“Where was your last job? Have you got any references?”
“Fat hope. The wife had a bit of money by her and that’s kept us going.”
“Uh-huh. Getting pretty well up against it last week, weren’t you? Or did your wife have a new dividend in on Monday?”
The detective had not raised his voice, but Teddy winced as though the question had been shouted at him. “ ’Struth, guv’nor, you don’t think I was in that Gertstein job, do you? I can prove where I was all that night. I can bring witnesses.”
“Sure you can?” Labar’s voice was soothing, velvety. “What kind of witnesses?” He did not doubt that the other had taken some kind of steps to establish an alibi. “I wonder if a jury would believe ’em against the story I might have to tell. Mind you, Teddy, I like you. I’d hate to have to push all I know.” The hint, half threat, half promise, was delicately conveyed. “Much better for you to give me the full strength of the yarn.”
Teddy blinked. “You’re bluffing,” he asserted, doggedly. “I had nothing to do with it. You can’t lay anything over me.”
“Bluffing, am I? Don’t you believe it, son. I know all about Larry and the others. You think that Larry will help you out of this mess. He won’t. He’s on his way out of London, and he’s leaving you and the others to hold the baby. Here.” His voice changed and he fixed his eyes sternly upon the burglar. “How do you account for this?” He fished a piece of paper from his waistcoat pocket. “This was found in your house, and it’s a message from Larry to you. ‘All ready. Cut out the booze or I’ll put you in the mud. Meet tonight at—’ ” The inspector mumbled something incoherently and thrust the paper in his pocket. “You thought that you’d burnt that, Teddy, but you hadn’t. You’ve botched it, Teddy. Now are you going to help me or are you going to be a fool? Make up your mind.”
Teddy’s face had visibly paled while he listened. His first impression that Labar had been bluffing was right. But the inspector on his slender materials had managed to weaken the burglar’s opinion. He was determined to break Teddy down, and since the Third Degree is frowned upon by British law, there was only this way open to him. It might be questioned by a pedant whether even so he was within the narrow confines of legality. That troubled him little. The strict interpretation of the law in the letter and the spirit would paralyse half the activities of Scotland Yard.
There is possibly honour among thieves in a few exceptional cases. Here and there one may find a “straight crook” who will loyally stand by his associates, but as a general principle known to every police force in the world, there is scarcely a thief who will not give away another thief if pressed, either to curry favour or in the hope of some measure of protection for himself.
This time, however, Labar realised that it might be more difficult. Among those who knew him Larry Hughes was recognised to have a long arm. He gave rewards lavishly, but he held stern discipline. There were tales in the underworld, even among those who would not have recognised Larry Hughes if they saw him, of certain, if sometimes long delayed, vengeance on those who had talked too much. Larry never forgot, and never failed to repay. It was an element in his own methods of ensuring safety.
Teddy hesitated. He was in a police station and Labar was the more immediate danger. Against that, not even Labar could hold him immune from a long term of imprisonment if he admitted complicity in the robbery. The most he could do would be to refrain from pressing the case too heavily. Supposing he thus saved a year or two of his sentence, there were still Larry and Larry’s friends to be reckoned with. He had heard of men being “framed” by Larry for crimes they had not committed, men against whom the police had found convincing evidence to their hands. There were others, cripples for life, who dare not tell in what strange encounter they received their injuries. There were still others who had dropped out of all human knowledge, with only the possibility of a grim guess at their fate. All of these had in some degree failed to keep faith with Larry Hughes.
“I don’t know any Larry.” He met the gaze of the inspector with a fixed stare. “I ain’t had no message from no one. You didn’t find that paper in my place, and if you did it don’t prove anything. You won’t get me spilling anything, Mr. Labar, so you may as well save your breath. If you’re going to keep me here I want to see a mouthpiece. I know my rights.”
“We’re good friends, Teddy.”
“You don’t blarney me any more than you can bluff me,” said the other, dourly. “I know my rights.”
“That’s all right then. Better be careful.” Labar was as mild as ever, and perhaps a shade more genial. “Run along now and be a good boy. Don’t get into any more mischief.”
Teddy scowled uneasily and shifted to his feet twirling his soft hat in his hands. He did not know what to make of this dismissal, but he was more than a little suspicious. In his experience divisional detective inspectors did not give up in this way.
“You’re through?” he asked.
“Through for now. I may have to see you again, I hope. Look after yourself.”
Sufficient for the day are the troubles thereof. That was part of Gold Dust Teddy’s philosophy. He did not for an instant suppose that Labar was as generous as he appeared to be—there was certainly something behind this move. But the immediate fact was that he was out of a hole. Whatever happened thereafter could be
