would give it up the next day, that I only wanted to wear it for a few hours, but I knew I was lying to myself, I knew I meant to keep it!”
She paused again but neither of the others interrupted her.
She went on : “I didn’t know that a man had seen me. It was Benny Cox, the man who owned the house where I lodged. He didn’t tell me at first but a few days afterwards he started admiring the ring, and I realised that he knew where I’d got it. I thought he meant to try to bargain for his silence — he was a beast of a man, always with different women. Instead, he told Malone.”
She did not seem to hear him.
“Cox worked for Malone although I didn’t know it then. Malone came to see me. You — you know what he’s like. He frightened me. I was so scared that I don’t think I could have refused him anything. He didn’t stay long, just said that if I wanted nothing said about the diamond I must do whatever Benny Cox told me to. I’d got the job with the Displaced Persons’ Society, and we have regular collections of jewellery for the funds. It was easy to keep valuables at the office. Benny was always bringing me things, sometimes jewellery wrapped up in paper, sometimes furs, oh, dozens, hundreds of different things! I hid them among our collection of cheap jewellery. There was always another helper with me, of course, and several times — on Benny’s instructions — I handed a trinket to the police, to make out that I was being honest. The only thing I’d taken was the diamond, I wasn’t given payment for what I did. I stayed at New Street and Benny made no approaches to me. He wouldn’t talk about Malone although I knew he worked for him. Then a year ago, Malone came again. He told me that someone was looking for a girl who could speak languages. I know French, Dutch and Flemish, that’s why I got the job. Pickerell was the manager, but I didn’t know for a long time that he was also involved. I thought it was a spy organisation, but soon I found that it wasn’t. I had to take messages to different people and sometimes to Malone. I knew that there was a lot of stealing. I had to take packages to different men, sometimes to jewellers. I realised that the Society was used as a distributing office. Mrs Cartier didn’t know, only Pickerell did.
“Then I met Bill,” Lois went on simply. “Soon I moved away from Battersea and no one raised any objections. It — it became just part of ordinary business. I didn’t think of it as crime for months on end, until — until they started to send me with the money to your bank. They didn’t tell me what I was really doing, you were known only as “West” and I didn’t realise that you were a policeman until Malone came one day and I overheard what he said to Pickerell. But — what
“Nothing,” Roger said, quietly.
She stared at him. “Nothing ? You have the nerve to stand there and say “nothing”! I could have told you what was happening, gone to the police-station and made them understand it, I shouldn’t have cared what happened to me. Sometimes I thought that it would be a relief to get it all over and to come out of prison after serving my sentence knowing that there was nothing hanging over my head. But — there was Bill. And I couldn’t screw myself up to it, I just went on and on, until that day when you came in.”
She fumbled with her handbag and to Roger’s surprise she took out a cigarette-case. Her fingers were trembling. He saw several little tablets in the case — or rather — their reflection in the mirror; Janet could not see them.
Roger snapped : “Don’t be a fool!”
She swung away, making Janet stumble, and put her hand to her lips, but Roger knocked it away. The tablets flew across the room and struck against the far wail. Lois stood staring at him, wide-eyed.
“I — I don’t want to live !” she gasped.
Roger was looking into her face when the door burst open and Tennant strode in.
“What are you doing to her?” he demanded in a harsh voice. “You told me you wouldn’t do anything.”
Roger said, without looking over his shoulder :
“She has tried to kill herself, because she doesn’t think you’ll be interested in her when you know that she has mixed with thieves and rogues.”
“I don’t care what she’s done!” Tennant snapped.
“Do you mean that?” demanded Roger.
“Of course I mean it,” said Tennant, fiercely.
Janet caught Roger’s eye. He squeezed Lois’s shoulders and spoke without smiling.
“If the worst comes to the worst you might be sent to prison for six months. By telling everything you know, you’ll almost certainly be given a suspended sentence, and you’ll have paid for what you’ve done by giving information about the others. And you haven’t been so very wicked, you know.”
Then he turned and left her. Janet was already at the door and Mark in the other room. Janet closed the door firmly as Tennant asked :
“Lois darling, what
“That’s exactly what I want to know,” said Mark, eagerly. “What is it all about, old man ?”
Roger told him, glad of the opportunity of going over it again. He could see how carefully it had been built up, how the weight of Lois’s conscience had worsened her plight in every way and encouraged her to play into Malone’s hands. He had deliberately made comparatively light of it, believing that she had suffered enough already. He did not think she would hesitate to make a full confession now, but when he finished, Mark put into words one of the thoughts which weighed heaviest on his mind.
“Malone knows what she can do and won’t let her stay free for long without making a big effort to get her.”
“That’s the risk,” admitted Roger.
Janet said : “The best place for her is in a police-station. I won’t be happy until she’s in one.”
“I told Tennant so this afternoon, and I think she’ll be amenable,” Roger said. “When she’s had it all out with him, she’ll be a different girl. I don’t think he’ll let her or us down.” After a pause, he went on : “At least, we’re making some progress. I missed something at New Street, Battersea — I didn’t discover that Benny Cox was one of
