She was sullen now, as she answered: “No.”
“Quite sure?” Roger took out his penknife, casually, opened it, and poked at the quick of his thumbnail.
“Of course I’m sure!”
“Then what are you so worked up about?” demanded Roger. He closed the knife one-handed, and suddenly cried out: “Oh, damn!”
He swung round, shaking his hand. His back was towards Eve when he thrust his hand into his waistcoat pocket, and squeezed the glass phial. Blood covered his hand and streamed up his arm when he turned round.
“Here, we must stop that bleeding,” Turnbull said, as if in alarm.
All Eve Franklin said was: “Mind the carpet!”
Roger, holding up his hand, went to a basin, and thrust his hand under the cold water tap.
“Take my handkerchief out,” he said to Turnbull.
Eve, who had told the magistrate how she always fainted at the sight of blood, showed no sign of being upset. Turnbull made a professional-looking job of bandaging Roger’s finger, as if it were a genuine wound, and was finishing as the front doorbell rang.
“I’ll go,” said Turnbull. He went into the hall, and Roger peered out to see George Warrender push past Turnbull into the hall.
Ma Beesley lifted the receiver of the private line between the flat and Raeburn’s city office, and said: “Yes, who is it?”
“Tell George I want him.” It was Raeburn.
“I can’t just now,” said Ma. “I’m sorry, Paul, but George has gone out. You know that woman who lives across the road from Eve? Tenby dropped her a few pounds to keep an eye on the child—”
Raeburn’s voice became sharp. “Well?”
“Well, she told Tenby to say that that handsome man has gone into the flat,” said Ma. “The very handsome one, you know. Tenby got away before he arrived, so George thought he’d better get along at once.”
When Raeburn did not answer, she went on: “Just in case of any difficulty, I’ve asked Abel Melville to stand by, but I think it will be all right.”
“So Mr Handsome won’t take a warning,” Raeburn said. “I’ll have to deal with him.”
CHAPTER VII
EVE SAID: “Who is it?” and stood up, pulling the dressing-gown tight about her waist. Her eyes were swollen and red, and her face was blotchy.
“A friend of yours,” Roger said.
“That’s right,” agreed Warrender, “and Miss Franklyn obviously needs friends. Where is she?”
A hand brushed Roger’s arm behind the door.
“Don’t let him come in,” whispered Eve. “
“Chief Inspector, I insist on being told what has happened.” Warrender strode forward.
Roger made no attempt to stop him from entering the bedroom. If the girl did not want to see him, it seemed a good time to let them meet. She was looking over her shoulder, her face covered with powder. Her red-rimmed eyes were staring out of a grotesque white mask.
“My dear Eve,” Warrender exclaimed, stepping forward, “what on earth’s the matter? What’s distressed you like this?” He put a hand on her shoulder; his voice was gentle and friendly. “Have these men been worrying you?”
“They—yes, they won’t go away! I locked the door, but they broke it open. I just can’t stand any more of their questioning.”
“You certainly won’t have to,” said Warrender, and his voice became harsh and clipped. “Is this your special form of third degree, Chief Inspector?”
“Don’t talk nonsense. We—”
“You appear to have forced your way into this room, and made yourselves objectionable. We shall find out whether it is lawful. Eve, I think you had better stay with friends for a little while. You know the people in Flat 4, don’t you?”
“I can’t go there like this,” she protested.
“Oh, don’t worry about makeup.” Warrender took her elbow and helped her to her feet. “The police will have no objections to this, I’m sure.”
Roger said, stonily: “By advising Miss Franklin not to answer questions, Mr Warrender, you are obstructing us in our work.”
“She’s in no fit state just now to talk about anything,” Warrender retorted, “certainly not until she’s seen her lawyer. Come along, my dear.”
The Woman with the dust cap was now standing on the landing, and exclaimed as Warrender led Eve out: