CHAPTER XVII. ANNETTE
THE troubles of the future, however, soon faded before the troubles ofthe present. And of these, the most immediate and pressing was that ofhunger. Tommy had a healthy and vigorous appetite. The steak andchips partaken of for lunch seemed now to belong to another decade. Heregretfully recognized the fact that he would not make a success of ahunger strike.
He prowled aimlessly about his prison. Once or twice he discardeddignity, and pounded on the door. But nobody answered the summons.
“Hang it all!” said Tommy indignantly. “They can’t mean to starve meto death.” A new-born fear passed through his mind that this might,perhaps, be one of those “pretty ways” of making a prisoner speak, whichhad been attributed to Boris. But on reflection he dismissed the idea.
“It’s that sour-faced brute Conrad,” he decided. “That’s a fellow Ishall enjoy getting even with one of these days. This is just a bit ofspite on his part. I’m certain of it.”
Further meditations induced in him the feeling that it would beextremely pleasant to bring something down with a whack on Conrad’segg-shaped head. Tommy stroked his own head tenderly, and gave himselfup to the pleasures of imagination. Finally a bright idea flashedacross his brain. Why not convert imagination into reality? Conradwas undoubtedly the tenant of the house. The others, with the possibleexception of the bearded German, merely used it as a rendezvous.Therefore, why not wait in ambush for Conrad behind the door, and whenhe entered bring down a chair, or one of the decrepit pictures, smartlyon to his head. One would, of course, be careful not to hit too hard.And then--and then, simply walk out! If he met anyone on the way down,well---- Tommy brightened at the thought of an encounter with his fists.Such an affair was infinitely more in his line than the verbal encounterof this afternoon. Intoxicated by his plan, Tommy gently unhooked thepicture of the Devil and Faust, and settled himself in position. Hishopes were high. The plan seemed to him simple but excellent.
Time went on, but Conrad did not appear. Night and day were the samein this prison room, but Tommy’s wrist-watch, which enjoyed a certaindegree of accuracy, informed him that it was nine o’clock in theevening. Tommy reflected gloomily that if supper did not arrive soonit would be a question of waiting for breakfast. At ten o’clock hopedeserted him, and he flung himself on the bed to seek consolation insleep. In five minutes his woes were forgotten.
The sound of the key turning in the lock awoke him from his slumbers.Not belonging to the type of hero who is famous for awaking in fullpossession of his faculties, Tommy merely blinked at the ceiling andwondered vaguely where he was. Then he remembered, and looked at hiswatch. It was eight o’clock.
“It’s either early morning tea or breakfast,” deduced the young man,“and pray God it’s the latter!”
The door swung open. Too late, Tommy remembered his scheme ofobliterating the unprepossessing Conrad. A moment later he was glad thathe had, for it was not Conrad who entered, but a girl. She carried atray which she set down on the table.
In the feeble light of the gas burner Tommy blinked at her. He decidedat once that she was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen.Her hair was a full rich brown, with sudden glints of gold in it asthough there were imprisoned sunbeams struggling in its depths. Therewas a wild-rose quality about her face. Her eyes, set wide apart, werehazel, a golden hazel that again recalled a memory of sunbeams.
A delirious thought shot through Tommy’s mind.
“Are you Jane Finn?” he asked breathlessly.
The girl shook her head wonderingly.
“My name is Annette, monsieur.”
She spoke in a soft, broken English.
“Oh!” said Tommy, rather taken aback. _“Française?”_ he hazarded.
“Oui, monsieur. Monsieur parle français?”
“Not for any length of time,” said Tommy. “What’s that? Breakfast?”
The girl nodded. Tommy dropped off the bed and came and inspected thecontents of the tray. It consisted of a loaf, some margarine, and a jugof coffee.
“The living is not equal to the _Ritz_,” he observed with a sigh. “Butfor what we are at last about to receive the Lord has made me trulythankful. Amen.”
He drew up a chair, and the girl turned away to the door.
“Wait a sec,” cried Tommy. “There are lots of things I want to ask you,Annette. What are you doing in this house? Don’t tell me you’re Conrad’sniece, or daughter, or anything, because I can’t believe it.”
“I do the _service_, monsieur. I am not related to anybody.”
“I see,” said Tommy. “You know what I asked you just now. Have you everheard that name?”
“I have heard people speak of Jane Finn, I think.”
“You don’t know where she is?”
Annette shook her head.
“She’s not in this house, for instance?”
“Oh no, monsieur. I must go now--they will be waiting for me.”
She hurried out. The key turned in the lock.
“I wonder who ‘they’ are,” mused Tommy, as he continued to make inroadson the loaf. “With a bit of luck, that girl might help me to get out ofhere. She doesn’t look like one of the gang.”
At one o’clock Annette reappeared with another tray, but this timeConrad accompanied her.
“Good morning,” said Tommy amiably. “You have _not_ used Pear’s soap, Isee.”
Conrad growled threateningly.
“No light repartee, have you, old bean? There, there, we can’t alwayshave brains as well as beauty. What have we for lunch? Stew? How did Iknow? Elementary, my dear Watson--the smell of onions is unmistakable.”
“Talk away,” grunted the man. “It’s little enough time you’ll have totalk in, maybe.”
The remark was unpleasant in its suggestion, but Tommy ignored it. Hesat down at the table.
“Retire, varlet,” he said, with a wave of his hand. “Prate not to thybetters.”
That evening Tommy sat on the bed, and cogitated deeply. Would Conradagain accompany the girl? If he did not, should he risk trying to makean ally of her? He decided that he must leave no stone unturned. Hisposition was desperate.
At eight o’clock the familiar sound of the key turning made him springto his feet. The girl was alone.
“Shut the door,” he commanded. “I want to speak to you.” She obeyed.
“Look here, Annette, I want you to help me get out of this.” She shookher head.
“Impossible. There are three of them on the floor below.”
“Oh!” Tommy was secretly grateful for the information. “But you wouldhelp me if you could?”
“No, monsieur.”
“Why not?”
The girl hesitated.
“I think--they are my own people. You have spied upon them. They arequite right to keep you here.”
“They’re a bad lot, Annette. If you’ll help me, I’ll take you away fromthe lot of them. And you’d probably get a good whack of money.”
But the girl merely shook her head.
“I dare not, monsieur; I am afraid of them.”
She turned away.
“Wouldn’t you do anything to help another girl?” cried Tommy. “She’sabout your age too. Won’t you save her from their clutches?”
“You mean Jane Finn?”
“Yes.”
“It is her you came here to look for? Yes?”
“That’s it.”
The girl looked at him, then passed her hand across her forehead.
“Jane Finn. Always I hear that name. It is familiar.”
Tommy came forward eagerly.
“You must know _something_ about her?”
But the girl turned away abruptly.
“I know nothing--only the name.” She walked towards the door. Suddenlyshe uttered a cry. Tommy stared. She had caught sight of the picturehe had laid against the wall the night before. For a moment he caught alook of terror in her eyes. As inexplicably it changed to relief. Thenabruptly
she went out of the room. Tommy could make nothing of it. Didshe fancy that he had meant to attack her with it? Surely not. He rehungthe picture on the wall thoughtfully.
Three more days went by in dreary inaction. Tommy felt the straintelling on his nerves. He saw no one but Conrad and Annette, and thegirl had become dumb. She spoke only in monosyllables. A kind of darksuspicion smouldered in her eyes. Tommy felt that if this solitaryconfinement went on much longer he would go mad. He gathered from Conradthat they were waiting for orders from “Mr. Brown.” Perhaps, thoughtTommy, he was abroad or away, and they were obliged to wait for hisreturn.
But the evening of the third day brought a rude awakening.
It was barely seven o’clock when he heard the tramp of footsteps outsidein the passage. In another minute the door was flung open. Conradentered. With him was the evil-looking Number 14. Tommy’s heart sank atthe sight of them.
“Evenin’, gov’nor,” said the man with a leer. “Got those ropes, mate?”
The silent Conrad produced a length of fine cord. The next minute Number14’s hands, horribly dexterous, were winding the cord round his limbs,while Conrad held him down.
“What the devil----?” began Tommy.
But the slow, speechless grin of the silent Conrad froze the words onhis lips.
Number 14 proceeded deftly with his task. In another minute Tommy was amere helpless bundle. Then at last Conrad spoke:
“Thought you’d bluffed us, did you? With what you knew, and what youdidn’t know. Bargained with us! And all the time it was bluff! Bluff!You know less than a kitten. But your number’s up now all right, youb---- swine.”
Tommy lay silent. There was nothing to say. He had failed. Somehowor other the omnipotent Mr. Brown had seen through his pretensions.Suddenly a thought occurred to him.
“A very good speech, Conrad,” he said approvingly. “But wherefore thebonds and fetters? Why not let this kind gentleman here cut my throatwithout delay?”
“Garn,” said Number 14 unexpectedly. “Think we’re as green as to do youin here, and have the police nosing round? Not ‘alf! We’ve ordered thecarriage for your lordship to-morrow mornin’, but in the meantime we’renot taking any chances, see!”
“Nothing,” said Tommy, “could be plainer than your words--unless it wasyour face.”
“Stow it,” said Number 14.
“With pleasure,” replied Tommy. “You’re making a sad mistake--but yourswill be the loss.”
“You don’t kid us that way again,” said Number 14. “Talking as thoughyou were still at the blooming _Ritz_, aren’t you?”
Tommy made no reply. He was engaged in wondering how Mr. Brown haddiscovered his identity. He decided that Tuppence, in the throes ofanxiety, had gone to the police, and that his disappearance having beenmade public the gang had not been slow to put two and two together.
The two men departed and the door slammed. Tommy was left to hismeditations. They were not pleasant ones. Already his limbs felt crampedand stiff. He was utterly helpless, and he could see no hope anywhere.
About an hour had passed when he heard the key softly turned, and thedoor opened. It was Annette. Tommy’s heart beat a little faster. He hadforgotten the girl. Was it possible that she had come to his help?
Suddenly he heard Conrad’s voice:
“Come out of it, Annette. He doesn’t want any supper to-night.”
“Oui, oui, je sais bien. But I must take the other tray. We need thethings on it.”
“Well, hurry up,” growled Conrad.
Without looking at Tommy the girl went over to the table, and picked upthe tray. She raised a hand and turned out the light.
“Curse you”--Conrad had come to the door--“why did you do that?”
“I always turn it out. You should have told me. Shall I relight it,Monsieur Conrad?”
“No, come on out of it.”
“Le beau petit monsieur,” cried Annette, pausing by the bed in thedarkness. “You have tied him up well, _hein?_ He is like a trussedchicken!” The frank amusement in her tone jarred on the boy; but atthat moment, to his amazement, he felt her hand running lightly overhis bonds, and something small and cold was pressed into the palm of hishand.
“Come on, Annette.”
“Mais me voilà.”