Comes the Dark Stranger by Jack Higgins Page B

seems I’ve spoilt your evening. Is there anywhere reasonable you’d like to go for a drink and a dance perhaps?’
    She smiled warmly. I’d like that. ‘I’d like that a lot.’ She appeared to think for a moment and nodded her head. ‘I know just the place. It’s a roadhouse about five miles out of town. It’s always nice and quiet during the week.’
    ‘Sounds just what I need,’ he said, and pulled on his trench-coat.
    He opened the door and stood to one side to let her pass. She paused in front of him, a strange expression on her face, and lightly touched the bulge under his jacket that was the butt of his Luger. ‘Do we really need that with us?’
    For a moment he hesitated, and then he went back into the room and slipped the Luger under his pillow. When he returned she smiled and slipped a hand through his arm. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply. He locked the door and they went downstairs.
    Visibility was still very bad, and she drove slowly and carefully on the road out of town. The car was a small coupé and far from new, but the engine pulled well; and when they had climbed the hill out of the valley in which the town lay, the fog was thinner and visibility much improved.
    The red glow from a neon sign indicated the roadhouse long before they reached it. It was a low, rambling building with a large car park at one side, and Laura Faulkner turned the car through the gates and halted. ‘What about the dog?’ Shane asked.
    She smiled. ‘I’ll leave him in the car. We can’t stay long anyway. I’ve got to be back home no later than midnight.’
    There were no more than a dozen couples dancing on the small floor when they went inside. A waiter showed them to a corner table, and Shane ordered two Martinis. When the drinks came he gave the girl a cigarette and sighed. ‘This is nice. Very nice. It’s a hell of a long time since I last did anything like this.’
    She gently slid one of her hands over his. ‘You look tired.’
    He nodded. ‘I’ve had a hard day.’
    A shadow passed across her face. ‘Have you - have you seen anybody?’
    He grinned. ‘Seen anybody? I’ve seen them all.’
    Her eyes widened and a look of incredulity appeared on her face. After a short pause she said slowly, ‘Are you going to tell me about it?’
    He shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not. Would you like another drink?’ She shook her head and he leaned back against the padded wall and started to speak.
    He told her about Charles Graham, and then moved on through the events of the day, ending with an account of his second meeting with Crowther. The one thing he omitted was any reference to the footsteps.
    When he had finished she sat quietly for some time gazing down into her drink, and then she said slowly, ‘I don’t see where it’s got you. You’ve spoken to all three suspects. It’s got to be one of them, and yet you’re no further forward. Can you honestly say you suspect one of them more than the others?’
    He sighed and shook his head. ‘No, I can’t say that I do. At first I thought I could cross Crowther off my list, but now I’m far from sure. He’s too eager for me to stop the whole business. Wilby was definitely frightened, but for some reason I got the impression he was frightened of something else.’
    ‘And Steele?’ she said.
    He shrugged. ‘Steele is the most likely one, and not only because he’s unscrupulous. He’s completely self-centred. The sort of man who will always do only those things which directly benefit himself.’
    ‘And what do you intend to do now?’ she asked. ‘You seem to be at a dead end.’
    He frowned slightly. ‘I’m not so sure. I know it looks like it, but I’ve got a hunch about Joe Wilby. Somehow he’s the key to this whole business. If he isn’t the guilty man himself, I swear he knows who is. Coming right down to it, I think Reggie Steele’s my man.’
    They sat there in silence, and then the band began to play an old pre-war number, with love and