The House Of The Bears Read online

  Suddenly, across the quiet, without warning, came the roar of an explosion which shook the room.

  11: THE TOWN WHICH SHOOK

  The roar did not die away. . . .

  It grew louder, deafening them. It continued for what seemed an age, and when at last it rumbled into silence, there came another sound, a gentle hiss, which grew until it whined about them. The curtains blew violently. Doors slammed. A great puff of wind sent flames leaping into the room with a billow of smoke, then sucked furiously up the chimney again.

  The hissing died away, and there was silence.

  Morne gasped: ‘What was that?’

  ‘I’ll find out,’ said Palfrey.

  He hurried out of the room, feeling as if he had just finished an exhausting race. His body was trembling, he felt cold, and his forehead was damp. Movement helped him, and, as he turned into the passage towards a crying sound, he was more himself.

  Two or three servants were standing at the top of the stairs. They turned their pale faces towards Palfrey, who hurried past them. The wailing, a dreadful, tormented sound, was coming from the small room between the hall and the music gallery. There was something uncanny about it, an eeriness in keeping with the great house.

  Mrs. Bardle came hurrying out of the inner room.

  ‘Who is it?’ asked Palfrey, sharply.

  ‘Lady Dinah, sir,’ Mrs. Bardle hurried past him and he went into the inner room. There, Drusilla was standing helplessly by the fireplace while Rachel McDonald tried to quieten Dinah. Had the woman’s mind been turned?

  Rachel McDonald seemed not to notice Palfrey. Her aquiline face was set. She was a magnificent woman, a feminine Rufus Morne. Suddenly she took her sister’s shoulders and shook her, and kept on until her sister’s head nodded helplessly to and fro. Palfrey felt that this was not wholly because she wanted to quieten her sister; there was something stronger, some deep passion which showed itself in her pallor and the vigour of her movements.

  Palfrey stepped forward. The woman was quieter now; the screams had turned to moans.

  ‘I think that’s enough,’ said Palfrey.

  Rachel looked at him sharply. His eyes met hers. She stopped, then took her hands away. Dinah collapsed into a chair, her head upon her chest.

  ‘She’ll be all right now. You’ll get her to bed, won’t you?’

  ‘Mrs. Bardle has gone to prepare her bed.’

  ‘That’s splendid,’ said Palfrey. ‘It’s easy to understand, I suppose,’ he murmured. That was a bang, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Somewhere on the moor, I suppose.’

  Mrs. Bardle came in. She helped Drusilla to raise Dinah, who had not the strength to walk. Palfrey touched Drusilla’s arm, then lifted the helpless woman and carried her towards the stairs. For a moment, Rachel’s eyes were on him, showing faint surprise at his strength.

  Mrs. Bardle, hurrying ahead of him, stood by the open door of Dinah’s room. The bed was turned down and a maid was putting in hot-water bottles. Palfrey nodded approvingly, and laid the woman on a small settee drawn up near the fire.

  ‘Sap, what was it?’ Drusilla asked, as he went downstairs again.

  ‘The big noise? I don’t know.’

  As he told Morne what had happened, his mind was busy with the explosion. Had it been out on the moor or further away? Was there an experimental station, once operated by Garth, near Morne House? Had the explosion been in the mine which Loretta had mentioned?

  Was it an atomic or nuclear explosion?

  The very thought chilled him. If it had been, then it must have been a long way from Morne House, and there was no telling how widespread the damage might be.

  Morne was saying: ‘I am not surprised, Dr. Palfrey; my sister has been very much on edge since the accident.’

  ‘Naturally,’ smiled Palfrey. But had she? Earlier that day, at least, she had been much more calm and composed; he and Drusilla had commented on it.

  ‘I suppose you have no idea what caused the explosion,’ said Morne.

  Was that as guileless as it sounded? Was Morne trying to find out whether Palfrey knew what Garth had been doing?

  ‘None at all,’ Palfrey said, ‘but I’d like to find out more about it. I’ll have a word with Hardy.’

  Outside, it was dark and bitterly cold. The flares had not yet been lighted, although McDonald and Gerry were still out. As Palfrey reached the foot of the steps, with Drusilla shivering by his side, the first flare was lit. A man standing on a ladder plunged a small torch into one of the bowls of oil. The flames shot up, filling the night with garish light.

  Palfrey called: ‘Hardy! Are you about?’ There was no answer, and he raised his voice: ‘Hardy!’

  This time there was an answer from somewhere far off. A torch shone upon the figure of a man who was hurrying towards the house.

  ‘Get your coat,’ Palfrey said to Drusilla. ‘There’s no point in catching cold.’ He hurried towards the man, and recognized Sergeant Whittle. Perhaps the red, dancing flames gave his face that haggard look.

  ‘What is it?’ Palfrey demanded, as the man drew up.

  ‘The – the Inspector, sir. And the others –.’ Whittle could hardly speak, and his teeth were chattering. They – they’re blind, sir!’

  ‘Blind!’ echoed Palfrey.

  ‘After that – after that dreadful flash,’ Whittle said, and he began to mutter to himself, as if it had turned his mind also. ‘I must get help. I must get help.’

  Palfrey gripped his shoulder. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Just – just about the gate, sir.’ Whittle hurried off, staggering. Drusilla came hurrying down. She had brought Palfrey’s coat and made him put it on. They hurried towards the gateway, and, as they did so, a fresh light appeared – the headlights of a car turning from the main road.

  They shone on Hardy and two other men who were standing up, and a fourth who was lying on the ground. It was bizarre. Hardy was looking away from the headlights and away from the Palfreys; he was peering into the darkness, trying to see.

  The car slowed down, and Palfrey saw Gerald Markham’s fair hair.

  ‘Hardy!’ Palfrey called, and the man turned towards him, hesitatingly. Palfrey reached him. ‘All right, old chap,’ he said. ‘You’ll be all right.’

  ‘I can’t’ – Hardy’s voice was thick –’I can’t see.’

  ‘What was it?’ asked Palfrey. ‘The flash?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Hardy. ‘Ghastly.’

  McDonald’s voice sounded from behind Palfrey.

  ‘What’s the trouble? Can I help?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Palfrey. ‘You can take them into the house. The flash dazzled them.’ ‘Dazzled’ seemed tragically inadequate, but he could think of nothing better. ‘What happened to this chap?’ he asked, and bent down by the side of the man on the ground.

  Hardy said: ‘Whittle said the – the blast knocked him against the wall. He banged his head.’

  ‘Then that’s not serious either,’ said Palfrey.

  This false cheerfulness increased his own depression. He could only hope that it helped the others.

  ‘Where’s Gerry?’ asked Palfrey, a little later.

  ‘Flat out, I shouldn’t wonder. That explosion floored him. It nearly floored me,’ added McDonald, with a growl.

  ‘Where were you?’

  ‘Out near the bridge,’ said McDonald.

  ‘Whatever it was, it was pretty powerful.’

  ‘Dr. Palfrey makes an understatement,’ said McDonald, with a dry laugh. ‘I thought the earth was going to open up and swallow us, car and all. We were in the dip just past the bridge. The worst of the blast went over us.’

  ‘Which direction was the flash?’ asked Palfrey.

  McDonald said, heavily: ‘Wenlock, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Palfrey. He finished his drink. ‘I’d better go and see those fellows,’ he added, and hurried away. He felt he should not have left Hardy and his men on their ow
n.

  He reached the room where they had been taken, and found Mrs. Bardle and Whittle in charge. Whittle was more himself, although no longer ponderous or antagonistic. He had been badly frightened; his own sight had suffered for a few minutes, but he could see normally now.

  ‘The others will do, soon,’ said Palfrey, after he had looked at Hardy’s eyes. That must be true, although he did not feel competent to judge. ‘How are you feeling Hardy?’

  The inspector was sitting back in an easy chair, his eyes still damp from bathing.

  ‘I’m all right in myself,’ said Hardy. His voice was stronger, and he was making a conscious effort to regain his composure. ‘I’ve no doubt this other business will go.’ He leaned forward, pressing his hand against his forehead. ‘My head’s aching pretty badly,’ he said. ‘I can still hear that roar...’

  ‘The earth seemed to shake,’ Whittle said.

  ‘I fancy it was an underground explosion,’ Palfrey said, speaking as casually as he could. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if a store of explosives in one of the mines blew up. The mines on the estate were used for munitions dumps at one time, weren’t they?’

  ‘Well, I’m damned!’ exclaimed Hardy. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. You’re probably right. It makes our little job here seem small beer.’

  ‘You won’t feel like that in the morning,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘What worries me is what’s going to happen here,’ said Hardy. ‘We’re no use.’

  McDonald and Drusilla were still downstairs, and McDonald was in a restive mood,

  ‘What I’d like to do is go into Wenlock and see what has happened there,’ he said.

  ‘I’m with you,’ admitted Palfrey, “but we can’t leave this place yet.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I think an attempt was made earlier to murder Morne,’ Palfrey said.

  McDonald tossed down his drink. ‘I see. So one of us did it.’

  ‘Someone who was here this morning did it,’ said Palfrey. ‘It might have been a stranger.’

  McDonald said: ‘No strangers have been in here, Palfrey; the police have watched and so have the servants. If there were an attempt to kill Morne, someone living here did it. What is going to happen if we do stay here? With Hardy and the police helpless, what can we do against an assailant who might strike out of the dark? I don’t suppose I’ve got a clean bill. Since Hardy questioned Gerry and me, I’ve felt that I was under suspicion, although the Lord knows that isn’t justified.’

  Palfrey said: ‘The police must question everyone. Surely you can see that. You puzzled them, you know.’

  ‘Why?’

  Palfrey said: ‘Because you didn’t tell them and you didn’t tell me that you and Gerry had been to Cheddar Gorge before I took you there.’

  McDonald’s expression did not alter. He stopped pacing the room, and then lowered himself into a chair, without once removing his gaze from Palfrey.

  Palfrey had not intended to bring out the challenge then. If McDonald were responsible for anything that had happened, a worse moment could not have been chosen.

  McDonald said: ‘I hope you’ll believe what I’m going to tell you. Gerry and I followed Loretta to the Gorge.’

  ‘When and why?’

  McDonald said: ‘I think I’ve made it clear before that I am fond of Loretta. So is Gerry. Whatever else we quarrel about, we have that in common. The day I got back from the Far East I found a message from him at my club. He said (a) that Loretta was worried about something, and told me of her “accidents”, and (b) that he knew she went out alone sometimes and he thought that she was being blackmailed. At all events, she had borrowed money from him, a thing she had never done in her life before. Proud, our Loretta! Not wealthy in her own right, and King Rufus had clear ideas about the amount of money that a young girl should have. Not that she has ever had to manage on little or nothing, but she could not stand a drain of a thousand pounds, shall we say. It was a thousand that she borrowed from Gerry.’

  He paused, and Palfrey nodded.

  ‘Gerry and I got together and decided that we would try to find out where she went. Natural enough, I hope you’ll agree. I came down as far as Bath a few days afterwards. Gerry telephoned to say that Loretta had left the house again and was heading for Bristol. I met him at the Grand Hotel, by appointment. She was still in the city. She had been,’ added McDonald, ‘to the Theatre Royal.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Palfrey. ‘Rose Lindsay stayed near there.’

  ‘Let’s keep to the sequence of events,’ said McDonald. ‘Gerry and I hurried off and waited near the place. She came out of the side door. She had a taxi waiting, and so had we. She went to Cheddar Gorge and we followed her. Once we were there, she lost herself. Just like that,’ added McDonald. ‘She was in a crowd, and she vanished. She didn’t turn up again for several hours. Then we saw her in the taxi, heading again for Bristol. We had a puncture on the road and lost her. We caught up with her here. Interesting story, isn’t it?’

  ‘Very,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘Well, that was that,’ declared McDonald. ‘Mystery without an explanation. Loretta isn’t one who takes kindly to being questioned. Gerry did, in fact, question her. She let him have a piece of her mind, and that closed the subject. Her line was: “If I want to go to Cheddar Gorge I shall go to Cheddar Gorge and I shan’t ask your permission.” Characteristic of Loretta. The truth, if Gerry read it aright – and I think he did – was that she was frightened to death for fear of the reason for her trip becoming known. She had good reason to be frightened, hadn’t she?’

  Palfrey nodded.

  ‘Well, we couldn’t question Loretta any further,’ went on McDonald. ‘Neither Gerry nor I were very happy about it. I had several things to do at the Admiralty and had to go back to London, leaving Gerry here to hold a watching brief. He did, but not very successfully. I came down as soon as I heard about her third accident. I didn’t want the police or you to know that I thought Loretta was being blackmailed, and so I held my tongue – intending, if I may say so, to talk whenever it seemed necessary.’ He brooded for some time, and then added slowly: ‘How did you know that I’d been to the Gorge before?’

  ‘Kyle told me,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘I’m surprised that you believed him.’

  ‘The police checked up. It wasn’t difficult to prove.’

  ‘So that’s why Hardy thought it was worth questioning us! He didn’t give anything away. Why have you, Palfrey?’

  ‘I prefer to know my friends from my enemies, especially here tonight,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘Meaning I’ve passed?’

  Palfrey smiled. ‘I’ve got to take a chance on you. Tonight Morne’s room must be watched; and no one must get in there. We’ve got to count the police out, apart from Whittle. What about Gerry?’

  McDonald shrugged. ‘A broken reed.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The explosion shook him to bits. So it’s up to Whittle and me,’ declared McDonald. ‘And that cuts out any chance of going into Wenlock tonight. I would like to know what the situation is.’

  ‘We could telephone Ross,’ said Palfrey. But when he tried, the’ telephone was dead.

  ‘So we really are cut off,’ McDonald said, in a thin voice. ‘This is going to be a nice night.’

  Hardy’s sight had not improved, but two of the three men also blinded by the flash were now able to see objects placed close before their eyes. The police were therefore in much brighter mood. Hardy was able to talk freely. Palfrey did not tell him of McDonald’s story, but did suggest a vigil shared by Whittle, McDonald and himself. Hardy raised no objections and, thought Palfrey, seemed relieved.

  Now Palfrey was on duty in the passage outside Morne’s room, in the middle of the night.

  A clock struck three. In one hour he was to call McDonald. Was McDonald reliable?

  The chimes died down, and the house was silent. Palfrey imagined he could hear creaking steps and rustling movements.

 
There was a shadow on the wall opposite the stairs; a moving shadow of a man or woman.

  He dropped his right hand to his pocket and clutched his gun. Whoever was there was still coming upwards. Palfrey could hear nothing. He backed as far as the door of the room where McDonald and Whittle were resting. As he opened it, McDonald whispered: ‘Is that you, Palfrey?’

  ‘Yes. Wake Whittle. Get up.’ Palfrey turned away from the door and peered along the passage. He could still see the shadow, longer and less distinct now.

  A figure turned into the passage, came as far as Morne’s door, stopped there, and tried the handle. The door was locked.

  Palfrey took a step forward, the gun in his hand. He opened his lips, and as he did so a scream came from the direction of the hall, so ear-splitting that it made Palfrey flinch and turn cold. The creature at the door turned, swift as thought, and then Whittle made a mistake. ‘What’s that?’ he whispered.

  The figure at the door moved, not slowly this time, but racing towards the end of the passage. Palfrey raised his gun, aimed low, and fired.

  Nothing happened.

  But he had loaded the gun in Corbin; he knew it was loaded. He tried again, there was only a faint click. Then McDonald tore past him and the figure reached the corner. Whittle lumbered by. Footsteps sounded on the stairs, there were startled voices, a thump. Then a door banged; it sounded like the front door. There were footsteps outside now, on the flagstones of the courtyard.

  But it was pitch dark. As Palfrey reached the door, he thought that it would be hopeless to find the man – surely only a man could have run like that – and it would be unwise to venture out too far. McDonald was already out of sight, and Whittle was disappearing. The footman was still by the door, and his voice quavered. ‘Doctor – Doctor –’

  Then Ruegg appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Can you come here at once, Dr. Palfrey, please?’

  Palfrey went towards him, remembering the scream.

  The light was on in the minstrel gallery.

  There, beneath the balcony, lay Dinah Markham; her neck was broken.