Free The House Of The Bears by John Creasey

daughter’s condition before I returned to London,’ Palfrey told him. The attempt to stop me from seeing her made me decide to see you again.’
    Morne said, as if puzzled: ‘Why should it, Dr. Palfrey?’
    ‘All these things happened after my first visit. I gave you information about your daughter’s accident which brought the police here. Someone did not like it, Morne. Someone did attempt to murder your daughter, and it’s reasonable to assume that the same person resented my interference and tried to stop it.’
    ‘You realize you are suggesting a member of my household caused the accident to my daughter, don’t you?’ asked Morne, in a very soft voice.
    ‘Yes. It’s right that you should know what I think.’
    After a long pause, Morne said: ‘Dr. Palfrey, by your prompt handling of the situation when you arrived here on Monday evening, I think you saved my daughter’s life. I am, therefore, for ever in your debt. You have placed me under a further obligation by your frankness and by the trouble you have taken to come here tonight. I hope you will not place yourself in any further danger.’
    ‘Now what does he mean?’ asked Palfrey of himself. ‘I don’t quite understand you,’ he said aloud.
    ‘I mean that I hope you will not venture out again tonight,’ said Morne.
    ‘Oh,’ said Palfrey, and relaxed again. ‘I was rather hoping that I need not. It means that three extra policemen –’
    ‘Mrs. Bardle has told me they are here, and I have given instructions for them to be looked after,’ Morne assured him.
    ‘You’re very good,’ said Palfrey. ‘Now, if I may use the telephone, I’ll let my wife know that I’m not going back tonight.’
     
    Palfrey got out of bed and contemplated the grey ash in the grate. He had been so tired that he had not wanted to stay up until the house was silent, and Hardy’s man had raised no objection to calling him, saying that he was on duty all night. He had said also that the Markhams were out but that Morne’s sister Rachel had been in her room all the evening.
    Palfrey dressed quickly. At last he went into the passage, and found the policeman sitting on an upright chair near the landing.
    ‘How’s your friend who was drugged?’
    ‘Sleeping naturally, sir.’
    ‘Good!’ Palfrey moved off, down the stairs. If he found anything in that third post, Hardy would undoubtedly insist that it be given up. Yet the girl would not have taken such precautions had she wanted the police to know.
    Palfrey took out his torch – Fyson’s torch! – and walked to the gallery door. The curtain was half drawn, and he could see the lower steps. His slippers made no sound as he went up, shining the torch. It was piercingly cold, and he was excited – not nervous, but excited. Repressing his eagerness earlier in the evening had sharpened it. He was tensely anxious lest the third post had been removed.
    He reached the gallery and approached the balustrade, still shining his torch. One post – two – three –
    The repair was beyond the third and beyond the fourth post!
    He went to the third and shone the torch upon it. Nothing seemed unusual; the hand-carved wood was dark with oil and gleamed dully in the light. Bears surrounded it, tiny carvings exquisitely done. He touched them one after the other, but nothing happened. There must be a way of opening the post; it was almost certainly hollow; Loretta must have meant that. He leaned over the balustrade to examine the front. He touched the first bear-head, twisted and turned it; it was loose! With increasing excitement he concentrated on it, leaning right over, one hand holding the torch, the other exploring. He pulled at the head, and it moved outwards.
    The torch shone into a narrow cavity. He put the torch into his pocket and gripped the balustrade, so as to lean further over, and explored again.
    Someone gripped his ankles!
    His hand slipped from the balustrade and he felt himself being heaved over.
    He kicked