THE treasure in a safe place, June had to consider what to do
next. One fact stood out clear in her mind. She must leave at once the
sheltering roof of S. Gedge Antiques. There was no saying what would
happen when the Old Crocodile discovered that the Van Roon was missing.
The sooner she collected her box and her gear, and found another
lodging the better. Her best plan would be to go back to New Cross
Street and get them now. Uncle Si was hardly likely as yet to have
made the discovery. It would be wise, therefore, to take advantage of
this lull, for at the most it was only a matter of a few hours before
the truth was known. And when known it was, Number Forty-six New Cross
Street was the very last place in London in which she would choose to
be.
There was a chance, of course, that “the murder” was out already.
But she would have to take the risk of that. All that she had in the
world beyond the six paper pounds, nine shillings and ninepence in her
purse, was in the box in the garret. Her entire resources were about
seventeen pounds in money, a scanty wardrobe, and a few odds and ends
of jewellery of little value, but if she could get hold of these they
might suffice to tide her over a sorely anxious time.
In the present state of her nerves, courage was needed to return to
New Cross Street. But it had to be. And it was now or never. If her box
was to be got away, she must go boldly back at once and claim it. How
this was to be done without arousing suspicion she did not quite know,
but the most hopeful method was to announce that she had been able
to find a job, and also good lodgings, and that she did not care to
lay the burden of her presence upon Uncle Si one hour longer than was
necessary.
She had been brought up with a strict regard for the truth, but fate
was driving her so hard that she could not afford to have scruples.
Hanging by a strap on the Underground to Charing Cross, which seemed
the quickest route, and time was the essence of the matter, she
rehearsed the part she had now to play. Certainly the playing itself
would not lack gusto. Nothing life so far had given her would yield
quite so much pleasure as saying good-bye to the Old Crocodile, and
ironically thanking him for all his kindness. At the same time, the
job and lodgings story must be pitched in just the right key, or his
suspicions would be aroused, and then something horribly unpleasant
might occur.
By the time June had turned out of the Strand into New Cross Street, a
heavy autumnal dusk had fallen upon that bleak thoroughfare. Somehow
the dark pall struck at her heart. In a sense it was symbolical of
the business upon which she was engaged. She felt like a thief whose
instinct welcomes darkness, and whose conscience fears it.
Never in her life had she needed such courage as to turn up that gloomy
and dismal street and accost the forbidding threshold of S. Gedge
Antiques. The shop was still open, for it was hardly more than six
o’clock, and two gas jets lit the interior in a way that added to its
dolour.
She stood a moment with the knob of the shop door in her hand. All the
nerve she could muster was wanted to venture within. But she did go in,
and she felt a keen relief when a hasty glance told her that Uncle Si
was not there.