Читать книгу The Face in the Night - Edgar Wallace - Страница 7

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"It is nothing," said Shannon, surveying the battered mudguard.

"Had a collision?" asked Steel, his assistant, interested.

"Yes—a very pleasant one. In fact, the best ever!" They went into the narrow passage that was the approach to Dick Shannon's apartment.

"No, I haven't been waiting long," said Steel, as Dick unlocked the door of his sitting-room. "I knew you would come back here. Did you see the Bognor man?"

"Yes—he split... after a little persuasion. Steel, do you know anything about the girl Elton's relations?"

"I didn't even know that she had any," said the other.. "Perhaps Slick knows. I've told him to be here at six."

"I wonder if she got to town all right?"

"Who?" asked the other in surprise, and the Commissioner was for the moment embarrassed.

"I was thinking of... somebody," he said awkwardly, and hanged the subject. "Has the body been identified?" he asked...

Steel shook his head.

"The man was from abroad, probably South Africa," he said. "He was wearing veltshoen, a native-made boot, very popular amongst the Boers, and the tobacco in his pouch is undoubtedly Magaliesberg, There's no other tobacco like it. He may have been in England some weeks, but, on the other hand, it is likely that he has just landed. The Buluwayo and Balmoral Castle arrived last week, and in all probability he came on one of those ships. In fact, they are the only two that have come from South Africa in the past fortnight. Did the Bognor man know anything about the Queen's jewels?"

"Nothing. He said that Elton had quarrelled with him some time ago, and they did no business together. Mainly the talk was, as is usual in these cases, parable and metaphor. You can never get a thief to call a spade a spade."

He stood looking down at the table deep in thought, and then:

"I suppose her sister did meet her?"

Steel blinked.

"Whose sister, sir?" he asked, and this time Dick Shannon laughed.

"It is certain she did," he said, continuing his train of thought. "At any rate, she'd stop her coming to Curzon Street, and would shepherd her off to some hotel."

A light dawned upon Steel.

"I see, you're talking about Elton?"

"I'm talking about Elton... " agreed Captain Shannon, "and another. But the other won't interest you. You're having the house watched?"

"Elton's? Yes. We've had to go very carefully, because Elton's a shrewd fellow."

Dick bit his lip.

"Nothing will happen before a quarter to nine tonight, unless I'm greatly mistaken. At that hour the Queen of Finland's necklace will leave Curzon Street, and I personally will follow it to its destination, because I'm most anxious to meet the fifth member of the gang, who, I guess, is a foreigner."

"And then?" asked Steel when he paused.

"Then I shall take Dora Elton with the goods. And that's just what I've been waiting for for a long time."

"Why not Bunny?" asked Steel, and Dick smiled.

"Bunny's got plenty of courage: I'll give him credit for that; but not that kind of courage. It requires valour of an unimaginative kind to walk through London with stolen property in your pocket and the knowledge that half the police in town are looking for you. That isn't Bunny! No, his wife will do the trick."

He looked at his watch impatiently, then took up a timetable from his writing-desk.

"Are you going away?" asked Steel in surprise.

"No," impatiently, "I am seeing what time her train arrives."

He turned the leaves and presently ran his finger down a column, then looked at his watch again as though he had forgotten what he had already seen.

"She arrived half an hour ago. I wonder... " Steel was wondering too. He had never seen Dick Shannon in that mood before. But any explanation was denied by the arrival of Mr. Slick Smith. He came without diffidence, a very self-possessed, neatly dressed man, whose unlined face, twinkling eye and expensive cigar advertised his peace with the world. He nodded to Steel, and received a sympathetic grin in reply. Not until he had taken his departure did Dick come to the point.

"I sent for you, Slick, to ask your advice. The robbery came off all right."

"So I see by the morning newspapers," said Slick, "though I do not place too great a credence in the morning press. Personally, I prefer the afternoon variety; they haven't time to think up trimmings, and you get your news without dilution."

"Elton was in it, you know."

Slick raised his eyebrows.

"You surprise me," he said politely. "Dear me! Mr. Elton? He is the last person in the world one would suspect of larcenous proceedings."

"Let's cut out the persiflage and get right down to cases," said Dick, pushing the decanter towards his visitor. "What do you know about Mrs. Elton?"

"A most charming lady! A most de—lightful lady! Though it would be an exaggeration to describe her soul as of the white virginal variety. I don't mind confessing that, when I think about souls at all, I prefer them delicately tinted, rose du barri, eau de nil—anything but lemon."

"What was she before she married?"

Slick shrugged his shoulders.

"Gossip and scandal are loathsome to me." he said reluctantly. "All I know about her is that she was a good woman but a bad actress. I think she must have married Elton to reform him. So many of our best women do that sort of thing."

"And has she?" asked Shannon sarcastically.

Again Mr. Smith shrugged.

"I heard the other day that he was strong for prohibition. Is that reform? It must be, I suppose."

He poured out a liberal portion of whisky and sent the seltzer sizzling into the glass.

"You can't say anything in favour of booze, however clever you may be. You may say: 'Oh, but I'm a moderate drinker: why should my allowance be curtailed because that horrible grocery man gets drunk and beats his wife?' To which I reply: There are fifty thousand babies in England under the age of six months. Babies who would welcome with infantile joy a nice, bright razor to play with. And you might give them each the razor. Captain, and not more than one in fifty thousand would cut his or her young throat. Must we then deny the other forty-nine thousand and odd the joy and happiness of playing with a hair-mower because one fool baby cut his young head off? Yes, sir, we must. Common sense tells us that what happened to one might just as well happen to the fifty thousand. Do I speak words of wisdom? I do. Thank you—your very good health."

He smacked his lips in critical appreciation. "Liqueur, and at least twenty years old. Would that all whisky was like that—there would be fewer suicides."

Dick was watching him closely, well aware that he was delicately shifting the conversation into another channel. "Has she a sister?"

Mr. Smith finished the remainder of his glass. "If she has," he said, "God help her!"