“Really, sir.” Harry’s voice rose in. a protesting squeak. “Mr. Rayner is just having——”
Sloan filled the doorway.
Roger said evenly: “Getting tough?”
“I’m always tough when I’m in a hurry, and I’m in a hurry now. Is there a place where your man can go without hearing us?”
Harry’s eyes became cloudy again.
“Kitchen, Harry,” said Roger. He might have said: “Kennel, Fido,” and meant the same thing and had the same effect.
Harry went off, hurriedly, and closed the door leading to the kitchen. Sloan went across to it and turned the key in the lock. He looked very big, powerful, and aggressive.
Roger said: “I don’t know that I like you in this mood, Inspector.”
“Forget I’m a policeman. Did you telephone me on Sunday night?” Sloan was in an angrily aggressive mood.
There was a dictaphone, taking all this down.
“I did not.”
“I want the truth, Rayner.”
“Why don’t you ask your friend Kennedy?”
“Don’t be smart. After I came to see you, I was twice run down. Nearly run down. They were murder attempts. They came immediately after I’d called to see you. I’m giving you a chance to save yourself from trouble. Did you telephone me?”
“No.”
Sloan said: “So you fixed those attacks.”
“You’re crazy.”
“We’ll see.” Sloan moved across the room. He had his right hand in his pocket, holding something which made a considerable bulge; the kind of bulge that a gun would make. If a Yard man had reason to suspect that his life was in danger, he could get authority to carry a gun. There was something new in Sloan’s expression, as if he felt sure he could force a showdown, and meant to.
Roger said : “Calm down. Have a drink.”
“I’ve finished drinking with killers.”
“All right, please yourself. Mind if I get on with my supper?” Roger sat down and picked up a knife and fork.
“Where have you been to-night?”
“Out.”
“Don’t evade my questions. Where have you been?”
“Continuing my experiments in romance. Auburn, this time, and very sophisticated. I don’t think she would be quite your type.”
“Don’t you ? Not the type you had with you on Sunday night?”
An alarm bell seemed to ring in Roger’s head. He cut into a kidney and put it to his mouth; it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to keep steady.
“No, not the same type at all. The first was a sweet little innocent animal, didn’t I tell you? There was nothing innocent about this one, and I don’t know that you could call her sweet.”
“What was the name of the girl you were out with on Sunday?”
“Doris.”
“Doris what?”
“That’s as far as was necessary.”
“Where did you take her?”
“I didn’t. She took me. A pleasant little two-roomed flat. She was very sweet.” He ate some bacon and toast; it nearly choked him.
“You’re lying. You took her out in a car.”
“Have it your own way.”
“The car was a Morris. Colour, grey. It was muddy because it had done a lot of country running and hadn’t been washed down. It’s still muddy. You took her out in it—let’s have the truth, Rayner.”
“I haven’t a car.”
“This one was lent to you.”
Roger finished his mouthful, and leaned back.
“I didn’t go out in any car on Sunday night. I spent the evening with Doris, and came back here in time to have a talk with you. Remember? If I wanted to hire a car, it wouldn’t be a poky Morris.”
Sloan took a step forward and grinned into his face.
