The Vintage Mysteries for the Holidays. Эдгар Аллан По

      “How did you ‘persuade’ him?” she asked.

      Julius tapped his revolver.

      “Little Willie here takes the credit!”

      “Splendid!” cried the girl. The colour surged into her face, her eyes looked admiringly at Julius.

      “Annette and I didn’t know what was going to happen to us,” said Tuppence. “Old Whittington hurried us off. We thought it was lambs to the slaughter.”

      “Annette,” said Julius. “Is that what you call her?”

      His mind seemed to be trying to adjust itself to a new idea.

      “It’s her name,” said Tuppence, opening her eyes very wide.

      “Shucks!” retorted Julius. “She may think it’s her name, because her memory’s gone, poor kid. But it’s the one real and original Jane Finn we’ve got here.”

      “What?” cried Tuppence.

      But she was interrupted. With an angry spurt, a bullet embedded itself in the upholstery of the car just behind her head.

      “Down with you,” cried Julius. “It’s an ambush. These guys have got busy pretty quickly. Push her a bit, George.”

      The car fairly leapt forward. Three more shots rang out, but went happily wide. Julius, upright, leant over the back of the car.

      “Nothing to shoot at,” he announced gloomily. “But I guess there’ll be another little picnic soon. Ah!”

      He raised his hand to his cheek.

      “You are hurt?” said Annette quickly.

      “Only a scratch.”

      The girl sprang to her feet.

      “Let me out! Let me out, I say! Stop the car. It is me they’re after. I’m the one they want. You shall not lose your lives because of me. Let me go.” She was fumbling with the fastenings of the door.

      Julius took her by both arms, and looked at her. She had spoken with no trace of foreign accent.

      “Sit down, kid,” he said gently. “I guess there’s nothing wrong with your memory. Been fooling them all the time, eh?”

      The girl looked at him, nodded, and then suddenly burst into tears. Julius patted her on the shoulder.

      “There, there—just you sit tight. We’re not going to let you quit.”

      Through her sobs the girl said indistinctly:

      “You’re from home. I can tell by your voice. It makes me home-sick.”

      “Sure I’m from home. I’m your cousin—Julius Hersheimmer. I came over to Europe on purpose to find you—and a pretty dance you’ve led me.”

      The car slackened speed. George spoke over his shoulder:

      “Cross-roads here, sir. I’m not sure of the way.”

      The car slowed down till it hardly moved. As it did so a figure climbed suddenly over the back, and plunged head first into the midst of them.

      “Sorry,” said Tommy, extricating himself.

      A mass of confused exclamations greeted him. He replied to them severally: “Was in the bushes by the drive. Hung on behind. Couldn’t let you know before at the pace you were going. It was all I could do to hang on. Now then, you girls, get out!”

      “Get out?”

      “Yes. There’s a station just up that road. Train due in three minutes. You’ll catch it if you hurry.”

      “What the devil are you driving at?” demanded Julius. “Do you think you can fool them by leaving the car?”

      “You and I aren’t going to leave the car. Only the girls.”

      “You’re crazed, Beresford. Stark staring mad! You can’t let those girls go off alone. It’ll be the end of it if you do.”

      Tommy turned to Tuppence.

      “Get out at once, Tuppence. Take her with you, and do just as I say. No one will do you any harm. You’re safe. Take the train to London. Go straight to Sir James Peel Edgerton. Mr. Carter lives out of town, but you’ll be safe with him.”

      “Darn you!” cried Julius. “You’re mad. Jane, you stay where you are.”

      With a sudden swift movement, Tommy snatched the revolver from Julius’s hand, and levelled it at him.

      “Now will you believe I’m in earnest? Get out, both of you, and do as I say—or I’ll shoot!”

      Tuppence sprang out, dragging the unwilling Jane after her.

      “Come on, it’s all right. If Tommy’s sure—he’s sure. Be quick. We’ll miss the train.”

      They started running.

      Julius’s pent-up rage burst forth.

      “What the hell——”

      Tommy interrupted him.

      “Dry up! I want a few words with you, Mr. Julius Hersheimmer.”

      Chapter 25

       Jane’s Story

       Table of Contents

      HER arm through Jane’s, dragging her along, Tuppence reached the station. Her quick ears caught the sound of the approaching train.

      “Hurry up,” she panted, “or we’ll miss it.”

      They arrived on the platform just as the train came to a standstill. Tuppence opened the door of an empty first-class compartment, and the two girls sank down breathless on the padded seats.

      A man looked in, then passed on to the next carriage. Jane started nervously. Her eyes dilated with terror. She looked questioningly at Tuppence.

      “Is he one of them, do you think?” she breathed.

      Tuppence shook her head.

      “No, no. It’s all right.” She took Jane’s hand in hers. “Tommy wouldn’t have told us to do this unless he was sure we’d be all right.”

      “But he doesn’t know them as I do!” The girl shivered. “You can’t understand. Five years! Five long years! Sometimes I thought I should go mad.”

      “Never mind. It’s all over.”

      “Is it?”

      The train was moving now, speeding through the night at a gradually increasing rate. Suddenly Jane Finn started up.

      “What was that? I thought I saw a face—looking in through the window.”

      “No, there’s nothing. See.” Tuppence went to the window, and lifting the strap let the pane down.

      “You’re sure?”

      “Quite sure.”

      The other seemed to feel some excuse was necessary:

      “I guess I’m acting like a frightened rabbit, but I can’t help it. If they caught me now they’d——” Her eyes opened wide and staring.

      “DON’T!” implored Tuppence. “Lie back, and DON’T THINK. You can be quite sure that Tommy wouldn’t have said it was safe if it wasn’t.”

      “My cousin didn’t think so. He didn’t want us to do this.”

      “No,” said Tuppence, rather embarrassed.

      “What are you thinking of?” said Jane sharply.

      “Why?”