Frame the Baron by John Creasey

Author:John Creasey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: House of Stratus

Chapter Fourteen

Why?

Lee Walk, West Kensington, proved to be a little street with small houses on one side, and much taller, terraced houses across the road; nineteenth century and twentieth century facing each other in sharp contrast. The small houses were bright with fresh paint and large windows, the old ones had a look of gloom and frustration. Halfway along the street was a small park, with a few plane-trees and a worn grass plot, and here, too, children were playing cricket as Mannering drove past, looking for Number 41.

This was one of the smaller, modem houses.

He drew up some distance away from it, stopped the Hillman, but didn’t get out at once. He studied the street behind him in the driving-mirror, and saw a man standing in the porch of one of the older houses. The man showed himself, now that he thought that Mannering could not see him; but as Mannering opened the car door and got out, the man had disappeared.

Was Gill’s flat being watched?

Mannering stepped out briskly, walking heavily on his heels. Several people were coming from the far end of the street, and the buses and the Underground, for this was home-coming time. The footsteps of men and women seemed sharp with the eagerness to get home, the voices of the children seemed shrill. A woman opened a window and called: “Johnny! I want you.”

“Johnny, do you hear me?”

It was all so normal.

But when Mannering passed the house where the man had appeared, the porch was empty. Mannering did not seem to study the windows, but saw that the curtains of the downstairs window were parted slightly in the middle, whereas those of the first floor were drawn right across.

He turned into the gateway of Number 41.

Because it was so small and modern, he felt as if everyone could see him. It was like being in an identity parade at a police station – or being closely watched by everyone in sight. But there was nothing about him that anyone could recognise. He saw two doors at Number 41, as there were at most of the smaller houses here; there were two flats in each house.

On one door was pinned a card: “ Maximilian Gill.”

Two doors along, a man turned into a gateway, and Mannering was conscious of his curious stare. Neighbours would know Gill, but neighbours could not be sure that Gill hadn’t given a stranger a key. He used Gill’s key and stepped inside quickly, closed the door and hurried into the front room.

He looked across the road.

A man’s face was at the window where the curtains were parted.

Mannering didn’t touch these curtains, and didn’t go near the window. He walked through the flat – which had one large bedroom, one tiny room with a desk in it, and a living-room, kitchen and bathroom. Everything was fresh, bright and new. It wasn’t cheap, either. The good-quality furniture was all modem.

Obviously Gill had lived here on his own, and most rooms were untidy. There was

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