Selby had gone very pale.
“Who would kill an old man ?” he demanded.
“Abner Crane and the people he used would kill anyone if it paid ofT,” said Rollison, “but someone wanted Smith alive. We now know that the someone knew where the tunnel was, and was able to get in and out of the farmhouse, after that radiation unit. Who would be in a better position to know about the tunnel than you, Selby?”
“You’re crazy!” Selby cried.
“You know where Crane’s gone, Selby, and where that deadly unit is. Better tell us, quick.”
Gillian was staring at her half-brother, and her eyes were touched with horror. M.M.M. looked very near despair.
“Where is Crane ?” Rollison demanded roughly.
“I’ve never heard of Crane!”
“You know of Crane all right. I’ll stake a fortune that he first came to you about the farm. You agreed to help, then put Old Smith up to refusing to get out, so as to push the price up. You played the double game until suddenly everything became urgent, because Tex Brandt of the F.B.I. was on Crane’s heels.
“Crane had used Brandt’s name as an alias before; now he used it again, and stepped up pressure. He knew that he was being double-crossed, but blamed Lodwin and Charlie Habden; and was afraid that if they were caught they’d implicate him. So he killed them both.”
Selby was ashen pale, and his eyes were feverishly bright.
Bishop came in.
“We haven’t found the unit,” he announced roughly, “but I’ve had confirmation from London that it’s deadly.”
“And Selby is as deadly,” Rollison said. “He thinks there’s still a fortune for him if he keeps quiet, and will risk thousands of lives to get it.”
“It’s a damnable lie !” Selby screeched.
Rollison swung round on M.M.M.
“How about your conscience? Two people tried to murder you, remember. Your whole attitude’s changed, too. Why was it ? For God’s sake don’t hold out any longer.”
M.M.M. said gruffly, painfully.
“I tried not to hurt Gillian, but you’re right now. After you’d left the Wheatsheaf yesterday, the barmaid told me that she’d heard Alan talking to an American—a big, fat man. Then I realised that Alan was involved, but . . .”
M.M.M. broke off.
“The Wheatsheaf,” Rollison interrupted. “Could Abner Crane be hiding there?”
24
CAUSE OF DEATH
The inn looked picturesque and charming against the background of meadows and wooded land, and the beautifully painted inn sign, of stacked com, swayed in a gentle wind. A large modem car stood in the courtyard, but there was no sign of life, no movement, only a stillness as of death.
Rollison drove up to the front door.
Out of sight, but watching him, were the police, and Tex Brandt, Bishop had allowed him to come on his own only because it seemed more likely that, alone, he would be admitted. Directly the front door was open, the police would come watching. The back door was being watched too; there was a cordon round the Wheatsheaf and, beyond, a wider cordon round the village and the farm.
Rollison pressed the bell.
There was no sound.
He pressed again, knowing that if the delay lasted long, then Bishop and his men would come running, determined to force their way in.
Rollison heard footsteps, and Mildred the barmaid opened the door. She looked flushed as from sleep, her fair hair was tousled, and she seemed vexed.
“Don’t you know we’re closed until half-past five?”
“Sorry, but this is urgent,” answered Rollison, and actually managed to smile. “Mildred “
The woman’s expression cleared, and she interrupted brightly:
“It’s Mr. Rollison, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Mildred, you told Mr, Mome about an American who talked to Mr. Selby.”
“That’s right.”
“Is the American here?”
“He came in about ten minutes ago, sneaked in the back way, and went up to his room. Why . . .”
She broke off, frowning, seeing policemen appear, and obviously realised that the inn was surrounded.
“Is your husband here?” Rollison demanded.
