Comes the Dark Stranger - Jack Higgins [53]
Shane opened the door and pulled him out, and together they mounted the steps to the front door. Steele looked ghastly. His mouth was smashed and bleeding, and the front of his shirt was soaked in blood. There was a kind of hopelessness in his eyes, and he leaned against the wall, his breathing shallow and irregular and waited as Shane rang the bell.
The door opened, throwing a shaft of yellow light into the night, and Charles Graham peered out into the night. Shane pushed Steele forward and followed him in. An expression of alarm appeared in Graham’s eyes, and he quickly closed the door. ‘Shane!' he cried in amazement. ‘But what’s happened? I thought you were supposed to be on your way to London?’
Shane nodded grimly. ‘That’s what a lot of people thought, but I’d other ideas myself.’ He pushed Steele forward. ‘I want the answers to some questions, and this pig is going to give them to me.’ He turned to Graham and smiled tightly. ‘I don’t like involving you like this, Graham, but I need your help badly. Could we go upstairs?’
Graham nodded. ‘Of course, Shane. But I hope you know what you’re doing.’
He led the way upstairs to the conservatory, and Shane followed, pushing Steele in front of him. The scent of the orchids and the intense heat were almost overpowering, and as they entered the great glass room beads of sweat appeared on Shane’s brow and trickled down into his eyes.
Graham was wearing a thin nylon shirt and silk scarf. He looked relaxed and comfortable as he led the way along the path to the terrace end of the conservatory. He sat on the edge of the table and faced them. His scarred face showed no expression, but his eyes were worried. ‘Now then,’ he demanded. ‘I suppose you’re accusing Steele of having murdered that girl, but how exactly do you intend to prove it?’
Shane smiled faintly and reached for a cigarette. He lit it quickly and blew out a long column of smoke. He felt completely relaxed and assured, and his hand dipped into his pocket and came out holding the Luger.
‘But I don’t think it was Steele who murdered the girl,’ he said softly. ‘I think it was you, Graham.’
Somewhere in the distance thunder rumbled ominously, and the rain increased in a sudden rush that hammered against the glass roof of the conservatory. There was no change of expression on Charles Graham’s face. He lit a cigarette and said calmly, ‘Are you quite sure you know what you’re saying?’
Steele took a quick step forward and his voice was high-pitched and cracking with fear. ‘I warned you,’ he cried. ‘I said he was dangerous.’
Graham’s iron control snapped, and he slapped him savagely across the face. ‘Get a grip on yourself, you damned fool!’
Steele went completely to pieces. He whirled round and flung himself on Shane, eyes rolling horribly, saliva trickling from the corner of his mouth. Shane took a quick pace backwards and kicked him in the stomach.
As Steele writhed on the floor, Graham moved forward and looked down at him contemptuously. ‘I should have got rid of him a long time ago.’
Shane covered him with the Luger. ‘Sit down,’ he said deliberately. The bell which sounded from the front door was fixed to a wooden post near by, and he wrenched the connecting wires from the terminal box and grinned tightly. ‘Now we can talk without being interrupted.’
Graham sat on one of the basket-chairs, hands clasped in front of him. He looked completely calm and self-assured. ‘I’d be interested to know how you got on to me.’
Shane leaned back against one of the iron pillars which supported the roof. ‘In the beginning I suspected everybody. Crowther, Steele - even Laura Faulkner - but the pieces didn’t seem to fit. The truth only came to me an hour ago. I went back over everything, searching desperately for a clue - anything that would help me to make sense out of things. It was then that I remembered two significant points, both of which tied you