Free Lonely Road by Nevil Shute Page B

on to her brother, without letting her know that this is a police matter. That’s what you want?”
    The man called Norman stirred. “That is what we want. Some means of finding the brother when we want to pull him in.”
    I stared at him. “I should be glad if you would talk English. Some means of finding the brother when you want—to do what?”
    He flushed angrily, and Sir David Carter interposed. “It is very necessary that we should be able to keep the brother under observation,” he said smoothly. “You will appreciate that. If this man is simply the driver of the lorry and no more, I doubt if it would be necessary to take any further steps in regard to him.”
    I sat there for a minute, deep in thought. “What happens if I can’t find out anything at all?”
    “Then we shall have to deal with the matter with our usual machinery,” he said. “It means a grave risk of publicity. And frankly, I do not consider that this case, at present, is strong enough to bear a critical examination.”
    I nodded. “So that if I don’t go to Leeds, you’ll have that girl up and interrogate her?”
    “In all probability,” he said.
    I sat there resting my chin upon one hand and staring into the fireplace. I was thinking of the life that I had been living since the war, what I had done and what I had achieved. It wasn’t very much—a few old sailing ships gathered into a barely economic trade. It seemed to me that the life I had been leading for the last ten years had done little good to me or anybody else. One must live steadily and do what one can. As for this matter of the girl who had been kind to me—well, that was just my luck.
    I raised my head and glanced across at Carter. “All right,” I said quietly, “I should be very glad to go.”
    I got away from there as soon as possible, and went back to my club. Fedden walked back with me, but I had little to say to him, and presently he went away. I lunched and went out to the Academy, and there I put my name down for the little study of seagulls that now hangs in the library above my desk. Then back to the club to spin my dinner out over an hour and a half, and read Surtees till I went to bed.
    Next morning I took the Bentley after breakfast and set out up the Great North Road, lunching in Newark with the best part of the journey done. By tea-time I was back in that garish, over-furnished place in Leeds, sitting and smoking in a corner of the lounge, watching the young business men and brokers with their girls, who thronged the place. There was nothing else to do, and I sat there till dinner, wondering what was going to happen to me that night. I dined alone, and went out immediately afterwards to the Palais.
    The place was fairly full. I sat for a little while at a table alone, watching the dancers and wondering how to set about the business I had come upon. The girl was there. I could see her sitting in the pen, reading a magazine and now and then passing a desultory glance around the room. I knew that she had noticed me, and presently I went and fetched her out to dance.
    It seemed to me that she was changed in the weeks that I had been away. The set phrases, the fixed smile were all the same, but beneath it she seemed listless and depressed. I took her out for a waltz; she danced beautifully, but there was no life in it; it was as if she had lost all heart and interest in her work. I cursed myself for a fool that I had ever come upon a crazy job like this, took her back to my table, ordered her a cup of coffee, and gave her a cigarette.
    She roused a little when the coffee came, and made a definite effort to entertain me. “I’m so glad you’ve come in again,” she said. “I often thought about you, and wondered if you’d come back. I said to Phyllis only the other day, I said I wondered if you were coming back again ever. It’s ever so nice when people come back.”
    I smiled. “Who’s Phyllis?” I inquired. I didn’t particularly want to know, but