Almost as soon as the words were out, Guy back-heeled—an action for which Rollison was fully prepared. He dodged the kick with little difficulty, then pushed Guy’s arm up a couple of inches further. Guy gasped, but managed to say :
“Don’t—don’t give in to him!”
“Blind courage and brute force,” said Rollison. “They often go together.”
Slatter lowered the poker. His face was set in furious anger but his voice was even and controlled.
“I will hear what you have to say,” he said.
Rollison immediately released the young man, who moved slowly away, half-turning, so that he showed the pallor of his face and the sweat beading his forehead and his upper lip. He stood close by, holding his right arm.
Slatter put the poker back in the fireplace.
He looked at Rollison with nothing but acute dislike on his handsome face. “Handsome?” Rollison asked him- self. Certainly striking, certainly strong.
“What is it you wish to say to me?”
“It’s very simple,” Rollison said. “I want you to know that I have acquired a certain amount of evidence that suggests that you attacked Mrs. Smith last night—and that you killed Professor Webberson and Dr. Brown. Be-fore I hand it over to the police, I want to hear what you have to say about it.”
“I have just one thing to say,” answered Slatter. “It is ludicrous nonsense.” After a pause, he went on in a steely voice : “And a second thing to say : I don’t believe you have any evidence at all.”
“Don’t you?” said Rollison.
No, I do not.”
“I am the evidence,” stated Rollison.
“That remark makes no more sense than the rest of your assertions.”
“It will make sense to the police when I identify you as the man whom I saw attack Mrs. Smith last night.”
“Even the police wouldn’t be deceived by such a lie,” said Slatter. He had a deep but not powerful voice and spoke with complete composure. If his expression said anything, it was that he had nothing but contempt for the man who had invaded his privacy and manhandled his nephew.
“If I make a statement on oath, not only the police but a judge and jury will take me seriously,” said Rollison.
“Even you cannot seriously doubt that.”
Slatter did not immediately deny it, and for the first time what might have been a look of apprehension showed in his eyes, but it soon vanished, and in an offhand voice which was slightly gruff, he said:
“You must make your own decision. You know well enough that it wasn’t I.”
“I don’t know anything of the kind,” said Rollison. “Even
“Uncle—” Guy began, but a glance from the older man silenced him.
“Is that all you have to say, Mr. Rollison?” Slatter had fully recovered his poise.
“No,” said Rollison.
“Will you please finish your charges and leave me to finish my lunch?”
“Will you grant an option to renew the lease of Number 31?” asked Rollison.
Slatter drew his heavily marked brows together in concentration, and then very slowly shook his head. “No,” he said. “I want them out.”
“To get them out you might have to get a court order and —”
“They wouldn’t go that far,” interrupted Slatter. “They are ready to pull out already.”
“Driven to it by murder,” observed Rollison.
“Driven to it by their own stupidity. However I will not bandy words with you. The answer is no, I will not grant an option, even if you offer to withdraw your identification of me as a criminal. That is a very cheap trick, Mr. Rollison—I nearly said that it was not worthy of you, but that would be paying you a compliment.”
“Why do you want them out?”
“That is my business.”
“Is inhumanity your business?”
“Mr. Rollison,” said Slatter, with great precision, “I do not regard myself as a judge of what is humane and what is not. I want those harlots out of my house. They would never have gone there but for
“Hostel,” said Rollison.
“I don’t believe you, and nothing will change my mind.” Slatter held Rollison’s gaze for a long time, and Rollison felt quite sure that he meant what he said. “Make your absurd charges against me if it amuses you, but you are wasting your time, Mr. Rollison. I hope you realise that, and will now leave.”
“Do you really feel utterly indifferent about the infants next door?” demanded Rollison.
