there. And these two are playing dumb and daft.”
“It has to be somewhere here. Stands to sense. Go take that little front room apart, Skinner, and then go up and join Quilley. If he’s there by then.” He cast a thoughtful eye at Quilley’s painful and laborious progress across the room and out to the stairs. “They get old and slow,” said Fleet with tolerant regret, like a practical farmer contemplating putting down a worn-out horse. And he peeled off his smart driving gloves, dove grey and tan, and dropped them on the table, beside the scattered belongings they had taken from Luke’s pockets.
“These what were on him?” He pawed them over thoughtfully. “Keys… several. His own bunch… house… car… suitcase? That’ll be upstairs… or had he got it away somewhere?”
“It’s upstairs. They never had time to take anything with ’em, they just ran when they heard us. There’s a way down to the water, and a boat-house down there. Locked. I reckon this would be the key to that. He had it in his coat pocket, along with the gun. This one’s the back door. We sprung that, it was an easy touch. The front we had to bust.”
“And what’s this other one?”
Echoing hollowly down the wall of the stairs dead on cue, Quilley’s voice, dutifully anxious to please, reported: “Boss, there’s one of these bedrooms locked up.” He was hopeful of a discovery. A locked door was promising.
“That’ll be it,” said Fleet, pleased. “There’s a key here could belong to it,” he called. “Skinner, come and take it up to him, see what he’s got there. And better have a quick look through the suitcase.”
Skinner came at leisure, cheerful as ever; it began to seem a lunatic cheerfulness.
“And now,” said Fleet, dusting his hands, “suppose you two sit down prettily over there, where we can keep an eye on you, and we’ll have our little talk.”
He caught a dining-chair by the back, and swung it into a reversed position in front of the wicker settee, to which Con had again herded his prisoners. The light skirts of the pearl-grey coat whisked out like wings. Fleet sat down astride the chair, and leaned his folded arms comfortably on the back.
“Straight to the point, that’s me.
“What money?” said Luke woodenly. “I know nothing about any money.”
“Pippa Gallier didn’t bring any money over to my place Saturday evening. I’m a reasonable man, I’ll try to help you remember.”
“Pippa Gallier didn’t bring any money over to my place Saturday evening,” said Luke. “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Kiddo, she sure as fate didn’t bring it Friday evening, but who’s arguing about dates? She brought it. She was shinning out, and you were the ferryman. You may as well tell me now what you’ve done with it, because I’m going to find out in the end.”
“She never brought any money to me, I’m telling you.”
“You’re telling me fairy-tales, kid, but go ahead. I’ve got time.”
Uninvited, Bunty said in a hard, detached voice:
“That’s what you think. But what you don’t know is that the police have been here before you. This morning. I got rid of them then, but what I told them isn’t going to last them long. My bet is they could be back any moment now. I expected them before this. You don’t think this place
Fleet turned his head the little way that was necessary, and gave her his full attention for the first time. She sat with fixed, motionless face, smoothing a chipped nail on one hand, but at Fleet’s persistent stare she raised to him the full hazel glance of her eyes, wide and unwavering.
“You know,” said Fleet, “you’re not at all hard to look at, now I come to notice, but girl, you’re no hand at lying.”
“That makes it even funnier,” said Runty, unmoved, “because I’m not lying. But you know it all. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
It was essential that none of these men should suspect how easy it would be to wring concessions from her by tormenting Luke, or from Luke by tormenting her. She had even toyed momentarily with the idea of trying to act the part of a disillusioned pick-up with cheapened accent and roughened voice, but she knew she couldn’t make a job of it. And it occurred to her now that that might not have confused Fleet in the slightest, while this more unexpected female companion put him slightly off his immaculate stride. And all the while she was straining her ears after what was happening upstairs. Maybe they were turning out Luke’s suitcase first, as the best bet. But the discovery couldn’t be long now. Her nerves tightened, waiting for it.
“And where,” inquired Fleet curiously, “did he find you? It sure didn’t take him long. I wouldn’t have thought he was that quick off the mark.”
“I picked her up in a pub,” Luke said harshly. “I should have left her there.”
The words were acknowledgment enough of the lead she had given him, and fitted the image of indifference now turning to resentment. It was lucky that they were also true, Bunty thought, for up to then she had no great opinion of Luke’s potentialities as a liar.
And it was at that moment that the pair upstairs unlocked the door of the guest bedroom, and walked in upon the treasure secreted there.
The cry that came hollowly down the stairs was almost a scream, brief, horrified and unreasonably alarming. Fleet came to his feet in a cat’s alert, hair-triggered leap, whirling the chair away from him across the room. Blackie span round to face the doorway, gun in hand. Con kept his weapon levelled, but even his stony eyes wandered. It was the first moment of disarray, and it was useless. Three here between the prisoners and the door, two more scuttling in haste down the stairs to add to the odds. Luke’s braced muscles ached with longing, but he knew it was no good. He would only succeed in killing them both.
“For Pete’s sake…!” exploded Fleet exasperatedly. “What’s with you two?”
Skinner appeared in the doorway, mouth and eyes wide open, with Quilley limping and shivering at his back.
