Mystery Mile (19 page)

Isopel watched him as he pottered about the room. For some moments the girl seemed on the verge of speaking. At last she found her courage.

‘Mr Campion,' she said, ‘don't let Giles do anything silly – or Marlowe either, of course,' she added hastily. ‘You'll look after them?'

‘As if they were my own sons, madam,' said Campion, beaming at her. ‘Both young gentlemen will be under the direct care of the Matron.'

She laughed, but her eyes were still anxious. ‘You see,' she burst out suddenly, the colour suffusing her face, ‘you don't know how dreadfully worrying it is to be in love.'

Mr Campion crossed over to the lift. She could see him through the open doorway from where she sat. He climbed in with great dignity, and sat there, looking ineffably comic, his knees drawn up to his chin, as he regarded her owlishly from behind his spectacles.

‘That's all you know, young woman,' he said solemnly, and shut the hatch.

THE GLORIES OF
Pedigree Mews had departed for ever. There were not even children playing in the uneven brick sink which formed the street, and the whole place had a furtive and surly aspect.

It lay at right angles to the blind alley which was Beverley Mews on the one side, and Wishart Street, which wriggled down into Church Street, Kensington, on the other. A dangerous and depressing spot.

Mr Campion glanced up and down the row. There was not a soul in sight. Number Twelve A was a dilapidated doorway in the corner between the two mews.

He pushed open the door, and entered into a passage smelling horribly of damp and cats. In front of him was a square patch of light revealing the tiny yard of the house, probably even more execrable than the passage itself. Just before the yard entrance he stumbled upon a dirty flight of stairs which wound a narrow way up into the building. Here the odours became more intense and were mingled with others even less attractive. Mr Campion ascended gingerly, keeping clear of the walls. As he reached the top floor, which consisted of two rooms, the doors of which formed two sides of a tiny square landing, he heard the unmistakable voice of Thos T. Knapp himself, clearly intent on being hospitable.

‘Mother, make room on the bed for Mr Barber. 'E don't look 'appy in the corner there.'

Campion paused and whistled softly. The door was opened immediately, and Mr Lugg came edging his way out. He was even more gloomy than before, and he regarded Mr Campion appraisingly.

‘Think you're clever, don't you?' he remarked in a throaty
rumble. ‘When you're goin' into a really nasty business, 'oo do you get round you? Two ruddy amateurs and somethin' out of a carpet shop. Gawd, you should see wot's goin' on in there.' He clicked his tongue against his teeth contemptuously. ‘
Don't
lean against that wall,' he added hastily. ‘It's
me
wot looks after yer clothes, don't forget.'

‘Look here,' said Campion mildly, ‘this nursemaid impersonation of yours is getting on my nerves. Why did you get Knapp into this when I told you not to?'

‘It was done afore you spoke.' Lugg was not in the least abashed. ‘The day you gets plugged is the day I lose my job. I'm lookin' after you, see? I believe you've beat me this time, though,' he added lugubriously. ‘S'pose I bring Thos out and we 'ave a talk in the other room? There's an atmosphere of 'appy-go-lucky in there wot neely makes me sick.'

Without waiting for a reply, he put his head round the door and made an inarticulate sound. Mr Knapp appeared at once.

‘'Ullo, Bertie,' he said pleasantly. ‘We ain't 'arf got a little party in 'ere. My old ma says she feels she's got all 'er sons round 'er again.'

Mr Lugg raised his hand. ‘Pleasantries is over,' he said. ‘Take 'im into the other room, Thos, and we'll 'ave a talk.'

‘Righto.' Mr Knapp threw open the door of the second room. ‘Plenty of time – 'opeless to try anythin' in this light. This 'ere is wot I call my workshop. Nice little place, ain't it?'

The room into which he conducted them was about ten feet square, low-ceilinged and as dirty as the approach had suggested. There were two long trestle tables which practically filled it, and upon these were odd pairs of earphones, vast quantities of wire, electric plugs, a home-made switchboard, and any amount of other odds and ends, all more or less in direct connexion with Mr Knapp's unpleasant hobby.

‘There you are,' he said, throwing out a hand. ‘All give me by the Government in unconscious recognition of my services. There's one of the old Bell telephones over there – come from Clerkenwell – interestin' relic.'

‘Stop yer reminiscences,' said Mr Lugg. ‘'Oo do you think you are? A retired admiral? This 'ere's business. I expect
trouble, I don't mind tellin' you. I see yer 'ouse is Twelve A. Thirteen that ought to be by rights.'

‘Shut up,' said Mr Knapp with unexpected bad temper. ‘There's a thirteen 'igher up the street. Bloke's in quod.'

‘I hear you've got Mr Barber in the next room,' said Campion. ‘What's the idea? Have you any objects of virtue up here, Thos?'

‘I 'ate jokes about sex,' said Mr Knapp sententiously. ‘No, I brought 'im up 'ere because I thought 'is car might be 'andy if we 'ad to 'urry off. I couldn't very well keep it and not 'im. When dealin' with gents you 'ave to be a gent, so I says, “Come up an' see mother”. 'E's not 'appy in there, but mother'll keep 'im quiet. She's as good as a bull pup.'

‘Cut the guff,' said Mr Lugg. ‘'Oo the 'ell cares, anyway?'

Mr Knapp pulled himself together, ‘'Eave yerself over this 'ere bench an' take a look out o' the window. D'you see where we are? No? Well, that's the end 'ouse of Beverley Gardens, that is. Now run yer eye along.' He was holding Campion firmly by the shoulder as he spoke. ‘Stand well back so as no one don't see you from the window. Now that 'ouse with the blue curtain to the top window – see it? – that's the 'ouse we want. It's not much of a climb,' he went on. ‘This 'ere ledge outside 'ere goes straight along till we get to the flat roof of the shop. Mother can do it easy, so you ought to.'

‘Then there's a spot of mountaineering,' said Campion.

‘That's right,' said Mr Knapp. ‘That'll be easy enough. I got me ladder 'ere. There's plenty o' rubber shoes about, too.'

‘I brought mine with me,' said Mr Lugg, taking a pair of mysteriously constructed rubber clogs from a brown-paper parcel which he carried.

Mr Knapp looked at him with undisguised amusement. ‘Gawd! You don't use them old things, do you? I ain't seen those since I was a nipper. Wotcher, Spring'eel Jack!'

‘Think yer clever, don't you?' said Mr Lugg. ‘These are an heirloom, that's wot these are.'

Campion turned away from the window. ‘When do we start?' he said. ‘As soon as it gets dark? Round about half-past ten?'

‘That's about it,' said Mr Knapp. ‘Nearly everyone's out o' doors or at any rate downstairs about that time.'

‘I think we'd better join the lady,' said Campion. ‘And I tell you, Knapp, you'd better keep your exuberance down a bit. Those two kids in the next room are both deeply interested in the girl, so don't let them do anything silly if you can prevent it.'

‘Am I likely to?' said Mr Knapp with contempt. ‘I'm in, too, ain't I? I've showed 'em the plan o' the works an' they seemed quite intelligent to me. Oh, well, it won't be the first time you an' me's been in a rough 'ouse, Bertie, will it? Do you remember, Lugg, you an' me in that 'ouse in Chiswick? Old girl three flights up kept 'anging over the banister screamin' like a train. “Rapine!” she shouts. A great big cop was sittin' on my chest, but I couldn't 'elp laughin'.'

Mr Lugg snorted contemptuously, and Campion pushed his way into the other room.

At first sight the happy-go-luckiness to which Mr Lugg had alluded was painfully apparent. This room, only a foot or so larger than the one they had just left, served the Knapp family as a complete domicile. In spite of the heat of the day, the window was tightly closed, and a saucepan boiled upon the gas stove. It was impossible to see clearly across the room for tobacco smoke and certain bedraggled pieces of laundry were suspended from an impromptu clothes-line. A large iron bedstead blocked one corner of the room, a smaller one prevented the door from opening properly on the other side, and the mother's and son's complete wardrobes were hung up along the farther wall.

In the midst of this discomfort Mrs Knapp presided affably over a worn and impatient gathering. She was a vast florid person clad in an assortment of garments, each one of which attempted to do only half the duty for which it had originally been intended. Her face was chiefly remarkable for some three or four attempts at a beard which grew out of large brown moles scattered over her many chins.

She was seated upon the larger bed, and beside her, dignified but uncomfortable, was the unfortunate Mr Barber.

Giles and Marlowe greeted Campion with relief.

‘Thank heaven you've come!' said the American. ‘Isn't it time we started?'

‘My dear old bird, I'm palpitating for the fray,' said Campion emphatically. ‘But it's absolutely no use starting in the daylight because we shouldn't get there. We shall have to wait for some considerable time longer.'

‘This is damnable,' said Marlowe. ‘Poor kid, you don't know what they may be doing to her. It makes me mad.' He ground his heel savagely into the floor.

‘You sit down, matey, an 'ave a friendly game o' cards.' Mr Knapp was doing his best to be reassuring. ‘I'd go an' 'ave a mike round for you, but it's too light as yet. We can't do anythin'.'

‘Suicide to go out now,' added Mr Lugg sepulchrally. ‘We professionals, we know.'

Giles was sitting on a piece of newspaper carefully spread over the boards, his knees drawn up to his chin and an utterly dejected expression on his face. ‘Gosh, I shall be glad when we can start,' he said feelingly.

‘You won't, once the time comes,' said Mr Lugg with disquieting solemnity. ‘We're goin' to be for it tonight. I've got that feelin'.'

Mrs Knapp turned upon him and emitted such a stream of blasphemies that everyone except her son was startled.

‘Mother's superstitious,' said Knapp. ‘She don't like premonitions.'

The lady, having recovered her serenity, smiled at them toothily. It was at this moment that Mr Barber staggered to his feet.

‘I do not wish to appear unsporting,' he said, ‘but really I think I had better go. I feel that I shall not be of any further service to you.'

The Knapps turned upon him as one person.

‘You stay where you are. If you go now you'll give the 'ole show away,' said Thos. ‘Mother, pass the gentleman yer bottle.'

Mr Barber was forced back. He sat looking round in
helpless misery. Mrs Knapp took no notice of her son's last remark, much to the Oriental's relief, and a sticky pack of cards was produced.

‘Nothink like poker,' said Mr Knapp. ‘An' remember, gentlemen, this is a friendly game.'

‘It seems almost a waste of time,' said Mr Lugg, drawing up a broken-backed chair.

Marlowe moved over to Campion. ‘You're sure this is the best thing?' he murmured. ‘I feel ready to burst.'

Campion bent towards him, and for a moment he saw the seriousness in the pale eyes behind the big spectacles. ‘It's our only chance, old bird,' he said. ‘We're going the moment we've the least hope.'

Marlowe glanced at him sharply. ‘You expect serious trouble?'

‘I expect a small war,' said Campion frankly.

‘
ARGUE AS MUCH
as you like, mother,' said Mr Knapp. ‘Five queens is five queens. If these gentlemen will accept the fact that some o' the old pack 'ave got mixed in we'll say no more about it. Personally, I think the time's gettin' on.'

‘That's right,' said Mr Lugg. ‘I'll be gettin' me boots off.'

The atmosphere of the small room, which had been steadily thickening for the past two hours, was now positively sulphurous. Mr Barber, after several unsuccessful attempts to make a graceful departure, had resigned himself to his unwholesome fate. Mrs Knapp was keeping her eye on him.

Marlowe and Giles, who were profoundly relieved at the idea of doing something, at last rose to their feet, whilst the lady of the party gathered up her winnings unashamedly.

Now that the moment of action was approaching, Messrs Lugg and Knapp took charge of the proceedings with the air of specialists. Knapp produced a couple of life preservers and gave Marlowe and Giles a few well-thought-out words of instruction.

‘Just a gentle tap, reelly,' he said –
‘be'ind
the ear – or over it – or above it – administered firmly and with precision.'

They removed their coats at Mr Knapp's suggestion. The seriousness of the affair began to assume its proper proportion.

Campion removed his glasses.

‘I see so much better without them,' he explained, and set about changing his shoes.

Mother Knapp began to move about with feline quietness, producing rubber-soled shoes and small tots of rum and water.

‘Now, look 'ere,' said her son, when they had all assembled in the back room. ‘We goes carefully
an
' quietly, takin' our time, an' no mistakes. Keep off the skyline as much as possible,
'eads low, as a rule. Once there, I nips in first, bein' fairly light an' 'avin' a knowledge of the 'ouse. Then I comes out an' tells you 'ow the land lies, an' 'an's over my command to Bertie, as you might say.'

‘And I?' said Mr Barber from the doorway. ‘Really I –'