He put the card into an envelope and addressed it:
Mr. Johnson, 23, Mildred Street, City.
XIV
Thalia Is Asked Out
Mr. Marl had to pass through the bank premises, and he glanced along the two rows of desks without, however, catching a glimpse of the girl whose face he sought. Near the end of the counter was a small compartment, the occupant of which was shielded from observation by opaque glass windows. The door was ajar, and he caught just a flash of the figure and walked toward the door. A girl at a typewriter watched him curiously.
Thalia Drummond looked up from her desk to see the big smiling face of a man looking down at her.
“Busy, Miss Drummond?”
“Very,” she replied, but did not seem to resent his intrusion.
“Don’t get much fun here, do you?” he asked.
“Not a lot.” Her dark eyes were surveying him appraisingly.
“What about a bit of dinner one of these nights and a show to follow?” he asked.
Her eyes took him in from his dyed hair to his painfully varnished boots.
“You’re a wicked old man,” she said calmly, “but dinner is my favourite meal.”
His grin broadened and the fires of conquest flickered in his faded eyes.
“What about ‘The Moulin Gris’?” He suggested the restaurant, without doubting her acceptance, but her lips curled scornfully.
“Why not at Hooligans Fish Parlour?” she asked. “No, it’s the Ritz-Carlton or nothing for me.”
Mr. Marl was staggered, but pleased.
“You’re a princess,” he beamed, “and you shall have a royal feed! What about tonight?”
She nodded.
“Meet me at my house in Marisburg Place, Bayswater Road. 7:30. You’ll find my name on the door.”
He paused, expecting her to demur, but to his surprise, she nodded again.
“Goodbye, darling,” said the bold Mr. Marl and kissed the tips of his fat fingers.
“Shut the door,” said the girl and went on with her work.
She was destined again to be interrupted. This time the visitor was a good-looking girl, whose forearms were gauntletted in shiny leather. It was the typist who had followed Mr. Marl’s movements with such curiosity.
Thalia leant back in her chair as the newcomer carefully closed the door behind her and sat down.
“Well, Macroy, what’s biting you?” she asked inelegantly.
The words did not seem to harmonise with the delicate refinement of face, and not for the first time did Milly Macroy look at the girl wonderingly.
“Who’s the old nut?” she asked.
“An admirer,” replied Thalia calmly.
“You do attract ’em, kid,” commented Milly Macroy, with some envy, and there was a little pause.
“Well?” asked Thalia. “You haven’t come here to discuss my amours, have you?”
Milly smiled furtively.
“If amours is French for boys, I haven’t,” she said. “I’ve come to have a straight talk with you, Drummond.”
“Straight talks are meat and drink to me,” said Thalia Drummond.
“Do you remember the money that went out by registered post last Friday to the Sellinger Corporation?”
Thalia nodded.
“Well, I suppose you know that they claim that when the package arrived it contained nothing but paper?”
“Is that so?” asked Thalia. “Mr. Brabazon has said nothing to me about it,” and she returned the other’s scrutinising glance without faltering.
“I packed that money in the envelope,” said Milly Macroy slowly, “and you had it to check. There’s only you and me in this business, Miss Drummond, and one of us pinched the money, and I’ll swear it wasn’t me.”
“Then it must be me,” said Thalia with an innocent smile. “Really, Macroy, that’s a fairly serious accusation to make against an innocent female.”
The admiration in Milly’s eyes increased.
“You’re a Thorough-Bad, if ever there was one!” she said. “Now, look here, kid, let’s put all our cards on the table. A month ago, soon after you came to the bank, there was a hundred note missing from the Foreign Exchange desk.”
“Well?” asked Thalia when she paused.
“Well, I happen to know that you had it and that it was changed by you at Bilbury’s in the Strand. I can tell you the number if you want to know.”
Thalia swung round and looked at the other under lowered brows.
“What have we here?” she asked in mock consternation. “A female sleuth! Heavens, I am indeed undone!”
The extravagant mockery of it all took Milly aback.
“You’ve got ice in your brain!” she said. She leant forward and laid her hand on the girl’s arm. “There may be trouble over this Sellinger business, and you will want all the friends you can get.”
“So will you, for the matter of that,” said Thalia coolly. “You handled the money.”
“And you took it,” said the other, in a matter-of-fact tone. “Don’t let us have any argument about it, Drummond. If we stick together there’ll be no trouble at all—I can swear that the envelope was sealed in my presence and that the money was there.”
There was a dancing light of amusement in Thalia Drummond’s eyes and she laughed silently.
“All right,” she said, with a little shrug of her shoulders. “Let it go at that. Now, I suppose, having saved me from ruin, you’re going to ask me a favour? I’ll set your mind at rest about the money. I took it because I had a good home for it. I need money frequently and anyway there have been lots of postal robberies lately. There was a long article in the paper about it the other day. Now go ahead.”
Milly Macroy, who had not a slight acquaintance with the criminal classes, stared at the girl in amazement.
“You’re ice all right,” she nodded, “but you’ve got to cut out this cheap pilfering, otherwise you’re liable to spoil a real big thing and I can’t afford to see it spoilt. If you want a share of big money you’ve got to come in with people who are working big—do you get that?”
“I get it,” said Thalia, “and who are your collaborators?”
Miss Macroy did not recognise the term but answered discreetly:
“There’s a gentleman I know—”
“Say ‘man,’ ” said Thalia. “Gentleman always reminds me of a tailor’s ad.”
“Well, a man
