Lesson 16

 Chapter Thirty: escape

The man on the floor stared up at them. His pince-nez had flown off and so had his hat. There could be no further attempt at disguise. Slight traces of make-up were visible about the eyebrows, but otherwise the face was the pleasant, slightly vacuous face of Roger Bassington-ffrench.

He spoke in his own agreeable tenor voice, its note that of pleasant soliloquy.

"Very interesting," he said. "I really knew quite well that no man tied up as you were could have thrown a boot through that skylight. But because the boot was there among the broken glass I took it for cause and effect and assumed that, though it was impossible, the impossible had been achieved. An interesting light on the limitations of the brain."

As nobody spoke, he went on still in the same reflective voice. "So, after all, you've won the round. Most unexpected and extremely regrettable. I thought I'd got you all fooled nicely."

"So you had", said Frankie. "You forged that letter from Bobby, I suppose?"

"I have a talent that way," said Roger modestly.

"And Bobby?"

Lying on his back, smiling agreeably, Roger seemed to take a positive pleasure in enlightening them.

"I knew he'd go to the Grange. I only had to wait about in the bushes near the path. I was just behind him there when he retreated after rather clumsily falling off a tree. I let the hubbub die down and then got him neatly on the back of the neck with a sandbag. All I had to do was to carry him out to where my car was waiting, shove him in the dickey, and drive him here. I was at home again before morning."

"And Moira?" demanded Bobby. "Did you entice her away somehow?"

Roger chuckled. The question seemed to amuse him. "Forgery is a very useful art, my dear Jones," he said.

"You swine," said Bobby.

Frankie intervened. She was still full of curiosity, and their prisoner seemed in an obliging mood.

"Why did you pretend to be Doctor Nicholson?" she asked.

"Why did I, now?" Roger seemed to be asking the question of himself. "Partly, I think, the fun of seeing whether I could spoof you both. You were so very sure that poor old Nicholson was in it up to the neck." He laughed, and Frankie blushed. "Just because he cross-questioned you a bit about the details of your accident — in his pompous way. It was an irritating fad of his — accuracy in details."

"And really," said Frankie slowly, "he was quite innocent?"

"As a child unborn," said Roger. "But he did a good turn. He drew my attention to that accident of yours. That and another incident made me realize that you mightn't be quite the innocent young thing you seemed to be. And then I was standing by you when you telephoned one morning and I heard your chauffeur's voice say, 'Frankie'. I've got pretty good hearing. I suggested coming up to town with you and you agreed — but you were very much relieved when I changed my mind. After that —" He stopped and as far as he was able shrugged his bound shoulders. "It was rather fun seeing you get all worked up about Nicholson. He's a harmless old ass, but he does look exactly like a scientific super-criminal on the films. I thought I might as well keep the deception up. After all, you never know. The best laid plans go wrong, as my present predicament shows."

"There's one thing you must tell me," said Frankie. "I've been driven nearly mad with curiosity. Who is Evans?"

"Oh!" said Bassington-ffrench. "So you don't know that?" He laughed — and laughed again. "That's rather amusing," he said. "It shows what a fool one can be."

"Meaning us?" asked Frankie.

"No," said Roger. "In this case, meaning me. Do you know, if you don't know who Evans is, I don't think I shall tell you. I'll keep that to myself as my own little secret."

The position was a curious one. They had turned the tables on Bassington-ffrench, and yet, in some peculiar way, he had robbed them of their triumph. Lying on the floor, bound and a prisoner, it was he who dominated the situation.

"And what are your plans now, may I ask?" he inquired.

Nobody had as yet evolved any plans. Bobby rather doubtfully murmured something about police.

"Much the best thing to do," said Roger cheerfully. "Ring them up and hand me over to them. The charge will be abduction, I suppose. I can't very well deny that." He looked at Frankie. "I shall plead a guilty passion."*

Frankie reddened. "What about murder?" she asked.

"My dear, you haven 4 any evidence. Positively none. Think it over and you'll see you haven't."

"Badger," said Bobby, "you'd better stay here and keep an eye on him. I'll go down and ring up the police."

"You'd better be careful," said Frankie. "We don't know how many of them there may be in the house."

"No one but me," said Roger. "I was carrying this through single-handed."

"I'm not prepared to take your word for that," said Bobby gruffly.

He bent over and tested the knots.

"He's all right," he said. "Safe as houses. We'd better all go down together. We can lock the door."

"Terribly distrustful, aren't you, my dear chap?" said Roger. "There's a pistol in my pocket if you'd like it. It may make you feel happier, and it's certainly no good to me in my present position."