Chapter 4 #2
“I don’t expect I can, either. I … I’m dashed keen on Miss Arbuckle, you know. The police are the people to advise you.”
“No!” Arbuckle dropped his fork, his shoulders sagging. “If I contact the police, they’ll kill Gloria.”
Phillip opened his mouth, and closed it again. The silence lengthened.
“K-kill her?” he stammered at last. “What makes you think so?”
“When I came round from the chloroform, there was a note saying so beside me in the auto.”
“They left you in the car?” He clung to irrelevant details to avoid the enormity of the threat to the girl he loved. “There in the lane?”
“No, not there, or Crawford would have found me pretty quick. I guess they fixed the radiator with your bit of hose. They drove it back to the hotel and parked it with the top up in an out-of-the-way corner, under that big old tree out front.”
“The cedar? Yes, no one would go near it there. But Crawford must have returned to Great Malvern when he found the Studebaker gone?”
“That poor guy! I feel real badly about him. He walked miles to a garage, and when he got there he found he’d left his notecase behind.”
“They pinched mine,” Phillip said, still aggrieved.
Arbuckle stuck his hand into his pocket. “Here, you’d better take this.” He brought out a fistful of notes.
“I wasn’t angling for money!”
“No, no, but you’ll need a few bucks—quids—and you don’t want to have to ask your folks. You can pay me back later. Now, where was I?”
“Crawford left his wallet behind.”
“That’s so, and I guess it took him a while to talk the garage man into driving him back to the Studebaker.”
“And it wasn’t there when they got there.”
“Crawford thought he must have mistaken the spot. All these lanes of yours look pretty much alike.”
“It’s quite easy for a stranger to get lost,” Phillip agreed, refilling their coffee cups.
“They motored around awhile, till the mechanic figured he’d been had for a sucker.
To cut a long story short, Crawford ended up hoofing it darn near all the way back to Great Malvern, except for a short ride on a hay-wagon.
He was beat and he was kinda mad, though in general he’s a real cool customer. ”
“He must have thought you had abandoned him, having somehow replaced the hose.”
“You’d think a guy oughta know after ten years that’s not how I treat my employees,” said Arbuckle, rather querulous. “Waal, he spotted the Studebaker there under the tree, but what with one thing and another he just went on up to his room to nurse his blisters and his grievances.”
“Leaving you to wake up in your own time.” The subject of the threat to Gloria could no longer be postponed. “What exactly did the note say?”
“That they have my daughter. I’m to wait for further instructions on how to pay to get her back, and how much, and if I contact the cops, I’ll never see her again alive.”
“They talked about killing me, but they didn’t,” Phillip pointed out hopefully. “None of them wanted to get mixed up in murder.”
“Your crooks just don’t have itchy trigger-fingers like ours do, and the boss, the man they call the Yank, wasn’t there, was he? He’ll rub out my girl himself if I don’t do what he says.”
“I don’t see why. He’d have nothing to gain by it.”
“As a warning. Next time he pulled the same trick, someone would remember Gloria dying and pay up. It works. It happens all the time in the States, and the result is I’m not going to the police.”
“Our police are pretty good on the whole,” Phillip contended. “At least, Scotland Yard is.”
“I’ve the greatest respect for your Scotland Yard, son. A swell bunch of guys, I hear, not dumb stiffs or on the take like half ours at home. But I’m not prepared to risk Gloria’s life.” Arbuckle’s gaze at once pleaded and demanded. “Are you?”
“No,” said Phillip unhappily. By no means convinced that the proper authorities were not the best people to deal with the situation, he was all too aware of his inability to present persuasive arguments. “Of course not. Only.…”
“Swear you won’t go to the police.”
“You have my word as a gentleman.”
“I guess that’ll do. Now, maybe you can advise me what to say when people ask where Gloria is.
We’ve gotten kinda buddy-buddy with some of the folks at the Abbey Hotel, see.
They’re sure to ask. The last thing I want is for anyone to think there’s something fishy going on, or next thing we know some busybody will be starting rumours that’ll get to the ears of the police. ”
“Oh … er.…” Phillip look for inspiration to one of the plaster cupids on the ceiling. He was racked by a sudden vision of Arbuckle disenchanted with him and turning for advice to that bounder at the hotel, Major Purvis, who had his eye on Gloria.
“The best I can come up with is to say she wasn’t feeling too good so I sent her to Lunnon to see one of those classy Harley Street doctors. Only no one would believe I let her go alone.”
“I should rather think not! Besides the Harley Street johnnies aren’t on call at the weekend like one’s local medico. Can’t you just tell people she’s gone to stay with friends for a few days?”
“But they’ll want to know who, and where, and why I haven’t gone too. Wise me up. Give me some plausible answers, something that won’t make ’em raise their eyebrows. Your English swells have a way of raising their eyebrows, and I never can be sure what’s going to get ’em going.”
“By Jove, sir, if anyone asks such infernally impertinent questions, you jolly well raise your eyebrows at them. Not at all the thing.”
Arbuckle was surprised into a snort of laughter. “Attaboy,” he said, standing up. “I figured you’d come through with the goods. Waal, I’d better be getting back to the hotel.”
“Would you like me to come with you?”
“I don’t say I wouldn’t appreciate your company, son, but that surely would raise eyebrows, you calling on me when Gloria’s gone off visiting.
” His knowing look made Phillip blush. “No, you’ll have to steer clear of the hotel.
Better not come into town, either, because I’ll be damned if Gloria would have accepted an invitation from anyone but royalty knowing you’d be in this part of the country. I’ll be able to get hold of you here?”
“For the present.” Phillip was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of fatigue.
He really was too rocky to face his family’s inevitable questions if he went home.
No earthly use raising his eyebrows at them!
“I’ll ring you up before I leave. You will keep me in the picture, let me know at once if there’s anything I can do? Anything at all!”
“Sure thing. Just be careful what you say on the ’phone.” Arbuckle wrote down the Dalrymples’ telephone number. Shaking Phillip’s hand, he said, “I reckon my girl’s found her a mighty fine guy, yes sirree. Now don’t you go tearing your hair. I’ll pay whatever they ask. Gloria’s going to be okay.”
If so, Phillip thought miserably, escorting his visitor down to the hall, why was her father so haggard?
For want of anything more helpful to do, he trudged back up to the bedroom.
How he wished he were the clever sort of chap who always knew the answers, who had a plan at his fingertips to meet any situation!
Someone like Bulldog Drummond, who not only knew just what to do but had the devil’s own luck.
Perhaps if he sat down, closed his eyes, and concentrated. …
Or lay down. His bones ached and the bed looked awfully inviting. One could think just as well prone as sitting up, he assured himself, as he hung his jacket on the back of a chair, kicked off his shoes, and stretched out on top of the bedspread.
Sleep hit too fast to be resisted.
When Phillip woke up, he knew precisely what to do. The notion buzzing around in his brain was an absolute corker, he decided, examining it from every angle.
What did Bulldog Drummond do when his back was to the wall? He called in his friends. Phillip would consult Daisy.
Daisy not only had brains, she was quick-witted.
She was forever getting mixed up in shady business and finding her way out in one piece, even helping the police, he gathered.
He didn’t approve. He had done his best to dissuade her from letting herself be drawn into murder investigations, so he’d look an absolute ass calling her in now, but this was different.
This was Gloria in danger. Besides, if it came to taking any risks, he would keep Daisy well out of the way. Even Gervaise could not have faulted him for asking her advice.
Nor could Arbuckle object. Phillip would make Daisy swear not to contact the police, and he trusted her if he trusted anyone in the world.
Sitting up, he swung his legs off the bed and reached for his shoes. He must wire her at once, begging her to hop on a train this very afternoon. Surely she didn’t slave over her blasted articles on Sunday afternoons?
As he tied his shoes, Ernest arrived. “Oh, you’re awake at last, sir,” he said. “Her ladyship wants to know—wishes to enquire, that is—will you be coming down to dinner?”
“To dinner! What time is it?”
“Half past six, sir. The dressing-bell will ring in half an hour.”
“Ye gods, I’ve slept the whole day away!” said Phillip, shocked.
“Yes, sir.”
“I must send a telegram immediately.”
“Yes, sir. Dinner, sir?” the footman ventured to enquire as Phillip sped past him.
“I’m abso-bally-lutely ravenous,” Phillip called back over his shoulder, well on his way to the stairs. Dash it, he thought, bounding down, how could he have wasted so much time? Daisy might not be able to come till tomorrow now.
If only she had a telephone, he’d be able to persuade her of the urgency of his plea without blowing the gaff to any inquisitive operator. A wire was going to take some thought.