He hesitated.
“Inspector Parr,” he said, and when he saw the smile curl on the girl’s lips, he went on: “Old Parr isn’t a bad sort, really. He has never said another word against you, Thalia.”
“Another!” she quoted, “but does it really matter? And now, Mr. Beardmore, I really must go. I have a very important engagement.”
But he held fast to her hand.
“Thalia, won’t you tell me why you did it?” he asked quietly. “Who is behind you?”
She laughed.
“There is a reason for your keeping this extraordinary company,” he went on, when she stopped him.
“What extraordinary company?” she demanded.
“You have just come from a restaurant,” he said. “You have been there with a man called ‘Flush’ Barnet, a notorious crook and a man who has served a term of penal servitude. The woman with you was Milly Macroy, a confederate of his who was concerned in the Darlington Cooperative robbery and has also served a term of imprisonment. At present she is engaged at Brabazon’s Bank.”
“Well?” said the girl again.
“Surely you don’t know the character of these people?” urged Jack.
“And how do you know them?” she asked calmly. “Am I wrong in supposing that you were not alone in your—vigil? Were you accompanied by the admirable Mr. Parr? I see you were. Why, you are almost a policeman yourself, Mr. Beardmore.”
Jack was staggered.
“Do you realise that it is Parr’s duty to inform your employer that you keep that kind of company?” he asked. “For heaven’s sake, Thalia, take a sane view of your position.”
But she laughed.
“Heaven forbid that I should interfere with the duty of a responsible police officer,” she said, “but on the whole I’d rather Mr. Parr didn’t. That at least is a sign of grace,” she smiled. “Yes, I’d much rather he didn’t. I don’t mind the police speaking to me for my good because it is only right and proper that they should try to lead the weak from their sinful ways. But an employer who attempts to reform an erring girl might be a bit of a nuisance, don’t you think?”
In spite of himself he laughed.
“Really, Thalia, you’re much too clever for the kind of company you’re keeping and for the kind of life you’re drifting to,” he added earnestly. “I know I have no right to interfere, but perhaps I could help you. Particularly,” he hesitated, “if you have done something which places you in the power of these people.”
She put out her hand with a rare smile.
“Goodbye,” she said sweetly, and left him feeling something of a fool.
The girl walked quickly through Burlington Arcade to Piccadilly and entered a taxi. The block of mansions at which she alighted was situated in the Marylebone Road and was a distinct improvement on Lexington Street.
The liveried porter took her up in the elevator to the third floor, and she let herself into a flat which was both prettily and expensively furnished.
She pressed a bell, and it was answered by a staid middle-aged woman.
“Martha,” she said, “I shan’t want any tea, thank you. Lay out my blue evening gown and telephone to Waltham’s Garage and tell them that I shall want a car to be here at five minutes before half past seven.”
Miss Drummond’s wages from the bank were exactly £4 a week.
XVI
Mr. Marl Goes Out
“So you’ve come, eh?” said Mr. Marl, rising to greet the girl. “My word, but you look smart! And you look lovely, my dear, too!”
He took both her hands in his and led her into the little gold and white drawing-room.
“Lovely!” he repeated in an almost hushed voice. “I can tell you I was a little bit scared about taking you to the Ritz-Carlton. You don’t mind my frankness, do you—have a cigarette?”
He fumbled in the tail-pocket of his dress coat, produced a large gold case and opened it.
“You thought I’d turn up in one of Morne & Gillingsworth’s six guinea models, eh?” she laughed as she lit the cigarette.
“Well, I did, my dear. I’ve had a lot of unhappy experiences,” explained Marl as he seated himself heavily in an armchair. “I’ve had ’em turn up in queer clothes, I can tell you!”
“Do you make a practice of entertaining the young and the fair?” Thalia had seated herself on the big padded fireguard and was looking down at him under her half-closed lids.
“Well,” said Mr. Marl complacently, rubbing his hands. “I’m not so old that I don’t get some pleasure out of ladies’ society. But you’re stunning!”
He was a blonde, red-faced man with suspiciously brown hair, suspiciously even teeth, and for this evening he had acquired a waist which seemed wholly unreal.
“We’re going to dinner and then we’ll go on and see ‘The Boys and the Girls’ at the Winter Palace,” he said, “and then,” he hesitated, “what do you say to a little supper?” he asked.
“A little supper? I don’t take supper,” said the girl.
“Well, you can peck a bit of fruit, I suppose?” suggested Mr. Marl.
“Where?” asked the girl steadily. “Most of the restaurants are closed before the theatres are out, aren’t they?”
“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t come back here? You’re not a prude, my dear, are you?”
“Not much,” she confessed.
“I can see you home in my car,” he said.
“I’ve got my own car, thank you,” said the girl, and Mr. Marl’s eyes opened. Then he began to laugh steadily at first, and his laughter ended in an asthmatical paroxysm. Presently he gasped: “Oh, you wicked little devil!”
The evening was an interesting one for Thalia, more interesting by reason of the fact that she caught a glimpse of Mr. “Flush” Barnet in the hall of the hotel as she passed through.
It was after the theatre was over and they were standing in the vestibule, waiting for the lift-man to call their car, that Thalia showed some symptom of hesitation, but the eloquent Mr. Felix Marl overcame whatever reluctance she felt, and as the clock was striking the half
