Bethlehem Road

him boring after this. Harry Parsons would not seem half so interesting with his common bit of embezzlement. He looked at Pitt.

'Well if you wait 'ere, I'll see what Mr. Verdun says. 'E don't see people just for the askin', you know. Perhaps I could tell you somethin'? I saw Sir Lockwood reg'lar. I 'ope you're well on your way to catchin' the criminal what done this. Per'aps I saw 'im-without knowin', like?'

Pitt read him like one of the clerk's own copperplate led-36

gers. 'I shall know better what to ask you after I've seen Mr. Verdun.'

'Course. Well I'll go and see wot 'e says.' And dutifully the clerk retired, to come back hi a few moments and usher Pitt into a large untidy room with a good fire, which was smoking a little, and several armchairs in green leather, comfortable and polished to a shine by use. Behind an antique and battered desk piled with papers sat a man of anything between fifty and seventy, with a long face, tufted gray eyebrows, and a benign and whimsical expression. He composed his features into an expression of suitable gravity and waved his hand towards a chair, inviting Pitt to sit down. Then he wandered over himself, took a look at the fire, and swung his arms round as if to dispel the smoke.

'Damn thing!' He glared at it. 'Can't think what's the matter with it! Maybe I'd better open a window?'

Pitt prevented himself from coughing with difficulty and nodded his head. 'Yes sir. A good idea.'

Verdun strolled back behind the desk and yanked on the lower half of the sash window. It shot up with a thump, letting in a gust of cool air.

'Ah,' he said with satisfaction. 'Now, what can I do for you? Police fellow, eh? About poor Lockwood's death. Shocking thing to happen. I suppose you Ve no idea who did it? No, you wouldn't have-too soon, eh?'

' 'Yes sir. I understand Sir Lockwood was in business partnership with you?'

'Yes, in a manner of speaking.' Verdun reached for a humidor and took out a cigar. He lit it with a spill from the fire and blew out a smoke so pungent it made Pitt gasp.

Verdun mistook his expression entirely.

'Turkish,' he said with satisfaction. 'Have one?'

Camel dung, Pitt thought. 'Very kind of you, but no thank you, sir,' he replied. 'In what manner of speaking, sir?'

'Ah.' Verdun shook his head. 'Wasn't in here much. 37

Keener on his politics-had to be. Parliamentary Private Secretary, and all that. One has a duty.'

'But he had a financial interest in the company?' Pitt persisted.

'Oh yes, yes. You could say that.'

Pitt was puzzled. 'Was he not an equal partner?' His name had been first on the plate outside the door.

'Certainly!' Verdun agreed. 'But he didn't come here more than once a week at most, often less.'' He said it without the slightest resentment.

'So you do most of the work?' Pitt asked. He wanted to be tactful, but with this man it was difficult. Obliqueness seemed to be misunderstood altogether.

Verdun's eyebrows shot up. 'Work? Well, yes, I suppose so. Never thought of looking at it like that. Fellow's got to do something, you know! Don't like hanging around clubs with a lot of old fools talking about cads, the weather, who said what, and how everybody dresses-and who's having an affair with whose mistress. I always find it too easy to see the other chap's point of view to get heated about it.''

Pitt hid a smile with difficulty.' 'So you deal in property?'' he prompted.

'Yes, that's right,' Verdun agreed. He puffed at his cigar. Pitt was profoundly glad the window was open; it really smelled appalling. 'What's this got to do with poor old Lockwood being killed on Westminster Bridge?' Verdun went on, puckering up his face. 'Don't think it was over some property deal, do you? Hardly seems likely. Why should anybody do that?'

Pitt could think of several reasons. He would not be the first