The Toff and The Lady

“So you’re sticking to that?”

“Firmly,” Rollison assured him. “What’s more, there is a chance that Lady Lost was at Malloy’s house for a while.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“From chance remarks,” said Rollison.

Grice raised no objection to Rollison being present while he questioned the women. He chose Mrs. Malloy first, believing that the longer Janice was on tenterhooks, the more readily she would talk.

Mrs. Malloy refused to speak, refused to admit that her husband had struck Janice or her, and remained tight- lipped, looking sullenly at Grice with her curiously-lidded eyes half-narrowed. She denied the presence of any other woman at the house.

“All right,” Grice said. “I’ll see you again later.”

She turned to go, with a man on either side of her.

“Flo,” said Rollison, as she reached the door.

She ignored him.

“Flo,” repeated Rollison, going across and looking into her eyes. “Malloy isn’t worth it. There’ll never be a future for you with him again. Although you tried to stop him from doing murder, he will probably be hanged. Don’t make it worse for yourself than it is now. If your worry is money, there are ways and means of helping.”

“I don’t want your help,” Flo said.

“You may do, later.” He turned back into the room.

“You’re fancying different types, aren’t you?” said Grice.

“Don’t be coarse,” said Rollison.

“Flo Malloy is as hard a nut as her husband,” said Grice. “I felt sorry for her at the house, because of what he’d said and done, but I shouldn’t be soft-hearted over her.”

Rollison made no comment.

When Janice came up she was in tears, and it took all Grice’s patience to coax the story out of her. She had been given Malloy’s address by Marcus Shayle, and had often been to the house—it was there that she received the “presents” he had sent her. She declared that she was desperately in love with Marcus and would do anything to help him, and she did not flinch when Grice talked of murder, but she did make a comment surprisingly shrewd for her.

“No one’s dead yet.”

“They did you go there to-day?” demanded Grice.

She sniffed and dabbed at her red-rimmed eyes; she looked girlish and might have appealed to the sympathy of some men at the Yard, but Grice was never impressed by tears or innocent looks. Eventually she told him that Pomeroy had sent for her and told her that Marcus would be released, and that she would be able to see him if she went the that morning.

“And what happened when you got there?” demanded Grice.

She gulped. “I—they—I mean Malloy, he said I was to— to go to Mr. Rollison’s flat!” She flung the words out defiantly, and then added, tearfully: “He wanted me to get the countess away; he said it was important, he wanted me to distract Mr. Rollison’s attention, he said he could look after the rest. And I was to get a key of the flat if I could—I don’t know what he thought I was!”

“Obviously he thought you were a friend of Mr. Rollison,” said Grice.

She simpered. “Well. I am, aren’t I?”

Grice kept a straight face with difficulty and Rollison agreed bravely that she was. This gave the girl more confidence, and Grice handled her well. The dress she was wearing might have come straight from a Paris salon, her shoes and gloves were of first quality, and her hair looked as if it had been dressed by an artist only that morning.

Grice finished his questioning at last, and Janice asked in her most little girl voice:

“Have I satisfied you, Superintendent? Please say that I have. I wouldn’t do anything that Malloy wanted me to if it would hurt a fly, I wouldn’t reelly.”

Grice’s voice hardened.

“You were very wrong not to tell the police your fiance’s address, Miss Armitage—had you given us the information earlier, a great deal of trouble might have been prevented.”

“Well” —she paused— “you couldn’t expect—I mean, you can’t expect a man to know how I feel about Marcus, can you?” I

Grice gave her up, but still spoke with a severe voice.

“I must warn you, Miss Armitage, that if you get any further information about any of them—Marcus Shayle, Malloy or the man called Pomeroy, you must tell us immediately. If you have a letter or a postcard, with an address or without, you must not lose a moment in telling us. If you do, you may cause even mora serious trouble for your fiance.”

“Would I?” asked Janice.

“You see,” said Grice, carefully, “it is by no means certain that Marcus Shayle is acting like this because he wants to. The others probably have some influence over him. It will be for his own good if he is found again. Do you understand me?”

There was a calculating look in her eyes.