CHAPTER XLIV

Long hours of the night-very long-very dark.

Charles explored the cellar and found it about twelve feet square. There was no sign of any other opening. He lifted Margaret as high as he could hold her. She could just touch the roof.

Later he broke her scissors in a vain attempt to dig through the wall into the wine-cellar; the points slid and broke on very hard cement. The door itself would have withstood a battering ram. There was nothing for it but to wait.

They talked. There was so much to talk about. And then, quite suddenly, Margaret fell asleep with his arm about her and her head against his shoulder. The air was heavy and rather warm; it had the curious smell of underground places where no light ever comes. Presently Charles slept too.

He awoke with a consuming thirst; and as he moved, Margaret stirred and woke too. Her little cry of surprise cut him to the heart. She had forgotten. Now she must remember and face a black day of dwindling hope. In those night hours Charles had come to think their chance of being discovered a very slender one indeed.

Margaret said, “I’d forgotten-I was dreaming.” A little shuddering laughter shook her. “It felt so real-a great deal more real than this. I suppose-Charles, I suppose this isn’t the dream?”

If it were. If they could wake up and be together in the light. Charles put his face against hers.

“What did you dream, Meg?”

“I don’t know-it’s gone. It was something-happy. You were there. We were frightfully happy.”

If they could wake up. He held her hard for a minute. Then his clasp relaxed, and he said with sudden violence.

“That little devil must be starting.”

“Is it morning?”

“Yes-seven o’clock-quite light outside.”

A most terrible longing for the light swept over Margaret. She had a picture of the grey morning, and an aeroplane rising higher and higher until the sunlight struck the wings and made them shine. She cried out:

“I can’t bear it! Charles, if they don’t come today-if they don’t come soon, he’ll get there-he’ll get to Vienna! And she doesn’t know-she’ll be waiting for him, and she doesn’t know!”

“We’re all in the same boat, my dear.”

“I can’t bear it!” There were tears in her voice. “It’s so awful not to be able to do anything. When I think that she’s alive, I want to sing for joy; and when I think of him- getting nearer and nearer, and no one to warn her, I-I-Charles!”

She clung to him in a passion of bitter weeping.

“She’s got more chance than we have, darling.” The blunt fact came out bluntly. “In a sort of a way he cares for her, and-they may find us, you know.”

Margaret’s passion sank strangely into calm.

“You don’t think they will.”

Charles Moray was silent.

CHAPTER XLV

Miss Silver! Thank Heaven!”

Miss Maud Silver looked mildly at an agitated young man. She took a latch-key from a neat capacious bag and opened her office door.

“Come in, Mr. Millar.”

Archie came in, flung his hat on a chair, and rumpled his hair violently.

“I’ve been walkin’ up and down waitin’ for you till I thought I should go mad.”

“Dear me, Mr. Millar-and why?”

“Where’s Charles Moray?”

Miss Silver paused in the act of taking off a long drab rain-coat.

“I really have no idea.”

“Where’s Margaret Langton?”

“Mr. Millar-what do you mean?”

“I mean they’ve disappeared-that’s what I mean. I’ve been trying to get on to Charles since two o’clock yesterday. He’s never been back to his hotel. I went to Miss Langton’s flat last night, and she wasn’t there. And she hasn’t been to work. What’s happened?”

A faint, fleeting smile just touched Miss Silver’s face.

“They might have gone away together.”

“Don’t you believe it! Somethin’ has happened. Now look here! Charles went down to his house yesterday afternoon and stayed there till it was dusk sortin’ papers-I’ve seen the housekeeper. He let himself out by the garden way, and nobody’s seen him since.”

“And Miss Langton?”

“I’d just been seein’ her when I rang you up yesterday. I was all worked up about Miss Standing. Miss Langton told me to go to the police. I didn’t want to do that.” Archie hesitated; he wasn’t sure how much Miss Silver knew. 𔄢There were reasons for not bringing the police into it.”

Miss Silver gave her little cough.

“I am aware of that. It was, if I may say so, exceedingly courageous of Miss Langton to suggest your going to the police. But”-she coughed again-“have you considered the probability that she has disappeared as a consequence of that suggestion?”

Archie nodded.

“I thought about it.”

“Mr. Moray may have taken her away.”

“I don’t think so, because, you see, I said I wouldn’t go to the police.”

“You said you wouldn’t go to the police?”

“Not till we’d tried everythin’ else. And Margaret said there was someone who might know where Greta-where Miss Standing was. She said she’d go and see this person as soon as ever she got off, and she promised to ring me up at my cousin’s. Well, she never rang me up at my cousin’s. And she never went back to her flat. And it seems to me she might have seen this fellow, whoever he was, and he might have cut up rough.”

“On the other hand, he might have known that Miss Standing was safe. And Miss Langton may, as I suggested before, have thought it wiser to disappear-there have been several arrests.”

“She’d have rung me up,” said Archie doggedly. “She said she’d ring me up, and she’d have done it. Don’t you believe she’s disappeared of her own free will-she hasn’t. I’m very worried about her, and I’m goin’ on worryin’ other people till I find her.”

Miss Silver took the brown exercise-book, turned to a blank page, and wrote. In a moment she looked up.

“Yes?”

“I went down to Sauterelle’s this mornin’-that’s Miss Langton’s hat-shop. I asked to speak to the other girls-bit of a V.C. job that-and one of them says Margaret told her she was goin’ off to say good-bye to her stepfather. Look here, Miss Silver-it’s damned ridiculous, but I can’t get it out of my head-Margaret’s stepfather is Freddy Pelham. He lives in a house in George Street. The gardens run down to the gardens of Thornhill Square, with just an alley-way between them. Margaret went to say good-bye to Freddy Pelham at six o’clock. Charles came out of his house in Thornhill Square at somewhere about five. He came out by the garden way. That’s to say he was within fifty yards or so of Freddy Pelham’s back gate. Supposin’ he went up to say good-bye to Freddy Pelham too? Margaret went, and she hasn’t come back. Charles hasn’t come back either. It’s damned ridiculous, but I can’t get it out of my head that old Charles may have gone there too.”

“There are other explanations,” said Miss Silver. Then she coughed and asked abruptly,

“Where is Mr. Pelham?”

“Gone abroad. I told you Margaret was sayin’ good-bye to him. Left this mornin’ by aeroplane. Address poste restante, Paris -and a flat lot of good that is!”

Miss Silver tapped with her pencil.

“Are you suggesting that we should apply for a search warrant?”

“No, I’m not. I’m suggestin’ doin’ a little job of breakin’ and enterin’. Look here, Miss Silver, are you game? I’m suggestin’ you and me goin’ boldly in by the garden door and openin’ a window with a skeleton key, or chisel, or what not. Unless Freddy’s done somethin’ drastic since I used to play in and out of the garden with Charles and Margaret, there’ll be some odd window I can get through. The question is, are you game?”

“I’ve my reputation to consider,” said Miss Silver. She coughed. “If I were walking along George Street and were to ring Mr. Pelham’s bell-” She paused and gazed at him mildly. “If you opened the door to me, it really wouldn’t be any business of mine how you got in.”