Karl stood distractedly, wild eyed and foaming at the mouth. Brentford and Orly, who had rushed to the garden in Karl’s wake, made a skilful pretense of looking astonished instead of pleased. Hudson behind them remained his usual phlegmatic self, unreadable. Stunned, Johnny Montague dropped his cigarette and stood rooted to the spot. If the truth was known, only Karl and Molly were dismayed about Mia’s escape.

Instantly, Molly the Gun took the situation in hand. ‘Such a shame to have to change our plans. That young woman is a lot of trouble, but she’s worth recapturing.’ She looked at Karl. ‘This makes it personal, for both of us.’

She strode to the tree and looked down at Jasmine, then walked back to Melody. ‘Okay. Listen carefully. Johnny, take Miss Hazard back to her room. Allow her to put on her clothes. Then tie her up again. Make a good job of it. We don’t want another of our pretty guests running free.’

‘Yes Ma’am,’ said Johnny Montague with a kind of salute.

‘Just a minute, before you take her up,’ Molly added. ‘Give me one of those spare handkerchiefs you carry. Now ... ,’ she said as Montague handed over a new neatly folded men’s handkerchief. She shook it out of its folds, took two diagonal corners, folded in into a triangle and, resting it on her knee, folded it a couple more times from the apex to the long base. ‘An additional precaution. We can’t be too careful,’ she said matter-of-factly as she stepped to Melody’s side and bandaged the broad layered cotton around her prisoner’s already gagged mouth. When she made the first knot, she jerked it brutally tight and tied it off. ‘That’s better. We’ll have to be away from the house, maybe for some time, and it would be a pity if you were able to make enough sound for someone outside to hear. This way it’s highly unlikely, I think you’ll agree.’ Melody looked her agreement wearily over the gag.

Molly continued giving orders to her henchmen. ‘Brentford, go get the van, drive it round here. Orly, prepare the dumb blonde for another trip. When Johnny’s finished with Miss Hazard he’ll join you. You’ll go to the other hideout and hold the Morris girl there. Karl, fetch the Merc. You and I will search for Miss Chantal. She can’t have gone far, not in her weakened condition and through this terrain. Hudson, you’ll drive the Merc so that Karl’s free to get the girl when we see her ... Start moving!’

As Melody was hustled back into the house by Johnny Montague, the others ran to do Molly’s bidding. Melody heard the sounds of two motors starting up as the door to the bedroom was opened and she was ushered inside. Johnny Montague quickly cut away the hempen ropes that held her wrists.

‘Put on your clothes,’ he ordered gruffly to hide his embarrassment. ‘I don’t have to tell you not to touch your gag.’

Melody went to obey and found that her silk blouse and skirt were crisp and clean. Dry cleaned? she wondered. How was that possible, unless there was a town nearby and a by-the-hour dry cleaning service. Even her silk neck scarf had been washed and ironed and folded into a neat rectangle. After fastening the wide belt around her waist, she put the scarf into one of the skirt’s pockets.

Melody turned and faced Montague, who had been discreetly looking the other way most of the time. With fingers that trembled slightly, he was lighting up another cigarette. There was a long pause as they stood facing each other. Then Johnny Montague picked up another piece of rope from the table and tested its strength in his hands speculatively. ‘Sorry I have to do this to you again,’ he muttered. ‘But orders are orders. Turn around.’

Melody obeyed mechanically. Would this torment of continually being gagged and bound never end? And what had happened to Mia? She hoped desperately that her friend had made good her escape and that Molly and Karl would search in vain. There must be plenty of places to hide out there. And, if there was a town not far, Mia could already be safe and phoning Brod and DeVille that very moment.

Johnny Montague passed the rope in two turns above Melody’s elbows, tightened it and made the knot fast. Next her wrists were retied. The rope was thinner, a kind of soft cotton, and did not hurt as much as the heavy stuff had done. But the cross-tie that was then cinched gave her the familiar feeling of hopelessness. She knew that it would be impossible to free her hands no matter how long she might be left alone in the house.

Melody watched Montague take up another length of rope and wondered whether he was going to use it on her body, to hold her arms more firmly behind her, or on her legs. It did not matter really. She knew that she was in for more hours of sweating helplessness. And the multiple gags were already a horror. Tears stung her eyes but she fought them back. She was not going to show weakness in front of any of these dreadful people.

It was going to be around her body. Johnny Montague had just stepped behind. But before he looped the rope over her head to pull tight under her bosom there was a peremptory knock at the door before it opened abruptly. Brentford stood on the threshold.

‘Whadda ya want?’ Montague gritted through his cigarette. ‘Dontcha see I’m busy, an we’ve gotta get movin.’

That’s just the point dear boy,’ answered Brentford with a trace of a smirk. ‘There’s been a change of plan. The boss wants us to take both the Morris girl and the Hazard woman to the new place. Easier to keep an eye on them when they’re together under the same roof. And anyway, this mansion might be too hot to come back to. If the Chantal woman gets away, the cops will probably be down here like a swarm of bees. The pretty blonde is already secured in the van. Molly and Karl have left. We’re waiting for you, then we’ll get on the road and away from this place.’

‘Suits me fine,’ said Montague. ‘It’ll just take a couple more minutes to finish what I’m doing then we’ll come down.’

‘Righty-ho,’ and Brentford disappeared.

‘Hear that, Miss Hazard?’ said Montague with a grin as he tightened the rope around Melody’s body. ‘You’re coming with us. Won’t that be nice!’

Melody’s arms were now pinned above the elbows where they were already tied and, after a couple more turns, she was trussed tightly both below and above her bosom. This made her breasts more prominent than usual by the constricted position in which her arms were held. To prevent her from moving her forearms from side to side her wrists were looped in more rope which was then tied around her waist. It was always possible that Melody could reach a sharp object to cut her bonds if she had the opportunity, if her forearms were free to move. The familiar anchoring of her arms to her body, making it a single helpless unit, was now accomplished.

Melody could not prevent a faint gasp from escaping as another handkerchief was bound tightly over her eyes, making an effective temporary blindfold.

‘Shh shh,’ Montague hushed her. ‘It won’t be as bad as last time. Take it easy!’

Melody was treated with surprising gentleness by her captor as he escorted her out of the room, down the stairs, negotiating the steps from the kitchen into the rear yard, and from there to the van. She was lowered carefully to the floor of the van and her ankles and legs were bound. Melody could hear Jasmine snuffling in the background somewhere, as usual she thought.

‘No hogties or anything, kid,’ she heard Montague say gently. ‘But I advise you to lie down once we start moving, otherwise you might be thrown about when we take the corners.’

Melody nodded, and slowly eased herself sideways to the floor. Montague seized her when she was at the point of falling and helped her arrange herself as comfortably as possible. It was only a relative sort of comfort, so tightly was she bound, gagged and blindfolded. A blanket or something was laid under her head as a makeshift pillow. Then she felt Johnny Montague climb from the back of the van and mount into the front cabin where Brentford and Orly were sitting. She could hear the murmur of their voices. The van started with a lurch, making Melody thankful that she was lying down, and soon the familiar rhythm of the motor and the swaying set in. Melody closed her eyes and tried to fight back the tears that again threatened to overwhelm her. She tried not to think of the multiple gags that filled her mouth. This journey can’t be as long as the first one, surely?

*

Molly the Gun was right about one thing. Mia Chantal was too physically depleted to get far. After waiting for several minutes where she lay on the bedroom floor, she was as certain as she could be that no one was in the room watching her. The minutes of inaction were past. Mia began wriggling and bouncing her way in the general direction of the chair that held her clothes.

It took a lot of time and effort, but eventually the young woman’s shoulder came in contact with one of the chair legs. It was impossible to sit up, even with her legs bound in the loose hogtie, so Mia gradually inched her way along the floor until first her back, then her hands come in contact with the leg of the chair. Her first thought was to attempt to tip the chair over, but if it fell the wrong way she would have greater difficulty reaching her goal. The best thing to do was to explore further.

Mia continued to work her way around the foot of the chair until she guessed that she was now lying directly in front of it. Her shoulder had brushed against something, and when she rolled onto her face and stretched her fingers upwards as far as she could manage, her hands felt the soft, almost silky texture of her light cotton shirt-dress. Mia interlocked her fingers in the flimsy material and patiently gathered it in until the whole dress and the other clothes that had been resting upon it cascaded over her. With heart in mouth, she identified her items of clothing one by one. Bra, neck scarf which had fallen out of the dress’s pocket, and the wide black belt of soft leather. It was the belt for which she was searching.

Before their dangerous escapade, Mia had told Melody that she had secreted a blade inside her belt. In a last-minute decision Mia had slip ped a narrow flick-knife inside the seam instead, reasoning that a knife blade would be a more useful tool to have at hand. The risk was that the bulge made by the handle might be detected by her captors. But the knife had been placed at the ‘back’ of the belt, close to one of Mia’s kidneys, so that she could reach it when her hands were tied behind her. It was unlucky that, in the end, her hands were anchored to the centre of her back by waist ties. The bulk of the knife was less detectable at a glance, and because Mia had been forced to remove the clothes herself it went unnoticed.

Fortunately her captor had not discovered the hidden weapon. Or had he? It was Orly who took such pains at caring for the captives’ clothes, who took Melody’s creased and dirtied blouse and skirt to the village dry cleaners, and who washed and ironed Melody’s scarf. He was to say later that he always had a thing about a woman’s clothes, preferably with the woman in them, to begin with. The fact remains that Mia found the knife and succeeded in cutting herself free.

After that, it was touch and go. Mia’s forehead beaded with sweat with the fear that at any moment one of the gang might re-enter the room and discover her escape attempt. After freeing her wrists, Mia worked herself into a kneeling position and cut the cords at the back of her knees and at her ankles. It was an agonisingly slow process, done while tape gagged and blindfolded. Mia was faint from straining for every breath and from concentrating to make sure that the blade did not slip and cut her.

When she had scrambled to her feet, the next problem was how to cut the cord that bound her elbows so tightly. The blade would not reach. The young woman’s mental picture of the room, and in particular of how the bed looked, came to her aid. Mia felt her way around the bed until she reached one of the corner posts. There she managed to loop her cinched elbows over the end of the post, past its decorative wooden cap. Leaning forward, she pulled firmly and slowly, letting her arms hang as loose as possible under the strain. Her forearms and fingers immediately went numb as the circulation was cut off. Gradually the ropes were slipped over her elbows to her forearms. It was agony. The ropes burned and skinned both elbows. But at last the cinched ties were close enough to her wrists to enable Mia to cut them.

It also took a long time for the tape blindfold to be worked slowly and painfully from her eyes. Then the tape sealing her mouth and lips was stripped off with equal care, and she was free.

With shaking hands, Mia put on her bra and stepped into the filmy cotton dress. In an instant of forethought, she replaced the flick knife inside the soft leather lining of the belt, pushing it in past the section that her fingers had picked open. There might be an opportunity to use the same ploy again if she was recaptured. Mia shuddered. More hours bound and helpless in Karl’s or Montague’s ropes could not be contemplated. More than once, she had regretted her wild plan of trying to rescue Jasmine Morris by allowing herself and Melody to be taken by the gang. They had been unable to help themselves, much less be of any assistance to Jasmine. Unable to help themselves till now, she corrected herself. It had taken time, and insupportable physical and mental discomfort. But the hours of lying bound and helpless were over, hopefully. Given time, her plan of using the knife hidden in her belt had worked.

Feeling a little more confident, Mia stole softly out of the door and along the passage to the head of the stairs. Crouching there, she saw that the big man Hudson was standing on guard at the foot of the stairs. Although he had helped Melody, it would be unwise to attract his attention. In the circumstances, neither Hudson nor Brentford and Orly could offer help without blowing their covers. If Hudson had a cover. From what Melody had told her, the poor man was something of a lost soul.

Mia looked back along the passage, thinking that if someone came up the stairs she could hide in one of the other rooms. Then, still debating her best options, she looked back down the stairs. She was just in time to see Hudson disappearing along the hallway towards the front door. This offered a better chance to implement the idea that had started forming in her mind.

Scarcely breathing, Mia stole down the stairs and peeped around the corner, looking up and down the hallway. No one was there. Hudson must have gone through the front door. She could hear kitchen sounds at the other end of the hallway deeper in the bowels of the house. Moving as fast s she dared, Mia crept down the hallway until she came to the door that led into the kitchen. She heard the voices of Brentford and Orly, but they were speaking so softly that she could not understand a word. By the strip of light from the partly closed door, she guessed that a second door led from the kitchen into the yard at the back of the house.

At the furthest end of the passage, Mia saw another door. Going to it, she cautiously tried the handle. It was a thick, very heavy door, and when she managed to open it she was afraid that it would make a sound. She saw a flight of steps leading downwards. It was the cellar, as she had hoped. Mia slipped inside and pushed the heavy door shut. For all its size, it was well oiled and made only a faint click. In near darkness, the young woman trod carefully down the steps. A bank of windows was set in the wall just above standing height. It was through these that sufficient light penetrated to reveal the boxes and other junk that filled a large part of the cellar. Mia shivered. Thank goodness we weren’t kept down here. The walls of the cellar were very thick and no sound could be heard from outside, which meant that a prisoner within would not have been able to attract attention either, whether she was gagged or not.

The cellar did not appear to have been used for a very long time, so Mia told herself it might be the last place they would think of looking for her. She guessed that when the alarm was eventually raised they would assume that she had run off into the country. What were they doing now? To satisfy her curiosity, Mia scrambled onto a large wooden chair set against the wall below one of the windows.

Through the window Mia had a ringside view of the circus that was unfolding in the back yard. The first thing she saw was Molly the Gun looking down contemptuously on the figure of Jasmine Morris. Jasmine was seated at the base of a small tree with bowed head, her arms tied behind the tree with thick rope. Molly seemed to be taunting the girl. In the foreground stood Melody. Mia was shocked to see that Melody was naked except for a very revealing pair of panties. Her wrists were tied behind her with the same sort of heavy rope that bound Jasmine, and she was gagged with a flimsy scarf. But Mia could tell even from that distance that Melody had packing in her mouth.

Molly turned and walked back towards Melody, obviously about to gloat over her also, when Mia caught a flurry of movement to the far left almost out of sight, and Karl (Snedley, Mia corrected herself) came running up to the two standing women. His hair was wild and he was waving his arms about like a windmill. Mia did not need to hear what he was saying to guess that he was telling Molly about her escape. It all happened like a mime show. Molly looked momentarily taken aback, then she began coolly issuing orders to the others as they moved one by one into and out of Mia’s range of vision.

Mia stifled an involuntary sob as she saw Molly reinforce Melody’s gag viciously with a large white handkerchief handed to her by Montague. Johnny Montague then led Melody back into the house judging from the direction they took.

Within a few minutes the van came into view driven by Orly. Mia watched from her hiding place as Jasmine was untied from the tree then retied with thinner rope, gagged and blindfolded and bundled into the van by Brentford and Orly working together. She noticed that they gagged the girl very quickly, not allowing her to say a single word, or so it seemed. Brentford now disappeared towards the house.

The Mercedes, driven by Hudson, pulled up. Karl and Molly climbed in. The Merc moved off and was gone. Most likely to search for me, thought Mia.

Brentford returned and spoke briefly to Orly, who climbed into the driver’s seat and appeared to start the motor. A couple of minutes later, with Brentford showing signs of impatience, Johnny Montague returned hustling Melody along by an arm. Melody was now clothed and her arms bound behind her by a great many turns of rope, which also passed about her body. She was still gagged as Molly had left her, and she now wore a handkerchief tied over her eyes as a blindfold. Johnny Montague assisted Melody into the van with Brentford looking on just outside the sliding door. About half a minute later, he re-emerged and both Johnny Montague and Brentford climbed into the front of the van. The vehicle moved off and was soon out of sight.

Mia was alone in the old house.

*

Melody was jolted out of a smothered nap by the increased bumping and swaying of the van. Getting off the smooth roads usually meant that they were nearing the end of their journey. She had lost all track of time. Her mouth was dry and her jaw ached from the relentless pressure of the gag. Fighting against it and against her bonds was pointless. She just had to endure.

At last the van swayed to a stop and for some moments remained stationary, the motor idling. Then with a lurch it was on the move again. It turned a corner so sharply that Melody was thrown across the floor of the van and came up against the side, which thankfully had some sort of padding. Melody heard a distant shout. What on earth is happening? She strained her ears but could hear nothing more apart from the whining of the over-stressed motor. The van’s increased swaying suggested that they were moving very fast on an unsealed track. Something’s happened, thought Melody. Are we being chased by the police? After a few minutes the van slowed and mounted onto a smooth road where its pace became more sedate, but not for long. They picked up speed again.

*

The phones in the house were still connected. Mia dialled a silent number.

*

Several minutes later the van turned, mounted uneven ground, and came to a stop. Melody lifted her head and strained her ears. But there were no voices. What were their kidnappers doing?

She was startled by the sudden opening of the van’s door. As it slid back, shoes rang on the metal step and the vehicle tilted as someone climbed in. Melody was rolled over and a hand was placed under her shoulders to support her. She was propped up with her back against the padded wall. The blindfold was untied and gently lifted from her face, and Melody found herself looking into the brilliant eyes of Rupert Orly.

‘Hold on, dear gel. I’ll have these things off you in the twinkling of an eye,’ said he in a reassuring tone. The multiple gags were the next to come off and while Orly worked on the ropes at her arms and legs Melody licked her lips and stretched her jaw to reduce the cramp. ‘Don’t try to speak yet,’ Orly warned. ‘Your mouth must be very dry from biting on that gag for so long.’ Melody nodded.

As Orly finished untying her, she looked across at Jasmine. Cuthbert Brentford was releasing the young woman with a studied gentleness using a pocket knife. As the last of the ropes came away, Jasmine fell into his arms sobbing hysterically. Cuthbert held her tight, stroking her head and crooning softly to her.

‘Well,’ said Orly with somewhat forced heartiness, ‘Mia’s plan worked. We have the lovely Jasmine back, safe and relatively sane.’ He looked archly across at his companion who was busily kissing Jasmine very strongly on the mouth. Jasmine, on her part, had ceased her whimpering and seemed to be enjoying the attention. Her arms were tight around Brentford’s neck as though she would never let go.

‘I think we’ve lost the blighters for now,’ Orly continued. ‘Of course, poor Johnny had no hope of following us on foot. Sorry to leave him in the lurch. But desperate times and all that. More of a worry is we don’t know where or when that damned Mercedes will show up. That Molly woman and our insalubrious pal Karl are cruising the countryside looking for the resourceful Mia Chantal who, if I’m not mistaken, has put herself well out of range of their clutches.’

‘Wh- what can we do,’ asked Melody, testing out her vocal chords after so many hours of enforced silence. ‘It’s true we’ve rescued Jasmine, but if that comes at the cost of Mia being recaptured ...’

‘I think we can be confident for now. The important thing is to get you and Jasmine to a place of safety, back to your police friends. Though I suspect Jasmine won’t be very keen to make their acquaintance. I have to admit to a certain reluctance on our part, eh Cuthbert old chum?’

Brentford, who had rejoined them with Jasmine clinging to his arm, nodded in agreement. He was beaming. His hands held Jasmine’s shoulders firmly and from time to time he looked down fondly at her. ‘Let’s hit the road, as they say, Rupert mate. We’ll deliver Miss Hazard to safety. There’s nothing we can do for Miss Chantal because we have no idea where she is.’

*

At that very moment, the grounds of the Murgatroyd country mansion were being flooded by patrol cars descending from all directions. A swarm of uniformed police emerged and converged on the house. Ahead sprinted a leather-jacketed figure, a large automatic in his hand. Close on Miles’s heels ran Broderick Clifford, a police-issue Smith and Weston revolver steadied in both hands. The two men reached the front door at the same time and came to an abrupt halt as it opened. A small, dark haired woman appeared and stood uncertainly at the threshold, dazzled by the glare from the car headlights. She was tousled haired and looked weary beyond belief. The flimsy red satin dress she wore, belted at the waist, was streaked with dirt and grime.

But the look in her eyes was lustrous. Mia Chantal’s beauty shone through the dried dirt and sweat that streaked her face and shoulders. She fell against the chest of the first man, flung her arms about his neck, and looked lovingly up into his eyes.

‘Oh Miles, how am I glad to see you!’

‘Are you all right?’

‘I guessed you’d ask that. Yes, dear love. Most that was hurt was my dignity.’

‘The others ?’ Brod interrupted.

‘Melody and Jasmine were taken in the gang’s van. But don’t worry. I have a feeling they’re in good hands. Brentford and Orly are with them, posing as their kidnappers.’

‘Doesn’t sound too good to me.’

‘I’ll tell you on the way back. Miles, take me away from this place.’

*

Johnny Montague sat on the steps to the beachside hideaway to which he had been taking Melody and Jasmine. This’ll be my last smoke, he promised himself. Funny. I feel kinda relieved those two women are away from here. Brentford and Orly playing a double game? Well, well. Don’t think I’ll enlighten our Miss bloody Molly bloody Fusil, better known as the bloody Gun. No. Those fellows are after my own heart. Maybe they’ve taken the women to question them about the diamond. Jeez, I wouldn’t mind being in that caper. Get the info out of them without hurting them. Make ourselves rich. But I’m stuck with the looney tunes. And Hudson.. Steady fellow, Hudson. More capable than we gave him credit. Keeps a low profile. Not a bad principle ...

*

‘The little trickster! She was in the house all the time!’ Molly the Gun angrily snapped shut the pocket telescope and turned to Karl. ‘Let’s get to the shack. Johnny will have Miss Hazard and that cry-baby the Morris girl nice and comfy by now.’

Molly the Gun and her henchman Karl walked to the Mercedes where it stood parked under the trees on the hilltop. Hudson sat there, hunched patiently at the wheel.

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