“Sufficient, sir, but a wise man—”
“Sets some aside for a rainy day. I know. No holiday in distant climes where there’s no time at all for crimes?”
“A short visit to Barbados, sir, might be advantageous.”
“Enough,” said Rollison. “I know we’ve been offered a fabulous fee to go to the West Indies and look for a missing millionaire, and I know you’ve had a lifelong ambition to visit those little islands off the coast of the U.S.A., but no thank you, not at this time of the year. There’s too much sun, too much temperature, too many lovelies and too many distractions. We might have a weekend at Blackpool, or if you feel the need for more rarefied air, at Bournemouth. If Mr. Jepson should come, I’ll see him.”
* * *
Mr. Jepson did not come that day.
The evening newspapers, and the morning and evening newspapers of the next three days all reported the condition of James Matthison Jones. At first, there were hints that he might die, but on the morning of the fourth day he was reported as being out of danger. No arrest was made.
Rollison made a few tentative inquiries, simply out of interest.
On the morning of the fifth day Miss, not Mr. Jepson, came to see him.
* * *
“Rolly, it’s sweet of you to suggest lunch but I really can’t today. I’m a Big Business woman now, and you ought to know it. And Reggie isn’t at the office today.”
Ada Jepson was a little on the small side, beautifully made-up and superbly dressed, and Rollison knew that she had as pleasant a nature as anyone in England. She had a heart-shaped face and a nice smile and dimples, too. Sweet and simple—until one tried to cheat, mislead, misinform or otherwise outrage her sense of justice. She had the most withering tongue of any young woman of Rollison’s acquaintance. “I really came to see you on business,” she went on.
She smiled as she sat dwarfed in his hide armchair, with the trophy wall behind her. Rollison was sitting on the arm of another chair. It was a little after eleven o’clock, and Jolly would soon bring coffee.
“Ah,” said Rollison. “I am a professional, remember. Jolly insists. My services will cost you a fortune.”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter!”
“So now we flaunt our riches,” murmured R ollison.
“If you mean that I believe you’re a fool if you can get what you want by paying for it, but don’t, then I’m flaunting my riches,” agreed Ada. “Not that it matters. No money in the world would buy your services if you didn’t want to give them. I’ll soon talk to Jolly about money, if you’ll say you’ll help. I
“I might,” conceded Rollison.
“You don’t know what it’s about yet.”
“I could make a guess. The police are helpless and hopeless. That man Grice is utterly impossible, how on earth he even became one of the Big Five at Scotland Yard you can’t imagine. We wouldn’t have him in the packing department at Jepsons. And it’s really such a simple thing, all he has to do is find the men who attacked poor Jimmy Jones. The brutes. If beasts like these men can get away, absolutely nothing’s safe. Women will soon be afraid to open the front doors to strangers!”
Ada listened to all this while slowly clenching her small right fist; then shook it at him in mock anger.
“You’ve been talking to Reggie.”
“Not I.”
“That man Grice, then.”
“Well, we had a chat over a tankard,” admitted Rollison. “Jolly and I half expected you’d want quick results, and didn’t think you’d have much luck.”
“Oh, indeed,” said Ada, and added witheringly. “I’m sorry I’m so late.” She was frowning with exasperation, but her expression soon cleared. She leaned forward, earnest as a woman could be, looking fresh and lovely.
Rollison wondered if her earnestness explained why no one had yet married her. More likely she was trying to make sure that no one married her for her millions.
“Rolly, I know Jimmy Jones quite well,” she said. “He’s one of the best of the younger men at the firm, and we’ve been letting him have an insight into all the departments, although he doesn’t know why yet. Reggie thinks he can become really good, if he recovers.”
“He will.”
Will he really be quite all right again?” Ada asked, intently. “Or will it affect him for the rest of his life? I’ve been studying some of the reports of this kind of beating up, and in several cases the victims have become almost simple.”
“I don’t think you need worry about Jones,” said Rollison reassuringly. “I’ve a contact at the hospital who says that he’ll recover completely. His chief trouble will be resisting the desire to get his own back.”
“Well, I wouldn’t blame him,” Ada said, and went on abruptly: “Why didn’t you expect Superintendent Grice to find the two men?”
It was like Ada Jepson to go straight to the heart of a matter, without hesitation and without fencing, to see the significance of every question or comment; one had to get up very early to fool Ada.
Rollison was as frank as she deserved.
“If this had been an ordinary beating up, robbery with violence, Grice wouldn’t have been called in. You at
