It was hard to suspect Donny.
It was easy to be fooled.
“I’ll check with Grice,” Rollison said. “Do you handle this part of the business yourself?”
“No, my eldest son is the expert. He’s a very clever chemist, and helps to prepare many of our lotions, some dyes and some rinses.”
Rollison looked at the unblemished skin and the lines which might have been carved out of I wax, and the saintliness which might hide something far more secular, and asked:
“If the hair of a dozen girls was cut off each week, what would it be worth?”
Donny answered quietly:
“Possibly a hundred to a hundred and twenty pounds.”
“Do you think that’s why so much is being cut off?”
Donny said:
“I simply don’t know, Mr. Rollison.”
“Lila thinks you know why hers and Leah’s was cut off.”
“Lila is very young and highly strung, and she is absurdly fond of her old father,” Donny I said gently.
“Or does she know that you’re being high pressured?”
“She cannot know what isn’t true.”
Rollison said in the same tone and without any change of expression:
“Why did you hire Wallis to beat-up the barber who wouldn’t sell out?”
Donny spread his hands.
“I did not intend Wallis to use force.”
“Just threats of force?”
Donny didn’t answer.
“I think you were compelled by someone else to put Wallis and Clay on to that barber,” Rollison said. “Who’s putting the pressure on you?”
“There is nothing I can tell you, Mr. Rollison.”
“Someone put sharp pressure on you to prevent you from talking freely to me,” insisted Rollison. “It won’t work. Black is black, and white is white, and you’ve always been on the side of the angels. You’re old enough to know that the end doesn’t justify the means. You’re old enough in the ways of the East End to know that if you let yourself be frightened into silence now, the pressure will get worse and worse. Who’s after you, Donny?”
“I don’t think we’ll serve any useful purpose by continuing with this conversation,” said the barber quietly, “and I have a lot of work to do. Will you excuse me?”
Rollison took one of the lists from his pocket, and said:
“Look at this.”
Donny studied it, reading without glasses. His lips tightened a little, and he shot a swift glance at Rollison, then looked back at the list. He nodded at last.
“What is it?” Rollison asked.
“The list of Wallis victims.”
“Or yours?”
“Only one could be blamed onto me,” said Donny, and seemed to wince.
“Do you know any of the others?”
“One of them is a wholesaler who has done a little business with me from time to time. I buy some of my supplies from him.”
“Hairdressing supplies?”
“Yes, the goods I sell.”
“Does he sell Jepsons’ goods?”
“Most wholesalers sell some Jepson goods,” Donny said. “Mr. Rollison, I’m sorry, but—”
The telephone bell rang. Donny seemed relieved and hurried to lift the receiver.
“This is Sampson,” he said in his precise way. “Yes, I will come at once.” He put the receiver down and said almost sadly: “Superintendent Harrison of the Division wants to see me again,” he told Rollison. “I must go.”
Harrison was one of the younger men, recently moved from the Yard to take over the Division. Rollison knew him more by reputation than by acquaintance. Today, he obviously did not intend to waste time with the Toff, and was almost brusque. Rollison went out, and saw a police car and two plainclothes men standing at the kerb, but no crowd was about today. The girl Lila was still at the cash desk, and there was still no friendliness in her manner. Rollison was actually outside when he turned round and went back to her.
Donny and Harrison and a sergeant had gone along the passage.
