N or M_ - Agatha Christie [62]
‘You can’t keep me here for ever,’ Tommy said vehemently.
Haydock said with a resumption of his most British manner:
‘It won’t be necessary, my dear fellow. Only until tomorrow night. There’s a boat due in at my little cove–and we’re thinking of sending you on a voyage for your health–though actually I don’t think you’ll be alive, or even on board, when they arrive at their destination.’
‘I wonder you didn’t knock me on the head straight away.’
‘It’s such hot weather, my dear fellow. Just occasionally our sea communications are interrupted, and if that were to be so–well, a dead body on the premises has a way of announcing its presence.’
‘I see,’ said Tommy.
He did see. The issue was perfectly clear. He was to be kept alive until the boat arrived. Then he would be killed, or drugged, and his dead body taken out to sea. Nothing would ever connect this body, when found, with Smugglers’ Rest.
‘I just came along,’ continued Haydock, speaking in the most natural manner, ‘to ask whether there is anything we could–er–do for you–afterwards?’
Tommy reflected. Then he said:
‘Thanks–but I won’t ask you to take a lock of my hair to the little woman in St John’s Wood, or anything of that kind. She’ll miss me when pay day comes along–but I dare say she’ll soon find a friend elsewhere.’
At all costs, he felt, he must create the impression that he was playing a lone hand. So long as no suspicion attached itself to Tuppence, then the game might still be won through, though he was not there to play it.
‘As you please,’ said Haydock. ‘If you did care to send a message to–your friend–we would see that it was delivered.’
So he was, after all, anxious to get a little information about this unknown Mr Meadowes? Very well, then, Tommy would keep him guessing.
He shook his head. ‘Nothing doing,’ he said.
‘Very well.’ With an appearance of the utmost indifference Haydock nodded to Appledore. The latter replaced the bonds and the gag. The two men went out, locking the door behind them.
Left to his reflections, Tommy felt anything but cheerful. Not only was he faced with the prospect of rapidly approaching death, but he had no means of leaving any clue behind him as to the information he had discovered.
His body was completely helpless. His brain felt singularly inactive. Could he, he wondered, have utilised Haydock’s suggestion of a message? Perhaps if his brain had been working better…But he could think of nothing helpful.
There was, of course, still Tuppence. But what could Tuppence do? As Haydock had just pointed out, Tommy’s disappearance would not be connected with him. Tommy had left Smugglers’ Rest alive and well. The evidence of two independent witnesses would confirm that. Whoever Tuppence might suspect, it would not be Haydock. And she might not suspect at all. She might think that he was merely following up a trail.
Damn it all, if only he had been more on his guard–
There was a little light in the cellar. It came through the grating which was high up in one corner. If only he could get his mouth free, he could shout for help. Somebody might hear, though it was very unlikely.
For the next half-hour he busied himself straining at the cords that bound him, and trying to bite through the gag. It was all in vain, however. The people who had adjusted those things knew their business.
It was, he judged, late afternoon. Haydock, he fancied, had gone out; he had heard no sounds from overhead.
Confound it all, he was probably playing golf, speculating at the clubhouse over what could have happened to Meadowes!
‘Dined with me night before last–seemed quite normal, then. Just vanished into the blue.’
Tommy writhed with fury. That hearty