The Toff and The Lady

“Good! Then listen to me. Take Farrow the footman first,” said Rollison. “I have always thought him insolent, but I am not sure whether that’s the right word. He’s not a footman, and can’t hide it. He might be employed by Pomeroy. But on the other hand, someone sent me that photograph and so was sure of impending trouble; the same person might have employed Farrow to work and watch at the house.”

“You mean, perhaps, Mr. Barrington-Ley?” murmured Jolly.

“Yes.”

“Which would be a presumption of Mr. Barrington-Ley’s complete innocence.”

“I know,” said Rollison, “that’s what I want to presume. We’ll have to check on Farrow. Now, what of Dr. Renfrew?”

“I have made some further inquiries about him,” said Jolly. “He is in some financial difficulties. I do not know in what degree, but I hope to find out shortly.”

“If he’s desperately hard up, he might do odd things for money,” said Rollison. “Check that as soon as you can. And now . . .”

During the next quarter of an hour Rollison regaled Jolly with the salient points of the story, while he undressed, put on pyjamas and a dressing-gown and got into bed gratefully. Jolly arranged the pillows so that he had support for his neck without pressure on the tender spot of his cranium. Then he stood by the side of the bed.

“And so,” said Rollison, at last, “that’s the whole story. What do you make of it?”

“I am rather at a loss, sir, to understand your uncertainty about the footman,” said Jolly. “He certainly had every opportunity to inject the drug on two occasions—I assume that the second occasion was like the first, an injection of adrenalin?”

“It had the same effects, and Cray thinks so.”

“Then it is reasonably certain that it was administered by the same person, sir.”

“Yes. Adrenalin isn’t the easiest of drugs to obtain, you know.”

“No, sir, but unqualified persons have access to even more dangerous drugs than that—as you have often discovered.”

“The narcotics, yes. Adrenalin is a different matter. Why did Renfrew compromise his whole future by saying nothing about what he admits was an attempt at murder?”

“His explanation appears sufficient, sir,” said Jolly thoughtfully.

“Appears, yes. And it also would be a very good explanation if he actually gave the injection.” Rollison smiled at Jolly’s expression. “Suggestion not well received, Jolly?”

“Well, sir, with the utmost respect—would the man who first interested you in this matter and who arranged to send Madam here, take such a step?” asked Jolly.

“Meaning that the bump on my head is affecting my logic,” said Rollison. “Many things which Renfrew has done seem unlikely. Why did he get a friend to take her to his home—I mean our guest—and then send her here in a taxi? And why did he keep her away from here for several hours?”

“Is it so remarkable, sir?”

“At the moment, I think so,” said Rollison. “Renfrew was in a great hurry to get away after talking to me, but he returned remarkably quickly. The last thing I saw when I was hanging from the window was Renfrew coming into the room. Then someone stabbed me in the hand, with the unkind intention of making me break my neck.” When Jolly did not answer, Rollison went on: “The doubts about the villainy of Farrow the footman come in there. He wasn’t in that room. He had, apparently, fled the house before then. Renfrew was there with Miss Gwendoline, the butler, another footman, and the maid. Any one of them could have come to the window and used the knife, but it could not have been the footman.”

“I can follow you now, sir,” said Jolly obligingly. “But Dr. Renfrew”

“Is practically engaged to Miss Gwendoline,” said Rollison. “I would like to know a lot more about him. Background— real financial position, social reputation—all that kind of thing. Also, whether he possesses a Leica camera of the kind that can take excellent photographs through a waistcoat button-hole.”

“You mean that you doubt whether he did send the photograph?” said Jolly.

“I mean that I want to make sure,” said Rollison. “I put that statement into his mouth, and he accepted it after a noticeable pause. It might have been the result of being found out and being reluctant to admit it, but at this stage why should he be reluctant? What is more,” went on Rollison, warming up, “it might have been hesitation consequent upon getting an unexpected piece of information—hesitation while he made up his mind whether to turn it to his advantage or not. If Renfrew’s mixed up in this he would be smart enough. If he didn’t send me that photograph, he seized a unique opportunity to whitewash himself by agreeing that he did.”

“I suppose that is so, sir,” said Jolly, without enthusiasm.

“You still don’t like it?” said Rollison.

Jolly spent a few moments in profound reflection, and then said thoughtfully:

“I must admit that I see several difficulties, sir. For instance, would Miss Gwendoline be so easily deceived? You imply, sir, that Renfrew and Mr. Barrington-Ley were working in concert”

“Not Mr. Barrington-Ley.”

“Then I don’t quite understand you, sir.”

“It seems to me,” said Rollison, dreamily, “that someone is most anxious that we should believe that David Barrington-Ley is a scoundrel. So much points to him. The police will. I’ve no doubt, soon be working on that assumption, but—I know him fairly well. Jolly.”

“If you will forgive me for saying so, sir, you really allow personal liking to affect your judgment.”