Inspector West At Home

Easier in his mind, Roger went to the first landing and stood by the bannisters, lighting a cigarette. He was really angry with himself; had it been Mark, he could have forgiven it. He had been wrong to come here, Mark should have handled this part of the inquiry. He admitted ruefully that from the moment when the idea of the Welbeck Street association had first entered his head he had been carried away by it and, on finding that he had scored a hit, had let himself be dazzled by the success of the visit.

He heard someone coming up the stairs.

He thought at once of Mrs Sylvester Cartier and looking round hastily, saw a door, marked ‘Inquiries’, of another suite; he slipped inside. Keeping the door open an inch or two he looked out, but as the newcomer drew nearer he felt sure that he had been wrong. Mrs Cartier would walk with a brisk step and her heels would tap sharply on the bare wooden boards. This walker came slowly.

It was a man, whose careworn face was lined with the marks of great suffering. His sad eyes and the dejected droop of his shoulders startled Roger. He watched the man walking wearily towards the next flight of stairs and then realised that the newcomer would almost certainly discover Pep.

An exclamation behind him told him that he had been seen and he stepped swiftly out of the office, closing the door. He hurried after the haggard man.

“Excuse me, sir.”

“Yes ?” The man’s European accent was strong.

“I thought I would save you wasting a journey,” Roger said. “There is no one in upstairs — I have just been trying to get in myself.”

Sad, disappointed eyes regarded him, making him ashamed of the lie.

“T’ank you, sir, t’ank you so mooch.” The man ran his fingers through his sparse hair. “I vill vait, I t’ink. I ‘ave come for an app — appointment.” He looked along the bare passage and, at the far end, Roger saw some benches. “I weel sit down, please.”

“Oh, by all means!” said Roger. “I’ll wait with you.”

The benches were at the far end of the passage. Roger thought he heard a mutter of conversation but could not be sure. The old fellow shuffled along beside him, weary and broken. Roger offered him a cigarette but he refused it.

He received no encouragement when he tried to start a conversation. After a quarter of an hour he began to wonder whether anything had happened to Pep. He grew alarmed and excused himself and moved towards the doors. One opened, and Pep came out on tip-toe. He hurried along the passage but faltered when he saw Roger, who shook his head. Pep took his meaning and hurried down the stairs.

“Well, that’s surprising!” exclaimed Roger. “No one answered when I knocked.”

“It ees — your turn,” the old man said, in a tone of infinite patience.

“I’m in no hurry,” said Roger. “You go first.”

“You — you weel not mind?” The man was startled, but when Roger reassured him he walked more briskly towards the end of the passage and disappeared into the office. Once he had gone, Roger hurried in Morgan’s wake. The private detective was standing on the pavement, near the taxi, and the cabby was speaking bitterly to him of the lack of consideration displayed by some people. He stood to attention when Roger arrived and asked sarcastically :

“Any more waiting, sir?”

“No,” said Roger, briefly. “Back to Bell Street.” He looked at Morgan.

“Bell Street’s all right for me,” said Morgan. When they were sitting together in the cab he shot a sideways glance at Roger, full of meaning. “Handsome, have we found something !” he breathed.

Roger said tensely : “What ?”

“That was the girl who paid in the cash, and you’ve scared the wits out of her,” said Morgan. “The old man did most of the talking, but I couldn’t hear all of it. He tried to pacify her at first but didn’t have much luck. But —” Morgan’s little eyes were rounded with concern — “he put the fear of death into her then, Handsome !”

“Well, well!” said Roger, softly.

“When she kept saying that she couldn’t do any more he told her she knew what he could do to her if she didn’t behave herself and ordered her to go back to her work. I came out then, I didn’t think she’d be long after me.”

“Pep, we ought to have waited, I can’t do anything right. We’ll have to follow her.”

Morgan grinned. “I’ve got her address ! Her handbag was on her desk, so I had a look inside it. I think I’ve got his private address, too — she called him Pickerell; you couldn’t mistake a name like that, could you? I found a ‘Pickerell’ in an address book on her desk and made a note of it. Her name is Randall.”

Sitting back at ease and copying the addresses in his notebook, Roger said :

“You’re teaching me my job, Pep !”

“Who’s surprised?” asked Morgan, heavily. “Handsome, what have we struck? I didn’t catch a glimpse of the girl but I don’t mind telling you I felt sorry for her.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Well, as we know who paid the money in — it lets you out,” said Morgan, “but they know you know and that makes it awkward, Handsome. Then, why did that vision you talked about tell you to go there? I know she didn’t actually tell you, but she went pretty near it, didn’t she?”

“She did,” admitted Roger, frowning. “And — Pep, we’re crazy!” He leaned forward and rapped on the glass partition, opening it as the cabby automatically applied his brakes. “Get back to Welbeck Street!” Roger snapped, startling the man so much that he was unable to find a comment.

“She’s our evidence,” Roger said to Morgan. “She’s close to breaking-point; Pickerell knows it. I wouldn’t like to be responsible for what will happen to her if we leave her with him for long.”