Stars For The Toff

“I think I can tell you,” said Rollison slowly. “How’s this? It seems that most of Madam Melinska’s clients came to her with money worries. I understand that Mona was always present when Madam Melinska gave her readings, so she would hear whatever advice Madam Melinska gave. Supposing, whenever she advised her clients to make an investment, Mona told them they must make this investment through Madam Melinska, and then intercepted the money before Madam Melinska saw it.”

There was a moment’s pause.

“It’s possible,” said Jackson.

Fraser looked shaken. “You mean Mona’s at the bottom of the whole thing, and not Madam Melinska. I can’t believe—”

“I can,” Jackson interrupted. “Sorry, Mike and all that, I know you’re still fond of the girl, but you know how persuasive that half-brother of yours can be. And she’s fallen for him hook, line and sinker.” He turned to Rollison. “In which case Madam Melinska’s in the clear. But you’ll never prove it. If she was in one of her trances she wouldn’t know what Mona told anyone, and Mona’s not going to admit anything. And according to the Webbs’ dossier they had the devil’s own job getting any of the clients to give evidence. Wait a minute, though.” He looked across at Rollison. “Wasn’t your aunt—?”

Rollison interrupted him. “She was,” he said grimly, “and I’ve just remembered something. She sent her cheque direct to Space Age Publishing, Limited, and that disappeared as well. Which rather makes nonsense of what I’ve been saying.”

Jackson looked at Fraser. Fraser looked at the floor. For a few moments there was silence.

Then Fraser turned to Rollison. “I didn’t want to tell you this, I didn’t think it had any bearing on the case, but now I suppose I’ll have to. You know that Lucifer once worked here?”

Rollison nodded.

“He used to be a nice enough boy, though he was always weak. Couldn’t stick to anything and easily influenced. Well, I’m afraid he got into a bad set, and turned into the black sheep of the family. I gave him a job in the firm hoping he’d pull his socks up—but he didn’t.”

“Go on,” said Rollison.

“Well, one day I discovered he’d been dipping into the till as it were. A great deal of company money had been finding its way into his pockets, and I dare say your aunt’s cheque was part of it. That’s another reason why we’re broke. Oh well, it never rains but it pours.”

“We didn’t prosecute,” added Ted. “After all, he is Mike’s brother. And we didn’t want that kind of publicity. But we’ve got it now,” he went on gloomily.

“We’re the people associated in the public’s mind with Madam Melinska’s’—he corrected himself— “Mona s swindle. Oh, all right, Mike, Lucy’s swindle. No one’s going to invest with us now. If we could only keep going for another six months or so we might weather it—but what with Lucy helping himself so liberally, and now this, we haven’t a hope.” He looked at Fraser and shrugged helplessly. “Oh well, we did try.” Then making a brave attempt at flippancy, he turned to Rollison. “You haven’t got thirty thousand pounds to spare, have you?”

Rollison stared at him, blankly.

“Damn it, can’t a man make a joke?” demanded Jackson. “Pretty good effort in view of the state of the market.”

“Wait!” cried Rollison. “Wait!” He sat staring at the two men as if he could see right through them, then said in a strained voice: “Get me Roger Kemp on the telephone, will you? His number is . . .” As he waited, he still stared and a new hope began to put fresh blood in his veins. “Roger? . . . Roger, what would happen if Madam Melinska did put the money into Space Age Publishing? . . . The police wouldn’t have a case, then, would they . . . ? You’re quite sure? . . . Well, well, well!” He beamed up at Fraser and Jackson. “No, don’t go. Roger, I told you about these people who’ve sent all this money for Madam Melinska’s defence; there’s no reason why she shouldn’t invest it in Space Age Publishing, is there? . . . No legal reason why the money shouldn’t be used that way? . . . Wonderful!”

He rang off.

Ted Jackson was at the door.

“Jane, call the works, tell ‘emwe’re going on—fix the advertisements we cancelled. Yes, we can guarantee them, we’re back in business!” He swung round.

Michael Fraser was gripping Rollison’s hand.

“It’s the nearest thing I’ve ever known to a miracle,” he said. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Don’t try,” said Rollison. “One condition— that once you’re back on your feet, all the people who’ve subscribed get their money back—or equivalent shares in Space Age Publishing.”

“Guaranteed!” cried Jackson. “Wait until the world hears about this.”

“But the world mustn’t hear,” said Rollison firmly. “At least, not yet. I want this to be sprung in Court.”

*     *     *

Olivia Cordman looked up from her office desk in a small room near High Holborn. Her spectacles gave her a touch of severity; here she was very much the editor. Rollison rounded the desk, took her hands, pulled her to her feet and kissed her.

“Rolly! I didn’t know you felt like that!”

“That was just a “thank you” kiss,” said Rollison. “Here’s one to say: “You’re the most perspicacious woman’s feature editor in the world.”“