When they arrived at Charing Cross, Freddy and Corky hung back and watched as Basil Kibble bought a ticket for Kennington, then followed him down to the platform and stood well away from him until the train arrived. The journey was a short one, and when they reached Kennington, Basil hurried out of the station and into a warren of deserted streets. It was so quiet that Freddy and Corky had to take great care not to be seen or heard, but they followed him as silently as they could as he turned right, then left, then right again. At last he turned into a street of modest terraced houses, and ran up the steps of the second house along and in through the front door. Fearful of being seen, and anxious to shelter from the wind, Freddy and Corky retired to a shadowy spot against a garden wall around the corner.
‘This must be where they live,’ said Freddy. ‘Now what? We don’t absolutely know that he picked anything up.’
‘It can’t be a coincidence,’ said Corky. ‘Our man passes the theatre, deposits his package under cover of the crowd, and Kibble picks it up as soon as the coast is clear. That’s where the supplier must have gone when we lost him: he met Kibble and took the payment, and told him where to find the stuff. That way, if anybody tried to arrest them while the money was being handed over they’d find no drugs on either of them.’
‘We still don’t have proof, though,’ said Freddy. ‘All we have is two people passing the same spot within ten minutes of one another.’
‘Yes, so we’d better go and see what Basil and Birdie are up to. There’s no doubt they’re both in it up to the eyes. What do you say to a little peek through the area window?’
‘I suppose there’s no way of getting into the back?’ said Freddy. He turned and looked behind him at the wall against which they were standing. It was about seven feet high, and had a wooden door set into it. ‘See here—this door must lead into the back yard of the end house. The Kibbles are in the second house along. If we could get in through here and then climb across the fence into their yard, we’d be less visible.’
Corky tried the door, but it was locked.
‘No good,’ he said. ‘We might get over the wall if you gave me a leg-up, but I shouldn’t like to risk it—look.’ He indicated the window of a house opposite, from which a dim light glowed. ‘There’s too much danger of our being seen.’
‘All right, then, let’s try the area, as you suggest,’ said Freddy. He had quite forgotten his desire to go home, and was now determined to see the adventure through to the end.
They returned to the Kibbles’ street. Here, there were no lights burning inconveniently in nearby houses, but there was a light coming from the area window of the Kibbles’ house. The curtains were not fully drawn, so they would have to be very careful not to be seen or heard. Freddy put his hand on the wrought-iron gate at the top of the steps, but Corky nudged him and shook his head. He glanced around and brought something out of his pocket. It was a little bottle.
‘Brilliantine,’ he whispered. ‘In case the gate squeaks.’
‘Is this something you do often?’ said Freddy.
‘It’s always as well to be prepared,’ said Corky. He took out a handkerchief and with great efficiency proceeded to oil the gate. It opened without a sound, and they crept down the steps and stood each to one side of the window. Corky leaned cautiously across to peer through the chink in the curtains. After a minute, Freddy joined him. Through the gap he had a glimpse of a bare floor and walls, and one or two shabby bits of furniture. A lamp on the far wall gave off a dull, pink light, casting a dim glow over everything. In the middle of the room was a low coffee-table which was missing a leg, and was propped up by a packing-case. On the table was a bottle of whisky that was almost empty, a glass, and a small paper parcel which looked as though it might easily have been carried in a pocket. Was this what Basil had collected from the plant pot outside the theatre?
The biggest piece of furniture in the room was a sofa, on which Birdie Kibble was currently reclining, fully dressed and seemingly fast asleep. Her mouth was open and one arm dangled over the edge of the cushion towards the floor. As they watched, Basil came in and regarded her with a look of disgust. He lifted her hand and let it drop, then bent over her and slapped her cheek sharply several times, but she made no move. He straightened up again and glanced at the parcel on the table. He picked it up and looked around, as though seeking a better place to put it. At last he shoved it under the sofa and left the room. Freddy and Corky watched for a few minutes more, but Birdie remained motionless and recumbent. Nothing else happened, except that a light went on on the top floor. A few minutes later it went out again, and the watchers returned to their place by the wall around the corner to discuss what to do next. The light in the opposite window had gone out, and all was quiet, apart from the rustling of dry leaves in the wind.
‘Now may we go to the police?’ said Freddy.
‘No,’ said Corky. ‘They won’t listen to us without evidence.’
‘They’ll take our word for it, surely? Or at least, they’ll investigate.’
Corky coughed.
‘I may—er—be temporarily persona non grata with the chaps at the Yard at present,’ he said. ‘A minor matter of my having been a little too enthusiastic in my attempts to assist them in a recent case of burglary.’
‘What happened?’
‘A constable of my acquaintance happened to let slip that they were planning a raid on the gang’s hide-out. I was rather keen to get a nice, colourful piece out of it, so I slipped along there myself in order not to miss anything, and in so doing accidentally alerted the thieves to the arrival of the police. Naturally, they skipped, and the raid turned into something of a damp squib.’
‘Oh, I heard about that. Was that you?’ said Freddy. ‘Ass. They’ll never catch them now. All right, then, what else do you suggest?’
‘We’ll need evidence if they’re to believe us,’ said Corky. ‘And it was there on the table in front of us. We must get hold of that packet.’
‘Nothing easier,’ said Freddy. ‘I’ll just go and knock on the door and ask for it, shall I? I’m sure they’ll be delighted to hand it over.’
‘You do like your little joke,’ said Corky. ‘Of course I wasn’t suggesting that.’
‘Then what? You don’t want to break into the place, I hope.’
‘We may not have to break anything if the area door’s unlocked or the window’s not fastened,’ said Corky.
‘Of course it will be fastened. What sort of idiot doesn’t lock up at night?’
‘The sort who spends her evenings lying doped and unconscious on a sofa, perhaps? You saw her just then. If we do manage to get in she’ll never wake up.’
‘She might not, but Basil looked perfectly sober to me,’ said Freddy.
‘Tchah! He’s gone to bed, two floors up. He won’t hear a thing.’
Freddy still seemed inclined to shake his head. Corky gave a theatrical start, as though he had just realized something, then regarded Freddy with a sneering expression.
‘Oh, I see,’ he said. ‘You’re afraid! That’s it, isn’t it?’
‘I’m not afraid,’ said Freddy crossly. ‘I don’t want to spend the night in a police cell and then get the boot, that’s all.’
‘Do you mean to say the Clarion would sack you for such a minor transgression as that?’ said Corky. ‘I’d always heard they were a little on the milk-and-water side about this sort of thing, but surely not when there’s a story this big at stake? Don’t you see how important it is? It goes to the very heart of society! If film stars and bigwigs have been corrupted, then what hope is there for the rest of us? Why, we may as well give it all up now and abandon ourselves, unresisting, to the grasping clutches of the Devil himself!’
‘What piffle you do talk,’ said Freddy. ‘Oh, very well, then, I suppose it can’t hurt to try. Mind—if we can’t get in then we must come away.’
‘Naturally,’ said Corky. ‘And if we are successful and this comes off, then I might consider speaking to my editor about offering you a junior position at the Herald. Now, what do you say to that?’
Freddy threw him a pained look and set off back around the corner to the Kibbles’ house without waiting for him. Once in the area again, they saw that Birdie had not moved an inch.
‘Do you suppose she’s all right?’ said Freddy. ‘I wonder whether we oughtn’t to call a doctor. That’s not cocaine she’s taken, surely.’
‘I don’t care what she’s taken,’ said Corky. ‘All I care is that she stays asleep long enough for us to get hold of that package.’ He turned and regarded a door whose peeling paint and rusting lock indicated it had not been used for some time. ‘Hmm. No go there. What about the window?’
‘Locked, of course,’ said Freddy.
Corky moved to examine it.
‘This ought to be easy enough,’ he said, feeling in his pocket. He brought out a penknife, inserted it between the two sashes and began to move it back and forth carefully. ‘I’m trying to dislodge the catch,’ he explained. ‘Ah—there! Simple, when you know the trick.’
‘I thought we weren’t going to break in,’ whispered Freddy, as Corky lifted the lower sash slowly, so as not to make a noise.
But Corky merely gestured for silence again. They waited, to be sure Birdie would not wake up, then Corky climbed in through the window. After a moment, Freddy followed. In a trice Corky had retrieved the package from under the sofa and was unwrapping it, barely glancing at the unconscious woman who lay there.
‘This is the stuff, all right,’ he whispered with glee, then wrapped it back up and put it in his pocket. ‘Now, is there anything else?’
‘Not that I can see,’ said Freddy, who had taken in the rest of the room at a glance. It was so bare that there seemed nowhere to hide anything. ‘Is there anything else under that sofa?’
Corky peered underneath.
‘Nothing. Perhaps we ought to search the rest of the house,’ he said.
‘Look here,’ said Freddy. ‘We can’t just stroll around the place as though we owned it. You said we’d pick up the package and then leave.’
‘Yes, but—’ began Corky.
Just then, there was a sound like a murmur behind them, and they both started and looked around. Birdie had shifted her position on the sofa, although she had not woken up.
‘You see?’ hissed Freddy. ‘Now, you may stay here if you like, but I’m going. It’s late and we’ve got the evidence we came for. You’ve got everything you need for your story—and more—so there’s no sense in hanging about.’
‘Oh, all right,’ said Corky sulkily. ‘I just thought if we searched the house we might find something else of interest.’
‘Well, I hardly think they have any silver to steal, if that’s what you mean,’ said Freddy. ‘It’s pretty obvious they’re not exactly quids in.’
He went across to the window and prepared to swing himself up onto the sill, but before he could do so he heard an exclamation from Corky behind him, and turned just in time to see the door to the room opening. Had he been a split second quicker Freddy might have made a leap for it, but he was too late, and he froze. It was not the sight of Basil Kibble that caused him to stand stock still, but the revolver he was pointing directly at Freddy.