Murder Is Easy (Superintendent Battle 4)
“I am so glad,” she said, “that Bridget has broken off her engagement. She is going to marry you instead, is she not?”
“Yes.”
“That will be much more suitable,” said Miss Waynflete rather primly.
Luke was unable to help smiling a little.
But Miss Waynflete’s face grew grave and anxious. She leaned forward and once more laid a hand on his arm.
“But be very careful,” she said. “Both of you must be very careful.”
“You mean—with Lord Whitfield?”
“Yes. It would be better not to tell him.”
Luke frowned. “I don’t think either of us would like the idea of that.”
“Oh! what does that matter? You don’t seem to realize that he’s mad—mad. He won’t stand it—not for a moment! If anything happens to her—”
“Nothing shall happen to her!”
“Yes, I know—but do realize that you’re not a match for him! He’s so dreadfully cunning! Take her away at once—it’s the only hope. Make her go abroad! You’d better both go abroad!”
Luke said slowly:
“It might be as well if she went. I shall stay.”
“I was afraid you would say that. But at any rate get her away. At once, mind!”
Luke nodded slowly.
“I think,” he said, “that you’re right.”
“I know I’m right! Get her away—before it’s too late.”
Nineteen
BROKEN ENGAGEMENT
Bridget heard Luke drive up. She came out on the steps to meet him.
She said without preamble:
“I’ve told him.”
“What?” Luke was taken aback.
His dismay was so patent that Bridget noticed it.
“Luke—what is it? You seem quite upset.”
He said slowly:
“I thought we agreed to wait until I came back.”
“I know, but I thought it was better to get it over. He was making plans—for our marriage—our honeymoon—all that! I simply had to tell him!”
She added—a touch of reproach in her voice:
“It was the only decent thing to do.”
He acknowledged it.
“From your point of view, yes. Oh, yes, I see that.”
“From every point of view I should have thought!”
Luke said slowly:
“There are times when one can’t afford—decency!”
“Luke, what do you mean?”
He made an impatient gesture.
“I can’t tell you now and here. How did Whitfield take it?”
Bridget said slowly:
“Extraordinarily well. Really extraordinarily well. I felt ashamed. I believe, Luke, that I’ve underestimated Gordon—just because he’s rather pompous and occasionally futile. I believe really he’s rather—well—a great little man!”
Luke nodded.
“Yes, possibly he is a great man—in ways we haven’t suspected. Look here, Bridget, you must get out of here as soon as possible.”
“Naturally, I shall pack up my things and leave today. You might drive me up to town. I suppose we can’t both go and stay at the Bells and Motley—that is, if the Ellsworthy contingent have left?”
Luke shook his head.
“No, you’d better go back to London. I’ll explain presently. In the meantime I suppose I’d better see Whitfield.”
“I suppose it’s the thing to do—it’s all rather beastly, isn’t it? I feel such a rotten little gold digger.”
Luke smiled at her.
“It was a fair enough bargain. You’d have played straight with him. Anyway, it’s no use lamenting over things that are past and done with! I’ll go in and see Whitfield now.”
He found Lord Whitfield striding up and down the drawing room. He was outwardly calm, there was even a slight smile on his lips. But Luke noticed that a pulse in his temple was beating furiously.
He wheeled round as Luke entered.
“Oh! there you are, Fitzwilliam.”
Luke said:
“It’s no good my saying I’m sorry for what I’ve done—that would be hypocritical! I admit that from your point of view I’ve behaved badly and I’ve very little to say in defence. These things happen.”
Lord Whitfield resumed his pacing.
“Quite—quite!” He waved a hand.
Luke went on:
“Bridget and I have treated you shamefully. But there it is! We care for each other—and there’s nothing to be done about it—except tell you the truth and clear out.”
Lord Whitfield stopped. He looked at Luke with pale protuberant eyes.
“No,” he said, “there’s nothing you can do about it!”
There was a very curious tone in his voice. He stood looking at Luke, gently shaking his head as though in commiseration.
Luke said sharply: “What do you mean?”
“There’s nothing you can do!” said Lord Whitfield. “It’s too late!”
Luke took a step nearer him.
“Tell me what you mean.”
Lord Whitfield said unexpectedly:
“Ask Honoria Waynflete. She’ll understand. She knows what happens. She spoke to me about it once!”
“What does she understand?”
Lord Whitfield said:
“Evil doesn’t go unpunished. There must be justice! I’m sorry because I’m fond of Bridget. In a way I’m sorry for you both!”
Luke said:
“Are you threatening us?”
Lord Whitfield seemed genuinely shocked.
“No, no, my dear fellow. I’ve no feeling in the matter! When I did Bridget the honour to choose her as my wife, she accepted certain responsibilities. Now, she repudiates them—but there’s no going back in this life. If you break laws you pay the penalty….”
Luke clenched both hands. He said:
“You mean that something is going to happen to Bridget? Now understand me, Whitfield, nothing is going to happen to Bridget—nor to me! If you attempt anything of that kind it’s the finish. You’d better be careful! I know a good deal about you!”
“It’s nothing to do with me,” said Lord Whitfield. “I’m only the instrument of a higher Power. What that Power decrees happens!”
“I see you believe that,” said Luke.
“Because it’s the truth! Anyone who goes against me pays the penalty. You and Bridget will be no exception.”
Luke said:
“That’s where you’re wrong. However long a run of luck may be, it breaks in the end. Yours is very near breaking now.”
Lord Whitfield said gently:
“My dear young man, you don’t know who it is you’re talking to. Nothing can touch Me!”
“Can’t it? We’ll see. You’d better watch your step, Whitfield.”
A little ripple of movement passed over the other. His voice had changed when he spoke.
“I’ve been very patient,” said Lord Whitfield. “Don’t strain my patience too far. Get out of here.”
“I’m going,” said Luke. “As quick as I can. Remember that I’ve warned you.”
He turned on his heel and went quickly out of the room. He ran upstairs. He found Bridget in her room superintending the packing of her clothes by a housemaid.
“Ready soon?”
“In ten minutes.”
Her eyes asked a question which the presence of the maid prevented her from putting into words.
Luke gave a short nod.
He went to his own room and flung his things hurriedly into his suitcase.