The Missing Angel - Erle Cox (whitelam books .TXT) 📗

vent to an expressive “Oh!” Then he turned on. Tydvil,

“If you are not a member of the League, why are you hunting gamblers?”

 

“I am still interested in the suppression of the vice,” replied Tydvil

with dignity.

 

“You must be,” was Kane’s dry comment. “So perhaps you can tell me what

became of the man who ran into this alley just before I arrived?”

 

“A man!” Tydvil’s voice sounded as though a man were as rare a phenomenon

in the city as an angel.

 

“Yes!” went on Kane. “A man named Basil Williams. He came in here, and he

certainly did not go out.”

 

“I certainly did not see a man come in here,” Tydvil asserted.

 

“Yet you were watching for gamblers.” Kane’s tone was unpleasant.

 

“You must be mistaken.” Tydvil had to keep his ground.

 

“He was not mistaken, Tydvil, dear,” put in Amy. “I distinctly saw a man

who was with that horrid woman, leave her and run in here.” Amy was

beginning to enjoy herself.

 

Kane drew himself up with a decisive motion. “Mr. Jones, there are

circumstances surrounding this incident that require further information

from you. I must ask you to accompany me to Russell Street.”

 

“I most positively decline to go to Russell Street.” Tydvil stood on his

dignity. “If you wish to continue this absurd inquisition, my office is

close by. We can continue our conversation there.”

 

“Very good!” Kane nodded stiffly. “You will come with me, please.”

 

He turned away, but Amy was too full of curiosity to be denied, as the

other two fell in beside him.

 

“Tydvil, I insist on being present at this interview,” she said.

 

Kane looked at her, undecided. Tydvil, however, was in no humour for Amy.

“There is not the slightest necessity,” he snapped.

 

“But I insist.” Amy was afraid she might miss something.

 

“My dear Mrs. Jones,” Nicholas interfered gently but firmly, “I shall

stay with Mr. Jones, and I really think you would be wiser not to

accompany us.” He accompanied the words with an understanding smile that

conquered Amy.

 

“Very well, Mr. Senior,” she said graciously, “So long as you are with

Mr. Jones I feel sure I have no cause for anxiety.”

 

“I am certain of that.” He raised his hat. “I promise I will look after

him.”

 

The three men made their way through the curious crowd that still

remained watching from the entrance. Kane marched stiffly ahead, without

even glancing back to see if he were followed.

 

As they walked, Tydvil murmured his thanks to Nicholas who warned him

there were still hurdles ahead.

 

Geraldine was at her desk as three figures advanced down the warehouse

between stacks of sheeting and piled Manchester goods. Her heart danced

when she recognised the third member of the party as Inspector Kane. She

did not even glance up as the three men passed her desk and entered

Tydvil’s private office. Tydvil pushed the door behind him but it had not

quite closed. With shameless curiosity Geraldine walked to a filing

cabinet close to the door, her ears alert.

 

Tydvil took his accustomed seat at the table. Nicholas waved Kane to the

armchair, and seated himself on the corner of the table.

 

“Now!” Tydvil, on his native heath, spoke decisively. “Perhaps you will

let me know what this is all about.”

 

Unabashed at his tone, Kane replied, “That is just what I am expecting

from you, Mr. Jones.”

 

“I am quite at sea.” Tydvil’s voice was all candour. “Perhaps if you

asked some questions…” He waved his hands largely.

 

“That is just what I intend to do,” responded Kane, disregarding the

friendliness of Tydvil’s invitation.

 

“Do you still assert, Mr. Jones, that though you were watching for some

bookmaker, you did not see a man enter that alley?” he demanded.

 

“I assure you, Inspector, that I did not,” Tydvil replied. “You were not

asleep, by any chance” There was more than a hint of sarcasm in the

voice.

 

“You are jesting, Inspector.” Tydvil smiled engagingly.

 

“Believe me, I am not, and you would be well advised to recognise that,”

was the frosty retort. “A man did enter that alley, and I’m afraid I

cannot accept your assurance that you did not see him.”

 

“How very peculiar!” Mr. Senior observed.

 

“Very!” said Kane dryly, without taking his eyes off Tydvil.

 

“Then I have nothing to add,” said Tydvil shortly.

 

“Tell me this, Mr. Jones,” asked Kane abruptly. “Do you know the man

Basil Williams, or have you had any dealing with him?”

 

“I have never yet met the man, nor spoken to him,” replied Tydvil flatly.

 

“You will find it far wiser to be frank with me,” insisted Kane.

 

“Believe me, I am totally at a loss to understand how you can associate

me with this man Williams in any way,” Tydvil affirmed.

 

“Candidly, Mr. Jones, I don’t believe you,” came back the uncompromising

Kane.

 

“Then, perhaps you can supply me with some reasons for your doubt. And

let me tell you, Inspector Kane, I object strongly to your manner. I find

it offensive.” Tydvil tried taking the high ground.

 

Inspector Kane was not impressed. Others had tried that on him before.

“Mr. Jones!” his voice was becoming more official. “You will be good

enough to explain why, on the night of the riot in town three months ago,

your hat was in Williams’s possession? Why, on the night Mr. Muskat was

assaulted, you were found alone in the lane into which Williams escaped?

Why, later, when Williams was traced into De Graves Street, he had

vanished and you were there alone? Why, today, when I ran Williams into

that alley he had again vanished, but you were there?”

 

“Do you dare to say that I am Williams?” Tydvil demanded with some show

of anger.

 

“I am asserting nothing, sir!” Kane said shortly. “I am asking for an

explanation.”

 

“Don’t you think that is rather difficult?” Tydvil sneered a little.

 

“I am sure it is. One coincidence of the kind might be explained; but

four coincidences, Mr. Jones, require a great deal of explanation.”

Kane’s voice had become silky, but all the more menacing.

 

“Then,” Tydvil exclaimed, “I can’t help you! I know nothing of Basil

Williams, and I am not interested in him.”

 

He was still speaking when a knock at the door heralded the advent of

Geraldine. She carried an open cheque book in her hand.

 

Jones glanced up, and said, “Not now, Miss Brand, I am engaged.”

 

Geraldine stood her ground. “I am sorry, Mr. Jones, but before you went

to lunch you told me to bring this cheque for five hundred pounds for Mr.

Basil Williams for signature the moment you returned.”

 

Kane sprang to his feet and snatched the book from her hands. “So!” he

ejaculated triumphantly, “He told you that did he?” turning to Geraldine.

 

The expression of consternation on Tydvil’s face was perfectly natural.

That on Geraldine’s face was perfectly acted. Mr. Nicholas Senior’s eyes

were dancing with suppressed mirth.

 

“I…” Geraldine stammered, looking at Tydvil for guidance.

 

“That will do! Go!” ordered Kane, bustling her to the door, which he

closed abruptly after her.

 

Outside, Geraldine stood with a Mona Lisa smile on her lips, and with her

head inclined intently to the door.

 

“Now!” Kane almost barked. “You will be good enough, sir, to tell me all

you know of this man you don’t know, but for whom you sign cheques for

five hundred pounds?” He slapped the book as he spoke.

 

That was the second poser Kane had put to Tydvil that day, and Tydvil

felt, as he sat at his table with his face in his hands, that it was one

too many.

 

Kane resumed his seat and glared at the bent head. “I am waiting! You

must recognise, Mr. Jones, that your position is serious.”

 

Nicholas sat watching Tydvil for a sign that did not come.

 

Then Tydvil sat erect and turned to Kane. “You have placed me in a

position which I hoped to avoid,” he said wearily. “I have to admit now

that Basil Williams has been blackmailing me.”

 

At that dashing falsehood, look of admiration flashed into Nicholas’s

face.

 

Thirty years’ experience of its worst aspect had left little faith in

humanity in Inspector Kane. He had seen many apparently impeccable

reputations smash when their owners were cornered. Still, the admission

of Tydvil Jones surprised even his hardened mind but he never thought to

doubt the statement.

 

There was even a little pity in his eyes as he regarded Tydvil. “So!” he

thought, “the little pipsqueak wowser had run off the rails.”

 

What he said was, and he said it with decision, “You would have saved

yourself a lot of trouble—and perhaps money—if you had come to us in

the first place.”

 

“Impossible,” murmured Tydvil.

 

“Mr. Jones,” continued Kane. “I am not your judge. I am not going to ask

why that ruffian is blackmailing you. But, believe me, there are fools,

and there are fools, and there are damn Fools. But the biggest damn fool

of all is the man who pays a blackmailer.”

 

Tydvil sat with bend head and made no response. Kane’s voice grew a

little kinder. “Come, Mr. Jones, help us. Tell me where the fellow

lives.”

 

Tydvil shook a despairing head. “I have no idea.”

 

“I don’t want to press you. But is there a woman in the case?”

 

Tydvil, thinking of Amy, nodded an affirmative. “More than one?”

suggested Kane, hopefully.

 

“Hell’s bells!” grunted Tydvil. “Isn’t one enough?”

 

Kane stood up. “One thing I would like you to do, Mr. Jones, is to

consult your solicitor on the meaning of condonation, and on how it is

regarded by the law.”

 

“Oh! I know that!” Tydvil answered sullenly.

 

“Then make me a promise,” Kane urged. “Don’t pay this money and if he

comes back at you, let us know, and we will deal with him as he deserves.

It’s a public duty as well as a legal obligation.”

 

Tydvil remained silent and thoughtful.

 

“I promise you, Mr. Jones, we will protect your name and prevent it from

being published.” Kane was very persuasive.

 

Tydvil sat up as one making a great decision. “Very well, Inspector,” he

said, “I give you my word of honour I will not pay over this cheque. And

I promise if Williams threatens me again I will communicate with you at

once.”

 

“Good man! Good man!” exclaimed Kane heartily, “and I know I can rely on

you.”

 

“You can,” said Tydvil with conviction.

 

“Well, I will not trespass on your time any longer.” He turned to the

door and paused. “Mr. Senior, I think that you could help Mr. Jones in

this matter.”

 

“I assure you I will!” responded Nicholas heartily.

 

Kane nodded and went about his business. As he passed down the warehouse,

Geraldine’s eyes followed the stiff back speculatively until three

hornet-like buzzes on her table summoned her to Tydvil’s room. She made a

face at the buzzer, patted her hair, and entered the presence with head

erect and defiance in her eyes.

 

Tydvil was leaning back in his chair as she stood before him. For a long

moment he stared at her in silence. Then: “So you profess to be my

friend! My friend! You double-dyed traitress!”

 

“When I claimed to be your friend, I did not know what an unspeakable

traitor you were.” She spoke coldly. “You! Call me a traitress!”

 

“Would you consider