this to him. Will you fetch him, Thackeray?”
The Ebony was brought in, nursing his left wrist in his cupped right hand. His eyes, usually eloquent, were hardly visible for swollen flesh. Cribb explained in detail the turn that the inquiry had taken.
“In short, Mr. Morgan, you come under pretty strong suspicion.”
“I? Suspicion? You think I killed her? I didn’t know she was dead until this moment! Why should I kill her?”
“For the five hundred pounds Beckett handed her,” said Cribb, unaffected.
“You think I would kill for that? Listen to me, mister. I didn’t need money like that. I was getting paid nearly as much by Beckett, and I stood to pick up another three hundred in side bets. What did I need to kill her for? I was free of her, and all this lot. This man”-he pointed at Vibart-“helped me to make an arrangement with the London mob. I was finished with Mrs. Vibart.”
“Good God!” said D’Estin, open-mouthed.
“What was in the bundle you carried away from Radstock Hall last night?”
“Why, this dressing gown I’m wearing right now. If you think this is her blood on it, you’re wrong. It’s mine and Jago’s.” His protesting voice was at crescendo pitch.
“So you left the room to collect your dressing gown,” said Cribb calmly. “Why were you out so long if that was all you were doing?”
“You weren’t there,” blazed the Ebony. “You couldn’t possibly know how they were treating me. I stayed out because I wasn’t going back to be insulted by men like these two. They weren’t my masters, and I could do what I liked.
So I stayed in the changing room until it was time to leave.
You couldn’t know the atmosphere at Radstock Hall. It was evil. I was glad to get away, I can tell you.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Things I heard from time to time. It made me feel my own life was in danger there. I wasn’t the first pug at Radstock Hall, you know. There were others before me. But they died or vanished. No one would say where they’d gone, but they hadn’t succeeded as fist fighters. I don’t know who they were, novices like Jago or experienced fighters like me.
Mrs. Vibart didn’t like to be reminded of them, I can tell you. You know what I think? I think they were put in the ring with hard fighting men and beaten senseless. Mrs.
Vibart made her money out of failures. She backed other fighters to destroy her own men. That’s what she was doing with this man Jago. I tried to warn him to get away-you can ask him if I didn’t. I was gentle with him today, though.
He’ll be quite well in a fortnight. You see if he isn’t.”
“Thank you,” said Cribb. “I shall have some more business with you later, Mr. Morgan, but that’s enough about this matter. I’ll be obliged if you’ll leave us now.”
The Ebony was quick to co-operate. When he was gone, Cribb regarded the others with eyebrows quizzically raised.
“Convinced me,” he said. “How about you, Thackeray?”
“I’m inclined to believe him myself, Sergeant.”
“The timing makes nonsense of it, anyway,” said Cribb.
“Morgan had half an hour-let’s give him three-quarters- in which to kill her. But in that time Mrs. Vibart is supposed to have concluded her business with Beckett-fifteen minutes would you say? — gone to her room, undressed, washed, folded all her clothes, brushed out her hair, got into bed and been murdered. Anyone who believes that knows nothing about women.”
D’Estin was about to speak, but Cribb checked him with a raised hand.
“Before you say another word, sir, I think I’d better give you all some information. Wouldn’t want you to commit yourself to anything before you know why we’re here, so to speak. These other men Morgan spoke of- pugilists who trained at Radstock Hall and later disappeared. I’m in charge of an inquiry into the manner of their disappearance.
We fished one of ’em out of the Thames, you see. Man named Quinton. No head. You remember him, don’t you?”
Vibart spoke: “Yes, he was with us. I didn’t know he had an accident, though, poor bastard.”
“Didn’t you now? He left you voluntarily?”
“Oh, he may have had a few wry words with my sister-in- law. He wasn’t much bloody use as a fighter, you see. My recollection is that he left after some kind of misunderstanding.”
“He didn’t get along with Mrs. Vibart?”
“Few of ’em did. It doesn’t come easily to a man to be ordered about by a woman who knows a devil of a lot more about the prize ring than he does.”
“You weren’t the expert on knuckle fighting at Radstock Hall, then?” queried Cribb.
“Me? I’m a blasted church organist. I did what I could for her after my brother died. She couldn’t negotiate direct with flash characters like Beckett. But she was the authority, not me. You can ask D’Estin here, or Jago.”
“Jago!” repeated D’Estin, suddenly inspired. “Henry Jago! He’s the man you want, Sergeant! He’s the only person who could have killed Isabel.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s abundantly obvious when you think about it! He was the only one with a room near hers. Just along the corridor, it was.
I caught him prowling near her door only the other night, when he knocked against a suit of armour. He was quite spoony about her. You could see it, couldn’t you, Vibart? She didn’t care a fig for him, of course, or she wouldn’t have matched him with Morgan. When he finally got into her room, she rejected him outright, so he killed her.”
“That’s all very plausible,” admitted Cribb, “except for the money. Whoever killed her emptied the safe as well.”
“Then he took the money to make it look like theft,” said D’Estin. “If you search him, he’s probably got it now.”
“I went through his clothes myself on the way back in the police van,” said Cribb. “Unless he had the notes tucked away in the boxing drawers he was wearing, he hadn’t got the money. Where is it, then?”
“Must be still in the bloody house somewhere,” suggested Vibart.
Thackeray had listened in wrapt attention. Nothing had been said against Jago that would not be accounted for- well, nothing of substance. The rest was based on supposition. Didn’t Henry look a bit dewy-eyed in repose anyway?
Yet these men seemed so sure. . And there was still that worrying discovery in his room at Radstock Hall.
“We’d better give him the same chance Morgan had to explain himself,” said Cribb. “See if he’s able to come in, will you, Thackeray?”
There was not much of Jago’s face visible when he entered. Someone had been busy with lint and bandages.
“Are you able to answer a few questions?” Cribb asked with a touch of compassion.
The reply was muffled. “I’ll try, Sergeant.”
“I just want you to tell us your reason for prowling about Radstock Hall at night. You can speak freely.”
Jago paused, adjusting his thoughts. Anything that happened before the fight must have seemed like pre- history. “I was looking for evidence, Sergeant. I did not find it, or I should have reported back to Scotland Yard at once.”
“Scotland Yard?” echoed D’Estin, unable to comprehend.
“Jago is a police constable,” said Cribb. “One of your good old-fashioned crushers. No use accusing him of murder. He was working for me when he walked the corridors at night, not making overtures to Mrs. Vibart. So you see, gentlemen, we’re down to two suspects.”
Vibart responded at once. “Not so, Sergeant. You came late to the fight this afternoon, didn’t you? It sounds to me as though you didn’t see what thousands of others saw.
