Free The House Of The Bears by John Creasey Page A

out. The grip was too firm to be shifted, but he gained a moment’s respite. He grabbed the post. He could see and hear nothing, but the pressure was increasing. A sudden heave and a gasp and he was over. The jolt on his shoulder and his wrist made him cry out, but he managed to hold; it was a matter of life and death to hold on. He hung, swaying.
    Suddenly a torch light shot out, carving a straight line through the darkness. He could not see who was holding it, but he felt a hand brush against his fingers; his assailant meant to make him fall.
    He hung straight, but a sharp pain at his knuckles made him wince. He drew in his breath and let go, bending his knees, trying to judge the distance to the floor. He struck it with his toes, lurched forward and fell. His head struck something which slithered along the floor.
    The light of the torch went out.
    And then another light came on, much brighter, one of the chandeliers. He heard a rustle of movements, several heavy, booming footsteps, followed by the sharp sound of someone running up the staircase. Hardy’s man, he thought. A door slammed. The footsteps now sounded hollow; Hardy’s man was on the balcony.
    He looked up and saw a stranger looking down, a man dressed in a light grey suit and smiling a droll smile.
    ‘ “Flat burglary as ever was committed”,’ quoth the man.
    Palfrey gaped. ‘What?’
    ‘Othello,’ declared the man. ‘Shakespeare.’ He had a long, narrow face with a long chin and a humorous mouth, large dark eyes and curly hair.
    Palfrey got up and felt for a cigarette. The man stood smiling down at him. Palfrey shifted his gaze and looked towards the third post. There was an open slit there, as he had left it.
    ‘Did the beggar get it?’
    ‘No. I did.’
    ‘I hope that’s a good sign,’ said Palfrey. ‘Are you coming down or shall I come up?’
    ‘I will come down. The great Dr. Palfrey must be put to no inconvenience. True, King Rufus might think differently if he knew that the great Dr. Palfrey was “by night a stealthy, creeping thing, a marauder with ill-intent”, but –’
    Palfrey said; ‘ “An honourable burglary, if you will, for naught I did for gain, but all in honour.” ‘
    ‘Nicely turned!’ The man laughed lightly and, to Palfrey’s astonishment, started to climb over the balcony. ‘If you can, I can.’ The other climbed over, lowered himself, hung at full length and dropped. He did not fall, but staggered against the piano.
    ‘Am I entitled to ask you what you were doing here?’
    ‘Well, I don’t have to ask you. I know what you were doing,’ said the other. ‘I do wonder if this is the best place for a heart to-heart talk. Shall we go to your room?’
    ‘We may as well.’
    It was Palfrey’s companion who opened the bedroom door and, when they were inside, promptly turned the key in the lock. So the key was back again.
    ‘I keep pausing to wonder who you are,’ said Palfrey.
    ‘Oh, yes. Remiss of me. A nephew of King Rufus. Only son of his second sister, whom you have met, I believe. Rachel, a sister of Rufus. Don’t let that worry you,’ went on the stranger. ‘I am not on good terms with any of the family. By name I am Bruce, for my father was a Scotsman and a McDonald at that. You are burning with curiosity to know how I came to be in the gallery tonight, aren’t you?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘I spied a stranger,’ said McDonald.
    ‘Meaning me?’
    ‘Good Lord, no! You aren’t a stranger. You are Public Hero No. 1 at Morne House. I fancy he wore a mask or grease paint, or something. He knows the place pretty well, because he was coming out of the priest hole in the West passage. My room is near there. In fact, I could hear movement in the priest hole and was looking out of my door.’
    ‘How long ago was this?’ asked Palfrey.
    ‘About one o’clock. I had finished a session with Gerry, who is always a trial, and was solacing myself with a mild dose of Old Bill when I heard the rustling and