Free The Ministry of Fear by Graham Greene Page A

out of this,’ Dr Forester said. Any séance is a strain, but this one . . .’ He and Hilfe between them raised the turbaned bulk; the hand which had so delicately dabbled in Cost’s blood retrieved the key of the room with equal delicacy. ‘The rest of you,’ Dr Forester said, ‘had better stay here, I think. I’ll telephone to Notting Hill police station, and then we’ll both be back.’
    For a long while there was silence after they had gone; nobody looked at Rowe, but Miss Pantil had slid her chair well away from him, so that he now sat alone beside the corpse, as though they were two friends who had got together at a party. Presently Mr Newey said, ‘I’ll never catch my train unless they hurry.’ Anxiety fought with horror – any moment the sirens might go – he caressed his sandalled foot across his knee, and young Maude said hotly, ‘I don’t know why you should stay,’ glaring at Rowe.
    It occurred to Rowe that he had not said one word to defend himself: the sense of guilt for a different crime stopped his mouth. Besides, what could he, a stranger, say to Miss Pantil, Mr Newey and young Maude to convince them that in fact it was one of their friends who had murdered? He took a quick look at Cost, half expecting him to come alive again and laugh at them – ‘one of my tests’, but nobody could have been deader than Cost was now. He thought: somebody here has killed him – it was fantastic, more fantastic really than that he should have done it himself. After all, he belonged to the region of murder – he was a native of that country. As the police will know, he thought, as the police will know.
    The door opened and Hilfe returned. He said, ‘Dr Forester is looking after Mrs Bellairs. I have telephoned to the police.’ His eyes were saying something to Rowe which Rowe couldn’t understand. Rowe thought: I must see him alone, surely he can’t believe . . .
    He said, ‘Would anybody object if I went to the lavatory and was sick?’
    Miss Pantil said, ‘I don’t think anybody ought to leave this room till the police come.’
    â€˜I think,’ Hilfe said, ‘somebody should go with you. As a formality, of course.’
    â€˜Why beat about the bush,’ Miss Pantil said. ‘Whose knife is it?’
    â€˜Perhaps Mr Newey,’ Hilfe said, ‘wouldn’t mind going with Mr Rowe . . .’
    â€˜I won’t be drawn in,’ Newey said. ‘This has nothing to do with me. I only want to catch my train.’
    â€˜Perhaps I had better go then,’ Hilfe said, ‘if you will trust me.’ No one objected.
    The lavatory was on the first floor. They could hear from the landing the steady soothing rhythm of Dr Forester’s voice in Mrs Bellairs’ bedroom. ‘I’m all right,’ Rowe whispered. ‘But Hilfe, I didn’t do it.’
    There was something shocking in the sense of exhilaration Hilfe conveyed at a time like this. ‘Of course you didn’t,’ he said. ‘This is the Real Thing.’
    â€˜But why? Who did it?’
    â€˜I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.’ He put his hand on Rowe’s arm with a friendliness that was very comforting, urging him into the lavatory and locking the door behind them. ‘Only, old fellow, you must be off out of this. They’ll hang you if they can. Anyway, they’ll shut you up for weeks. It’s so convenient for Them.’
    â€˜What can I do? It’s my knife.’
    â€˜They are devils, aren’t they,’ Hilfe said with the same light-hearted relish he might have used for a children’s clever prank. ‘We’ve just got to keep you out of the way till Mr Rennit and I . . . By the way, better tell me who rang you up.’
    â€˜It was your sister.’
    â€˜My sister . . .’ Hilfe grinned at