The Seven Dials Mystery - Agatha Christie [83]
Loraine obeyed. Jimmy Thesiger alighted from the driving seat.
‘You stop here for a moment, Bill,’ he said. ‘Blow the horn if you think anyone’s watching the place.’
He ran up the steps and banged the door behind him. He looked pink and elated.
‘Hallo, Bundle, there you are. Now then, we’ve got to get down to it. Where’s the key of the room you got into last time?’
‘It was one of the downstairs keys. We’d better bring the lot up.’
‘Right you are, but be quick. Time’s short.’
The key was easily found, the baize-lined door swung back and the three entered. The room was exactly as Bundle had seen it before, with the seven chairs grouped round the table. Jimmy surveyed it for a minute or two in silence. Then his eyes went to the two cupboards.
‘Which is the cupboard you hid in, Bundle?’
‘This one.’
Jimmy went to it and flung the door open. The same collection of miscellaneous glassware covered the shelves.
‘We shall have to shift all this stuff,’ he murmured. ‘Run down and get Bill, Loraine. There’s no need for him to keep watch outside any longer.’
Loraine ran off.
‘What are you going to do?’ inquired Bundle impatiently.
Jimmy was down on his knees, trying to peer through the crack of the other cupboard door.
‘Wait till Bill comes and you shall hear the whole story. This is his staff work–and a jolly creditable bit of work it is. Hallo–what’s Loraine flying up the stairs for as though she’s got a mad bull after her?’
Loraine was indeed racing up the stairs as fast as she could. She burst in upon them with an ashen face and terror in her eyes.
‘Bill–Bill–Oh, Bundle–Bill!’
‘What about Bill?’
Jimmy caught her by the shoulder.
‘For God’s sake, Loraine, what’s happened?’
Loraine was still gasping.
‘Bill–I think he’s dead–he’s in the car still–but he doesn’t move or speak. I’m sure he’s dead.’
Jimmy muttered an oath and sprang for the stairs, Bundle behind him, her heart pounding unevenly and an awful feeling of desolation spreading over her.
Bill–dead? Oh, no! Oh, no! Not that. Please God–not that.
Together she and Jimmy reached the car, Loraine behind them.
Jimmy peered under the hood. Bill was sitting as he had left him, leaning back. But his eyes were closed and Jimmy’s pull at his arm brought no response.
‘I can’t understand it,’ muttered Jimmy. ‘But he’s not dead. Cheer up, Bundle. Look here, we’ve got to get him into the house. Let’s pray to goodness no policeman comes along. If anybody says anything, he’s our sick friend we’re helping into the house.’
Between the three of them they got Bill into the house without much difficulty, and without attracting much attention, save for an unshaven gentleman, who said sympathetically:
‘Genneman’s ’ad a couple, I shee,’ and nodded his head sapiently.
‘Into the little back room downstairs,’ said Jimmy. ‘There’s a sofa there.’
They got him safely on to the sofa and Bundle knelt down beside him and took his limp wrist in her hand.
‘His pulse is beating,’ she said. ‘What is the matter with him?’
‘He was all right when I left him just now,’ said Jimmy. ‘I wonder if someone’s managed to inject some stuff into him. It would be easily done–just a prick. The man might have been asking him the time. There’s only one thing for it. I must get him a doctor at once. You stay here and look after him.’
He hurried to the door, then paused.
‘Look here–don’t be scared, either of you. But I’d better leave you my revolver. I mean–just in case. I’ll be back just as soon as I possibly can.’
He laid the revolver down on the little table by the sofa, then hurried off. They heard the front door bang behind him.
The house seemed very still now. The two girls stayed motionless by Bill. Bundle still kept her finger on his pulse. It seemed to be beating very fast and irregularly.
‘I wish we could do something,’ she whispered to Loraine. ‘This is awful.’