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Authors: John Creasey

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BOOK: The House Of The Bears
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The parlour was small, crowded with furniture and ornaments, and pleasantly warm. Drusilla sat on a horse-hair sofa and put up her legs. Kyle pushed the sofa in front of the fire, and he and Palfrey sat in saddle-back armchairs on either side. The woman replenished the fire, then left them alone.

A car passed outside, they could hear the wheels splashing. Rain beat on the windows, which rattled unexpectedly under a sudden gust of wind.

‘Sure,’ said Kyle. ‘It might be Rufus Morne.’

Is that a guess? ‘

‘A pretty wild guess,’ Kyle admitted, very serious now. Drusilla looked at him and wished he would smile, showing the flash of his white teeth. ‘I make it only because his daughter told you where to find the copy of that map. I have been wondering why she wanted to tell you. She might know what Morne’s up to. She might
think
she knows. She might prefer someone to find out. What do you know about this Loretta, Palfrey?’

‘That she’s been nearly murdered three times,’ said Palfrey.

‘Maybe by her father,’ Kyle said.

Palfrey had a quick vivid mental picture of Morne, standing with his back to the fire, haggard of face, bedraggled after his wandering on the moor. A tormented soul.

‘Why, did she have this fellow Garth staying with her?’ demanded Kyle, abruptly.

‘Who
is
Garth?’ asked Drusilla.

‘One of Fyson’s friends,’ said Kyle, and laughed mirthlessly. ‘Not the leader, Palfrey, but more important than Fyson or Frenchie. I don’t know whether that’s his real name, but I do know he’s a scientist, Palfrey.’

Palfrey said: ‘ “Scientist” is a loose term.’

‘Loose? I guess so. He’s a physicist. He’s been working on something – I don’t know what.’

He
did
know; Palfrey felt sure of that. Kyle knew he knew much more than he had yet told them, and he would not talk more freely yet. To try to make him would be a waste of time.

Kyle said: ‘I hunted Garth out of the place where he lived, Palfrey. I hunted him out of his laboratory. I’ve chased him all over England and in parts of Europe. I’ve made his life hell, and I will again. But I’ve never caught up with him. I’ve never found out what he’s working on. I got this far and lost him.’

‘This far?’

‘He was in Cheddar for a week at least,’ said Kyle; ‘and since he’s been gone, Frenchie and Fyson have been down here. I thought they’d got Garth hidden here some place until I went after Fyson one day and we fetched up on Wenlock cliffs. That was the night you came along. You told me there had been a Garth at Morne House. I guess it was the same man.’

‘He was there for some weeks.’

‘After I’d got hold of Fyson, Susie told me that Frenchie was still around here. So I came back. Frenchie was looking for me of course; he thought he’d got me this afternoon.’ Kyle laughed.

‘Why did Susie drive off?’ asked Drusilla.

‘The police will be looking for the Packard,’ Kyle said, dryly. ‘I wanted to see you or I wouldn’t have, come back through the gorge. She drove off so they wouldn’t realise I was here. I want Garth, and they
say
he left Morne House the day Loretta was hurt. I don’t know much more about that house, Palfrey, but it wouldn’t surprise me if they’re still hiding Garth there. Did anyone see the ambulance that was supposed to take him away?’

Palfrey said: ‘Yes. The police know there was an ambulance there that morning.’

‘Garth needn’t have been in it,’ said Kyle. ‘Don’t you agree?’

‘Oh, that’s possible,’ admitted Palfrey.

‘That’s what I want you to do,’ said Kyle. ‘Find out if Garth is still there.’ He grinned crookedly, but his eyes were wary. ‘It’s not so much to ask, Palfrey. I don’t want you to do anything about the guy. Just find out if he’s at Morne House, and let me know. I’ll do the rest.’

‘Not without telling the police,’ Palfrey declared.

‘I can’t work with the police, Palfrey.’

‘I can’t work against them.

‘I’m not a criminal,’ Kyle said. ‘I’m working for a man who wants to put things right.’ He was very earnest now. ‘Maybe I haven’t acted according to the law with Fyson and Frenchie, but they won’t be hurt.’ His eyes lit up. ‘Listen to me, Palfrey. When I’ve got Garth, I’ll turn Fyson and Frenchie over to the police, with plenty of evidence to make a case against them. More than enough evidence. I won’t wait until I’ve got Garth, I’ll turn them over when you tell me if Garth is at Morne Houses Can we agree on that?’

Palfrey smiled. ‘Fyson and Frenchie have been kidnapped, Kyle. You kidnapped them. That’s a criminal offence. I can’t condone it’

‘You’re hard,’ said Kyle, ‘but I’m offering to set them free. Or as near free as they’ll get for a long time. I wouldn’t do that if I thought the police would let them go.
You’ll
be doing nothing wrong. Will he, Mrs. Palfrey? You’ll be making sure that Fyson and Frenchie get humane treatment.’

‘Where are they now?’ asked Drusilla lightly, a shade too lightly, but it nearly worked, for Kyle said: They’re in –’ He broke off and grinned. “That was neat, Mrs. Palfrey! They’re in a safe place, I guess, and being well looked after.’

Palfrey sipped his drink. ‘We’re wasting time,’ he said, ‘I can’t do anything to help you without first telling the police. They may agree that it’s worth trying. If they do, they’ll be looking for you as well as Garth. You’ll have more risks, but you’ll have a chance.’

Kyle said thoughtfully: ‘That’s worth thinking about.’ There was a long pause. Then abruptly: ‘Okay. Tell the police!’

“That’s more like it,’ said Palfrey.

‘You’ll do nothing to help them to get me, will you?’

Palfrey laughed. ‘There isn’t much I can do, is there? After tonight, you’ll be washed up in the gorge, of course; they’ll keep this place watched closely, and I shall have to give them a description of you.’

‘You’re hard,’ said Kyle.

Someone knocked on the street door.

Kyle got up and opened the door of the room. They could hear the woman walking through the café to open the street door. A man’s voice sounded. The woman said: ‘I really don’t know.’ The man spoke again, and his words were audible this time. ‘Is anyone here, please? The man is tall, rather thin–’

Drusilla exclaimed: ‘That’s Mac!’

Palfrey got up, Kyle turned round sharply. ‘Who’s Mac?’

‘Bruce McDonald,’ Palfrey said. ‘He followed Rose this afternoon.’

‘Did
he!’ said Kyle. ‘Who is he?’

‘A friend.’

‘A police friend?’

‘Confound you, no!’ Palfrey went out on to the narrow landing and called down. ‘We’re here, Mac!’

‘So they
are
your friends,’ said the woman. ‘Let me take your coat, sir. You’re drenched.’

‘Thanks, but I haven’t time,’ said McDonald.

‘We’ll come down,’ said Palfrey. He led the way down the dimly lighted stairs.

‘Let me have a word in private with my friends, will you?’ he asked the woman.

She said: ‘I’ve
nearly
got supper ready, sir,’ to Kyle.

‘That’s fine,’ said Kyle. ‘Maybe I’ll have to ask you to keep it hot,’ He led her out firmly, and the others stood in the little front room, among the empty chairs and tables set for the next day’s meals. McDonald was obviously eager to tell his story, but glanced doubtfully at Kyle.

‘I’m in this,’ said Kyle. Palfrey nodded.

‘Right!’ said McDonald. ‘I followed the girl to Bristol, Palfrey. She went to a rooming-house at the back of the
Theatre Royal,
stayed for a while and then came away with a man. They got on the first bus back to Cheddar: it arrived half an hour ago. They walked up the gorge and – vanished!’

Palfrey echoed: ‘Vanished?’

‘Yes, into the side of the cliff. I
think
I heard them go up some steps, but I couldn’t swear to that. I did find a flight of steps, but I thought you might be waiting here, and –’ Kyle was already putting on his raincoat.

‘We’re going for a walk,’ he said. He went to the doorway and called out: ‘Sorry, honey, we’ve got a little job to do, but we’ll be right back for the supper.’ He was looking at Drusilla, and added: ‘Can you lend my lady friend a mackintosh?’

Palfrey said: ‘You’ll stay and keep warm, ‘Silla, won’t you?’

‘I’d rather have a mackintosh,’ said Drusilla. ‘But if she can’t lend me one, I’ll get my coat wet’

Kyle laughed. The woman found a mackintosh which was rather short, but Drusilla managed to pull it on over her fur coat.

Soon they were out on the road. The rain was teeming down, and occasionally a fierce gust of wind drove down the gorge, so powerful that they had to stand still and battle against it. During the lulls, Kyle asked questions and McDonald answered in monosyllables.

‘The only steps I know lead to Gough’s Caves,’ Kyle said. ‘We’re about there now. The couple just vanished, did they?’

‘Yes.’

‘Gough’s Caves,’ murmured Kyle. A gust of wind howled down the gorge and took his breath away. They all stood still. As the wind died down, the headlights of a car travelling down the gorge picked them out, and Kyle muttered to himself. The car served them a good turn, for its headlights showed some steps leading to the caves, not far ahead of them.

They reached the steps and Kyle stopped.

‘What’s it to be?’ he asked.

For a moment no one answered. The wind howled and died away again; and then they heard a scream.

It was not imagination; all four of them heard it and started and looked at one another. It came again, high-pitched, seemingly from a long way off, and ended abruptly. There was silence; for a moment even the wind was hushed,

Drusilla said in a shaky voice: ‘It came from – the cave.’

“Let’s go!’ exclaimed Kyle.

He led the way up the steps. Palfrey took Drusilla’s arm, let McDonald go in front, and whispered: ‘I’ve got to find out what that was. I’m not taking you inside. Will you give us twenty minutes? Well, say half an hour. Then fetch the police.’

Drusilla said: ‘I suppose I’d better.’

Palfrey squeezed her hand. ‘It’s the best we can do,’ he thought. Kyle would not agree with it, of course, but then Kyle need not know.

They reached the top of the steps and then they heard a car splashing down the gorge. Curiously, all the traffic seemed to come down, none went up. They sprang towards the wall of the pay-box, to be out of sight. The headlamps shone a bright glow which spread about the windows of the souvenir shop, on the signs, even as far as the entrance of the cave itself. There was an iron trellis grill across the entrance, and outside the grill there was plenty of room for Drusilla to shelter from the wind and rain.

The car passed.

‘Okay,’ said Kyle and stepped forward. ‘Don’t show a light, any of you.’ He was holding a lighted torch in his hand. A dim red glow showed where it shone through his fingers. That was all they could see of it; only his fingers were visible, then a few inches of the iron trellis gate. He pulled at it, but it did not open.

‘That’s a pity,’ he said, ‘but it shouldn’t take long.’

A moment later metal clinked on metal. Now they could just see the fingers of his other hand, holding what looked like a narrow piece of steel. It glinted as he twisted. The scraping of metal against metal continued until there was a sharp click.

‘You see, I’m not so bad,’ he said, and there was a chuckle in his voice. ‘Palfrey, I’m prepared to go alone.’

‘No,’ said Palfrey.

‘You add to the risks, you know. I don’t want to lead you into trouble.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Palfrey. ‘Eh, Mac?’

‘I’m in this,’ McDonald said promptly.

‘You make it hard,’ sighed Kyle. ‘On my own, I wouldn’t have a care in the world, but with you – Mrs. Palfrey, will you stick around here? It’s dry enough. If we haven’t shown up in reasonable time, you’d better fetch help.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ said Palfrey eagerly.

‘But if the police come,
I
want a break,’ said Kyle.

‘Fair enough,’ agreed Palfrey.

‘Here we go,’ said Kyle, and began to open the gate. Only a faint hissing sound came from it. ‘We’re through,’ whispered Kyle. ‘We’ll have to manage without a light for a bit, Palfrey.’

‘Yes. Straight on for fifty yards, and then the floor slopes.’

‘I’ve been in here too,’ said Kyle.

Drusilla stayed outside the gate. Palfrey’s hand touched hers, but they did not speak. It would be almost unendurable for her to wait there for long.

Inside, the silence was eerie, and darkness frightening. They began to move forward. Soon there was a soft and gentle sound. Palfrey heard it and stiffened, listening. Water was falling – they were near
The Fonts!

They stood straining their ears. The gentle sound, hardly a sound at all, was coming from their right. ‘We should go left then,’ Palfrey said. They groped about for a few minutes, all holding hands. They could see nothing at all, and could not be sure they were not walking in circles.

McDonald suddenly pitched forward, wrenched his hand away from Palfrey, fell and gasped.

‘Quiet!’ hissed Kyle.

‘S-sorry,’ stammered McDonald. ‘I – I kicked against something.’ He was kneeling down now; Palfrey could tell that from the direction of his voice. McDonald was breathing very quickly. He was scared. He said with a catch in his voice: ‘It’s a body.’

 

9:   DEAD ROSE – AND GARTH

All right,’ whispered Kyle. ‘So it’s a body.’

There was a savage note in his voice. He shone the torch towards the floor, allowing only a sliver of light between his fingers. The beam lit up something black. Rose had worn a black coat. The light travelled further along past her hand, which lay limp on the gravel up to her shoulder, then on to her head. Her face was white. Her hair shone gold where the light touched it. Her throat gleamed red.

‘Oh, my God!’ gasped McDonald.

Kyle said nothing. Palfrey said: ‘Keep the light steady, Kyle.’ He went nearer to the girl, sought her hand and felt for the pulse; it was still. ‘It’s no use,’ Palfrey said. ‘We’ll have to fetch the police.’

‘Then minutes won’t make any difference,’ said Kyle in a reedy voice. After a moment’s pause, he added in a sharper voice: ‘What’s that?’ He shone the torch downward. It lit upon a piece of cord close to the wall. The cord was moving slightly. ‘We-ell,’ breathed Kyle, ‘that’s how they find their way. It should be easy now.’

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