No Escape Read Free

on—I told him I can’t go on.’ ”
    â€œThat’s what she told me just before she began to struggle,” Tim said, nodding.
    â€œThere you are, then.”
    They meant, clear case of suicide, isn’t it? But Tim was not convinced. She had cried out for help. She had signalled with her arm. She had accepted his help at first. She had even been co-operative. It was this particular form of rescue she wanted to avoid. The police were the cause of her immediate fear at least.
    He kept this conclusion to himself. A few seconds later a steaming mug of tea was put into his hands and the girl was lifted while another mug was held to her mouth.
    She gave a little cry when the hot rim touched her lips and her eyes opened very wide.
    â€œDrink some,” said Tim in his best bedside manner. “Doctor’s, orders.”
    She stared, not taking this in, not realising her surroundings at all. But she put a hand to the mug and having sipped one mouthful, sipped again.
    â€œWho are you?” she said at last, pushing the mug from her.
    Tim hesitated.
    â€œHe’s the bloke that’s just saved your life, miss,” said the officer with the cup, handing it to the other and issuing a string of rapid orders. He turned back to the girl. “I am an officer of the River Police. This is the launch that effected your rescue from the river. Would you like to tell me how you came to be in the water?”
    The girl stiffened.
    â€œNo!” she cried. “No! No! No!”
    Tim moved quickly to her side again.
    â€œLie down,” he ordered. “Do as I tell you. Lie down!”
    She obeyed him slowly, covering her face with her hands, beginning to sob.
    â€œI’ll tell you what happened,” Tim said. “At least everything from Hammersmith Bridge to wherever it was you picked us up.”
    â€œThat won’t tell us where she fell in—or jumped in—will it? Or will it?”
    Tim told his story briefly. There was not much to it, he realised; the patrol officer was right. It threw no light at all on the question they all needed to know. Was this an accident, and attempted suicide, the most probable explanation, or something much more sinister?
    â€œShe won’t tell you in her present state,” Tim said, in a low voice when he had finished. “Send someone up to the hospital tomorrow morning. You might have more luck then. You don’t have to sit at the bedside these days, do you?”
    â€œThanks for the information,” the officer said, with heavy sarcasm. “Perhaps you’d like to advise me which hospital she ought to go to?”
    â€œMine, of course,” said Tim, impatiently. “Aren’t you making for the nearest pier? Well, the West Kensington is the nearest place for casualties, isn’t it? I’m surgical registrar there, on duty tonight—sleeping in. Oh, my God!”
    He stopped abruptly.
    â€œYes, sir?”
    â€œWhat’s the time?” He shook his wrist despairingly. “I’ve drowned my watch. What time is it, for Christ’s sake?”
    â€œTen forty-five.”
    â€œIs that all?”
    The river patrol man grinned.
    â€œWe should be nearly there now,” he said. “Ambulance will be waiting. They’ll have fixed a bed for the young lady.”
    â€œAt the West Kensington?”
    â€œI couldn’t say.”
    The launch rounded up into the tide to come alongside the pier at Chelsea. She heeled as she came broadside on to the wives whipped up by the wind, and the girl, feeling herself slipping, cried out in renewed terror.
    â€œNot to worry!” Tim called to her, staggering in his turn as the vessel righted again. “We’re just about to land.”
    They were alone now, the officer having gone to the wheel to bring the launch alongside himself.
    â€œListen!” said Tim urgently. “You’re to do exactly what I tell you. I’m going to arrange a