French paused, carefully lit a cigarette, glanced keenly around and resumed.
“From all this, Miss Moran, you will see that when I said I thought you might be in personal danger I was basing my opinion on something very real. I do not wish to frighten you unduly, but you must see that unless some steps are taken it may be your turn next. Now the question is, are you going to be wise and confide in me?”
She did not answer and French also smoked in silence to let the question sink into her mind. Presently he went on: “There is also another side of the affair which you must not overlook and about which it is only fair that I should warn you. We now know so much about what is going on that it is only a question of time before we learn it all. If you are then found to be doing something illegal you will undoubtedly be charged with conspiracy in the crime. If, on the other hand, you do all you can to help the authorities, I will do all I can to help you. Even if the matter should be too serious for me to keep you out of court, your having turned King’s evidence would get you off.”
It was evident that this view had not occurred to the young lady. She looked even more frightened and unhappy, though still she did not speak.
French grew impatient.
“Very well,” he said in sharper tones, “I warn you again that your own safety requires that you should tell what you know, but if you won’t take my warning I can’t help it. I am of opinion that here and now you are carrying with you the object or objects which you will shortly place in the secret panel of Mr. Welland’s car. I shall have to take you into custody on a charge of conspiracy and have you searched so as to find out what that article is.”
His conscience pricked him slightly as he spoke. Was this strictly in accordance with the rules for the interrogation of a possible witness? Then he thought he was justified. This girl would not incriminate herself. He could swear she was innocent. And anything was good enough for the murderers of Thurza Darke.
The girl gave a little cry.
“Take me into custody!” she whispered hoarsely. “Surely you wouldn’t do a thing like that?”
“I certainly would. I am going to find out about this business at whatever cost. Come now,” he went on more coaxingly, “be wise and come in on the side that must win. As you are, you are running a terrible risk.”
Though he spoke gravely, with secret delight he noticed signs of breaking down. Miss Moran shivered and slow, long sobs shook her frame. He remained silent and then at last he heard what he had been hoping for.
“Oh,” she cried piteously, “but this is terrible altogether! I never thought anything like this would happen to me. I didn’t mean any harm and now look at the trouble I’m in. You’ll make it as easy as you can for me if I tell you?”
“I have already promised, Miss Moran. Not only that, but you’ll feel a weight off your mind. You can’t have been happy with this going on.”
“Happy! I’ve been miserable. God only knows how miserable I’ve been. And if I have been making money, sure I’ve paid for it by the terror I’ve been in. I’ll tell you everything.”
She was now sobbing freely and French once more urged her to control herself lest attention should be drawn to her. Presently, in rather tremulous tones she began.
“The whole thing happened just as you say, Mr. French. Every day I go to business by the tube and it was there I met the girl you spoke of. We got to be the best of friends, but all the time I was wondering where she got her money. One day I asked her, and then she told me about the gambling at Monte Carlo. She said if I would like a go at it she would arrange it for me, all just as you said. She said the bookmaker would meet us here. He did and he was the very man you described. Och, but he was the terrible man, Mr. French! There was something about his eyes that would give you the cold shivers. He was the man you mentioned anyway, for I saw the scar on his wrist.”
“Ah,” said French with satisfaction. “Did he tell you his name?”
“He did. It was Style.”
“Good! That’s the man. And did you stake?”
“I did, and I won first and then I lost. At that time Gwen Lestrange had got a job out of London and had gone away, but I met her by chance and she asked me how I was getting on. When I told her she said she thought her cousin could help me and she introduced me to him. That was Mr. Welland.”
French was highly pleased. At last he was making progress. Welland and Style had been concerned in the death of Thurza Darke, and already he had Welland under observation. A little more of that observation would undoubtedly lead him to Style.
He wondered why the two scoundrels had changed their respective roles. In Thurza Darke’s case Welland (or Westinghouse) had been the bookmaker and Style the cousin. In Molly Moran’s, Style was the bookmaker and Welland the cousin. Probably, thought French, to divide equally both the risks and the responsibilities. With some surprise also he noted that while Welland had taken the precaution to change his name, Style had not troubled to do so. No doubt for this also there was a reason.
“Well, and what did Mr. Welland say to
