The Man Who Was Not. John Russell Fearn
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“And probably wisest,” commented one of the P.C. men. “Some criminals will get up to anything, Sir Robert—especially when the people concerned are connected with a famous man. Yourself, of course.”
Sir Robert sighed. He was medium sized man with graying hair, horn-rimmed glasses, and an almost incredibly determined chin.
“It starts a lot of nasty publicity, that’s all,” he said irritably. “You don’t suppose the fact that you men are here will escape unnoticed, do you? Not on your life! Detached though this house is there are still neighbors—damned unpleasant ones, some of them. They’re going to enjoy the fact that a squad car has turned up at my home.... If you ask me, the whole business is a lot of nonsense!”
Having thus made plain his reactions Sir Robert stormed up the big staircase and disappeared from view. Trudy looked after him, feeling vastly uncertain of herself; then she caught the eye of her mother as she emerged from the lounge.
“Take no notice of your father, my dear,” she said blandly. “He probably had a bad day at the hospital. You did perfectly right in asking for protection. Now gentlemen—” she surveyed the four men—“what moves do you wish to make?”
“I’m Sergeant Forsythe, madam,” said the P.C. man who had spoken before, “and I’m in charge of the business. I would like two of my men to patrol the grounds, and one man and myself to stay indoors, always within view—or nearly—of Miss Trudy.”
“Very well. Do as you wish. We have dinner at eight. If you wish to join in—”
“No thank you, madam, but we would like to be at some point where we can see Miss Trudy whilst you have the meal.”
Lady Dawson shrugged. “I leave it to you. You know how to handle these things better than I do.”
With that she returned into the lounge and Trudy stood waiting and listening whilst Forsythe gave his orders. In response two of the men left by the front door. The other one remained at Forsythe’s side.
“What do I do, exactly?” Trudy asked vaguely.
“Whatever you would do in the normal way, miss. Take no notice of us: we’re good at being unobtrusive. Certainly nobody will be able to get near you.”
“I see.” Trudy wandered towards the lounge. “I’ve some reading I want to catch up on before I dress for dinner.”
“Very good, miss.”
And thereafter, though she was always conscious of the P.C. men hovering around, Trudy pursued her usual habits—but not entirely. All the time she was trying to shake off a growing drowsiness, which she could only put down to the after effects of her hectic party the night before. In catching up on her romantic novel she nearly fell asleep, until the sound of her father’s voice sharply awakened her.
“See what you’ve got us into, Trudy?” he demanded, as he came into the lounge and saw the P.C. men lounging near the window. “Good as made us prisoners in our own home!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Robert,” his wife admonished. “On the contrary you ought to be glad Trudy had the commonsense to tackle the danger—if any—in the right way.”
“Huh!” the famous surgeon growled; and thereafter it was hard for either Trudy or his wife to get a word out of him. Things livened up somewhat when June came in from a long afternoon of shopping, mainly because she was the kind of girl who refused to indulge in stolid silences.
“So the men of the law are on the job!” she commented, glancing towards the two by the window. “I was watched and then questioned before I reached the front door. Been a bit of a lark if I couldn’t have got into my own home, wouldn’t it?”
“Blame your sister for all of it,” Sir Robert growled.
“Blame her? Not I! She told mother and me why she did it, and I thought she showed unusual brains—even if her lengthy explanation did delay me on my shopping tour.”
“Which means you and mother are on my side,” Trudy smiled. “Good! That makes me feel a lot better. You listening, dad?”
“I can hardly help it, can I?” Sir Robert laid aside his newspaper wearily. “It’s just the—the general atmosphere of the business that irritates me.”
“If there should be anything in the warning Trudy got,” June mused, “it’s been stifled at birth. You ought to be grateful for that, dad.”
With that she left the lounge, obviously not particularly upset either by the warning to her sister, or the presence of the P.C. men. Trudy sat thinking for a moment, then she tried again to get interested in her novel. Yet again she began to doze over it, finally shaking her head irritably.
“I’ll get changed for dinner,” she said, getting up. “Maybe that will freshen me up a bit.”
“Too many late nights and too many parties, my girl,” Sir Robert observed, looking over his glasses. “Better slow down a bit. I don’t want you as a patient, remember.”
Trudy stifled a yawn, made no answer, and left the lounge. Silently the P.C. men followed her, later taking up position outside the door of her bedroom. Forsythe glanced at his watch and made a wry face.
“Ten past seven,” he said. “Another two hours, Jerry, and our job’s finished.”
The other nodded and stifled a yawn. “Who’d be a policeman? No excitement and no glamour!”
Bored with their task, but nevertheless rigid adherents of duty, they continued to wait. Meanwhile Trudy, within her room, dressed leisurely for dinner—a custom which she would much rather have abandoned, had it not been for the somewhat old fashioned, traditional ideas of her father. For Sir Robert believed firmly in old customs, and nothing could shake him. Only when some hospital call kept him away from dinner did the family dress and behave as they liked....
At twenty minutes to eight Trudy emerged again into the corridor, looking pretty but still tired. Her eyes lacked any sparkle, even though cosmetics gave her plenty of color.
“Everything in order, Miss Dawson?” Forsythe asked, more for the sake of something to say than anything else.
Trudy smiled at him. “Yes, everything. And, you know, I do apologize for making demands on you gentlemen in this way, but I—”
“Think nothing of it,” Forsythe interrupted. “It’s our job, and that’s the end of it—”
“Trudy!” called a voice from the hall. “Trudy, are you coming down?”
“That’s my sister,” Trudy said quietly, sweeping past with a vague hint of tantalizing perfume. “Excuse me....”
Stolidly Forsythe and his colleague followed her along the corridor and down the big staircase. At the base of the stairs they paused, trying not to look as they beheld her in the affectionate embrace of a tall, black-haired young man. Then, as she detached herself and glanced towards the stairs, she evidently realized she had some explanation to make.
“This—this is Dr. Herbert Mason,” she said quickly. “My fiancé.”
The black haired young man, immaculate in evening dress, inclined his head slightly and then looked puzzled.
“Who are these gentlemen, Trudy?” he inquired.
“Come into the lounge and I’ll tell you.”
Mason nodded, gave another surprised glance, and then followed Trudy out of sight. Relentlessly Forsythe and his partner followed her up, took their positions at the far end of the family, and as near as possible detached themselves from the proceedings.
Obviously this was the gathering of the family before dinner should be announced. Everyone was present—Sir Robert and his wife, June, Trudy, and Dr. Mason. Every one of them in evening dress and, at the moment, all of them chatting.... Then after a moment