(George's and Maria's exit from Thorney Manor)
Busby had fired at the gunman whom Digby had discovered, but rather than pursue him she had waited until he had vanished downstairs and then went to tell Manfred that the way was clear. 'I don't know who that gunman was, but he's gone,' she said. 'Digby and Pearce have gone after him.'
'I think this is our opportunity to leave,' said George, getting to his feet. Nurse O'Leary picked up her bag and the bags that George and Maria had brought with them. George bent and folded blankets around Maria, and then lifted her into his arms. She moaned slightly with the pain of movement, then managed a weak smile. He smiled tenderly into her eyes, and carried her out of the room, just behind Busby, who led the way, gun at the ready.
They went quietly along the landing and down the stairs into the hall. The sounds of voices and gunshots reached them from the other side of the house, but they did not go to investigate; only Busby looked around cautiously, then said: 'It's OK. They're out of sight,' and led the way towards the green baize door which opened into the service section of the house.
Once through the green door, they could breathe a little more easily. Busby hurried ahead, holding doors open for George, who seemed to be carrying Maria as easily as if she was the weight of a feather. Nurse O'Leary brought up the rear, with the bags. They went down the passageway that led past the kitchen, but rather than go out of the scullery they turned down another corridor and came out into the kitchen garden. They crossed this quickly, through a gate in the wall and out on to the lawns that led down to the Thames.
Now George walked more quickly, holding Maria close to him; and O'Leary hurried alongside him. Busby spun on her heel, gun at the ready, looking all around them. They were half way towards the river when a voice shouted: 'Stop!' and a bullet whistled past George's ear. Busby immediately spun round and fired back. There was a scream of pain and Busby smiled satisfaction. 'Got him. You go on; I'll catch you up.'
George was loath to leave her, but he realised the necessity of getting Maria to safety. He hurried down the lawn to the river's edge, where the long river boat was waiting. Leon jumped on to the quayside to help George get on to the boat; Mirabelle took the cases from Nurse O'Leary. George bore his wife down into the cabin and laid her gently on the bed that Mirabelle and Leon had prepared for her. Nurse sat down on the nearest chair and took several deep breaths.
'I hope I never have to do that again!' she exclaimed. 'In the open, with who knows who about to fire at us ... is the little policewoman all right?'
'That's WPC Busby to you, Nurse,' retorted a voice from the deck. 'I've got the miscreant.'
On deck, Mirabelle and Leon were looking at Busby's prisoner. She had shot him in the right hand, but apart from the loss of blood he was not severely damaged. He was, however, in a very bad temper. 'Who are you people?' he demanded. 'Why are you protecting that criminal? I have orders from his excellency the Spanish ambassador to arrest her and bring her back to Madrid to face justice for murders committed twenty years ago. How dare you stand between that woman and justice?'
'She was pardoned for her crimes in England,' retorted Busby. 'Where's your extradition order?'
The other snorted and spat.
'I think we need to teach our guest some manners,' said Leon to Mirabelle.
'Let's introduce him to the Inspector,' Mirabelle replied.'
'An excellent idea. Can you look after him for a moment while I brief WPC Busby?' Leon gave her a broad, boyish grin and turned to the policewoman. Mirabelle opened her handbag, drew out her Browning pistol, took off the safety catch and pointed it at their visitor. 'Please stand quietly,' she said, smiling her sweetest smile. 'We won't keep you waiting long.'
Their visitor kept his hands raised and swore again, but Mirabelle just shook her head and said, 'Bad manners won't get you anywhere.'
Meanwhile, Leon had been showing Busby how to steer the boat. 'Take her down to Westminster,' he said. 'If you can't get that far, tie up somewhere safe and phone me or Meadows, and I'll arrange assistance.'
'We'll be fine,' retorted Busby. 'Tell Pearce where I've gone.' Leon left her in control of the boat, paused to let George and Nurse O'Leary know what was happening, then stepped ashore, untied the boat, threw the rope on the deck and pushed off. The boat moved out into the river, the engine roared into life and the boat set off downstream, Busby waving as she drove. Leon waved back, then returned to Mirabelle and their prisoner.
'Who are you?' demanded the latter again.
'I am Leon Gonsalez and this is my wife Mirabelle Leicester,' responded Leon, in Spanish. Mirabelle blinked: she didn't understand the language, but she could see from the glint in his light blue eyes and the curve of his lips that Leon was teasing their prisoner. She concentrated on holding her Browning steady and let him continue enjoying himself.
Their prisoner snorted at Leon's response. 'I've never heard of you. I don't know who you are.'
'I and my friends were once well known to the Prince of the Escorials,' replied Leon gently, still in Spanish.
'The royal family has no power now in Spain,' replied the other.
'More is the pity,' said Leon. 'You might act with a little more sense if they did.'
'You're old nobility, aren't you? I can tell from your accent.'
Leon grinned mirthlessly. 'I am known for my ability to change my character in an instant, friend. Don't assume anything from my accent!'
'I can hear cars arriving at the house,' said Mirabelle, in English. 'Shall we go and speak to Inspector Meadows?'
Their prisoner snapped at her: 'Who is this Inspector? What authority does he have to arrest me?'
'If you speak to my wife in those tones again, I will break your neck,' said Leon coolly. 'You have attempted an assault on a British police officer and a British citizen, and therefore the Inspector has every right to arrest you. But even if you produce papers to demonstrate that you are exempt from British laws by virtue of your being part of the Spanish ambassador's staff, you are not exempt from my law: I am one of the Four Just Men.'
The other shivered. 'I've heard of them,' he said. 'I've heard that they are ruthless killers.'
'That's true. That's why my wife is holding the gun, rather than I. Now start walking towards the house.'
The other man began to walk, hands still held up in surrender; Mirabelle followed him, gun held steady; and Leon brought up the rear.
They entered the house by the door from the kitchen garden, and walked down the passageway to the hallway, where they found the butler arguing with WPC Pearce. Pearce was telling him that he couldn't tidy up until the police had arrived, and he was saying that Mr Simpson would expect him to clean up and he would 'lose his position' if he failed to do his duty.
Pearce was on the point of arresting him for obstructing a police operation, when Leon's voice cut across the argument. 'Do you have a secure room where we can hold this criminal until Inspector Meadows arrives?'
The butler recognised him from the previous evening, when Leon had shamelessly claimed to be 'police'. 'Good afternoon, sir,' he said. 'We're always pleased to help the police. I already have a dangerous gunman awaiting police escort in one of our downstairs rooms. If you can bring him along, I'll see that he is properly restrained,' and he turned to lead the way to the room where Collins was being held.
'Good to see you, Gonsalez and Leicester,' said Pearce, visibly relaxing. 'Did you get the shipment away?'
'Yes,' said Mirabelle, 'all shipshape and Bristol-fashion. Busby's gone too to make sure they get to Westminster.'
'That's good.' Pearce managed a smile. 'I'm still looking for a criminal here – is your name Hume or Richards?' she demanded of the man whom Mirabelle was holding up.
'No,' retorted the other.
'Come on,' Leon said to him, drawing his own Browning, and gesturing him away. The Spaniard went, still muttering. Leon followed, leaving Pearce and Mirabelle in the hall.
'Is Maria all right?' asked Pearce.
'A bit pale, but she managed a smile,' Mirabelle reassured her. Pearce nodded.
'Don't know why I'm worried about a bloody anarchist,' she said, 'but she was brave last night, when she saved the Inspector. I know it was her fault he was there, but she was brave anyway.'
Mirabelle nodded. 'Sometimes I can understand a little bit what George sees in her,' she admitted. 'She's mad, but she's honestly mad.'
'If Manfred could only keep her out of trouble, she's be fine,' said Pearce. 'Do you think he can keep her out of trouble until after the elections?'
'Why the elections?'
'Did you see the Daily Megaphone this morning?'
'George's letter? We couldn't miss it!'
'That letter will probably lose the Labour Party the election. Then all the communists will have to leave the country or go into hiding, and they won't be able to go after Maria.'
'That must be George's plan,' said Mirabelle.
'Mary!' came Lucy's voice. 'Did you get her away?'
'Yes.' Mirabelle turned to greet her friend. 'I didn't expect you to come out here again today!'
'Digby and Edward came to pick me up. I couldn't miss it! It's been terribly exciting. We got held up by a gunman – but Dennis shot him – we've just been putting him in Bill's ambulance.' Lucy was bubbling over with excitement, as usual. 'Inspector Meadows has just arrived. He's talking to Bill and Nurse Rose.'
'We must let him know that Maria has gone.' Mirabelle turned to go back the way that Lucy had come in, but Pearce said, 'I'll go and report. You go and speak to Mrs Simpson. She's in a bad way.'
'She was held up by Crawley,' said Lucy. 'We met him last night – when we were being journalists – but he was really a radical who wanted to kill Maria.'
Mirabelle was now thoroughly confused, but decided to give up trying to sort out what had been going on in the house and just said, 'Let's go and talk to her. We can tell her we're from the Megaphone and get the story from her. Where is she?'
'In the housekeeper's office.' Pearce indicated the door, and Mirabelle took Lucy's arm and led her away. Pearce set off to the scullery, to find Bill's ambulance.
She expected to hear lively conversation as she approached, and the raised voice of the Inspector, who usually had some strong opinion to express – but all was oddly quiet. She hesitated at the door into the scullery; was she about to walk into a trap? Having second thoughts, she doubled back and ran back through the house to seek assistance. She decided not to interrupt Mirabelle and Lucy in the housekeeper's office, but headed for the front door, where she expected to find Rigby and his taxi, but they had also disappeared. Instead, she found Dick Jones up his ladder, washing windows.
'Is everything all right up there?' she called.
Dick looked down and waved. 'All fine,' he replied.
'Where is everyone?'
'They went to put the dead and wounded into Bill's ambulance.'
Pearce frowned. 'I think something's gone wrong,' she said. 'It's gone very quiet back there.'
Dick hesitated. 'You're right,' he said. 'They've been too long.' He looked up at the roofline of the house. 'I can get on to the tiles and look over,' he said. 'Wait a mo.' He climbed down, and began to move the ladder. Pearce helped him carry it across the front of the house, to a place where the gables of the roof came down low, alongside the first floor windows.
Dick hurriedly climbed up to the roof tiles, and rapidly up to the ridge. Pearce watched him, heart in mouth, trying to remain calm. A police officer should take everything in her stride, she told herself. Jones has lots of experience of this sort of work and he's as nimble as a cat – in fact, she knew he had operated as a cat burglar before the Just Men took him on. She watched while Dick looked over the ridge, then came back down the roof, stepped on to the ladder and descended. Not until he had both feet on the ground did she feel she could breathe again.
'Well?' she asked.
'There's two gunmen,' said Dick. 'They're holding up the men in the ambulance. Threatening to shoot them. It's a stand-off.'
'Bother.' Pearce thought for a moment. 'Well done, by the way,' she said, 'that was a neat piece of observation.'
'No trouble, miss – I mean, officer.' Dick grinned broadly and Pearce returned the grin.
'I'll go upstairs,' she said. 'I'll see whether I can hear what's going on.'
'I'll get on with the windows,' said Dick, 'and keep my eyes open.'
'Good man.' Pearce hurried back into the house and up the stairs, then turned towards the back of the house and made her way down corridors until she reckoned she was probably overlooking the yard at the back of the house. She went into a room and looked out of a window. The ambulance was below her; a crowd of people were standing around it. Two gunmen stood at the entrance to the ambulance, guns trained on whomever was inside. Inspector Meadows stood to one side; Edward Davies was there, Digby and Dennis, and some police officers who were obviously intended to relieve herself and Busby. Bill Trevors stood to one side; she couldn't see Nurse Rose.
This is ridiculous, she thought. She pulled out her gun and opened the window.
'I've got you covered,' she called. 'What's going on down there?'
Meadows looked up. 'Pearce, what the hell are you doing up there?'
'Ready to shoot anyone who moves, sir. What's going on?'
'These two activists are going to kill the two men you shot earlier,' replied Meadows, 'on the basis that they killed the Red Woman of Gratz.'
'She's got away,' replied Pearce. 'She left a quarter of an hour ago.'
The two gunmen below looked up at her. 'Are you sure of that?' asked one. Pearce noted that he sounded Spanish.
'Yes,' she answered. 'Gonsalez and Leicester brought a boat for her. Busby's gone with her down river.'
The two men conferred, then one said: 'Are Gonsalez and Leicester there?'
'Not with me,' answered Pearce. 'I can fetch them.'
'Please do that. We will spare these two, if we discover that our lady has escaped safely.'
Dear God, more anarchists, thought Pearce. Aloud, she said: 'Will do,' and stepped back from the window, closing it behind her. Then she went in search of Leon Gonsalez.
As she descended the stairs, Mirabelle and Lucy were just coming out of the housekeeper's office with the housekeeper and Mrs Simpson. Mrs Simpson was saying, 'I just hope Paul's all right.' Then she looked up the stairs, saw Pearce coming down, and blanched. 'Oh no! What's happened?' she cried, and swayed where she stood, as if about to faint.
Lucy and Mirabelle moved to support her. 'It's nothing, ma'am,' cried Lucy. 'Pearce always looks like that – she's got pale skin.'
Pearce scowled. 'Two more terrorists have turned up,' she said. 'They want to shoot the men who wanted to shoot Miss Gratz. I said I'd find Gonsalez and Leicester to reassure them that she's got away safely.' She nodded at Mirabelle. 'Don't rush out,' she added. 'I want you both to go out together – you can cover each other. Wait there – I'll fetch Gonsalez.'
Mirabelle nodded wordlessly, thinking that Pearce was looking very grim. She must be totally exhausted, she told herself. She's been on duty for about twelve hours – she needs a rest.
Leon, however, was coming down the hall already, saying, 'What has become of the good Inspector? I want his opinion on our prisoners.' Pearce interrupted him before he could say anything else.
'I need you both out the back, Gonsalez, you and Leicester. There are two anarchists out the back threatening to shoot the gunmen who tried to kill Gratz earlier. I need you to tell them that she's safe.'
Leon looked at her, saw her face white and strained, and nodded. 'Very good, officer. Just stand well clear when the shooting starts.'
Pearce smiled despite herself, and beckoned them to follow her. 'It's out of the scullery door.'
Mirabelle and Leon followed her through the kitchen and the scullery. Lucy, Mrs Simpson and Mrs Lovell brought up the rear, curious as to what was about to happen. They emerged into the fresh air in the yard at the back of the house, and found a crowd of police and Leon's agents standing around Bill Trevor's ambulance. Nurse Rose was sitting inside the ambulance with the two wounded men.
Two gunmen stood at the rear door of the ambulance, revolvers trained on the wounded men. They were speaking in a language which Mirabelle suspected wasn't Spanish, although neither was it French or Italian. Leon interrupted them with a stream of liquid prose, which made both of them jump and spin round to face him, then lower their guns. They replied in the same language; then Mirabelle heard her husband say something which must have been: 'Speak English,' and they changed their tongue.
'It is very good to see you, Señor. The Red Lady has told us how good you have been to her, and how much assistance you have given her over many years.'
Mirabelle smiled to herself – she was getting used to the mixture of flattery, exaggeration and falsehood which characterised any speech from Maria and her friends. This presumably meant: 'Please don't shoot us. We realise that you are stronger than we are.'
'What are you doing here?' asked Leon. 'You must know that you risk being arrested.'
'We came to take part in Mister Simpson's conference here. When we heard that our lady of Gratz would attend, we were very pleased. And then we heard that many men here wanted to kill her, and so we decided we must protect her.'
'You were a little too slow,' observed Leon.
'We decided that we should kill the men who tried to kill her.'
'How just,' replied Leon. 'But this is not Catalonia, and we are not bandits or rebels here. This is a country where law and order reigns, and Inspector Meadows is here to enforce it.'
The two men bowed their heads respectfully to Meadows. 'We have not harmed anyone,' one said. 'You cannot arrest us.'
'Holding men at gunpoint is a crime in this country,' said Meadows. 'Stevens, take their weapons.' One of his police officers stepped forwards. The two men looked as if they were about to refuse, but Leon made a gesture with his own Browning, and they handed over their revolvers.
'Now let's get this ambulance away, and we can go inside and find out what the hell's been going on here,' said Meadows. He gestured everyone away from the ambulance. Bill Trevor slammed the back doors shut, got into the front seat, and drove the ambulance out of the yard. Meadows turned to Pearce.
'Good work, officer,' he said. 'You're relieved – go and get some sleep.'
'Yessir,' said Pearce, and saluted. Mirabelle tapped her on the shoulder. 'We have to go and pick up the Buick,' she said. 'Would you like a lift back to London?'
Pearce gave her a broad grin. 'That would be great,' she said.
It was another hour before they all got away from the house. Mirabelle, Lucy and Pearce sat in the servants' hall with Mrs Simpson, drinking tea and talking. Mirabelle took lots of notes for her contact at the Megaphone, and promised to write a sympathetic report about what the Right Honourable Paul Simpson MP had hoped to achieve with his political debate between socialists, communists, liberals and anarchists. Lucy listened intently and felt very sorry for Mrs Simpson. She meant so well, but she clearly didn't understand the sort of people she was dealing with. After the last two days – listening to Mrs Maria's speech at South Place Chapel and chasing an anarchist through the East End of London – she felt she was becoming an expert on society's more disreputable elements.
Pearce let them all chatter, thinking what a feather-brain Grace Simpson was, and worried about such women being in a position of power. What the country needs, she thought, is sensible women, not women who let their husbands lead them.
At last Edward Davies came into the room, saying, 'Got any tea left?'
'There's still a cup left in the pot,' said Lucy, pouring it out for him. 'What's going on out there?'
Edward sat down at the table, picked up the tea and half drained the cup. 'Talk, talk, talk. It seems that letter in the Megaphone has caused a real rumpus.'
Lucy grinned delightedly, but didn't say anything – she had not told Grace Simpson that she had taken the letter to the Megaphone the previous night.
'The Inspector has been questioning everyone he questioned last night, and some people he didn't,' Edward went on. 'But he says we can clear out now – we've done our part. Your husband' – he addressed Mirabelle – 'wanted to stay on to ask more questions, but the Inspector wants him to get back to London to meet Mrs Maria when she arrives, to stop her causing any more trouble. So we're going back in Riley's taxi.' He drained his cup, and got up.
Mirabelle rose from the table. 'Thank you so much for your hospitality, Mrs Simpson,' she said. 'I'll send you a copy of this when it's finished. I'm sure everything will work out all right.'
'Thank you, my dear,' said Grace Simpson, rising to her feet to say goodbye. Lucy also rose, and Pearce – Mrs Lovell added her farewells and good wishes – and the visitors from London, the forces of law and order, took their leave.
Leon and Inspector Meadows were standing on the front doorstep, discussing the architectural faults of the house. When Mirabelle and her companions appeared, Leon's face lit up and he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. 'How is Mrs Simpson?' he asked.
'Shaken,' answered Mirabelle. 'I'll tell you about it when we get back to London.'
'Are you coming?' asked Edward Davies, passing them and getting into the back of Riley's taxi. Lucy clambered in beside him. Riley put his head out of the driver's door and called: 'Any more for the Ritz?'
'We only want a lift to Maidenhead,' called Mirabelle. 'We have to pick up the Buick.'
'I'll go back with them, sir,' said Pearce to Meadows.
'Good idea,' said her superior. 'You can ensure Gonsalez sticks to the speed limit.'