“So they’re after us both.”
“They’ve asked a few questions. You’ve got to find a way to stall them. That’s your job—understand, Rayner? That’s what you’re here for—countering the work of the police. You’d better do it well.”
“You bungled this. I should have been briefed before I got here. Your funny-funny business will get you to the gallows if you’re not careful.”
“You’ll come with me.”
“That’s why I’m worried about it.”
Kennedy smiled slowly.
“That’s a good frame of mind to be in,” he said. “I think I chose the right man. But watch your step. I’m the boss.”
“What I do, I’ll do my own way.” Roger went to a chair and sat down heavily—and flung out the next question: “What’s happened to Marion?”
“Why should you worry ?”
“She called me, asked me to——”
“Sure, I know. But you don’t answer appeals for help from pretty women, you go where I tell you to go, and forget all the rest.”
“Where is she?”
Kennedy leaned back and thrust his legs out again.
“She isn’t,” he said softly.
The significance of it was a long time dawning on Roger. It might not have dawned when it did but for that slow, cruel smile. “She isn’t.” Marion wasn’t alive, they’d killed her.
“She met with an accident,” Kennedy said.
“Accident?” On the tip of his tongue were the words: “Like Kyle’s wife,” but he bit on them. “So you——”
“That’s right. Haven’t you realized who you’re working for? Marion made it easier to handle you. But she wasn’t reliable. She fell in love with you. She listened at keyholes and learned this address and enough of the truth to be dangerous. She was silly enough to threaten to tell the police all she knew.”
Roger said: “Every detective in Scotland Yard could tell you what I’m going to tell you now. You’ve had it. You can get away with one murder, maybe two—but in your frame of mind, you go on until you get caught. You’re as good as hanged.”
“Very nice. I’ve been telling you, your job is to keep me free from the police.” Kennedy stood up and went to the window. This one overlooked the narrow street. “I don’t want to turn you into a yes man, you won’t be any good to me that way, but don’t forget who’s the boss, and don’t forget that if I get caught, you’ll be caught with me. I asked you what you said to Kyle.”
“How did you know about Sloan?”
“I’ll talk about a lot of things that mystify you, and you won’t say much I don’t get to hear. The question is— Kyle.”
“He was waiting when I got here. He expected to see someone else, although he didn’t say so. He pitched a hard-luck story, and I flung him out on his ear.”
“What kind of hard luck?”
“He wanted money. If I’d had time, I’d have listened to his story, but there wasn’t any time, because I wanted to be alone. I didn’t want anyone to find me with an old lag.”
“Who told you that Kyle was an old lag?”
Roger stared and laughed. He managed to sound amused. He lit another cigarette and waved his hand, as if at something which was ridiculous.
“I’ve been dealing with old lags most of my life. I’ve only to set eyes on them to know where they’ve been living. Kyle’s been inside for at least four years, you don’t get that way until you’ve had a stretch or longer.”
Kennedy said: “Okay, West. Keep on the level. Now, listen to me. This business is going to expand! You can leave all the details of staff and the daily running of the business to the secretary—Rose Morgan. You’ll get your instructions for the rest from me. You’ll travel a lot— didn’t I promise you an easy life?” He sneered. “This is your home address in England. There are two rooms and a kitchen besides this. You’ll have a man to look after you named Harry. He’ll be along later in the day. Just settle into your new life, Rayner.”
“When are you going to tell me what it’s all about?”
“You’ll learn. I’ve told you enough for a start. Just remember what happens to people who won’t play the game my way. The girl at Copse Cottage was one. Marion was another.”
Kennedy got up and went out.
Roger sat quite still, looking at the ceiling. Images on his mind were far too many and too vivid; Marion was added to them, now—good, wholesome, attractive Marion, who had wanted to help him; had begged to help him. If he’d trusted her, he might have avoided all this, or much of it. The ruthless devilry of it swept over him like a stinking cloak of corruption.
Rose Morgan was forty-ish; plump, shapeless, dressed in a kind of black sack. She had a little beak of a nose, small pale lips which opened very little, a high-pitched, decisive voice. She was efficiency to the last syllable. Her hair was mousy colour and fastened in a bun at the back. She had good hands and perfectly kept nails. She seemed willing to teach Roger everything there was to know about the business.
He saw her for the first time the day after Sloan’s visit— a Friday. The staff was coming here on Monday, she
