“That’s just as you feel about it,” he replied. “I should judge that you don’t owe very much to Larry or his friends, but if you want to stand by them well and good. But can’t you trust me about yourself? Give me some line on which I can act without prejudice to my duty.”
Her face softened. “I believe that you are straight. Mind you, it is understood that nothing I say goes out of this room as an admission from me.”
“This is between you and me, Sophie,” he agreed.
“My real name is Cummings,” she said. “I am the wife of Dave Cummings. I can see that you remember now.”
“About twelve or fifteen years ago,” he said. “Wasn’t he the man who got a lifer for shooting at a policeman in Manchester?”
“That’s the case. It was a jeweller’s shop and I was dogging outside when the constable became suspicious. I gave Dave the office and we started to move off. Dave never went armed on these things—in case. But I carried a pistol and when we were pressed hard I passed it on to Dave. He used it, and perhaps you remember it was touch and go whether the officer lived. Dave and I separated after the shot was fired, and he got caught. For some reason it was supposed that he was alone. The policeman was a little excited I guess, and when he recovered spoke of only one person. So Dave went down and I got away.”
“That’s a long while ago,” said the detective. “Unless you admit your complicity there is no evidence against you.”
“Half a minute. Larry had put up that job for us, and naturally, he saw that everything was done for Dave that could be done. Of course Dave told him everything. In any case he knew that I was there. Apart from that there were others in the business who knew and whom he undertook to keep quiet. When Dave was sentenced Larry undertook to look after me. I was useful in many ways. It was only when he found that I was trying to get out of the game that he cracked the whip over me by threatening to have me put away. He would have done it, too. Larry has never made a threat that he hasn’t been prepared to carry out.”
“But you haven’t been at Mope’s Bottom all this time?”
“Oh, Lord, no. There were other ways in which I was useful. Larry has not often dealt direct with crooks. I have been down here for the last few years.”
“Looking after the embarkation of stolen property?”
She shot a fierce glance at him from under her eyelashes, and Labar though convinced that his shot was right felt as though he had taken an unfair advantage. He gnawed at the end of a pencil. “I’m sorry. I should not have said that. I suppose that it is not the least use asking you to come out with everything that you know of Larry?”
“Not the least,” she agreed with decision. “I’ll tell you all you like about myself, but I won’t implicate other people. I’m a thief, the daughter of thieves, and the wife of a thief. You won’t find very much about me except what I’ve told you. If you can keep that out of it, I’ll be obliged.”
He rose and offered his hand. “Thank you, Sophie. You can be sure that I remember what I owe you. Rest easy about the old business. But this is different. You’ll have to go through as an accomplice of Larry’s you know.”
“That’s all right with me, Mr. Labar,” she said. “You’ve got your job to do.”
She gripped his hand and with a nod and a smile passed out of the room.
XXIX
Limp, hysterical, and half-paralysed by her own emotions, Mrs. Gertstein took the place of Sophie Lengholm. It was an interview that did not last long, for she literally flung herself before the detective in a burst of piteous appeals for mercy. There was no possibility of extracting information from her in her present state, and Labar gave instructions that she should have the attention of a doctor.
Moreland came by motor to Lydd from Dover. So far as any fresh results were concerned his journey had been fruitless. The members of the crew of Larry’s boat were utterly unknown to him. But his arrival back at Lydd was opportune, for he was able to take charge of the arrangements for getting the prisoners up to London.
Labar himself was to follow, but he was wishful to run over to Rye to escort Penelope to town, and he determined to have a final look round before leaving the district. It was still within the bounds of possibility that some clue would arise in regard to the movements of Larry. Winter and the Assistant Commissioner also were anxious to get back to their desks in town, but decided to stay overnight in case of any fresh development.
The three motored over to Rye together in the gathering dusk, making a casual detour towards Mope’s Bottom at the request of Labar to pick up a report from Malone. But Malone was not there. Indeed, there were but a couple of C.I.D. men left in the house, and two uniformed constables of the Kentish force on duty outside. One of the C.I.D. men observed that a messenger had been sent on to Lydd—whom they must have missed—telling of two men believed to be Larry and Billy Bungey lurking in the buildings of a farm on the outskirts of Rye. Malone had at once set off to investigate, taking with him a dozen men roped in from Mope’s Bottom and its vicinity.
“Who brought this story?” asked Winter.
The officer questioned jerked his head outside, where by now, spite of the loneliness of the place, something like a small crowd had gathered about the house which had
