Hallett had not stopped to consider any complications that might arise when he had rushed Peggy Greye-Stratton from the restaurant. Even had he done so, his action would have been the same. In a flash he had realised how the black cloud of suspicion already formed against her by Menzies would be increased should she be found in amicable association with Ling. Even he himself held doubts, doubts which no reasoning could have stifled but which he ignored until there should be more time to resolve them.
She obeyed him without question. He hustled her into a taxi-cab and gave an order to the driver. He sat by her side, his heart pumping hard. Outwardly, though, he showed little indication of emotion. "A close thing that," he commented coolly.
She was trembling violently. Her face was half turned towards him. "You said the police the detectives were there; why? What are they going to do? How do they know?" A soft gloved hand lay on his knee where she had placed it unconsciously in her eagerness. He noticed that it was trembling. "I am quite calm," she insisted, although her bearing gave the lie to her words. "You must tell me."
"I am afraid," he spoke gently, though his heart was aflame, "that your friend will be arrested."
"Oh!" She dropped back against the soft cushions, her fists clenched, her face as hard as stone. Then suddenly she awoke to fierce life. "They mustn't. I must go back, Mr. Hallett. Stop the cab. Why didn't I think at first. I must warn him. Let me alone. If you are a gentleman you will do as I say."
She was striving to open the door and he had to use force to pull her back to her seat. "Sit still," he said. "You can do no good now. It is too late. You have got to think of yourself. If you go back you will be arrested. Will that improve matters?"
A fit of shivering shook her and she covered her face with her hands. Jimmie watched her sombrely. To him there was only one explanation of her agitation fear for the man who was her husband. In a little while the fit passed.
"I suppose you are right," she said colourlessly. "But "her voice grew tense again "you don't know what it means to me. You can't know."
"That's all right," he said soothingly. "I can guess. We will talk over all that later. Nothing can be done until you are more yourself. If if "he suddenly became diffident "if money can do anything to save him you must call on me. A loan, you know," he ended tamely.
He saw the blue eyes fixed keenly on him with a curious expression that was hard to analyse. "You think that that man Ling is a murderer that I want to save him," she said breathlessly. And then, without warning, she broke into laughter laughter that was akin to hysterics.
It was then that Jimmie Hallett did a thing which in the ordinary way he would have deemed impossible. He stood up, took her by the shoulders, and shook her roughly.
"Stop that. Stop it at once," he commanded harshly.
He had never had occasion to deal with a woman in hysterics before and the treatment was instinctive. He was relieved to find it effective. The girl quieted after one or two convulsive sobs. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "I am better now. Where are we going?"
"I told the man to drive to the Monument. I didn't know where you might like to go and the important thing was to get away. One moment." He pushed his head out of the window. "Which is the nearest mainline depot to the Monument?" he asked.
The man slowed up to answer the question. "Depot, sir?" he repeated, puzzled. "Oh, you mean station. You'll want London Bridge."
"That will do." He dropped back to his seat. "It will be safer if we go a little way up the line and then return," he exclaimed. "They might try to trace you through the cabman."
She made a weary gesture of assent, and the rest of the journey was accomplished in silence. A few rapid enquiries established that a train was about to start for Sevenoaks, and chancing the possibility of a return connection, Jimmie took two first-class singles. His suggestion of a train journey was not entirely prompted by the wish to blind the trail. That would have been as satisfactorily achieved merely by entering a station. He wanted to get at the bottom of the mystery surrounding the girl, and though he was no admirer of the compartment system of British railways, he recognised the advantages that an empty compartment would afford for a confidential interview.
The girl had rapidly regained her self-possession and her abstraction vanished as the train started. She flashed a half smile on him. "You will think me very foolish to have given way like this, Mr. Hallett. It's been good of you to take such trouble to serve a comparative stranger. I can't thank you properly."
"There's nothing to thank me for. I acted from purely selfish motives. I wanted to satisfy my curiosity you remember I have only half your story."
She met his eyes steadily. There was still only the faintest touch of colour in her cheeks. She had taken off her gloves and was mechanically twisting them in her lap. He leaned forward and possessed himself of one of her hands. She tore it sharply away and a gush of crimson swept over her face.
"You mustn't do that," she said hastily.
"I beg your pardon," he muttered. "I forgot. You are married."
The crimson in her cheeks deepened and she took a long breath. Her blue eyes took on a new alertness. He had half expected, half hoped that she would deny it. Even the marriage certificate had not convinced him entirely, and her being with Ling that night had scarcely affected his hope. Yet he was a man of more than ordinary acuteness and common sense. He was ready to believe that there had been some incredible mistake.
"I am married," she repeated. "And you know. How did you learn?" He could hear her breath catch as she waited for his reply.
"I have seen the marriage certificate," he answered simply.
"And the police," her words came incisively, "they know?"
He nodded. "It was through them I learnt."
A revulsion of feeling was coming to him. Somehow her fresh manner had broken the spell. There was something of calculation about it of the fencer standing with weapon poised for offence or defence. Hithertofore he had viewed her through a mist content to accept what she had told him as the truth, and with faith that the inexplicable things would in time be made clear and her innocence apparent. He had brushed aside the suspicions of Menzies as the natural tendency of the police officer to put the worst construction on everything.
Now he began to wonder if after all Menzies had been right. Was she merely a cunning adventuress who had all along deluded him and laughed at his folly behind his back with her criminal confederates. Looking at it coolly, he told himself, he could see a score of reasons why it should be so. A couple of deep lines bit into his forehead. He had helped her escape and her first words had shown her solicitude for Ling. Afterwards she had tried to dismiss the impression she had created or erected by an assumption of the mysterious. Quite possibly her whole intention since they met in the police station had been to use him as a stalking-horse.
He had been gazing unseeingly straight in front of him. A light touch recalled his wandering thoughts. "What are the police doing?" she asked. "You have not told me how they knew that Ling and I would be there."
His face hardened. She was taking it for granted that she could pump him. "That is their secret," he answered bluntly, "as much theirs as your secrets are yours."
"I--I'm sorry," she stammered timidly. "You think I am taking advantage."
"I think, miss "he corrected himself "Mrs.
Ling, that there are several matters you should answer yourself before putting questions to me."
She winced at the stress he laid on the name and drew herself together. "I am to suppose that you distrust me," she said haughtily.
"That's a quaint way of putting it. Exactly what reason is there that I should trust you?" He spoke brutally. He felt the occasion was not one for delicacy of language. "You have told me a story that I then believed to be true a story of devotion to a scalywag brother. You said nothing about a greater motive for loyalty to your gang your marriage to one of the most notorious criminals in the world. I shall see something to laugh at in the way I've been strung sometime."
Her lips were parted and her breast was heaving. Undeniably pretty she was with her flushed face and her eyes lighted till they looked like blue flame. There was neither shame nor contrition within their depths. "Why did you help me to-night, then?" she asked.
"Because "He wavered. "Oh, because I was a fool, I suppose. I thought there might be some explanation. I see now "he made a gesture with his hand "there can't be. You vanished as soon as Scotland Yard got a hot scent. You were afraid I might get dangerous and you played on me with a note to get me into the hands of your pals. I fell for it all right, all right."
She stared at him dumbly. "You got my note, then?" she said after a pause.
He laughed shortly. "Yes, I got it all right. No mistake about that. And Gwennie Lyne got me."
She was leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, troubled thought in her face. "Gwennie Lyne? But you never came. And I don't know Gwennie Lyne. i... What address did you go to?"
"The address you gave 140 Ludford Road, Brixton."
"That wasn't it." She passed her hand over her brow. "There's been some trickery I don't understand. It was quite another place. I wanted a friend. ... You didn't come.... I thought oh, I didn't blame you- There was no reason why you should run any risks to help me...."
He watched her with obvious disbelief.
"You think I'm lying," she said with another change of manner. "Very well. You shall see and learn for yourself. I will prove to you that I am not lying that I have not tricked you. You can keep your own counsel. All I ask is that you will not betray mine."
"You may rely on me," he said icily.
The train ran into Sevenoaks and they alighted. There was a return train within a quarter of an hour and this they caught. Both were grimly silent on the return journey and for the most part JimmJe kept his eyes resolutely fixed on the blank blackness of the window. Once he surprised her watching him with an air of wistfulness. "A consummate actress," he thought and shifted his gaze again to the window. To question her would be only to invite another series of lies.
At London Bridge she took command, piloting him to the Bank and stopping a motor bus with an imperative wave of the hand. They ran through into the gloomy heart of the East End. "This is Shadwell," she said. "We get off here."
It was hard to reconcile the dainty figure in the neat grey costume with the slums and squalor into which they entered. Through narrow, desolate streets she led him, past here and there a drunken man or a riotous group racing from one public-house to another. At last she paused and tapped with her bare knuckles on the unpainted door of a tumble-down house. He was not without courage, but he hesitated.
"Are you going in there?"
"Yes. Are you afraid?" she taunted.
"I am," he admitted. "I may tell you I am armed."
Her lips curled. He got a vague glimpse of a slatternly old woman with curious eyes staring at them, and then the girl, without stopping to see whether he would follow, led the way within. He followed, mentally calling himself a fool. The old woman closed the door and they were left in darkness.
"Take my hand," she said, "I know the way. The fourth stair up is broken."
The hand he groped for and found was ice cold. He dragged his pistol out of his pocket and held it ready for instant use. There was going to be no repetition of the Gwennie Lyne trick if he could help it. At the first sign of treachery he was determined to shoot. He heard the creak of a door on rusty hinges as she pushed it back and released his hand from hers with a sudden jerk.
A thin light filtered out and he beheld a wretchedly furnished room with something lying on a mattress in the farther corner. He advanced cautiously, weapon ready. She pushed the door to and his pistol dropped as he saw the haggard, unshaven face of the sleeping man on the mattress. A man who turned restlessly at their entrance.
She pointed to the corner. "There you are, Mr. Hallett. That's my brother, James Errol. You have his life in your hands if you want to fetch the police."
She faced him by the thin light of the cheap oil lamp, her head defiantly tilted. He remained dumb, the pistol dangling by his side till he became conscious of the incongruity and replaced it in his pocket. The sudden spectacle of the sick man lying there in that miserable hovel had shorn him for the moment of the power of consecutive thought.
She lifted the lamp to examine the sleeping man and, replacing it on the table, readjusted a pillow with tender fingers. She rose and pushed forward a rickety chair. He complied with the unspoken invitation.
"He is a fugitive from justice." She spoke softly lest the sleeper be disturbed. "Whatever he is, scoundrel though you think him, can I do less? But for me he would have been helpless. Would you have me desert him? Do you think "she made a gesture of disgust "that I like living in this place these two sordid rooms which are the only place in London I could hide him in? Why, I daren't even have a doctor for fear of betrayal. And you thought that I was in league with the people who brought him to this. Well I am in league. They know where he is and a single word would bring the police down here."
The fire in her low tone challenged him to still condemn her. Once before he had reasoned out a theory of her attitude a theory that had partly been broken down by the open scepticism of Menzies until the culminating point had been reached when he found her dining with Ling. At first the apparent significance of that had been lost, but it had been borne upon him with ever-increasing force that it was evidence that the letter luring him to Gwennie Lyne's house was no forgery but deliberately written by her. Now again he had to go back to the old line of reasoning. He wondered that he had permitted anything to throw him off it. Why, it was plain to the most dense intellect. Who so likely to pay off the old score of hatred of his father by a bullet than this mean, reckless waster, Errol.
"It was he who killed Mr. Greye-Stratton?" he whispered hoarsely.
Her reply was inaudible. But the drawn face, the twitching hands left it in no doubt.
Without warning the man on the pallet raised himself on one elbow, his features ghastly in the dim light.
"Who says I killed him?" he gasped in a cracked voice. "It's a lie a lie, I tell you. Who's that you've got there, Peggy? Damn this light. I can't see. Tell him it's a lie an infernal lie. I never laid a finger on the old man old man old man old devil!" He gasped out the last word with shrill vindictiveness and fell back breathless.
She hurriedly lifted a small bottle from the mantelpiece, poured a little of the contents into a glass, and supported her brother's head while he drank, talking soothingly to him the while. In a little while his regular breathing told that he was asleep.
"I think you had better go now," she said brokenly. "I don't know why I should have brought you here why it should matter to me what you think. You have seen and you are at liberty to believe what you like."
"Don't let us talk nonsense," he said briskly. "I begin to see that I have acted like a blackguard, but I can't leave you like this." He rose, crossed over to her, and laid a hand on her shoulder. "You have trusted me with the most important thing. Now you must trust me fully. You need a friend and whether you like it or not I am going to see this through. Where's the other room you spoke of? Let's go in there and talk."
With a glance at her brother she lit a candle and led him to the adjoining room, as poorly furnished as the other. "I can't offer you even a cup of tea, Mr. Hallett," she said with a feeble attempt at cheerfulness. "There is no gas and the fires are out."
"I don't mind defects in hospitality," he said. "They can be remedied some other time. Now tell me how it all came about and we'll see what's to be done."
She paused as though to put her thoughts into form. "You wondered why I never told you I was married," she said wearily. "It is true, all that you know. I am married to that man "a shudder swept her slim frame "Ling. If there is any living thing that I detest, hate, and despise it is he. I want you to believe it, Mr. Hallett, when I say that I am his wife only in name. Never! Never!" he could see her face glow with her vehemence in the candle light "shall I be anything more. He was a friend of my brother's he had a hold on him, and to save him I consented to a marriage. It was a marriage of form and we separated at the registry office. Not even for my brother could I do more."
"This was before the death of your father?"
"Yes."
"Then it was Ling who knew he had committed forgery? It was he who held the threat of exposure over your head. The price you paid was marriage?"
"That was part of the price. I thought it would silence him to have me bear the same name as himself. It was he who came to my flat the night of the murder with the forged cheques in his hand and demanded the full price of his silence that I should take my place as his wife."
Jimmie bit his lip. He promised himself there should be a reckoning if ever he ran across Ling again.
"Then the murder took place. It was not difficult for me to guess what had happened when I read of it and I spent a terrible hour. I knew that the detectives would soon learn enough to put them on the track and that at any moment they might seek me out. So I went to them, partly because I was anxious to see what they knew, partly because I knew suspicion might be aroused if I seemed to avoid them. You know more or less what happened. Then I was brought up for you to indentify me and I confess I had an anxious few minutes while you were walking up and down that line of women. I knew you had recognised me and when you denied it to the officers I could I could have done anything for you.
"I hadn't a single friend in whom I could confide and then you appeared. I told you more much more than I intended to and when you urged me to give the police full details I was half tempted to comply. But it seemed too great a risk to take. If there was any doubt if there had seemed any doubt about my brother.
How could I? To have told the police would have been to betray him.
"I realised how desperate things were when I knew I was being shadowed and you stopped the detectives. I hurried back to my flat and outside in the street I met Ling. I had neither the chance nor the desire to avoid him. ' I have been running great risks to see you,' he said. ' You must come with me at once. Your brother is hurt.'
"I distrusted him and my suspicion must have shown itself. He let me see plainly that he knew the truth, and he added that my brother was lying injured at a house in the East End. ' He is nothing to me,' he added. ' He can die there like a dog in a kennel or the police can patch him up for another dog's death. There is the address.' He pushed a scrap of paper into my hand and went away without another word.
"If he had offered to accompany me I fear I should not have come. He must have known that. He was astute enough to understand that once I came here he could see me whenever he wanted. I found my brother as you have seen him. He was suffering from a knife thrust in the ribs which he told me was due to an accident. He was in great pain and I did not question him too much. Someone had bandaged it up, and the old woman below the landlady of this house was watching him. He had been brought here by two other men, she said. She did not know anything about him, how he had been injured nor who the people were who brought him. They had taken the two rooms and told her a lady would come to look after him. She wasn't one to ask questions or to pry into other folks' business as long as they paid their rent regularly. You know the kind of thing. It was then I wrote the note to you and gave it to her with some money to have sent to you."
"The old Jezebel," said Jimmie. "She must have made it over to Ling, or Gwennie Lyne, and they had the address altered."
"Well, you never came. I saw to my brother as well as I could, draining on my memory of some red cross classes I once attended. I think I was near going mad at night with my impotence, and the loneliness, and the thought of his peril. At about nine o'clock Ling came. He entered the room without knock or ceremony and smoking a cigar. He laughed when he saw how terrified I was. ' All right,' he said. ' I'm not going to hurt a hair of your head. You ought to be grateful to me, young lady, for all the trouble I've been taking. Still it's a family affair and I couldn't do less, could I? ' He grinned at me hatefully and I don't know what I answered. ' You're a little bit off colour to-night,' he went on. 'I don't wonder. You haven't been used to this sort of thing. It would be wise to be civil, though.'
"He left me in no doubt as to the meaning of his hint and I constrained myself to a formal politeness. 'I'll not worry you any further to-night,' he said, 'but we've got to look our positions in the face. Now by to-morrow you'll probably be glad of a change. I'll come for you at seven o'clock and we'll go and have a dinner somewhere and talk things out sensibly. Mrs. Buttle here will look after your brother for an hour or two.'
"I was in his power, and of course there was no question of refusing. I had to make every sacrifice but the last one. To-night he called and we went to the place where you met us. I don't know how long we had been there, but we had practically finished dinner. He would talk of nothing but indifferent subjects, but there was something on his mind I felt sure. ' Pleasure first,' he said when I tried to pin him down. ' We'll leave business till we have eaten.'
"Then when you came in I was bewildered. You rushed me off my feet, and not till we were in the cab did I realise what the arrest of Ling would mean. He wouldn't hesitate for a moment to betray my brother if he learned he is himself suspected. If Mr. Menzies has arrested Ling he will probably know all by this time." She glanced apprehensively towards the door, as though she feared the immediate entrance of the police. "Now I have told you everything, Mr. Hallett. Can I ask you now what what--"
He understood her hesitation to frame the question as he understood now her eagerness to extract information from him in the train. But there was still something inexplicable on the face of her story. No reason, no motive other than that of a sort of blackmail had been given for Ling's actions. The personality of Ling as he understood it was entirely alien to any unselfish action. So far as her story had gone the man had committed no crime no legal crime that would bring him within the law. Why then the attempt on his life by William Smith, why the attempt to make him a prisoner by Gwennie Lyne, why the apparent importance which Menzies attached to the arrest of Ling?
He explained what had happened so far as he knew it, and little puzzled wrinkles appeared in her white forehead. "Now Ling isn't an altruist," he ended, "any more than Menzies is a fool. The gang has not been butting into this game merely to save your brother. And Menzies isn't red hot after them for no reason at all. If the case were as you think it would be simple enough. The hue and cry would be all after him." He made a motion of his hand towards the other room.
"Ah!" She looked at him thoughtfully and then walked slowly up and down the narrow confines of the apartment. "It's no good," she exclaimed at last.
"It may be as you say, but it's all too complex for me. Even if someone else is bound up with this crime, my brother's danger remains the same. That is all that concerns me."
Hallett found something to admire in the singleness of purpose that actuated the girl, even though it was to shield a man who was certainly a scoundrel and, in all probability, a murderer. "There is yourself to be considered," he remonstrated. "You are in deep waters."
"I shall find a way out." Her tone belied the confidence of her words.
He scratched his chin, "The first thing to do is to get your brother away from here somewhere where these crooks cannot get at him."
She shook her head. "That is out of the question. It might kill him to be moved. Besides, there is Mrs. Buttle. She would tell Ling and he would find me somehow."
"Then there is only one other thing. This is no place for you. You had better get decent lodgings somewhere and I will stay here. You can rely I will do everything possible for your brother."
Again she shook her head. "That is quite out of the question, though I am grateful for the offer. The only chance of safety is for me to remain here."
He lost patience. "Hang it all," he cried. "You can't. This house this neighbourhood why how can a child like you stay here alone? If you won't allow me to take your place I must get rooms in the neighbourhood."
"I thank you very much, Mr. Hallett," she said, "but you will see it is impossible. Anything you did would only attract attention to the house. You can see that. I promise you, if you like, that should ever I need you I will send for you. It will be a comfort to know that I have at least one honest friend on whom I can rely."
He was still uncertain. "I don't like it," he grumbled. "Anything might happen suddenly. It would take an hour to fetch me even if you had a reliable messenger." Then, as she showed no signs of relenting, "Very well, it shall be as you say. Here "he took his automatic from his pocket and passed it to her "you might feel safer if you have this. Do you understand how it works?"
He explained the mechanism to her. She held the weapon rigidly at arm's length. "Like this?" she asked.
"Great Jehosophat, no! That is how they do it on the stage. Take your finger off the trigger. Never put it there till you mean it to go off. And use the second finger, not the first. Point your first finger along the barrel. If you haven't time to take aim, all you nave got to do is to point your finger and you will hit whatever you are pointing at. Hold your arm more loosely. That's the idea. Now put it away. I feel better to think you've got it."
She held out her hand to him. "Thank you. And now good-night, Mr. Hallett. I will write you sometime."
He took her hand and held it. "Do you know that I was just going without asking you the name of this place? I might have something to tell you, you know."
She released herself with some confusion. "I will write it down." She scribbled for a second and then passed him the address.
"A very interesting picture," sneered a voice. "Mr. Hallett, I presume or Mr. Green, from Mobile?"
The girl gasped. Red-eyed and flushed, with a rent in his jacket, Ling was regarding them from the doorway.
Hallett's fists clenched. He was poised for a rush when restraining fingers on his sleeve recalled to him that he had not only himself to consider. There might be a satisfaction in thrashing Ling, but it would be too dearly paid for. Moreover, for all they knew, he might not be alone. He was leaning against the doorpost with one hand in his jacket pocket. There was a cigar between his teeth and his lower jaw jutted out. His green eyes, alert and menacing, took in the little by-play that restrained Jimmie. He had evidently expected and been prepared for violence.
Jimmie dropped his hands with a boyish laugh. "My name's Hallett," he said. "We have met before. Mr. Ling, isn't it? This is rather unexpected. I thought some friends of yours had arranged an invitation for you?"
Ling grinned. "They sure did, sonny boy. They held four aces but I scooped the pot with a straight flush. I wondered what your little game was. Now I know." He continued to inflect a meaning into his words that made the blood surge in Jimmie's veins. "I thought you'd be the kind of fool that'd come right on here. You see, Peggy was hardly likely to desert her darling brother and you wouldn't leave her, eh? How's that for Sherlock Holmes? It won't do, though, it won't do. I'll have to be seeing a lawyer about this. Lucky I'm an indulgent husband, eh, Peggy?" His voice changed. "You stand right where you are, Hallett. It won't be healthy for you if you take another step like that. I hate violence especially before ladies."
The other man remained stock-still. He knew what the hand in Ling's pocket was gripping. His mind was actively seeking for a solution of the immediate problem. Ling held the doorway, the only exit from the room, and he recognised perfectly well that this man, whose friends had twice before made attempts to secure his silence, was little likely to let him go again. If he had not made over the gun to Peggy he could have felt on more level terms.
"Sherlock Holmes would have carried it a bit further," he said. "Has it flashed across that limpid intellect of yours that I'd take care not to put my head into the lion's jaws if I'd not taken precautions to keep them propped open. If this place isn't surrounded now it will be in five minutes. Those friends you missed won't be put off a second time."
Ling started. Then his features relaxed and he laughed.
"Good bluff," he said. "You nearly had me stampeded that time. But it's no go. You've sent out no message since you came in and if you'd given it before the splits would have been here by now." He spat on the boarded floor. "Say, Mr. Hallett," he went on with the air of a man laying down a tentative business proposal. "I've got you now cold. Suppose we come to terms. I'm willing to overlook the compromising circumstances of your little jaunt with my wife tonight--"
"That's enough," ordered Hallett coldly. "If you insult this lady again, gun or no gun I'll smash your lying tongue down your throat."
"Tut, tut!" The green eyes gleamed amusedly on the young man. "I must be careful. I didn't mean to get your goat. We'll call it off then. What I'm aiming at is this. There's no sense in making thingsmore uncomfortable than we've got to. If you put me to it I've got to see that you keep out of mischief. Give me your word that you'll take the first boat back to New York and never say anything about what you may know and I'll take it. That's fair, and it isn't everyone who would do it."
"You want to get me out of the way?"
"That's so. Stay out of England for a year and keep your mouth shut."
Jimmie stroked his upper lip. "That's very obliging of you, Ling. I feel flattered at your supposition that , I should keep my word. I seem to be an embarrassment though I don't know why."
"You are an embarrassment."
"Why?" repeated Jimmie artlessly.
He had one hand behind his back and was signalling to Peggy. He hoped fervently that she would understand what it meant and pass the pistol. Once he regained that he could close the conversation when he liked.
"Cut it out," retorted Ling. "You don't need telling. I'm making you a fair offer. Will you take it or leave it?"
Hallett's concealed hand waved frantically. Would she never understand?" My dear friend," he said airily. "Can't you see I'm trying to make up my mind. I haven't your faculty of quick decision. My wits move slowly. If you'd only tell me why. You'll forgive me, but I don't quite see where you come in. I could understand why some people should wish me er disposed of, but although I dislike your appearance and your ways, there's nothing I could do would hurt .you. Why can't you live and let live?"
Ling eyed him doubtfully. "This is funny, isn't it? I'm not going to stay here all night. I've sent for some people who won't be disposed to argue with you. You'd better hurry and make up your mind."
It was evident that the girl would never understand the meaning of that signalling hand. Jimmie shrugged his shoulders and remained in an attitude of thought. A querulous voice came from the outer room.
"Peggy!... Gone away again." The voice was like that of a plaintive child except that an unchildlike oath slipped out. "And she calls herself a sister... leaving me here like this... alone with the old man ... all alone. with the old man.... I tell you I didn't I couldn't.... He's a liar.... Peggy, come and take him off.... Those long fingers long, lean scraggy fingers.... He'll strangle me. ... Blast it, why don't you come and take him off."
The high-pitched voice rang out in shrill alarm. Ling had taken a pace back into the other room, but he was too cautious to take his eyes off Hallett. "It's Errol," he laughed. "Gave me a start for a minute. Make's you feel as if someone's walking over your grave."
"He's delirious," cried Peggy. "I must go to him." She raised her voice. "All right. I'm coming."
"Not by a jugful you don't," said Ling. "He won't hurt for five minutes. I don't allow anyone to get behind me till Mr. Hallett here's made up his mind not even you, Peggy."
The voice inside moaned and then burst into a series of insane chuckles. "He's going now.... He thinks he's going to get away but he won't.... It's no good your hiding.... I can see you. I'll get you this time."
Through the open door Jimmie could now see him. He had pulled himself off the pallet and, lamp in hand, was advancing stealthily towards Ling, crouching ashe moved and still chuckling. Jimmie's hand fell calmly on the back of the chair nearest him. Things were coming his way.
The changing shadows caused by the lamp-light told Ling something of what was happening. His head shifted to look over his shoulder for the fraction of a second just long enough for Jimmie to lift the chair and bring it down with crushing force. Ling crumpled limply and went down.
"Ha, ha!" shrieked Errol. "That's got the old devil.... Now we'll burn him... we'll make sure this time."
Before either of them could anticipate his purpose he had flung the lamp on the stunned man. There was a smashing of glass and a bolt of flame shot upwards. Peggy Greye-Stratton sprang forward with a horrified cry, but already Jimmie had his coat off and spread over the flames which had begun to lick at Ling's body. Luckily the reservoir of the lamp was of metal and little of the oil had escaped. In a few minutes he had the flames under.
He stood up, breathing hard. The girl was coaxing her brother back to bed and he was still weakly shouting in his delirium. Hallett went to her aid, but he found his help unnecessary. Errol was as weak as a kitten. He lay on his mattress panting.
"I can manage now," she said. "You had better go, Mr. Hallett. He said he had sent for help. Go go quick."
"I don't know about that. It's impossible to leave you here alone now."
Errol, exhausted, had fallen asleep once more. She came over to Jimmie. "It's no worse for me now than it was before. Besides, what can you do. You will be sacrificing yourself for no reason at all." She literally pushed him towards the door. "Please, please," she entreated.
A little thrill of delight passed through him as he recognised that all her alarm was for him. There was reason in her persuasions, too. Any danger that she was in was not likely to be either increased by what had happened or diminished by his further presence. He would only be exposing himself to the needless risk of being cut off by Ling's friends.
"I suppose I'd better," he said reluctantly, "but first I'll have a look at Ling. I didn't hit him as hard as I might, but it would be as well to make sure."
She permitted him to return to examine Ling, and as soon as he had reassured himself that the man was only stunned he contemplated his work with some satisfaction. Here and there the blazing oil had scorched his clothes, but had done no further damage.
"Hurry," said the girl. "Oh, do hurry."
"Just one moment." He hastily ran his hands through the unconscious man's pockets. A few papers from the breast pocket he stuffed into his own. In the right-hand jacket pocket he found a pistol, which he also took possession of. He stood up.
"There, that's done."
"You are going now?'
"Yes, I'm going." He caught both her hands in his impulsively. "If things had been different, Peggy if--if--"
She released herself, flushing hotly. "You mustn't you mustn't!" she cried. "Oh, why don't you go."
"Good-bye," he said abruptly and swung out on to the dark stairs. As he fumbled for the latch of the front door it was pushed open from without. He came face to face with a woman on the step. He recognised the slattern who had admitted Peggy and himself. She gave a short ejaculation of surprise and then brushed by him.
He moved thoughtfully out into the open street. Something there was about her that seemed familiar it might have been the eyes, the walk, or her voice. He had gone a hundred yards when he came to a sudden halt.
"I'd bet a thousand dollars to a cent that that woman's Gwennie Lyne."
The discovery half inclined him to return. The dark figures of two men brushed by him and he walked quickly on, turning as the sound of their feet died away. He moved back till he was opposite the house and watched, irresolute. No sound came from it and he turned away again. It seemed hours before he had got clear of those desolate streets into a main road and encountered the comforting blue uniform of a constable. To him he addressed a question.
"Taxi," repeated the man, studying him with speculation. "Lord bless your heart. You won't get a taxi here at this time of the night. Where do you want to go?"
His eyes opened wider as Jimmie named his hotel. But he made no comment. "Keep straight on till you get into the city," he said. "Then you might get a cab."
It was three o'clock in the morning, before, wearied in body and mind, he dropped thankfully into bed.
He was still in bed when the detective arrived at his hotel and he sat up to receive him. His chin was jutted out doggedly and there was a wary look in his eye. He regarded the chief inspector, ominous that events which concerned him were afoot but uncertain how much was known.
"Come in, Menzies," he said heartily. "I couldn't stop to see the fun out last night because I met a friend and wanted to get her out of the way of any trouble. How did it go?"
Menzies dropped to rest at the foot of the bed. "I didn't come up here last night," he said solemnly, "because I couldn't trust myself not to break your jaw."
Jimmie's eyebrows shot up in ingenuous astonishment. "So! I didn't know you allowed personal feelings to interfere with your duty. You're a pugnacious brute, Menzies. There's some cigarettes on the table behind you. Help yourself and pass me one. Now--" he sent out a blue ring of smoke "tell me why you want to smash me."
His attitude was different from what Menzies had expected. There might have been defiance, a blank wall of obstinacy, but this touch of badinage, even though the defiance and obstinacy might still be behind it, was a little more difficult. Menzies' opinion of Hallett went up. He exhibited his bandaged hand.
"This is one reason. Cincinnati Red got another and worse one. I don't know how he is this morning, but if he dies it's you who'll have to be thanked." He had no fear of the "con "man's wound proving fatal, but Jimmie's chaff needed a little quenching.
Hallett's face grew more serious. "Gun-play, eh? I'm sorry to hear that. Still, you bagged your man."
"Bagged hell," said Menzies. "I beg your pardon but even my vicar could forgive me in the circumstances. Of course we didn't. However, I didn't come here to satisfy your curiosity but my own. Where did you leave that woman? Where is she now?"
Hallett lay back in bed and laughed. "I see now," he gasped. "That's quite a natural mistake. You've heard that I took a girl away and you think it was Peggy Miss Greye-Stratton."
"Mrs. Ling," corrected the inspector. "I don't think I know." He menaced the other with his forefinger. "I'm not going to fence with you. Out with it."
Jimmie frowned. "Don't take that tone with me," he warned. "I'm about sick of being bullied. I tell you for your own satisfaction that it was not that lady. It was someone quite different, a friend of mine, who happened to be dining in the restaurant. I took her out because I didn't want her to be there when the trouble arose. Now take that or leave it. I don't care a tinker's curse whether you believe it or not." His hand sought the bell over his head.
"I should leave that bell alone," ordered Menzies curtly. "It won't do to push me too far." Hallett dropped his hand. "You can tell the lady's name, of course, and bring her to prove it?"
"I have said so," said Jimmie coldly.
Something flashed for an instant in Menzies' hand. '' Then you're a liar," he cried and his weight crushed the other back on the bed. The detective's left hand was not so badly injured as to be totally useless, and Jimmie, taken by surprise and at a disadvantage, was unable to put up any sort of a fight. In three minutes his arms were round a bedpost and a pair of patent self-adjusting handcuffs encircled his wrists.
It needed the physical tussle to make his equanimity give way. He was angry very angry, and the crowning indignity of the handcuffs chafed his spirit even more than his wrists. The detective calmly extinguished a smouldering spark that threatened the bedclothes and tossed Jimmie's cigarette away. He might have been a block of wood for all the notice he took of his passion and his protests. He resumed his seat and went on quietly smoking his cigarette with an air of placid satisfaction.
Jimmie realised quickly that his most barbed epithets were passing over the detective's head. The first spasm of wrath passed. He gulped something in his throat. "If you haven't gone mad," he said, his voice vibrating with the effort he made to control himself, "perhaps you'll be gracious enough to explain."
"That's better much better," said Menzies encouragingly. "You'll soon be polite if you persevere."
"Well "Hallett choked again. "Tell me, what are you arresting me for?"
"I'm not arresting you, sonnie. Oh, yes, I know. I'm going to act in an even more flagrantly illegal manner. I'll take the risk of being broke. You can't tell me anything about that. You'll have plenty of chance to appeal to your ambassador. Or if you like you can bring me before a police court for assault."
He spoke with a certain bitterness that was not lost upon his hearer. Weir Menzies had spent a lifetime in the service of Scotland Yard and knew exactly what he was risking. He was behaving, as he had said, with flagrant illegality that could scarcely be justified even on the suspicions he harboured. He had faced Ling's bullets more cheerfully than this, which, if anything went wrong, would lead to inevitable dismissal from the service.
Jimmie wriggled himself out of bed to a sitting position. "This is a fool's game to play," he protested more mildly. "What do you expect to gain by it, anyway?"
"I don't mind telling you now you're more or less in your senses. By the way, I apologise for calling you a liar. It slipped out. But "he brought his clenched fist heavily down on the bedclothes "I warned you what would happen if you stood in my way. You spoilt things last night I'll do you the credit to suppose that it was without deliberation. Still you were tacitly on your honour and it was treachery to me when you did what you did."
Hallett flushed. "Easy, Mr. Menzies. You'd have done the same in my place."
"I wouldn't," denied the other. "I've been fair to you all through and you've done your best to thwart every scheme of mine because "He checked himself suddenly as he saw the change on Jimmie's face. "Then you insult my common sense now by telling me that this girl was at the Petit Savoy that it was someone else."
"You don't know all the circumstances," said Hallett.
"No, but I'm going to. I formally ask your permission now to search your clothes. I warn you I intend to do it whether you give me your permission or not."
Hallett hesitated for a moment. "Oh, very well, then," he said at last "Go on."
It is easy to see a mistake after it has been made. Jimmie recognised his with the first chill touch of the handcuffs. He had merely dropped out of his clothes the night before, not troubling to remove or inspect anything. The least he should have done was to have placed the address Peggy had given him in safety.
He raved helplessly. Weir Menzies sat on the end of the bed and waited imperturbably. Jimmie did not pick and choose his words.
"Bad language won't help," said Menzies, once again the stern moralist. "Make up your mind quick; I can't wait here all day."
Hallett suppressed the vitriolic retort that rose to his lips. He was in no position to justify violent language. "Say, this is a joke, isn't it?" he asked.
"I don't joke," retorted the inspector grimly.
"Look here," said Jimmie with inspiration, "you own that you're doing an illegal thing. Now I'll tell you what I'll do. Unfasten these things and run away for five minutes and when you come back you can search all you want to. There'll be ten thousand dollars in it for you too." Ten thousand dollars, he reflected, was a small price to pay for the preservation of the secret he held.
Menzies' ruddy face had taken on a deeper tinge of crimson. "You're wanting to bribe me," he said thickly.
"That's a nasty word," said Jimmie. "Illegal searchings are not your duty and how can it be bribery if all I ask you to do is to keep within the limits of your right. Come. I'm a fairly rich man and I'll make it fifteen thousand."
A brawny fist was shaken within an inch or two of his eyes. Menzies had for the moment let himself go and was shaken with anger. "You dirty reptile," he blazed and then suddenly checked himself. "The C. I. D. aren't grafters," he went on more mildly. "If you'd been in London longer you'd have known that. It isn't fair, Mr. Hallett "he shook his head reprovingly "it isn't fair."
Jimmie observed him with some astonishment. He did not know the scale of pay of English detectives, but he imagined that fifteen thousand dollars would have removed most scruples. "Don't get in a tear about it," he said. "For a man who plays the game like this--" he glanced at the handcuffs "I don't see what you've got to complain of if you get insulted. You're not a police officer now, remember. You're a common or garden burglar."
Menzies had resumed his placid equanimity. It was difficult to reconcile the placidity with which he was now enveloped to the resentment that had shaken him a moment before. "I suppose I am," he remarked.
"That is if you won't give me the permission I asked for a while ago."
"I'll see you burn first," retorted Jimmie.
"Then I must go on with it," said Menzies, and quietly began to possess himself of the scattered articles of attire that littered the floor.
He went through the pockets methodically, laying the articles in an orderly heap on a chair one by one as he examined them. Jimmie saw him pause over a scrap of paper on which Peggy had scribbled her address. "Does your friend the lady who isn't Mrs. Ling live at Shadwell?" he asked. "That's a bit of a change from Palace Avenue, isn't it? I'll use your telephone a second, if you don't mind."
"Make yourself at home," said Hallett. "Don't mind me."
The detective lifted the receiver. "Give me a line. ... City 400.... Is that the Yard?... I want Royal or Congreve if they're there. Yes, Mr. Menzies speaking. Hello, is that you, Congreve?... Oh, gone out, is he?... Anything fresh, Royal?"
The man at the other end of the wire seemed to Jimmie to be intolerably loquacious. A grin slowly stole over Menzies' set features. "That's darned funny," he commented at last. "So you've got it from two ends. Curiously enough I've just run across the same address here that's what I rang up about. I'm in Mr. Hallett's rooms at the Palatial. He's very annoyed with me, Royal.... Eh?... No, they'd better not do anything unless they spot Ling. Keep close observation on anyone in or out. You'd better come on here."