Read Online Off the Record by Dolores Gordon-Smith - Free Book Online Page B

Gad. Robbed! A cold anger started to grow. He wasn’t a rich man and that some thief should feel free to simply take what he had was beyond belief.
    He didn’t light the oil lamp. There was no point giving the beggars any more warning than he had to. In the dim gleam from the wedge of moonlight that fell across the carpet, he half-saw, half-felt his way to the chest of drawers and took out an electric torch and his heavy service revolver. He slipped the torch into his dressing-gown pocket and opened the door into the hall of the bungalow as quietly as possible. He intended to creep out but with one hand holding the door handle and the other his revolver, his stick slipped out from under his arm, just missed the runner of carpet, and clattered to the wooden floor.
    Colonel Willoughby drew his breath in with a gasp, waiting for a shout, a thump, a sound of alarm from the dining room. Nothing happened. Slowly, and with one hand against the wall for support, he reached down and retrieved his stick. He’d got away with it, he thought with grim satisfaction. He’d show them. He’d catch Constable Horrocks’ burglars for him. No village thief was going to get the better of him . Now for the dining room. He’d didn’t have an elaborate plan of action. No, the simpler the better. He’d swing back the door, switch on the torch and shout, ‘Hands up!’ If that didn’t stop their little games he would be very much surprised. His stick was a nuisance, but he’d manage.
    He paused for a moment outside the dining-room door to get his breath back, then, grasping the revolver firmly, lent his stick against the wall, pushed open the door and clicked on his torch. In the brief glow of the electric bulb he saw the burglar’s eyes, gleaming above the scarf wrapped round his chin. Hiding was he? He’d show the feller, by Gad!
    The Colonel lunged forward and pulled away the scarf, desperate to see his enemy. The stranger’s face contorted in savagery and, for the first time, the Colonel felt a jolt of fear. He felt the crunch of intense pain, then his world disappeared in a jagged sheet of light.

FIVE
    H ugo Ragnall stepped into the hallway of the flat in Mottram Place, took off his hat and coat, handed them to Connie, the maid, who was waiting patiently to hang them up and, concealing a yawn, adjusted his tie in the mirror. ‘Where’s Mr Lewis, Connie?’
    ‘He’s having breakfast, sir.’
    ‘Good-oh.’ One of the best features of breakfast in the Lewis household was coffee. Mr Otterbourne, although eschewing alcohol, had insisted on the finest Mocha and Molly Lewis kept up the tradition.
    ‘Morning,’ said Steve Lewis from behind the newspaper as Ragnall walked into the morning room.
    ‘Would you like some coffee, Hugo?’ asked Molly, reaching for the pot.
    ‘Yes, please,’ he said, rubbing his eyes. ‘I’ll take it into the study, if you’d rather I didn’t disturb your breakfast.’
    ‘Sit down for few minutes,’ said Lewis, halfway through his scrambled eggs and bacon. ‘We’ve got a fair old amount of work to get through but there’s no need to start just yet.’ He looked at his secretary critically. ‘You seem tired.’
    ‘I’m not surprised. It’s the pillow my landlady wished on me. I’m sure it’s stuffed with rocks.’
    ‘You look tired yourself, Steve,’ said Molly, with wifely concern, seeing the dark patches under her husband’s eyes. ‘I’ve said before that you’re working too hard. What time did you get to bed last night?’
    ‘I don’t honestly know,’ Steve confessed. ‘It took me ages to get Gerry’s ideas and mine into some sort of order. We’ll go through the paperwork this morning, Ragnall. Gerry and I are meeting Dunbar at one o’clock and I want to be absolutely certain of my ground. I intended to come straight to bed,’ he added to Molly, ‘but when I finished, I had a nightcap and what was intended to be ten minutes with the newspaper. I’m ashamed to say I fell