Trusted Like The Fox Read online

  “It’ll make you sleep,” he said as he turned to the door. “I’ll get back to my patient. Sweet dreams, my dear.”

  She had slept; and now, awakened by the nightmare, she realised that she was not likely to sleep again. She lay in the semi-darkness, looked back on the past few days and marvelled at the change in her life. It was a fairy tale, she thought, and if only Ellis hadn’t been here, Crane would have been lying by her side. She suddenly hated Ellis: he was at the bottom of it all. It was he who was spoiling their happiness. Why couldn’t he get well and go? She was sure that until he had gone they couldn’t hope to begin life together.

  She suddenly wanted to see Crane again, and slipping out of bed she crept from her room, down the passage to Ellis’s room. The light was still on, but looking round the half-open door, she was surprised to see the big easy chair empty.

  She hesitated, wondered if she should go back for her wrap, then decided to have a peep round the door to see if he was by the window. Stealthily she moved into the room, met Ellis’s anxious eyes. As soon as she saw he was awake and that Crane wasn’t in the room, she took a hasty step back.

  “Don’t go,” Ellis implored, not moving. “Please come in. I must talk to you.”

  She looked at him from around the door.

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” she said, suddenly feeling cold. “I’m going back to bed.” Then she asked, “Where is he?”

  “Out in the garden,” Ellis said softly. “He thought I was asleep. I knew he had to go some time, so I waited; pretended I was asleep. He’s burying the policeman.”

  “What do you mean?” Grace asked, startled.

  “A policeman came here tonight,” Ellis said, speaking rapidly, as if afraid he would be interrupted at any moment. “The chap who ran after you on the golf course. His name’s Rogers. He came here and saw me. He looked through the window.”

  “Oh!” Grace cried, her hand going to her mouth. “He saw you? Then he . . .” she broke off, unable to complete the thought that had entered her mind.

  “Yes, he saw me, but Crane spotted him as he was crawling across the lawn. He knew the copper would get help and arrest us, so he killed him.”

  Grace stared at him blankly for a second or so, then her face flushed. “Is there no end to your lies?” she exclaimed, stung to anger. “First you say Richard wants to kill me and now, he’s killed the policeman. How can you? What good do you think it will do to lie like that?” She twisted and untwisted her hands, plunged on, “Richard says you love me. Well, I’m sorry for you, but I can’t love you. You’re making me hate you with all your lies. I can’t love you. I’m Richard’s. Can’t you see that?” She came further into the room, forgetting in her agitation that she was wearing only a semi-transparent pair of pyjamas. Please stop saying these awful things. I don’t believe them. I never will believe them.”

  “He killed him with the knife — the same knife he killed Julie Brewer with,” Ellis said, watching her closely. “He’s out in the garden, burying him now. Go and see if you don’t believe me — catch him in the act, and when you’ve seen him, go: run for your life. Never mind about me. I don’t care what happens to me: I’m past caring. It’s you I want to save.”

  “But Julie killed herself,” Grace cried, beating her hands together. “How can you say such wicked things? He told me how it happened and I believe him. I wouldn’t believe anything you said. You’re wicked!”

  “And he told me, too,” Ellis went on, waving her to silence. “He stood there and boasted about it. He’s mental. He admits it. He’s interested in the death of women. That’s what he says. Safki knows, but he can’t do anything to stop him because Crane has a hold over him. Crane got Julie down here and killed her. Safki walked in on them as Julie was dying. Ask Safki if you don’t believe me. That’s why Crane’s sheltering us. He’s after you. Tomorrow he’s getting rid of me. I’m going to Safki’s place, and then he’ll have you on his own. When he’s amused himself with you, he’ll kill you.”

  “How can you invent such lies?” Grace demanded, her voice rising. “I won’t listen to you. I don’t believe you. No one would believe you.”

  “He says you’re incredible — unbelievable. He thinks you’ve been bred on twopenny magazines and the movies. He thinks you’re cracked. He calls you a drudge, and he’s going to marry the daughter of some big-wig with a lot of decorations.”

  Disgusted, Grace turned away.

  “I think you must be mad,” she said. “And I hate you. Don’t ever speak to me again. I’ve had enough of you and I’ll tell Richard that I’m not coming near you.”

  Ellis raised his clenched fists above his head. It was hopeless. Scragger was his only hope. He had found Scragger’s name in the telephone directory, and was on the point of calling him when Crane had stopped him. If he could only get to the telephone again, he could still save her.

  “All right, don’t believe it,” he said, controlling his voice. “I’ll save you in spite of yourself. But go into the garden. You’ll find him out there.” Then he lost control of himself, shouted wildly at her, “That might convince you, you stupid, brainless, trusting little bitch!”

  She went out of the room immediately, but outside, she paused and then came back.

  “I am going out,” she said quietly, “but only because I feel he needs me. But I don’t trust you, so I’m going to lock you in,” and she took the key from the lock and slipped it in the other side of the door.

  Ellis, his face contorted with alarm and fury, tried to lift himself.

  “Don’t!” he shouted. “Don’t lock me in. I must use the telephone. I’ve got to use the telephone.”

  “Richard doesn’t want you to use the telephone,” Grace said quietly, closed and locked the door behind her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The high full moon shed its brilliant light over the garden. There was no wind and the air was still and hot: a silent, lovely summer night.

  Grace stood on the front step looking across the lawn, hoping to catch sight of Crane, but she couldn’t see him, nor could she see any movement on that vast tidy stretch of grass, nor in the long, orderly flower beds, full of summer blooms. The scent of the flowers was heavy on the night air, and in the distance, against the high brick walls that surrounded the garden, the laurels and rhododendrons formed black patches of mysterious darkness. To the left of the house was a dense thicket of fir trees and evergreens. If Crane was really in the garden as Ellis said he was, then he must be somewhere in the thicket, Grace decided, after examining the open ground before her. She turned back to the hall, opened the hall cupboard and took out a light tweed coat she had noticed there during the day. She slipped it on over her pyjamas, closed the front door, and walked quickly across the lawn to the thicket.

  She went to meet Crane, not because she believed what Ellis had told her, but because she could no longer bear to be in the bungalow alone with Ellis. She wanted to find Crane, to receive his assurances, to tell him what Ellis had said, to beg him to get rid of Ellis before he spoilt their happiness.

  How wicked he was! she thought angrily. How could he invent such stories? At the back of her mind, although she would not let it become more than a half-formed thought, she was dismayed most by Ellis saying that Richard was going to marry the daughter of an important man. She was sure it had been a cruel lie, calculated to hurt her, but lie or no lie, she was distressed. Richard should marry someone worthy of him: not a thief, a convicted felon. She wanted to tell him: to beg him to think twice, and of course, hoped he would tell her he wished for no one but her.

  At the wooden gate, leading to the thicket, she paused. It was dark in the thicket and she wished now she had brought an electric torch. She had been that way with Crane during the afternoon. In daylight it was a delightful spot: narrow paths bordered by high trees, flowering shrubs and climbing roses decorating the big, natural lake in the centre of the thicket. Beyond the lake was a glen that Crane told her was full of bluebe
lls and daffodils in the spring. Beyond the glen was a narrow, twisting path that disappeared into a dense wood. He had turned back when they had come to that path, saying that they had gone far enough.

  She wondered where he was in the thicket, hoped that he had a light by which she could find him. Being deaf, it didn’t cross her mind to call to him.

  She passed through the wooden gate, into the darkness. Her feet trod the well-worn path, and whenever she strayed from it, she stumbled on the edge of the thick grass, paused, got back on to the path and went on.

  She walked for some time in total darkness, and as she went on and on, she became uneasy. (Had she lost her way? Was she walking in circles?) She stopped; darkness and silence surrounded her. She looked up. High above the trees she could make out the dim light of the moon coming through the thick foliage. She looked back over her shoulder, saw only blackness, looked before her, to her right, to her left: blackness.

  For a moment or so she had to struggle against a feeling of suffocation and panic, but pulling herself together, she went on. Richard was somewhere ahead, she thought stubbornly. “I shall not be alone much longer. Then he and I will find our way back without difficulty.”

  A little later she came upon the lake that lay in the moonlight like a glittering mirror, and she stood by the still water, locking towards the glen, hoping to see him; but there was no sign of him.

  The glen was a black patch of trees and shrubs, and she hesitated whether to go on or not; whether she should sit by the lake and wait for him to come to her, but knowing that a path ran round the lake she realised that he might return by the far side of the lake and miss her. She decided to go on.

  She waited a moment or so, hoping that he would come. There was something final and frightening about the path ahead of her. It scared her. She wondered if bats hung from the trees and would drop on her; if an owl would fly at her, its great saucer-like eyes snapping fire of annoyance. She pulled the tweed coat closer about her, walked slowly towards the glen.

  The ground sloped away under her feet and she walked heavily, digging her heels into the mossy path. She felt as if unseen hands were pushing her forward, and twice she stopped, hesitated, and looked back at the lake, wishing to return, but each time, going forward, now intent on finding Crane, also realising that she hadn’t the courage to face the darkness of the thicket alone on the return journey.

  In the glen, she again paused. The moonlight came through the trees and lit the carpet of soft grass, the climbing roses, the wild orchids and the rhododendrons that flowered there.

  It was an enchanting spot even at night, and it gave her courage to go on. She went on, through the glen towards the twisting path that led to the wood. At the foot of the path, she came to an uneasy halt. Perhaps he wasn’t there at all, she thought. Was it worth while going further? She was like a child in a fairy tale about to enter a forest full of strange creatures, witches and dragons. She felt small and defenceless beside the tall trees, but she did go on after a struggle with herself, although she moved a step at a time, ready to retreat at the first movement in the undergrowth.

  But nothing alarmed her, and she went on and on, until, looking back, she realised that she was now completely swallowed up by the dense wood, and, for all she knew, she might have wandered into an endless tunnel and was now miles under the ground. The moment that thought entered her head, she became panic-stricken, and she sank to the ground, petrified, her heart hammering against her ribs.

  She remained on the soft mossy ground for some time, struggling to control her fears. She must go back, she told herself. By keeping her eyes closed, she managed to shut out the terror that seemed to lurk around her. “There’s nothing to be frightened of,” she said, half aloud. “All I have to do is to retrace my steps to the lake, and then rest there until Richard comes to look for me. I must return to the lake.”

  But when she opened her eyes and found herself still in the hot, silent darkness, fear again laid hold of her. She scrambled to her feet, took a hesitating step forward and then stopped. In the distance, right ahead of her, she saw a faint gleam of light. At first she couldn’t believe it, but looking again, she knew she hadn’t been mistaken.

  Instantly her fear left her. Richard was just ahead. She had been right to come; a fool to have been scared. She hurried forward, each step bringing her nearer the light.

  As she rounded the bend of the path, she saw, a hundred yards or so ahead, a storm lantern, set down in the middle of the path, but there was no one in sight: no Richard.

  She reached the lantern, picked it up, looked around; holding the lantern above her head, trying to see further than its bright rays could penetrate.

  She was now alarmed; no longer afraid for herself, but afraid for Richard. Something must have happened to him, she thought wildly. He must have slipped and hurt himself and had crawled into the undergrowth before losing consciousness.

  In the light of the lantern she could see how wild and lonely this spot was. Thick shrubs bordered the path; great, gnarled trees, centuries old, leaned over threateningly, their branches but a few feet above her head. The grass was long and tangled, the weeds and nettles and ivy choked the undergrowth.

  She was about to call out, when she saw something that froze her into silence. From beneath a thick bush, a man’s foot protruded.

  “Richard!” she screamed, starting forward. “Richard! Are you hurt?” and she dropped on hands and knees to peer under the bush. She saw a trouser leg and then a hand, and she reached out, seized the hand. But the moment her fingers touched it, she knew she was touching dead flesh, and she snatched her hand away, her body recoiling with a violent start, her heart skipping a beat.

  The full force of the discovery didn’t strike her for a moment or so. She knelt before the hand, stupefied with horror. Then it dawned on her that Richard was dead, and she screamed frantically, sprang to her feet and ran wildly down the path into the darkness.

  Her screams echoed through the woods; disturbed the birds, startled the foxes in their holes, but she wasn’t even aware she was screaming.

  Half-way down the path, she realised she was running blindly in the dark and she stopped, looked back at the distant light of the lantern. She must get the lantern and then get help. Richard was dead! Nothing mattered now. She couldn’t leave him there. She would have to tell someone; get whoever it was to carry him to the house. Safki! Of course! Safki must help her.

  Sobbing distractedly, she retraced her steps, reached to pick up the lantern, then paused. She remained half bent over the lantern, her heart frozen, fear taking hold of her in icy fingers.

  Just in front of her, something moved: a dim shape seemed to rise out of the ground and tower over her. Strange animal-like eyes shone in the lantern light.

  She couldn’t move nor utter a sound. She remained petrified, a figure carved in stone.

  Crane came out of the bushes, caught hold of her arms, pulled her against him, looked down into her glazed eyes.

  “I’m afraid I frightened you,” he said gently and smiled. “I’m so very sorry, my dear.”

  She clutched his coat in both hands, felt her inside heave, and a cold sweat break out all over her body. Her knees gave under her, and if he had not held her tightly, she would have fallen. She lost consciousness, sank into a dark pit of faintness.

  He was still holding her when the faintness went away. She was lying on the ground, her head pillowed on his knees, his hands holding hers.

  She looked up at him, saw the kind, humorous smile in his eyes, relaxed with a sigh of relief.

  “I thought you were dead,” she said and began to cry. “Oh, Richard, I was so frightened.”

  “Of course you were, my dear,” he said, stroking her hands, “You shouldn’t have come into the wood. Why did you come?”

  “I wanted you,” she said. “Ellis was saying such beastly things . . .” She suddenly sat up, clutched his arm. “That man! He’s dead! I thought it was you!”

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p; Crane pulled her back against him.

  “Don’t be frightened,” he said. “I didn’t want you to know.”

  She remembered what Ellis had said: Crane spotted him crawling across the lawn. He knew he’d get help and arrest us, so he killed him.

  “Is it the policeman?” she asked, staring at him in horror.

  Crane nodded.

  “You killed him?” Grace said, clutching at his sleeve and shaking it. “You killed him?”

  There was a watchful expression in his eyes now. “Did Ellis say so?”

  “Yes.” Her hand unconsciously continued to shake his sleeve.

  “It was an accident,” Crane said. “I only wanted to save you. I didn’t really kill him. He was looking in Ellis’s room. You were there, too. I could see he recognised you both. I crept up to him and knocked him on the head. But as he fell — he had a knife in his hand (perhaps he was going to open the window with it) — he fell on the knife.”

  “You hit him?” Grace gasped.

  “I thought we’d have time to make a bolt for it,” Crane said. “I’ll never forgive myself. I wanted you, my dear. I couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from you. I didn’t hit him hard . . . but he fell on the knife.”

  She believed him instantly, and slipping her arms round him, she hugged him to her.

  “You’re so good to me,” she sobbed. “I don’t know how I can repay you. Is there nothing you won’t do for me?”

  He grinned bleakly in the darkness, ran his fingers through her hair, then he raised her face so she could see what he wanted to say to her.

  “I’m going to bury him. I was digging a grave for him when I heard you scream. They’ll never find him in this wood. All we have to do is to sit tight. It’s the only thing to do. Tomorrow I’ll get rid of Ellis, then you and I can get out of the country — go to Switzerland or America.”

  “But they’ll find him,” she said, terrified. “They always do.”

  He pushed her gently from him.

  “Don’t be frightened. Trust in me,” he said. “Now, wait here while I bury him. I won’t be long.”