The Thousand Faces of Night - Jack Higgins [58]
He crouched down under a bush and examined the place carefully. The bulk of the building consisted of a large, three-storeyed tower, roof gaping to the sky. Built on to the building was an extension in wood which looked rather like stables or a storehouse. It seemed to be in a slightly better state of repair than the rest of the building. At the far side there was an immense water-wheel, and it was moving round now with an unearthly creaking and groaning, forced by the rushing waters of the flooded stream.
Marlowe frowned for a moment as he considered his next move, and then he sighed and got to his feet. There was really nothing he could do except take a chance and hope that something would turn up. He stepped out into the open and walked towards the mill.
When he was a few yards away, the door of the wooden part of the building opened and Faulkner appeared. He smiled cheerfully and called, 'Good show, Hugh. I knew I could depend on you. I always did say you had slightly nobler basic instincts than the rest of us.'
He stood back slightly and Marlowe walked past him into the building. The place smelled of old hay and mice. There was a decrepit cart in one corner and a large loft ran round three sides of the building, with round, glassless windows letting in light.
In the centre of the room there was an old five-gallon oil-can with a fire burning in it. As Marlowe moved forward his eyes quickly passed over everything. He could hear the water-wheel splashing violently outside, and against the stone wall of the mill itself there was a pool of water, covered with green scum and surrounded with stones smoothed by the years.
Butcher and Harris were sitting by the fire on wooden boxes, and their eyes fastened on him malignantly, burning with hate. 'Hallo, Marlowe,' Butcher said. 'I didn't think you'd come. I was wrong.'
'When were you ever right, you pig?' Marlowe said.
He turned away as Butcher half rose, and Faulkner quickly said, 'Now then, don't let's have any fuss, boys.'
Marlowe laughed harshly. 'They don't bother me,' he said. 'They don't even interest me. I want to see the girl and the Jamaican. Where are they?'
Faulkner smiled and walked over to the corner which was nearest the pool of water. There was a pile of old hay that smelled as if it had been mouldering there for years. He pulled some of it aside and disclosed the forms of Maria and the Jamaican. They were both bound and gagged.
'Take their gags out,' Marlowe ordered.
For a moment Faulkner hesitated, and then he shrugged. As he pulled away the Jamaican's gag, Mac smiled. 'Hallo, boy. I knew you wouldn't let us down.'
'Are you okay?' Marlowe asked.
Mac grinned. 'That big dumb ox there cracked me on the head a little, but I'll survive.'
Maria gave a broken sob as her mouth was freed. 'Oh, Hugh, thank God you've come. What's this all about? What do these men want?'
Marlowe smiled reassuringly. 'Don't worry, angel. I'll have you out of here in a few minutes.'
He turned and walked back to the fire and Faulkner followed him. 'Well, are you satisfied?' he asked Marlowe.
Marlowe nodded. 'I'll get you the money now.'
The two men by the fire stood up quickly, and Faulkner frowned. 'You mean you haven't got it on you?'
Marlowe held up a hand. 'There's no need to panic,' he said. 'Did you think I was mug enough to walk in here without seeing what the situation was first?' He shrugged. 'I hid the bag containing the money under a bush a little way into the wood. I'll have to go and get it.'
Faulkner smiled. 'I should have known,' he said. 'You always were a little brighter than anyone else.' He motioned to Butcher. 'You go with him and watch him closely.' He took his hand out of his pocket and held up a Luger automatic pistol. 'No funny business, Marlowe. Remember the girl and your pal will still be here with Harris and me.'
Marlowe opened