The Toff and The Lady

“I suppose we did,” said Renfrew, slowly.

“Two things need immediate attention,” Rollison went on, briskly. “First, what really happened to Hilda? Yes, Gwen confirmed what I had guessed, her heart-attack had unusual causes. You took risks, didn’t you?”

“There wasn’t any danger to her,” said Renfrew, defensively, “and if we were right and David was behind the attack, well— what else could I do?”

“Not much,” said Rollison, “What really happened?”

“Someone gave her a powerful injection of adrenalin,” said Renfrew. “If she weren’t as strong as a horse— constitutionally, I mean—it would have been fatal, but she threw off the effects. Gwen sent for me pretty quickly.”

“An injection,” murmured Rollison.

“She took a strong sleeping draught last night,” said Renfrew, “anyone could have got into her room and pumped the stuff in without waking her. Rollison, I’m pretty sure that footman. Farrow, is up to no good.”

“Did you make up the sleeping draught?”

“Yes.”

“Who else knew about it?”

“Several people,” said Renfrew. “Gwen, of course, Hilda’s maid, the butler—I expect it was common gossip below stairs. There was nothing secret about the fact that there was trouble of some kind in the house, and that Hilda wasn’t sleeping well. I suppose the other thing you want settled,” went on Renfrew with an abrupt change of subject, “is that photograph. That wasn’t difficult”

“It was taken before she arrived at the Bal Masque,” Rollison reminded him.

“Oh, yes, a week before. The woman dining with David at a small restaurant in the West End. I have a small Leica.”

“They saw you, of course?”

“Yes,” said Renfrew.

“Did David seem put out?”

“No—there was no cause for him to be, several other people were in the party. No one I know,” he added, “I’ve tried to think where I’ve seen them before, but I haven’t succeeded.”

“How did you know they would be together?”

“I knew that David was going out to dinner, and knew where,” said Renfrew. “I’d been treating him for gastric trouble, and there was no secret about that. I went with my sister. It was all quite usual. I didn’t tell Gwen or Hilda, of course, I didn’t want them worried unnecessarily. Er—and I’m afraid I sent a note to the Countess in your name,” he added, with a rather nervous laugh. “I got a friend to meet her outside the nursing home and then sent her along to your flat. Er—no resentment, I hope.”

Rollison laughed. “It was one of your good deeds.”

“Thanks,” said Renfrew. “Well, what are you going to do now?”

Rollison told him that he was quite sure that the police should be in the house, to prevent further attacks on Gwendoline and Hilda. Renfrew raised no objection to the police being told about Hilda’s collapse—there was no reason why he should not become suddenly suspicious of the cause of the heart attack.

The decision seemed to ease his mind. He could not stay much longer, he said, for he had several calls to make.

“Then telephone the Yard and make the report,” said Rollison, “and tell them when you’ll be free. I’ll have a word with them afterwards.”

When Renfrew had finished speaking to an Inspector, Rollison took the telephone and suggested that a police-surgeon should be sent along at once to examine Mrs. Barrington-Ley. He also asked that two men be stationed in the house. There was no demur.

“You’re not taking many chances,” Renfrew said.

“We’ve taken too many already,” said Rollison.

“Yes, well. I must get off,” said Renfrew. “Er—I can’t thank you enough for the trouble you’re taking and—and the way you’re helping us.” He wrung Rollison’s hand, and hurried off.

Rollison was on edge to return to his flat or to the nursing home. Gwendoline did not come back, and after ten minutes, he went to the door. The hall was empty. The house was so large that Gwendoline was probably out of earshot. He waited for a few moments, and then moved towards the stairs.

He had not taken three steps before he heard Gwendoline’s voice, raised in alarm.

“Rolly! Rolly!”

He raced up the stairs, urged on by the urgency in her voice, and she suddenly appeared on the landing, running towards him. She stopped to get her breath and waited for him, talking as he approached.

“Mother’s door is locked, I can’t get in, I saw Farrow come out of it; Rolly, what can we do?”

“Show me her room,” said Rollison.

She turned and hurried along the passages, turning now right and now left, and then stopped outside a door which was too strong to be broken open by the pressure of a shoulder. Gwendoline banged on the door and called her step-mother’s name while Rollison examined the lock closely. It was more suited to the door of a safe deposit than a bedroom.

“Is there another way in?” he demanded.