The Toff and The Lady

“Don’t talk to him,” muttered Gwendoline. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was still breathing through her mouth.

Rollison said: You had planned this before Pomeroy came along, hadn’t you? And Pomeroy discovered what you were doing and saw a way of turning it to his advantage;

Pomeroy was doing Barrington-Ley’s accounts” He broke off for a moment, and then his voice grew stronger and there was a note of elation in it. “I’ve got it! The simple things! The Relief Fund money was going through Barrington-Ley’s accounts, like a dozen other charity funds, the American money was rightly transferred here, Pomeroy was after it, he could best get it by falsifying the main accounts, appropriating the money but making it look as if Barrington-Ley had used it. The rumours about his financial difficulties were spread to make that look convincing—and what a chance for you, sweet Gwendoline! How well Pomeroy would make it sound —you would kill Hilda, he would kill Barrington-Ley, because if the rich man lived the truth would one day out. For his risk Pomeroy had the Relief money, for yours you had the fine inheritance. Pomeroy didn’t mention also that when you had it you would forever be in his power, did he?”

Gwendoline said, after a pause:

“It was all Pomeroy, all Pomeroy!”

“Yes!” cried Renfrew. “Yes, we couldn’t help ourselves!”

“You’d better rely on turning King’s Evidence,” Rollison said. “Denials won’t help you and nothing will help Gwendoline. Let’s have it Renfrew. You were in Pomeroy’s confidence, weren’t you—he could safely let you be in it, and he wanted you to do so many things, such as killing the Countess. He was to murder Barrington-Ley and you were to swear that it was suicide. Come on, Renfrew! Take what chance you have!”

“If you” began Gwendoline, grabbing Renfrew’s arm.

“Yes!” screamed Renfrew. “He made me do it, I couldn’t help myself, it was Pomeroy, all Pomeroy”

Then he began to talk, so swiftly and with such fluency that Rollison found it difficult to understand all he said. As he talked he damned Gwendoline so completely that she turned her bloodshot eyes away from Rollison and stared at the blank wall.

Farrow stood by the door, listening, saying nothing. He had pacified the receptionist, and except for Renfrew’s voice there was no sound in the room.

Renfrew had been desperately hard up, and so had Gwendoline, who received an allowance ample for her own needs but ridiculously small for his. His practice was small, for he had not been in Wimpole Street long, the expenses were enormous, his personal extravagance unlimited . . . .

Barrington-Ley would not increase his daughter’s allowance. Perhaps, thought Rollison, as he listened, David had some idea of the depths of evil that was in his daughter. She had evolved the plan to kill first Hilda and then her father; with Renfrew’s help it should be easy, he could have signed the death certificates. Had the plot not spread wider, they might have succeeded and now be living in luxury. But into the black plot came Pomeroy, fat and genial and garrulous, and above all dangerous. He came first because a company to whom Renfrew owed money had put the account into his hands. He appeared helpful and sympathetic and offered to advance money on expectations, and Renfrew told him of

Gwendoline and his hopes. Skilfully Pomeroy had drawn out of them the idea of murder, played on the theme and developed it; then whenever Renfrew showed signs of reluctance, used pressure because he knew the whole of Renfrew’s financial plight.

In all of this, Gwendoline supported Pomeroy.

Pomeroy, keeping in the background at the Strand offices, visited Barrington-Ley, won his friendship, won the business for Pomeroy, Ward & Pomeroy, ingratiated himself and at the same time spread rumours here and rumours there.

There was some truth in the cry: “It was all Pomeroy!” Some, but not enough.

“It was Pomeroy,” said Renfrew, “who had discovered that Lila, Countess Hollern, was in charge of the Relief Fund in New York, had influenced Barrington-Ley to sponsor the Fund in England, counting on willing assistance from Hilda. Pomeroy had arranged the transfer of the money and had the handling of it. Pomeroy put the whole foul plot into operation, conceived and executed it, with the help of Marcus Shayle and Malloy, of Janice Armitage—although hers unwittingly. It was Pomeroy who, through Shayle, made Phyllis apply for a post at the Lawley Nursing Home”

For the first time, Rollison interrupted.

“Could Pomeroy make sure that she got that post?”

“Of course he could!” cried Renfrew. “The matron was in his power, she had been mixed up in one or two unsavoury cases. Pomeroy discovered it, and made her do what he wanted. She said she would not go on after the attack on the Countess, but she was persuaded to continue when the Countess recovered. Then Pomeroy sent Barrington-Ley there, the matron knew he was drugged, she was going to tell the police. Pomeroy killed her”

Rollison said: “She was poisoned with the same poison as that used on the Countess, at a time when Pomeroy, Shayle, and Malloy could not have got to the nursing home.”

“I didn’t kill her!” gasped Renfrew. “Rollison, you’ve got to believe me, I didn’t kill her! I didn’t give the Countess enough for a fatal dose. I couldn’t really bring myself to kill

Mrs. Barrington-Ley!”

“But the matron was poisoned and she died,” said Rollison. He turned and looked at Gwendoline. Renfrew cried: “She knows where to get at my drugs.” Gwendoline sprang at him as she had sprung at Rollison. Her fingers clawed his cheeks until the blood ran, she bit and kicked and scratched him until Rollison dragged her away. As she was struggling in his grip and Renfrew was leaning over the desk with his face buried in his hands, there were heavy footsteps outside and Grice led in his men.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MY LADY’S MEMORY