She had to speak, because he would be angry if she didn’t. It didn’t do to make Sid angry. Her lips were stiff and her breath whispered as she said,

“It’s Hexley Common.”

“There was a track going off to the left-we just passed it. Where does it go?”

“Nowhere. There’s an old gravel pit.”

The word came into his mind and made itself at home there. Tangled up overgrown places those old pits-handy if there was anything you wanted to hide. His sullen resentment and anger against Mirrie Field had been piling up since yesterday. She had misled him about the will, she had tried to fob him off at the funeral, and she had given him away to the police. The darkness and the anger in him were piling up. If they were to break-if he were to let them break-well, there was the gravel pit as you might say to his hand. He said,

“That’ll do us fine. We’ll get off the road, then we’ll talk.”

He backed the car to where the track led off and for a little way along it. Careful, that was what he was. That was why nobody had ever tripped him yet. Nor they weren’t going to.

When he thought he had gone far enough he shut off the engine and the lights. Then he got out, came round to Mirrie’s side, and opened the door.

“You and me have got to talk. And just in case anyone comes along and gets nosy about the car, we’re going a bit farther from the road. How far did you say it was to that pit?”

She held back trembling.

“I-don’t know. Can’t we talk here?”

She didn’t want to go any nearer to the pit. Johnny had pointed it out in the wintry dusk, a dug-out place grown over with blackberry and gorse. She hadn’t liked it then-it terrified her now.

Sid Turner took her by the arm and yanked her out of the car. He set her down so hard that the jar of it ran right through her up to the top of her head. She didn’t dare cry out, but she stumbled as he pulled her along, and he swore and held her up. He had a torch in his pocket, but he didn’t put it on. He had good night sight and the sandy track showed up against the dark heather on either side. The sky is never without some light, and it is astonishing how much you can see once your eyes have adjusted themselves.

The track got rougher as they came near the pit. They were now about fifty yards from the car, and he judged it to be far enough from the road. He said, “This’ll do,” and stopped.

He kept his hand on her arm and pulled her round to face him.

“I asked you just now in the car whether you remembered me tickling you with my knife. D’you remember why I did it? It was to remind you what would happen if you ever thought of splitting on me, wasn’t it? Remember that? And on the top of it you go blabbing to the police about talking to me on the phone and what you said to me and what I said to you!”

“I didn’t, Sid, I didn’t. It was Maggie Bell. She listens in. She hasn’t got anything else to do and she listens in all the time. She had an accident and she can’t walk, and she just lies on her sofa and listens in.”

Fear pricked her, as Sid’s knife had pricked her. The words came tumbling out.

“You told the police about ringing me up and telling me how your uncle had made a new will and left you a lot of money!”

“Maggie told them. It wasn’t me-it was Maggie. They knew all about it.”

“And what they didn’t know you told them, just in case this Maggie had left anything out! You can lie all right when it suits you, but you tumbled over yourself to give the busies what they wanted! You could have said this Maggie Bell was making it up, couldn’t you?”

“It wouldn’t have been any good. Everyone knows she listens.”

He flung her away from him with an angry shove, then caught at her wrist.

“Everyone knows-and you go blabbing! Now listen, you little piece of dirt-anything you said to the police, you’ve got to take it back, that’s what! You can lie cleverly enough when you like-practised for years on Grace, didn’t you? Well, now you can turn it to some account! Whatever you told the police, you’ll go over it and mess it up! Whatever day you told them you rang me, you’ll get down to telling them you’re not sure what day it was! What you’ve got to get across is you never told me anything about the old man having signed his will! D’you hear-you never told me! That’s what you’ve got to stick to! And if this Maggie Bell says different, she’s the one that’s lying, and not you! You never rang me up on Tuesday night-it was next day, after he was dead, and you just told me that, and when the funeral was going to be! If Maggie says anything more she is making it up!”

As he heard his own words he knew that it wasn’t any good. He could scare her, and she would promise whatever he asked, but she wouldn’t stick to it. As soon as she got back it would all come tumbling out-how he’d frightened her, and what he’d told her to say. He would have to finish her off. There was no way out of it, and with the rage that was in him now he’d be glad to do it. He said in the soft dangerous voice which terrified her more than any loud one,

“No, it’s not any good-I couldn’t trust you.” His hand went into his pocket for the knife. “You little blabbing slut! Suppose I show you a cure for a leaky tongue-suppose I cut it out!”

She gave a faint high scream, twisted her wrist away from him, and ran wildly, blindly, desperately, without aim, without thought, without sense of direction.

JOHNNY FABIAN stood with the open door behind him and looked across the hall. He saw Anthony and Georgina. And Miss Silver, who had just asked him where Mirrie was. That meant Mirrie wasn’t here, but he had to hear it said.

“Isn’t she here?” The words sounded stupid and empty, because he knew already that something had happened to her.

Miss Silver came towards him.

“Mr. Fabian, you are supposed to have rung her up.”

“No.”

“Someone rang up who gave your name. The line is said to have been very bad. Maggie Bell was listening in. I got on to her as soon as Mirrie was missed. She says Mirrie began by asking you what about the garage. Was it what you wanted? Was there really a flat over it, and would you be able to buy it? The man on the line said, ‘Now listen-’ And then he went on to say that there would not be any flat or any garage unless a deposit was paid tonight, because there was someone else after it, and Mirrie was to slip out of the house with all the money she had and her pearls, and she was not to say a word to anyone.”

Johnny said short and hard,

“When?”

“Just before half-past-seven.”

He looked at his wrist-watch.

“Twenty minutes’ start.”

He turned and went out as he had come in, with Anthony Hallam after him. They exchanged a word or two in the dark. Anthony said,

“Three ways they could have gone-to Lenton, or by this road, up or down. We had better separate.”

Johnny said,

“All right, you take the Lenton road. It’s Sid Turner. He saw me across the street at Pigeon Hill-knew I wasn’t here -tried it on. If he’s on the run he’ll be heading away from town. If he’s got a car it’ll be stolen, and he’d steal a fast one.”

He went round the car to get in, and as he did so Miss Silver slipped into the passenger’s seat. She had picked up the first muffler that came to hand in the cloakroom off the lobby, and a coat used by Mrs. Fabian for walking in the garden or stepping across the road to post a letter. The fact that she had come out without a hat and in her evening slippers with their beaded toes bore witness to the urgency of the occasion. She could have guessed Johnny Fabian’s expression from the tone in which he said, “I must ask you to get out. I can’t possibly take you.”

She replied in words which he had been about to use himself.

“There is no time to be lost. I may be of some assistance. I have excellent sight, and I am provided with an electric torch.”