The Assistant Commissioner nodded. “I suppose you agree, Winter?”
The Chief Constable was prepared to accept Labar’s suggestion.
“The Public Prosecutor will want to have a word on the subject of the charges you propose to make. Wish we could get hold of Larry and finish up the whole thing at one fell swoop. You’ll have plenty to do, Labar. I’ll take what I can off your shoulders, but there’s a lot of things that will need your attention in person.”
Labar nodded. The cleanup promised, so far as he could see, to keep him busy indefinitely. For each individual case among the prisoners was certain to involve a multitude of inquiries, to say nothing of a ream of dockets and other correspondence. The time likely to be spent in court was not inconsiderable, but that would be the least of his troubles. Meanwhile he had a wish as a point of personal pride to be the man who should effect the arrest of Larry Hughes—a thing which he began to fear would be unlikely. Scotland Yard, in looking for results, cares very little whether Smith, Brown or Robinson brings off the final coup. If there were other matters to occupy Labar he would have to stand aside. Nor could he rid himself of an undercurrent of feeling that Penelope was not to be regarded as safe until Larry was under lock and key.
Something of what was passing in his mind he managed to indicate. “It’s going to be hard luck on me if I don’t get a chance to go and get Larry,” he observed.
“Man, but you’re a hog,” ejaculated Winter. “You want to wind up like the detectives in the story books. Leave a bit of the limelight for someone else. Maybe Larry will be pulled up, in the end, by some country constable. What the blazes does it matter who actually arrests him? Don’t you know that we’re all pieces of a machine? Stick to your knitting, Labar.”
The two heads of the C.I.D. accompanied Labar to Lydd where a list of the prisoners by name had been made out. Arrangements had already been made for a motor “Black Maria” to be available in case it was decided to send them to London.
A room was placed at Labar’s disposal in the little local police station, and one by one the prisoners were brought before him, for he was anxious to make a final attempt to find out if among them there was anyone who might throw light on Larry’s plans. In each case it was a solitary interview. There were reasons for this. It is a trait of human nature—particularly criminal human nature—to be more disposed to confidence where there are not too many witnesses. Labar felt, also, that there might arise occasions for questioning that a strict interpretation of the law would not permit. Every Scotland Yard man must on occasion put a blind eye to the telescope. The laws and regulations made to protect the public if carried out to the letter would make the detection of crime almost impossible.
But since Larry’s flight was only a spur of the moment impulse, Labar gained nothing that would help him to any extent in that matter. Hints of other associates, suggestions of possible hiding places, came from some of the more weak-kneed brethren who saw the fall of the heavens in this wholesale capture. These things the detective made note of for future use. In one or two cases he realised that some of those he had rounded up were more dupes than knaves. Most of them, of course, would have him believe that they were innocent victims of circumstance. One or two such as Tom the valet, were defiantly dumb. On the whole, however, Labar felt that he had put in a good hour’s work before he came to the last of the list, the two women, Sophie Lengholm and Mrs. Gertstein.
Sophie, her head held high, her determined jaw set, showed no sign of friendliness as Labar set out a chair for her. Labar was a little puzzled how to deal with her for the moment.
“I believe you saved my life, today,” he said. “In any case you saved me from a very awkward position. Why did you do it?”
“I am certain I saved your life,” she answered, coldly. “Don’t think that it was because of any liking that I have for you or anyone else from Scotland Yard. Whatever I am, whatever I have been, I have never had a hand in murder. That was all there was to it.”
He shook his head. “I want to tell you that I’m grateful, not only for that, but for some things in which I have a guess that you stood between Miss Noelson and trouble.”
“Oh, that.” She made an impatient gesture. “Larry wanted to go too far. Anyone would have stopped him.”
“You’re a little before my time,” he said as though thinking aloud. “I can’t quite place you without looking you up. What have we got against you?”
The woman laughed without merriment. “As if I should say that you have anything against me.”
“Take it from me, Sophie, I am not thinking of trapping you. I am more concerned to find some way to let you down lightly. I don’t want something from the back of beyond to crop up against you if there is any way of getting you out of the present mess. Whether you think me sincere or not, I am anxious to stand your friend.”
Sophie Lengholm had been born and bred to an ingrained distrust and contempt of all police officers. But she was a woman of the world and Labar’s words and manner had an effect. Not that her instinctive feelings were entirely dissipated. “Do you want me to
