Comes the Dark Stranger - Jack Higgins [44]
Steele nodded frantically, a thin line of white foam appearing on his lips. ‘I swear I am,’ he shrieked.
For a moment longer Shane held the poker threateningly and then he turned and threw it into the fireplace. Steele gave a great shudder of relief and fainted.
Shane walked across to the bedroom door and unlocked it. The woman was huddled on the bed. As he switched on the light, she sat up.
‘I’m going now,’ he said. ‘You’d better see to your boy friend.’
‘What have you done to him?’ she demanded fearfully.
He shrugged. ‘He’ll be all right when you get him cleaned up.’
He returned to the living-room and she followed him slowly. There was a telephone on the table near the door and he ripped the flex from the connecting box on the wall and turned to the woman. ‘I wouldn’t try to get in touch with the police if I were you. I don’t think Reggie would like that. I’m taking the car. Tell him I’ll leave it outside the club.’ She nodded mutely and he closed the door softly behind him and went along the dark corridor.
There was little traffic about and he drove alone with his thoughts and the steady hum of the engine. His back was paining him slightly and he leaned forward, trying to ease it a little. As he followed the main road into town, he suddenly realized that he was coming into the suburb in which the Faulkners lived. He slowed down a little, his eyes searching for the side road and then he saw it and swung the wheel sharply.
He left the car at the kerb and walked up the drive towards the house. It seemed to be in darkness and he followed the path around the side of the house and came out into the back garden.
As he approached the studio he could see a light and then the Dobermann started to bark and the sound was hollow and lonely and far away. Shane mounted the steps and stood there shaking his head from side to side as the sound of the dog seemed to fade away completely and then Laura Faulkner was framed in the doorway, looking at him inquiringly, her lips moving, but no sound issuing from them.
Complete panic moved inside him and he stretched out a hand to her. She pulled him inside and led him across to the divan. He slumped down, head in hands and after a while sounds returned to him and he straightened up slowly and looked at her anxious face.
‘Just a dizzy spell,’ he said. ‘Nothing to get alarmed about.’
She dropped a hand on his shoulder. ‘But you’re wet through,’ she said. ‘What on earth have you been doing?’
He started to peel of his wet jacket. ‘I’ve had a slight accident. You’d better get the first-aid kit out.’
He pulled off his shirt and she gave a sudden exclamation of horror when she saw his back. ‘Martin, you’re bleeding.’
‘It’s nothing serious,’ he said. ‘Just a few shot-gun pellets. Get a pair of tweezers and some surgical tape.’
She disappeared into the small kitchen and came back a moment later with a bowl full of hot water and a tin box. She sat down beside him on the divan. ‘You need a doctor, Martin. It looks bad.’
He shook his head. ‘It seems worse than it is. Clean my back and get to work with the tweezers. There shouldn’t be many pellets there. I was lucky.’
As she gently cleaned away the blood with a flannel she said, ‘What happened?’
He shrugged wearily. ‘A difference of opinion with Reggie Steele. He was holed up in a cottage by the river at Hampton. When I got there he was pretty drunk. I told him I wanted those letters and he didn’t seem to think it was such a good idea. We had words - that’s where the shotgun came in - but I managed to make him see things my way in the end.’
She seemed to hesitate for a moment. ‘Have you got the letters with you?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ll have them before long, though.’ He turned and smiled at her over his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, angel. All your