“What part of London?” Janet asked.
“Battersea,” Tennant answered.
Roger sat up. “Battersea? Are you sure?”
“Roger, you’ve got Battersea on the brain because you were there on December 13th,” Mark said. “Forget it, old man.”
“Did Lois live in Battersea?” Roger inquired.
“At the time, yes,” said Tennant, colouring. “As a matter of fact, I persuaded her to leave her digs — oh, it would be about six months ago now. I didn’t like the people she lodged with. He was a pretty nasty customer and he and his wife were always rowing. It’s a district where neighbours don’t worry about what happens in the house next door. She moved to the flat at St John’s Wood, and I think she likes it better.” He frowned, for Roger was eyeing him with a peculiar expression. “Well, what have I said wrong now?”
“Nothing,” Roger assured him, “nothing at all.” His voice was strained. “Did she lodge at a house in New Street?”
Tennant gaped. “Why, yes, how did you know?”
“Was the man’s name Cox — Benny Cox ?”
“Yes ! What do you know about him ?”
Roger spoke very gently, Mark’s eyes were startled, Janet stood up quickly, obviously guessing what was coming.
“Benny Cox was hanged for the murder of his wife,” said Roger in the same strained voice. “I was at New Street on December 13th, looking around the house. That can’t be simply a coincidence!”
CHAPTER 18
“YES,” SAID Lois. “I knew.”
She stood by the dressing-table of the room which she shared with Janet. She had been sitting reading and had not undressed. Her hair was untidy and she had not made up — she looked pale and in her eyes was the familiar gaunt, distraught look. Her hands were clenched. The book she had been reading was on the floor by her feet.
“You mean you knew that Mrs Cox had been murdered,” Roger said.
“Yes.”
“Listen, Lois,” said Roger. “I’ve tried to help you and I’ve given you ample time to think this over. I’ve used my influence at Scotland Yard to save you from being officially questioned, all this on the assumption that there was a strictly personal reason why Pickerell and Malone were able to force you to work for them.”
“I didn’t say it was,” said Lois.
In the other room, probably close to the door, were Mark and Tennant. Janet sat at the foot of the bed.
As he looked at the girl, Roger wondered whether he would not have been wiser to have left this to Mark; probably she was more frightened of him because he was a policeman.
“What Roger means,” Janet said, “is that since he knows this he can’t stop the other police from questioning you much longer. You’d be much wiser to tell him what’s worrying you. He’ll help, you know, and the police aren’t ogres. They’ll take into account the fact that you’ve had such a bad time.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Lois said.
“I don’t want to have to send for a colleague,” Roger said. “If you tell me the whole truth I’ll do everything I can to make sure that they don’t hear every detail. I really shouldn’t make such an offer, but I’ll keep my word if you’ll tell me what you know.”
She said : “You won’t. You’re like all policemen, as soon as I’ve told you, you’ll use it against me.” She stopped, drawing in a deep breath.
“You think I’ll charge you,” Roger said. “I won’t. I’ll give you this firm undertaking — if what you tell me means that you ought to be charged and arrested, I’ll have Mark Less- ing and Bill Tennant get you away from here.”
The girl’s eyes were clouded as she looked at him, but Roger thought there was a glimmer of expression in them, as if hope were being reborn.
“I — I don’t believe you,” she said, but her tone suggested that she wanted to.
“You should, dear,” Janet said.
Lois swung round on Roger.
“I knew you’d worm it out of me. I knew someone would have to know, but — oh, don’t lie to me ! Don’t try to pretend that it doesn’t matter, that the police won’t take any action. Let me know the worst. I can’t bear the suspense any longer !”
Roger could hardly wait for her to go on :
“I — I’ve worked for Malone,” she said. “I knew he was a thief, and dealt in stolen goods. Do you see that?” She held up her hand, where the single diamond scintillated in the bright light. Her face was drawn and almost haggard. “I always said it was my mother’s. It wasn’t, I stole it from a shop after a fire. I don’t know what came over me, I—”
She paused, then said in a steadier voice :
“But what’s the use of lying? The jeweller’s shop had caught fire. I happened to be passing, and this was almost at my feet. I picked it up and put it on. The fire engines were making a terrible noise, there were flares over the building, it was a devil’s light and all the fire in the world seemed to be in that diamond. I told myself that I
