Crime at Christmas by Jack Adrian (ed) Page B

distinguish footsteps and whispers, as though those
waxworks which I cannot see in the darkness are beginning to stir to life.
    Sonia
dropped her pencil at the sound of a low chuckle. It seemed to come from the
end of the Gallery which was blacked out by shadows.
    As her
imagination galloped away with her, she reproached herself sharply.
    'Steady,
don't be a fool. There must be a cloak-room here. That chuckle is the air
escaping in a pipe—or something. I'm betrayed by my own ignorance of
hydraulics.'
    In spite of
her brave words, she returned rather quickly to her corner.
     
    With her
back against the wall she felt less apprehensive. But she recognized her cowardice
as an ominous sign.
    She was
desperately afraid of someone—or something—creeping up behind her and touching
her.
    'I've
struck the bad patch,' she told herself. 'It will be worse at three o'clock
and work up to a climax. But when I make my entry, at three, I shall have
reached the peak. After that every minute will be bringing the dawn nearer.'
    But of one
fact she was ignorant. There would be no recorded impression at three o'clock.
    Happily
unconscious, she began to think of her copy. When she returned to the
office—sunken-eyed, and looking like nothing on earth—she would then rejoice
over every symptom of groundless fear.
    'It's a
story all right,' she gloated, looking at Hamlet. His gnarled, pallid features
and dark smouldering eyes were strangely familiar to her.
    Suddenly
she realized that he reminded her of Hubert Poke.
    Against her
will, her thoughts again turned to him. She told herself that he was exactly
like a waxwork. His yellow face—symptomatic of heart-trouble—had the same
cheesy hue, and his eyes were like dull black glass. He wore a denture which
was too large for him, and which forced his lips apart in a mirthless grin.
    He always
seemed to smile—even over the episode of the lift—which had been no joke.
    It happened
two days before. Sonia had rushed into the office in a state of molten
excitement because she had extracted an interview from a Personage who had just
received the Freedom of the City. This distinguished freeman had the
reputation of shunning newspaper publicity, and Poke had tried his luck, only
to be sent away with a flea in his ear.
    At the back
of her mind, Sonia knew that she had not fought level, for she was conscious of
the effect of violet-blue eyes and a dimple upon a reserved but very human
gentleman. But in her elation she had been rather blatant about her score.
    She
transcribed her notes, rattling away at her typewriter in a tremendous hurry,
because she had a dinner-engagement. In the same breathless speed she had
rushed towards the automatic lift.
    She was
just about to step into it when young Wells had leaped the length of the
passage and dragged her back.
    'Look,
where you're going,' he shouted.
    Sonia
looked—and saw only the well of the shaft. The lift was not waiting in its
accustomed place.
    'Out of
order,' explained Wells before he turned to blast Hubert Poke, who stood by.
    'You
almighty chump, why didn't you grab Miss Fraser, instead of standing by like a
stuck pig?'
    At the time
Sonia had vaguely remarked how Poke had stammered and sweated, and she accepted
the fact that he had been petrified by shock and had lost his head.
     
    For the
first time, she realized that his inaction had been deliberate. She remembered
the flame of terrible excitement in his eyes and his stretched ghastly grin.
    'He hates me,' she thought. 'It's my fault.
    I've been
tactless and cocksure.'
    Then a
flood of horror swept over her.
    'But he
wanted to see me crash. It's almost murder.'
    As she
began to tremble, the jumpy passenger she carried reminded her of Poke's
remark about the alderman.
    'He had
enemies.'
    Sonia shook
away the suggestion angrily.
    'My
memory's uncanny,' she thought. 'I'm stimulated and all strung up. It must be
the atmosphere. . . Perhaps there's some gas in the air that accounts for