charge against her. He’s a hard man.” He removed a hair from his coat
and put it on the window seat with exaggerated care. “You must
admit I have a strong hand. But you needn’t worry. I’m not asking for
much. I’m always modest in my demands. What do you say to a single
payment of five hundred pounds? That’s reasonable, isn’t it?”
“But you’ll be back in a week or so for more. I know the kind of
louse you are.”
He shook his head. “Don’t call me names, baby. It’s not kind. I
don’t do business that way. Give me five hundred pounds, and you’re
free to leave the country as soon as you like. Five hundred pounds
would keep me going for a long time. I’m not extravagant, baby. I
have simple tastes.”
“I’d like a little time to think this over,” I said. “Suppose you come
back this afternoon?”
“What’s there to think about?” he asked, wagging his head from
side to side.
“It’s just that I have to get used to the idea of being blackmailed,”
I returned, wanting to sink my fist in his fat, flabby face. “I also want
to think of a way to get out of this. Right now, I don’t see a way.”
Cole giggled. “There isn’t one, baby,” he said. “Corridan would
love to get his hooks into you. Besides, what’s five hundred pounds to
you? It’s nothing.” His grey-green eyes wandered around the room.
“You’re used to the good things of life. You wouldn’t like to spend
weeks in a cell. That’s what it’d mean, even if they didn’t prove you
guilty: Weeks in a cell.”
“You’re quite a salesman,” I said, getting to my feet. “Come back
at three-thirty this afternoon. I’ll either tell you to go to hell or I’ll
have the dough for you.”
Cole shifted his fat carcass out of my reach. “All right, baby,” he
said, watching me. “Have the money in pound notes.” He looked once
more around the room, wagged his head. “It’s nice. I might even book
a room here. It’d make a change after that beastly flat of mine.”
“I shouldn’t,” I said. “Not in that suit, anyway. They’re fussy here.”
A faint flush stained his pasty face. “That’s not kind, baby,” he
said.
I watched him go, the frame and build of a truck-driver,
sauntering along softly, insolently, like a dancer.
When he had rounded the bend in the corridor, I returned to my
room, poured out a stiff shot of whisky, sat down by the window.
Things were breaking a little too fast for me. I was being crowded. If I
was going to solve this puzzle outside a cell, I’d have to move fast.
I thought for a few seconds, finished my drink, decided I’d have to
see Netta. I jumped up, grabbed my hat, made for the door.
The telephone rang.
I hesitated, picked up the receiver.
“Harmas?”
I recognized Bradley’s voice, wondered what he wanted.
“How are your front teeth, Bradley?” I asked. “I’m still
undertaking painful extractions. If you have any left, let me know. I’ll
fix it for you.”
I expected him to blow his top, but he didn’t. He sounded almost
mild.
“All right, Harmas,” he said. “Never mind that stuff. We’re quits
now. I gave you a bad time, you gave me one. Let’s forget it.” I could
scarcely believe my ears.
“So what,” I asked.
“But I want my rings back. Harmas. They’re worth two thousand
pounds. Maybe you did take them for a joke. I’m not saying you stole
them, but I want them back.”
That was reasonable enough, I thought, but how was I going to
give them back?
“Corridan’s got them,” I said. “You’d better ask him for them.”
“I’m not interested in who’s got them,” he snapped. “I’m only
interested in getting them back. You took them. You return them.”
I wondered if Corridan would part, doubted it. I began to sweat.
“But I can’t get them back without being arrested,” I returned.
“Suppose you ring Corridan, tell him I took them for a joke, and ask
him to return them to you. He’ll try to persuade you to file a charge
against me, but you needn’t do that. That’s the only way to get ‘em
back.”
“If you don’t deliver those rings by four o’clock this afternoon, I’ll
file a charge against you and I’ll see it damn well sticks,” Bradley
snarled, hung up.
I brooded for a moment, rang Whitehall 1212. Someone told me
Corridan was out of town, wouldn’t be back until late. I thanked him,
put the receiver on its cradle, scowled.
“Oh, the hell with it,” I said.
I hurried to the elevator, rode down to the ground level, took a
taxi to Cromwell Road.
I entered Mrs. Crockett’s house, mounted the stairs to the first
floor, stood for a moment listening. I heard nothing to alarm me,
crossed to Madge Kennitt’s door, rapped.
I called, “This is Steve, honey.”
The door opened immediately. Netta stared at me, her eyes
opening wide. I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see Julius Cole
watching me. He wasn’t. I stepped into the room, closed the door.
Netta was wearing a suit of almost transparent pyjamas. She
looked cute, and if I hadn’t so much on my mind she’d have given me
a buzz. As it was I said sharply, “Put on some camouflage, kid. For
interesting places a tourist map has nothing on you.”
“What’s the matter?” she asked, grabbing a silk wrap, putting it
on. “Why have you come? Is something wrong?”
“Plenty,” I said, sitting on the arm of a chair. “Things are moving.
They’re moving too damn fast for me, and I thought I’d better have a
word with you.”
She sat down on the chaise-longue. I thought of Madge Kennitt
and the way she had looked, lying there with her throat cut.
“Don’t sit there,” I said sharply. “That’s where she was found.”
“Pull yourself together, Steve,” Netta said, not moving. Her eves
