The Flat at Doughty Court

Chapter two: The House in Curzon Street

2: The House in Curzon Street 

Leon was the first to react to the news. 'Into the car,' he instructed the women, 'we must tell George and Raymond.' 

Mirabelle helped her aunt into the back seat of the car, where Mr Dennis greeted her respectfully and helped make her comfortable. Leon ran up the stairs to the door of the flat and locked it securely before running back down to the car. Leaping into the driver's seat, he pressed the starter and swung the car round hard, out of Doughty Court and back into London's busy streets. 

As they hurtled along, Mirabelle wondered wildly what could have happened to her cousin. Mark lived in Gloucester, where he was a clerk in a legal practice. He had long wanted to purchase the farm from her, but had no financial resources - not even a small annuity such as Aunt Alma and herself possessed. He was hoping to take his barrister's exams, but had never had the financial means to advance in his chosen profession. She had told Joan that there was nothing to be gained by kidnapping her - but there was even less to be gained by kidnapping Mark. 

As they approached a junction, Leon noticed that the policeman on point control had signalled to the traffic on their road to stop, and began to slow down. As he did so, Mr Dennis shouted from the back seat of the car: 'There's one of them, sir! Oberzohn's gang!' 

Leon and Mirabelle turned their heads to look, just as a bullet whizzed past Mirabelle's head. She gasped and cowered back into her seat - Leon took a hand from the wheel to pull his Browning from his pocket, but she grabbed it from him and jerked down the safety catch. 

'Let me!' She had seen the gunman now, standing on the street corner that they were approaching. How dare he shoot at them, in broad daylight? she raged inwardly. The policeman on point duty had spotted their assailant and was running towards him, but the man was already raising his gun to shoot a second time. 

Bang! Mirabelle fired a shot, aimed above his head. The man ducked and ran. The policeman ran after him, blowing his whistle frantically to summon help - the traffic moved on, and Leon and his passengers with it. 

'Hold on to that gun,' he said to his wife, 'you may need to use it again.' 

Mirabelle found that she was sweating with the excitement and fright of the moment. She shifted the weapon from one hand to another, wiping the sweat off her hands on the cool leather of the car seat beneath her. Then she steadied the gun, aiming it ahead and to one side of the car - like a gangster in an American movie, she told herself. How exciting! 

The car was tearing down Park Lane now, heading for Curzon Street, and their journey should have been almost at its end, when Leon shouted something, and spun the wheel hard. The car shot across the road and back the way it had come - and Mirabelle found herself facing a second gunman. 

She didn't hesitate a moment- she fired. The gun jerked up and the shot missed, but their would-be assailant was already running away across Hyde Park. Leon swung the car around again and drove it on in the direction they had been headed, turning into Curzon Street with a squeal of brakes. He stopped the car outside number 233, and leapt out to usher his passengers to the door. Mirabelle scrambled out, still clutching the Browning in her hand - she was still holding it as Poiccart and Manfred came out of the house and descended the steps to meet her. Alma and Mr Dennis stood behind her as Leon stepped forward to greet his friends. 

'George, Raymond - may I introduce my wife? Mirabelle, may I introduce my friends, George Manfred and Raymond Poiccart.' 

Mirabelle took a step forward to shake their hands, shifting the Browning to her left hand as she did so, but Poiccart gently took it from her, slipped the safety catch back on, gently blew on the end and handed the weapon to Leon. He then bowed to Mirabelle and shook her hand warmly.