Part Five
They had decided, or rather, James had decided, that he should go alone to inspect the Maws' residence, then he would report back to Sally and they would work out their plan of attack. That was James' idea, anyway. Sally had laughed sceptically at the thought of them attacking anyone. But he had gone and now she was alone. She paced her room impatiently, but not for long. Mr. McColl's creaking floorboards extended from the passageway into her room and every step seemed to bring a groan of protest.
She lay on the bed but she was too tense and nervous to relax. She should not have let him go alone, she decided. There was no knowing what he would get up to. And what could she do if there was any trouble? She was alone. A stranger in a strange land. And not a very welcome stranger, at that. What if someone should recognize him and report him to the police? Or recognize her? She shivered with apprehension. Then she took a firm hold on her thoughts. These were all ifs and buts and maybes. Why, it was like waiting to visit the dentist, all those groundless fears!
But dentists didn't arrest people, a small voice inside reminded her. No, that was true. And dentists didn't trade in guns, the voice went on, and neither did they chase their customers all over the countryside. Sally was defeated. There was no point in trying to cheer herself up, she decided glumly, but she wasn't going to sit here miserably waiting for a man who was probably sleuthing around quite happily and enjoying himself immensely.
She changed into a turquoise sweater two sizes too large and a bright yellow skirt that made her shudder, the only articles of clothing remotely her size, and ventured self-consciously downstairs.
At this time of the day a small bar was open in the dining area of the hotel and where she had eaten breakfast she was now served a sherry by the disapproving McColl. There were a few couples seated around the room, and two men leaning against the bar. One was obviously a local workingman, the other obviously not, dressed as he was in black suit, old fashioned wing collared shirt with cravat, and wearing a bowler hat. Sally regarded him suspiciously and wondered if he worked at the Maws' household, perhaps he was even the mysterious Blackwell. And she felt afraid and wished that she had asked for a brandy. The man glanced idly around the room and Sally no longer felt afraid of him. His face was aged but ageless, she could not determine his age but guessed at forty or fifty. His features were lined, but wise looking and friendly. He also appeared completely disinterested in her, or anyone else for that matter, and he turned back to his drink with that superior air that some public officials and menservants seem to possess.
She looked at her watch and an hour had passed since James had left. It seemed like three to her. The drab room was oppressive to her, the quietness seemed only accentuated by the whisper of polite conversations, the loud ticking from the ancient clock over the bar. She drained her glass and decided to walk outside.
The sunlight was dazzlingly bright after the dimness of the hotel, the air was warm and still. The narrow, peaceful main street was lined with small houses and shops. A home made sign announced the presence of the post office. In the distance she heard the sound of farm animals. But again the peacefulness seemed ominous to her, the normality just disguise for sinister activities, and she wished that James would hurry back.
She heard the car and the sound was familiar. She turned to see the bright red vehicle speeding towards her. James was back! She smiled gladly as the car slowed and stopped beside her.
“And not before time, eith...” A stranger's face peered through the window of the car door.
“Mrs. Weston?” the man inquired. Sally nodded dumbly, her voice swallowed by her fear.
“Awfully sorry if I alarmed you. Your husband asked me to fetch you. There's nothing to worry about.” he assured her friendlily.
“Seems there has been some sort of misunderstanding up at the house. It's all been straightened out now.” He opened the car door for her.
Sally stared at him suspiciously.
The man smiled back in friendly manner. Who was he? And could he be trusted? Her instincts told her to be wary. But those instincts had only been bred over the last few days, and were mainly a product of James' continuous prompting. She was by nature friendly and trusting. And she wanted to believe the man, she wanted a respite from the suspicions and fears. She smiled her relief as she climbed into the car.
“I'm glad everything is being cleared up,” she said, setting herself into the seat.
“Rather. Silly misunderstanding, but it's alright now.” The man slipped the car into gear and roared away. The man Sally had assumed to be a