Night Over Water - Ken Follett [181]
What was he going to do?
He could not get off the plane here. He was probably safe until they reached New York, but what then? He would have to stay in hiding on the plane and then slip out at night.
He might get away with it. He had no alternative, anyway. The world would know that he had stolen Lady Oxenford’s jewels. More important, Margaret would know. And he would not be around to talk to her about it.
The more he contemplated this possibility, the more he hated it.
He had known that stealing the Delhi Suite put his relationship with Margaret at risk; but he had always imagined that he would be around when she realized what had happened, so he could try to make it all right with her. Now, however, it might be days before he reached her; and if things went wrong, and he got arrested, it would be years.
He could guess what she would think. He had befriended her, made love to her and promised to help her find a new home; and it had all been a sham, for he had stolen her mother’s jewelry and left her high and dry. She would think the jewels had been all he wanted right from the start. She would be heartbroken, then she would come to hate and despise him.
The idea made him feel sick with misery.
Until this moment he had not fully realized what a difference Margaret had made to him. Her love for him was genuine. Everything else in his life had been faked: his accent, his manners, his clothes, his entire way of life was a disguise. But Margaret had fallen in love with the thief, the working-class boy with no father, the real Harry. It was the best thing that had ever happened to him. If he threw it away, his life would always be what it was now, a matter of pretending and dishonesty. But she had made him want something more. He still hoped for the country house with the tennis courts, but it would not please him unless she were there.
He sighed. Harry boy was not Harry boy anymore. Perhaps he was becoming a man.
He opened Lady Oxenford’s trunk. He took from his pocket the tan leather wallet containing the Delhi Suite.
He opened the wallet and took out the jewels once again. The rubies glowed like banked fires. I may never see anything like this again, he thought.
He replaced the jewels in their wallet. Then, with a heavy heart, he put the wallet back in Lady Oxenford’s trunk.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Nancy Lenehan sat on Shediac’s long plank pier, at the shore ward end, outside the air terminal. This was a building like a seaside cottage, with flowers in window boxes and awnings over the windows; but a radio mast beside the house and an observation tower rising from its roof gave away its true function.
Mervyn Lovesey sat beside her in another striped canvas deck chair. The water shushed against the pier in a soothing way, and Nancy closed her eyes. She had not slept much. A faint smile twitched the comers of her mouth as she recalled how she and Mervyn had misbehaved in the night. She was glad she had not gone all the way with him. It would have been too sudden. And now she had something to look forward to.
Shediac was a fishing village and a seaside resort. To the west of the pier was a sunlit bay, on which floated several lobster boats, some cabin cruisers and two planes, the Clipper and a little seaplane. To the east was a wide sandy beach that seemed to go on for miles, and most of the passengers from the Clipper were sitting among the dunes or strolling along the edge of the shore.
The peace of the scene was disturbed by two cars that screeched up to the pier and disgorged seven or eight policemen. They went into the flight building in a hurry, and Nancy murmured to Mervyn: “They looked like they were planning to arrest someone.”
He nodded and said: “I wonder who?”
“Frankie Gordino, perhaps?”
“They can’t—he’s already arrested.”
They came out of the building a few moments later. Three went on board the Clipper, two set off along the beach and two followed