The Baron Goes East Read Online Free PDF Page A

fugitive raced along the street towards Bond Street.
    The other was trying to sit up. He had one hand at his head, and his eyes were dazed. Mannering hauled him to his feet by his coat lapels and pushed him into an old winged armchair. He struck him sharply on the side of the chin, pulled his arms behind the chair and tied the wrists together with picture cord.
    No one approached from the street; so the fugitive, even if noticed, hadn’t been seen to run from Quinns.
    Footsteps clattered on the stairs – Lorna in a hurry. She burst into sight.
    â€œJohn—”
    â€œAll over,” said Mannering. “Call Bristow for me, will you?” He hurried to Larraby, who was groaning – a good sign. He straightened him out carefully, felt his head, discovered a good-sized bump but nothing broken. He lifted his manager into another armchair, took off his own coat and wrapped it round Larraby, and then stood back. Larraby’s eyelids were flickering.
    â€œAll safe,” Mannering said. “Take it easy, Josh.” Loma, talking into the telephone, glanced round.
    â€œBristow’s not there. He’s never there when we want him.”
    â€œDo they know when he’ll be back?”
    â€œAny minute.”
    â€œWe’ll ring later.” Mannering went back to Larraby, who was licking his lips. Lorna went into the kitchenette behind the shop. She would put on a kettle and make some tea, and probably bring a blanket – one Larraby used when he occasionally stayed up all night on some special job. “We caught one of them. Josh; it’s all right.”
    â€œI—I’m sorry, Mr. Mannering. They were inside . Must have been here for hours. In that cupboard.” He pointed to a big Elizabethan cupboard which filled one corner. “See, the door’s open.”
    Mannering inspected the cupboard, and saw footmarks on the inside. The men could easily have slipped into the shop during the morning. There had been a delivery of pictures, men had been coming in and out, and he had been in the office while Larraby had superintended. The two chief assistants were off – one sick, one on holiday.
    Mannering went back to the Indian as Lorna came out, with a cup of tea in her hand, and a blanket over her arm. She pulled away Mannering’s coat and tucked the blanket round Larraby. He was all right, he could get up. She made him sit there and sip hot, sweet tea.
    The Indian was stirring.
    Mannering checked the cord at his wrists, then went to the street door, slipping on his coat. Two or three people were outside, two of them looking at a milliner’s next door; a shop where a piece of tulle and some straw were turned into a fortune. A big policeman was coming from the corner, ponderous and familiar. Mannering beckoned, and he hurried.
    â€œYes, sir?”
    â€œWe’ve had a little trouble,” said Mannering. “My wife’s here with Larraby, who’s been hurt. I’ve to take a prisoner to the Yard right away, for Mr. Bristow. Keep an eye on things while I’m gone, will you?”
    â€œWhat kind of trouble, Mr. Mannering?”
    â€œShoplifting.” That would serve.
    Mannering went back along the street to a small car-park, free to anyone but used mainly by the tenants of Hart Row. His black Rolls Bentley stood in the corner. He drove to the shop. The policeman was at the open door, a strong sense of duty keeping him there instead of inside asking the obvious questions. Mannering said enough to convince him that he was expected at the Yard and went to the back of the shop.
    Lorna left Larraby, who looked better.
    The Indian had come round.
    â€œWhat are you going to do?” Lorna asked.
    â€œMake him a present for Bristow,” said Mannering. He didn’t speak to the man as he untied the cord, pulled him out of the chair, then bound his wrists behind him more tightly. Lorna looked dubious.
    â€œWouldn’t it be better to