“Very subtle,” said Rollison. “You, I mean, letting him go and, I trust, keeping tabs on him. You now need two men to take care of Judith Lome and heaven help you if you let her down. And four to follow Waleski. Bill, I think it’s time we put our heads together.”
“If we don’t, you’ll get yours broken. I didn’t expect you to take much notice of me but, if you play the fool, I won’t give you an inch.”
“This isn’t one of my good days,” sighed Rollison. “No one loves me, no one believes a word I say. When I know Mellor is safely out of your reach I’ll come and see you.”
He rang off, without giving Grice a chance to reply, and turned to find Judith coming in; a grave-faced Judith.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“A wise old bird, my poppet. You’re going home. The police are going to make sure that no one worries you, not because they think anyone will try but because they think Mellor might come to you. If they ask more questions, tell them not a word more than you have already. Refer them to me for everything else. And remember” —he was serious now— “that if you do say too much it might spoil Jim’s only chance.”
“I won’t spoil anything,” she promised.
He went downstairs with her and spoke to the CID man on duty, putting Judy into his charge. The girl looked small and slender beside the burly detective. The sleep and food had refreshed and encouraged her and she held her head high.
Rollison went thoughtfully back to the flat and, as he reached the landing, heard the telephone ringing. He slammed the door behind him and spoke into the extension in the hall.
“Hallo.”
“It is Jolly again, sir,” said Jolly. “This time from the hotel. Waleski has returned and both he and the woman have gone to his room— Number 607. There is every indication that they will be there for some time.”
Rollison said: “Oh,” and then was silent for so long that Jolly prompted him with a courteous: “Are you still there, sir?”
“Yes, Jolly. Tell me, out of the depths of your understanding of human nature, do you think there is even a remote chance that Comrade W and mademoiselle are lovebirds?”
“Most emphatically
“Then I’ll pay them a visit,” said Rollison. “You wait there.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The large and glittering entrance hall of the Oxford Palace Hotel seethed and bubbled with people and talk. Rollison side-stepped a mountainous woman whose fingers seemed to be made of diamonds and her voice of sandpaper; squeezed past two men who were heartily agreeing that there was a fortune in it; and spotted Jolly.
Jolly stood, an oasis of quiet dignity in the cauldron of garish glitter, between the lifts and the staircase. As Rollison approached, a loud-voiced young woman stopped in front of Jolly and asked:
“Put me right for the Grill Room, will you?”
Jolly looked at her coldly.
“I regret, miss, I am not familiar with this establishment.”
She wilted and fled.
“Bit harsh, weren’t you?” asked Rollison.
“Yes, sir.” Presumably that was not the first time Jolly had been so accosted that night.
“What of Waleski?”
“I am a little concerned about him and Miss Arden,” said Jolly, unbending. “After due consideration I decided that this was the best position to take up but there is another staircase and another lift. However, these are nearest his room—Number 607, sir. Neither of them has appeared again.”
“They’d probably come this way. Is Waleski being watched by the police?”
“I have seen three plain-clothes men but I believe there are always two or three on duty in such hotels as
“Grice wouldn’t let Waleski run around on his own,” Rollison said. “The police are just being cunning. Stay here for another five minutes, in case they come down as I go up, and then join me on the sixth floor.”
Jolly bowed, as if there were no one else to see him.
A lift was waiting, nearly full. Rollison was the only passenger to alight at the sixth floor. Here all the glitter was absent. The lights were subdued, the wide yellow-walled passages were silent, the hush reminded him of Pulham Gate. He studied the room indicator board and turned right, finding Room 607 along the first passage to the left. He made a complete tour of the floor, passing three chambermaids and a breezy American GI. When he returned to the main lift and staircase, Jolly was waiting.
“All clear?”
“Neither of them passed me, sir.”
“We’ll catch ‘em in a huddle,” Rollison said confidently. “You stand at the corner of the passage and give me warning if anyone comes this way.”
