The Strange Story of Linda Lee by Dennis Wheatley Page B

she knew that she ought to be grieving for Rowley. She would have been had not Elsie’s bombshell suddenly made her future so uncertain; and it was on that her mind was working overtime.
    The odds against Rowley’s having told Elsie the combination to open the safe were very long; so a man from Chubb’s would have to be sent for, and it was unlikely that one would be available until the following morning at the earliest. Even so, that gave her a safety margin of only twenty-four hours. During that time she must dispose of the jewels and get herself lost without trace.
    That brought her face to face with the fact that she had become a criminal and, if found out, might be sent to prison. She blanched at the thought, and for some moments considered putting the jewels back while there was still time. But again there loomed up in her mind swift visions of being pushed around by some slave-driving employer, or pestered by some unpleasant boss who wanted to sleep with her, of doing her own washing, of dreary Sundays when she would be unable to afford to go out of London to lunch at some old country inn, and the smell of stale cabbage coming up from the kitchen of a cheap boarding house. No, she decided. She could not face it. Prison could hardly be much worse.
    Elsie would, no doubt, expect her to move out within the next few days. But she would have to anyway, now that she had taken the jewels. Would they insist on searching her luggage, to make sure that she had not packed among her things some of the silver, or half a dozen of Rowley’s collection of valuable snuffboxes? Well, they could search her luggage if they liked.But what about her handbag? Suppose they suspected that she might be making off with the jewels? If she refused to let them look in her bag, that would be as good as a confession of guilt. They would detain her forcibly and send for the police. Then she would have ‘had it’.
    In sudden panic she choked on a piece of toast and marmalade. Pushing back her chair, she stood up. There was only one way in which to make certain of escaping such a catastrophe. She must leave with the jewels before they arrived. But if, when they reached the house, they found her gone, they would immediately jump to it that she had stolen something; She would not be in the clear even for twenty-four hours. On some excuse they would start a hue and cry after her, perhaps say that, as she had left all her clothes behind, they feared that Rowley’s death had sent her out of her mind.
    No. She must get the jewels out of the house and be back there before they turned up. But how in the very brief time now left at her disposal could she deposit the jewels in some safe place from which she could afterwards collect them? Her quick mind swiftly produced an answer. She could rush along to the Post Office, put them in a large, registered envelope and address them to herself at some hotel. Any hotel would do. Leaving the table she ran upstairs to get the bag with its precious contents. She had unlocked the drawer and snatched up the bag when the front-door bell rang. Momentarily the shock paralysed her. She found herself looking at the clock. The hands stood at ten to eleven. She must have spent more time over breakfast than she had thought, for she had believed it to be not much after half past ten. The bell that had rung mustbe the Spilkins. She had left it too late. With a little groan she dropped the bag back into the drawer and relocked it.
    Suddenly it occurred to her that they would not expect to find her dressed and self-possessed, but prostrate with grief. Quickly she slipped off her coat, skirt and shoes, put on her dressing gown and lay down on the bed.
    A few minutes later there came a peremptory knock on the door and, without waiting for an answer, Elsie walked in. Linda felt a strong aversion to the short, plump figure, the little, piggy eyes and the fleshy chin, but she forced herself not to show it, gave a faint smile and said