanese half-caste that he did, and whose presence bewildered him.

Mrs Dick dominated the group by sheer force of personality. As usual, she was strikingly smart; her black and white dress contrived to be almost theatrical in its extreme yet austere fashionableness. Her white face was twisted in a half-smile. Her hair was close-cropped like a man's, displaying her curiously lobeless ears. A heavy rope of barbaric crimson beads was coiled round her throat, and the feminine touch looked bizarre upon her angular, masculine form.

‘Not staying, Major?' she said, as the red-faced man threw down his cards. ‘You never have the courage to see a thing through. Sandy, I've been watching you. You're playing all you know.'

Sanderson threw down his cards. ‘I wonder someone hasn't strangled you, Daisy,' he said, with more admiration than resentment in his tone.

Mrs Dick was unabashed. ‘My husband tried,' she observed.

‘You got him first, I suppose?' said the Major, laughing.

The woman fixed him with her peculiarly insolent stare. ‘He used to say the whisky wasn't strong enough,' she said. ‘I often think it was the methylated spirits we used to pep it up with that killed him.'

Sanderson turned away. ‘You put the wind up me,' he said. ‘The way you talk I wonder you're not afraid of the “Blacking”.'

Mrs Dick laughed. ‘I'd like to see any man who's got the guts to blackmail me,' she said. ‘Make it five, Tony.'

‘No “Blacking”,' said Fingers Hawkins from the other side of the table. ‘But we'll get our do's.'

‘You'll get your dues and more.' Mrs Dick was inclined to be contemptuous. ‘I'll make it the limit, Tony. You won't stay? Thanks. Mine.'

She threw down her hand as Mr Campion tapped on the window.

The gentle noise startled everyone save Mrs Dick, who hardly looked up from the cards she was collecting. ‘Open that window, Fingers,' she murmured. ‘There's something scratching on it.'

The big man went forward cautiously, and, raising the catch, jerked the half-door open, jumping smartly sideways as he did so.

Mr Campion, pale, smiling and ineffably inane, was revealed on the threshold.

‘Good evening, everybody,' he said, coming into the room. ‘Anybody got a good tip for the Ascot Gold Cup?'

Fingers Hawkins side-stepped behind him and passed out into the darkness. ‘'E's alone,' he remarked, and coming back into the room, relocked the window.

At this piece of information the spirits of the company, which had been momentarily uncertain, now became almost uproarious. Sanderson began to laugh.

‘All on his own,' he said. ‘Isn't that sweet and confiding? We were telling Daisy she ought to invite you for a nice quiet rest until the fun was over, and here you are.'

‘Look out. P'raps there's a cartload of busies outside,' said the half-caste nervously.

Sanderson turned on him. ‘Shut up, Moggie,' he said viciously. ‘How many times have I told you the police aren't in this business? What d'you think they're going to get you for – being alive?'

‘Well, I could understand that,' remarked Mr Campion affably. ‘Still, everyone to his taste, eh, Mrs Shannon?'

Mrs Dick did not deign to look in his direction. ‘What have you come here for?' she said, reshuffling the cards. ‘I don't think I know you.'

‘Nonsense,' said Mr Campion. ‘We met at the dear Vicar's. You must remember. I was passing round the biscuits. You took two. Then we both laughed heartily.'

Mrs Dick raised her eyes and regarded him coldly. ‘You seem to be even more of a fool than I took you for at first,' she said, her stentorian tones blaring at him across the card table. ‘What are you doing here?'

‘Calling,' said Mr Campion firmly. ‘That must be obvious to the meanest intelligence.'

‘Sandy,' said Mrs Shannon, ‘put this creature out.'

‘Not on your life.' Sanderson spoke with enthusiasm. ‘Daisy under-estimates you, Campion. I shall feel all the safer with you as a guest here for the next few days. Got a gun?'

‘No,' said Mr Campion. ‘I don't like firearms. Even pea-shooters are dangerous in my opinion.'

‘No fooling. I've got mine trained on you.'

Mr Campion shrugged his shoulders and turned to Fingers.

‘Do your stuff,' he said, raising his arms above his head. ‘I love to see a professional at work.'

‘You stow it,' said the pickpocket uneasily. Nevertheless he complied with Mr Campion's request, and stood back a moment or so later shaking his head.

Sanderson's amusement increased.

‘Well, this
is
friendly,' he said. ‘What d'you think you're doing? You've done some balmy things in your life, but now you've stepped clean over the edge. What's the idea?'

‘You look out for 'im,' said the gentleman addressed as Moggie. ‘'E's as slippery as an eel. 'E's got something up his sleeve, you betcher life. Probably that great bull pup Lugg's about somewhere.'

‘Write that down, sign it, send it to our head office, and we present you with a magnificent fountain pen absolutely free,' said Mr Campion. ‘Every testimonial, however humble, is docketed and on view at any time.'

Mrs Dick stacked the cards up neatly and turned in her chair to survey her visitor once more. ‘Why have you come here, young man?' she said. ‘You're beginning to bore me.'

‘Just you wait,' said Mr Campion. ‘Wait till I get my personality over. I do hope you don't mind. I've been looking over your stables. There's one thing I didn't quite get. So many boxes but only ‘a' horse's. I suppose the pretty creature has a different home each day, like Alice at the mad tea party.'

The woman's expression did not change, but her strong bony hands ceased to play with the cards.

‘Perhaps you had better stay here for a day or two,' she said. ‘Lock him up in one of the boxes, Sandy, and then for Heaven's sake stick to the game.'

‘We'd better see if he
is
alone, first,' said Sanderson. ‘I shan't be surprised if he is. He's conceited enough for anything.'

‘If you find anyone outside he's nothing to do with me,' said Mr Campion. ‘Absolutely no connection with any other firm. No; as I told you before, I'm making a perfectly normal formal call. I climbed the wall by a honeysuckle bush. Up and down, quite unaided. Moggie couldn't have done it better. Frankly,' he went on, turning towards that worthy, ‘I don't see what a cat burglar is doing in this.'

‘You don't have to,' cut in Sanderson quickly. ‘You don't have to think about us. It's your own skin you've got to watch. Fingers, you and the Major go and have a scout round.'

‘That's right,' said Mr Campion. ‘And whistle all the time. Then we'll know it's you. Meantime, perhaps I could show you some card tricks?' he added, eyeing the pack on the table wistfully. ‘Or I'll tell your fortune, Mrs Shannon. You've got a lucky face.'

To everyone's surprise Mrs Dick threw the pack in his direction. Mr Campion picked them up and shuffled with great solemnity.

‘You cut three times towards me and wish,' he said. His pale eyes were mild and guileless, and there was an infantile expression upon his face. She cut the cards, the half-amused, half-derisive smile still twisting her small thin mouth.

Mr Campion set about arranging the cards with a portentous air. ‘I see a lot of knaves about you,' he remarked cheerfully. ‘One fat one,' he added, eyeing the retreating form of the ‘Major'.

Sanderson laughed. ‘You're a cool customer,' he said, a tinge of admiration in his voice. ‘Carry on.'

‘I see a great understanding,' said Mr Campion, plonking down the cards one after the other. ‘And a lot of trouble. Oh, dear, dear, dear! All black cards. It looks as if there's a hanging in it for somebody.'

‘Shut up,' said Sanderson, stretching out a hand as if to sweep the cards off the table. ‘He's playing for time, or something.'

‘Hush,' said Mr Campion. ‘I'm going to have my palm crossed with silver for this – I hope. Now here's a whole stack of money – I might almost say a pot of money. Ah, don't be led astray by riches, lady. Here comes the luck card. It's very close but it doesn't quite touch. There's a fair young man in between. I should watch out for him, Mrs Dick.'

He prattled on, apparently oblivious of his surroundings.

‘There's an old woman and her son who'll give the game away if you don't take care – a silly old woman and a sillier son. You'll have a lot to answer for there,' he said presently, and was interrupted by the return of the two searchers.