Footsteps in the Dark Read online

  Charles gave them a brief résumé of the artist’s conversation. Peter sat up when he had finished. ‘The knife business makes it look as though he’s mad,’ he said, ‘but if we don’t try and find out what he’s up to we’re a couple of fools. If you’d like to clear out, Sis, I propose to dress.’

  ‘You can take your clothes into my room,’ said his sister disobligingly. ‘I want to hear some more. Who did he think was following him, Charles?’

  ‘I don’t know. The Monk, presumably. I have an idea he’s afraid of Strange.’

  Conscious of her brother’s sidelong scrutiny Margaret said calmly: ‘Why?’

  Charles told her what Duval had said that morning when Strange had entered the taproom with the landlord. She nodded. ‘I see.’ She watched Peter swing his legs out of bed, and sat down, folding her dressing-gown more tightly round her.

  Peter collected his clothes, and disappeared into her room. Through the open doorway his voice reached them: ‘What about Celia?’

  ‘She doesn’t like it, but she says if Margaret will go and keep her company and I promise to run no risks I may go just this once.’

  Margaret raised her eyes. ‘What are you going to do, Charles?’

  ‘It all depends,’ he answered. ‘I don’t propose to run any unnecessary risks, and from Duval’s account the Monk is a dangerous customer. But if by following Duval we can get a sight of the Monk it’s worth doing.’

  ‘You mean, you’d follow the Monk, and see where he went to?’

  ‘That’s the general idea.’

  Margaret looked straight ahead of her for a moment, as though she were considering. ‘Yes,’ she said at last. ‘I think perhaps you ought to. But don’t shoot, Charles. Either of you. You don’t want to land yourselves in a mess, and you mustn’t forget that you don’t know what the Monk is after. He may not be doing anything criminal.’

  ‘The only shooting I’m likely to do will be in self-defence,’ Charles replied.

  Peter came back into the room in his shirt-sleeves. ‘Don’t you worry, Sis. We shan’t get into trouble.’

  ‘You might get excited, and do something you wouldn’t do in cold blood,’ she insisted. ‘And I’ve got a sort of idea that the Monk doesn’t want to hurt any of us.’

  Peter got into his coat, and buttoned it. ‘Where did you get that idea from, if I may ask?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I do feel that you oughtn’t to leap to conclusions.’ She got up. ‘Well, I’ll go along to Celia now. Good luck, you two.’ She went out, leaving her brother to frown after her.

  ‘Strike you that Margaret takes an unduly sympathetic interest in the Monk?’ he said. ‘I don’t quite like it. That fellow, Strange, has been getting at her, if you ask me.’

  ‘She’s too sensible,’ Charles said. ‘Are you ready?’

  Together they went downstairs, and let themselves out by the front door. The night was rather overcast, but the waning moon shone fitfully through the clouds.

  ‘Good: shan’t need our torches,’ Charles said, slipping his into the pocket of his tweed coat. ‘The chapel is our goal, I think. That’s where Flinders saw Duval.’

  They made their way to the ruin, and cautiously inspected it. No one was there, and a deep silence brooded over the place. They searched the ground all about it without success, and at last Peter said: ‘Look here, it’s no use wandering aimlessly through the woods. It ’ud be more sensible if we walked down to Duval’s cottage to see whether he’s there or not. If he’s tucked up in bed I think we can safely write him down a lunatic. If he’s not there – well, he may still be a lunatic, but we can lie in wait for him on the road and see which direction he comes from. That’ll narrow the field for us tomorrow night.’

  ‘All right,’ Charles said reluctantly. ‘Not that I think it helps much, but I agree we shan’t do much good going on like this.’

  They started to walk down the right-of-way. ‘What’s more,’ Peter pointed out, ‘it’s just possible that he may not have ventured out yet. After all, he knew we had a dinner-party, and since he seems very loth to let anyone catch sight of him he’d be bound to give the party some time to break up.’ He flashed his torch on to his wristwatch. ‘It’s only just on midnight. Duval might well think we should still be up.’

  ‘True,’ Charles agreed. ‘Anyway, we can but try your idea.’

  They walked on in silence, until they came to the place where the right-of-way joined the main road into Framley. A few yards up the road the lane that ran past Duval’s cottage branched off. They turned into this, and went softly up it till they saw the broken gate that led into the cottage garden. They paused in the lee of the untrimmed hedge, and craned their necks to obtain a glimpse of the tumble-down building. No light shone from either of the upper windows, but they thought they could see a dim glow in the ground floor.

  ‘How many rooms?’ Peter whispered.

  ‘One downstairs, besides the kitchen.’

  Peter stole to the gate, from where he could get a clear view of the cottage. He rejoined Charles in a minute or two. ‘There is a light burning downstairs,’ he whispered. ‘But I think the curtains are drawn. I move that we walk up past the place and wait under the hedge to see whether he comes out or not. If he does he’s bound to come this way, and he won’t see us if we’re the other side of the gate.’

  Charles nodded, and followed him to a distance of a few yards beyond the gate. A ditch, with a bank surmounted by a hedge, flanked the lane, and they sat down on this bank in silence.

  No sound came from the house on the other side of the ditch. After perhaps twenty minutes Charles yawned. ‘We must look uncommonly silly,’ he remarked. ‘I don’t believe he’s in. Or else he’s gone to bed, and left a light burning.’

  Peter stood up. ‘I’m going to try and have a look inside,’ he said.

  ‘You can’t go spying in at a man’s windows,’ Charles objected.

  ‘Can’t I?’ Peter retorted. ‘Well, you watch me, and see. I’ve no compunction about spying on Duval whatsoever. The trouble with you is that you’ve got a legal mind. I don’t somehow see Duval & Co. displaying a like punctiliousness where we’re concerned.’

  He carefully lifted the sagging gate out of position, and stole up the tangled path to the house. Charles saw him apparently listening at the window; then he crept round to the back, and was gone for some time.

  He rejoined Charles presently. ‘Can’t hear a sound,’ he said. ‘But there’s certainly a light. Just you come up, will you?’

  Charles sacrificed his principles, and followed Peter up to the front door. He stood listening intently. It was just as Peter had said: not the smallest sound came from the room on the other side of the door.

  ‘I believe you’re right,’ Charles whispered. ‘He’s either out, or asleep. If he’s asleep I propose to wake him.’

  Before Peter could stop him he had raised his hand and knocked smartly on the door.

  ‘You ass!’ Peter hissed. ‘If he’s there we don’t want to disturb him!’

  ‘If he’s there his talk was all moonshine, and it doesn’t matter whether we disturb him or not,’ Charles replied. He knocked again.

  The answering silence was a little uncanny. They waited, then Charles knocked louder than ever.

  ‘By Jove, I believe he is out!’ Peter said. ‘Take care he doesn’t come back suddenly and see you.’ He moved boldly towards the window, and set his eye to the dirty glass where the curtains inside just failed to meet. Suddenly he spoke in a sharp, uneasy voice. ‘Charles, just come here a moment. There’s something… Here, take a look. What’s that thing you can just see?’

  All his scruples forgotten Charles pressed his face up against the glass. ‘I can’t quite – it looks like an arm. Yes, it is. Then someone must be standing there! But – damn this curtain!’ He pressed closer, staring between the narrow gap in the curtain. The thing that was just discernible was unmistakably an arm in an old tweed sleeve, and below the edge of the frayed c