“I thought you could hear what went on in the room?”
“There is a peep-hole into the next room. It was clever of you to guess.
But they will not think of that–they are only anxious to get in.”
“Yes–but look here—-”
“Leave it to me.” She bent down. To his amazement, Tommy saw that she was
fastening the end of a long piece of string to the handle of a big cracked jug.
She arranged it carefully, then turned to Tommy.
“Have you the key of the door?”
“Yes.”
“Give it to me.”
He handed it to her.
“I am going down. Do you think you can go halfway, and then swing yourself
down BEHIND the ladder, so that they will not see you?”
Tommy nodded.
“There’s a big cupboard in the shadow of the landing. Stand behind it.
Take the end of this string in your hand. When I’ve let the others out–PULL!”
Before he had time to ask her anything more, she had flitted lightly down
the ladder and was in the midst of the group with a loud cry:
“Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Qu’est-ce qu’il y a?”
The German turned on her with an oath.
“Get out of this. Go to your room!”
Very cautiously Tommy swung himself down the back of the ladder. So long as
they did not turn round … all was well. He crouched behind the cupboard. They
were still between him and the stairs.
“AH!” Annette appeared to stumble over something. She stooped. “Mon Dieu,
voila la clef!”
The German snatched it from her. He unlocked the door. Conrad stumbled
out, swearing.
“Where is he? Have you got him?”
“We have seen no one,” said the German sharply. His face paled. “Who do
you mean?”
Conrad gave vent to another oath.
“He’s got away.”
“Impossible. He would have passed us.”
At that moment, with an ecstatic smile Tommy pulled the string. A crash of
crockery came from the attic above. In a trice the men were pushing each other
up the rickety ladder and had disappeared into the darkness above. Quick as a
flash Tommy leapt from his hiding-place and dashed down the stairs, pulling the
girl with him. There was no one in the hall. He fumbled over the bolts and
chain. At last they yielded, the door swung open. He turned. Annette had
disappeared.
Tommy stood spell-bound. Had she run upstairs again? What madness
possessed her! He fumed with impatience, but he stood his ground. He would not
go without her.
And suddenly there was an outcry overhead, an exclamation from the German,
and then Annette’s voice, clear and high:
“Ma foi, he has escaped! And quickly! Who would have thought it?”
Tommy still stood rooted to the ground. Was that a command to him to go?
He fancied it was.
And then, louder still, the words floated down to him:
“This is a terrible house. I want to go back to Marguerite. To Marguerite.
TO MARGUERITE!”
Tommy had run back to the stairs. She wanted him to go and leave her. But
why? At all costs he must try and get her away with him. Then his heart sank.
Conrad was leaping down the stairs, uttering a savage cry at the sight of him.
After him came the others.
Tommy stopped Conrad’s rush with a straight blow with his fist. It caught
the other on the point of the jaw and he fell like a log. The second man tripped
over his body and fell. From higher up the staircase there was a flash, and a
bullet grazed Tommy’s ear. He realized that it would be good for his health to
get out of this house as soon as possible. As regards Annette he could do
nothing. He had got even with Conrad, which was one satisfaction. The blow had
been a good one.
He leapt for the door, slamming it behind him. The square was deserted. In
front of the house was a baker’s van. Evidently he was to have been taken out
of London in that, and his body found many miles from the house in Soho. The
driver jumped to the pavement and tried to bar Tommy’s way. Again Tommy’s fist