Dictator's Way by E R Punshon

Author:E R Punshon [Punshon, E R]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781910570401
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2015-07-05T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

COFFEE FOR TWO

Leaning there in the dark against the garage wall, Bobby strove hard to recover a self-possession disturbed and shaken in a way he had never known before. He found he was perspiring slightly, his heart beating more rapidly than usual. He had trained his naturally visual memory till he had an unusual power for recalling in every detail faces he had once seen, but that did not explain the intensity with which now he seemed to see Olive Farrar’s, yet not so much in detail, in passionless recountable detail, as in a kind of intensity of presence. Angrily he asked himself what was the matter, and then, because he did not wish to know, he knocked again at the garage door.

“Miss Farrar,” he called, “will you please open? There is no one here now but police and an unconscious man in the cottage. He has been hit on the head and stunned. I have sent for help from Headquarters. It will be here soon.”

There was no answer but Bobby felt Olive was listening. He knocked and called again.

“There is nothing to be afraid of. My name is Owen. You remember I called to see you at your shop the other day? I can push my card under the door if you like.”

He did so and then after another pause she called out to him that the door was locked on the outside so she could not open it. There was a spare key, though, and she told him where it was. He found it and opened the door wherefrom now she had removed the obstructions with which it had been barricaded. A hanging lamp lighted the interior and by its illumination they stood for a moment or two watching each other. Bobby said:

“They didn’t hurt you?”

She shook her head slightly, and with a faint surprise, for she had recognized an anxiety in his voice that she did not quite understand. He said:

“You are alone? There was no one with you?”

Again she shook her head, watching him curiously by the light of the lamp shining full on his face. She said:

“Your face is bleeding? You’re hurt?”

“It is nothing, only a scratch,” he answered.

They were silent again, looking at each other, and why they were silent and why they watched each other so, neither knew. Reminding himself that he was a sworn officer of police and that he had a duty to do, Bobby said abruptly: “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” she replied at once and with relief, as if glad their mutual silence had at last been broken. She said suddenly: “You said there was a man in the cottage?”

Leaving the sentence unfinished she flashed by him, running to the cottage. He followed. He noticed how quickly she ran. A finely built, vigorous girl, he thought, with plenty of physical strength. He followed her into the lounge of the cottage when he found her kneeling by the side of Yates’s body.

“Who is it? I don’t know him,” she said

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