The Toff and the Fallen Angels

“We’re going to cover up that hole,” Anne said, proving that she had been on the alert, “and then we’re going to have a rota watch while the babies are out here. We’ve three with chicken pox, and one of the mothers is down with it, too. And then—well, we’d better have a meeting this evening, to decide what to do. Will you come and answer some questions? On how the rats invaded the children of the damned?”

She, too, looked up at the window where Sir Douglas Slatter had been standing. But it was empty, now, and dosed.

CHAPTER 14

Motive?

 

“YES,” answered Rollison, “I will come to the meeting if you’ll give me safe conduct from angry mothers! What are you going to use to mend that wire?”

“I expect we’ll use wire,” answered Anne. “I know we promiscuous young women are not supposed to know about anything but luring young men to our beds, but we’re very capable, really. Jennifer will—why, there is Jennifer!” A little girl who looked in her mid-teens appeared from the back door with a grey metal tool box in her hand, and a coil of wire over her shoulder. She had mousey hair and a snub nose and freckles beyond count, and was dressed in blue jeans and a loose fitting red shirt. She flashed brilliant green eyes at Rollison and Anne. “Come and meet Mr. Rollison,” called Anne, and the child came across and dropped a mock curtsey.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Rollison, I’ve heard about you. Fancy actually admitting we exist!”

“And fancy you existing,” retorted Rollison. “So you’re the do-it-yourself member of the establishment?”

“When I wear trousers I’m the maintenance engineer,” said Jennifer. “Do you know who made that hole?”

“No.”

“Well, as the great detective, why don’t you find out what was happening next door?” suggested Jennifer. “Anyone can sneak in from there and if your arms are long enough you could actually stand in Sir D’s garden and cut the wire. Or is he too rich to be suspected?”

“Jennifer, pet, the chips on your shoulders would make a log fire big enough to roast the poor devil,” protested Rollison. “Haven’t any of you heard of a little thing like evidence?”

She made a face at him, and walked past. The noise had subsided, and although there was much talk and now and again a subdued outburst of laughter, there was not a single crying baby.

“What time is your meeting?” asked Rollison.

“It’ll be about half-past eight. You don’t have to come,” Anne said. She turned her brown, speculative, almost brooding eyes towards him, and added: “You don’t always have to take me too seriously, either.”

“No,” agreed Rollison, “but the choice is a little tricky. I can’t always decide when you’re telling the truth and when you’re set on deceiving me.”

Once again he succeeded in shaking Anne Miller out of her calm. He smiled and turned. There was no sign of Naomi Smith, and had she been at home she would certainly have been here. He went through the house, heard a baby gurgling in a room on the right, but did not go in. A police car was in the street, and three plainclothes men were heading for the back of the house. Rollison recognised none of them, and did not stop. He turned again into Starter’s house, and rang the front door bell, as he had before.

Guy Slatter opened the door.

“Hallo,” he said, standing aside. “Come in.” His manner showed a complete change from the aggressiveness of their last encounter. “This time, I think, my uncle would like to see you.” He led the way upstairs, and as they reached the door of the study, Angela appeared at the end of the passage. Rollison glanced at young Slatter. He was surprised to catch on his face an expression of almost fatuous admiration.

Angela, looking very demure, gave a half-smile as she passed.

“Good afternoon, sir.”

Guy murmured something, as he opened Slater’s door. The most noticeable thing here, Rollison thought, was the quiet, although the window had been re-opened. Slater placed a hand on some papers, to stop them from blowing, and rose from the desk.

“I’m glad you came back,” he said. “Please sit down. All right, Guy.”

Guy moved off with alacrity, letting the door close with a loud click. The old man looked across at it with resignation, but made no comment.

“Why did you come back?” he asked.

To find out whether, after the rat interlude, you would reconsider your decision,” Rollison said. “Obvi-ously someone is determined to drive those girls away—by frightening them or pressuring them by threats of, and even by actual, murder. If you changed your mind, no one would retain the slightest suspicion that you are responsible.”

“Mr. Rollison,” said Slatter, placing both hands palms downwards on his desk, and looking like a newly-shaven Old Testament prophet, “I shall not extend the tenancy of this house next door to those particular tenants. I am quite determined. I want peaceful occupancy of my own home and it is impossible in the present circumstamces. They must go. However, the rat interlude, as you call it, did distress me. So did the attack on Mrs. Smith. I am not of course involved in either, and am quite indifferent to any form of suspicion which may fall on me, and your quite unworthy attempt to blackmail me into giving way is not the reason for what I am about to offer. I have a great deal of property in London, some in areas more suitable than this for a hostel. I am prepared to give premises of similar size to the sponsors of Smith Hall, on two conditions. One : that they move immediately the alternative accommodation is available, which I think will be very shortly. The other, that the transaction is kept quite confidential. No one is to know. And if you wonder why I make the second condition, I will tell you : if it were once known that I had made a gift I would be inundated with requests from other sources for donations.”