Kennedy fired at Roger. He felt nothing.
He grabbed the woman’s gun and flung himself towards the bookcase which stood at right angles to the wall. He felt a bullet tear at his coat and heard the second bark. He thumped against the wall, on the turn. Kennedy was out of sight. Roger waited. All he could see was the desk and the woman, picking herself up. Kennedy was creeping towards him, his only chance now was to shoot on sight. Never had the seconds seemed so long.
Then the door opened; he heard it bang back against the wall.
“What’s all this?” a man asked.
Roger knew that voice: this was Peel of the Yard.
* * * *
Roger kept behind the bookcase. Other men came into the room. The woman in green said in a choking voice: “Be careful, he’s armed.”
“Who’s armed?” demanded Peel.
“The thief behind here.”
Peel came forward slowly and stealthily. “Don’t try any funny stuff,” he said. He appeared and didn’t flinch, didn’t look at the gun.
“We caught them red-handed,” said Kennedy, and there was a catch in his voice. “Two of them—he’s dangerous, be careful.”
“He won’t do any harm,” said Peel. He held out his hand. “Let me have that gun, please.” He was crisp and authoritative, and didn’t seem to have a nervous qualm at all. “You’re Charles Rayner, aren’t you?”
Kennedy said: “Yes, he is. And——”
“We’ll talk later,” said Peel. “Your gun, Rayner, and don’t try any funny stuff.”
Roger said: “Get after Myers, the Bilk Street mobsman. He’s got Sloan. He’s going after West’s wife. The maid at the Wests’ home is going to kidnap the children.”
He held out the gun.
Peel said to a sergeant: “You heard that. Better put in a call. Have Myers picked up and the Wests’ maid questioned.”
He swung round on Roger. “Where’d you get all this?”
There was a chance for Janet.
“Never mind.”
“Inspector——” began Kennedy.
Peel said: “All safe now, Mr. Hemmingway.”
Roger moved forward. The woman in green joined Kennedy’s wife. Their tension reached screaming pitch. Kennedy, with those pale, dull eyes, was rigid, frowning. He was envisaging the accusations and counter-charges; his mind was working already on a way to discredit “Rayner”. It would have been impossible, had those papers been in the room. Now-
There were three men with Peel—familiar Yard men, big, comforting, confident. Two of them came forward and looked at the safe and began to talk in undertones.
“Now I’ll hear what you have to tell me, Mr. Hemmingway.” Peel was formal, and not particularly friendly. “You say that Mrs. Hemmingway surprised the two thieves and shot one. You arrived and were about to shoot the other——”
“After he had drawn a gun on me.”
“Yes, I see. Are there any servants here?”
“On the top floor.”
“Weren’t they disturbed?”
“No. The burglar alarm had been put out of action.”
“You returned with your wife——”
“No, with my sister.” Kennedy spoke quietly, and his eyes narrowed in that familiar trick. “My wife was alone on this floor. Do you mind if I get her a drink. Inspector, she has had a nasty shock.” He moved towards the cocktail cabinet.” And may I warn you not to pay any attention to this man, Rayner? He has a remarkable repertoire of lies.” He reached the cabinet, and picked up a bottle.
“No drinks just now, please,” Peel said. He was brusque. Kennedy looked at him, as if in surprise. The tiny china doll who was his wife sat down heavily, and buried her face in her hands. The woman in green stared at Roger— only at Roger. The tension in the three of them was at its height.
“Why not?” Kennedy snapped.
“I’d rather you didn’t, sir.”
Kennedy submitted, evidence of nerves.
“Very well. As I say, Rayner will doubtless——”
“What a man says isn’t evidence, sir, at this stage—he would have to offer proof of any charge which he might prefer against you.” Why was Peel so brisk and formal? “Has Detective Inspector Sloan been gone long?”
Mrs. Kennedy caught her breath.
