Alibi

be that she felt secure in whatever she was doing, or else had no idea of what was going on. She might be much more worried than she pretended, of course, and putting up an act, but she was very sharp-witted and probably as sure of herself as she sounded. Thoughtfully, almost ruefully, he sat back in his chair. It was twenty-five minutes to seven, and nothing on his desk was desperately urgent. He could go home for dinner and come out again for another questioning session with the three prisoners if he thought it worthwhile.

Then he snapped his fingers and snatched up the receiver, called the police station where prisoners needed close to the Yard were held, and said, “Superintendent in charge, please.” Almost at once a man with a pronounced Lancashire voice spoke.

“Superintendent speaking.”

“Sam,” said Roger, knowing that this was an old stager, Superintendent Sam Otley. “You’ve a man named Pearson under charge of uttering threats and common assault—”

Otley broke in with a guffaw.

“Poor devil! Have you seen his wife?”

“No. What’s she like?”

“Two-Ton Tessie to the life except for Tessie’s sweet temperament,” said Otley. “She’s huge—God knows what they look like together in bed. He’s a shrimp, she—”

“Sam,” interjected Roger, warningly.

“Eh? Oh! Well, she’s been round here at least three times. Once she threatened to throw the duty sergeant down the steps! Wouldn’t be surprised if she couldn’t do it, too. You can hear her voice all over the station. What do you want with Pearson, anyhow?”

“Let him go,” Roger ordered.

“What?” screeched Otley. “Once she gets him home she’ll murder the poor creep. Give him a week’s rest, Handsome. Ask for a remand in custody on Monday; after a week she’ll have cooled down a bit.”

“Let him go at half past seven,” Roger insisted.

“But why?”

“I want him followed,” Roger said. “He’s a little too meek and mild and she’s a lot too rumbustous for my liking. See where he goes and what happens.”

“Will you fix the watching?” asked Otley, his resistance ebbing.

“Yes,” Roger promised. “Thanks, Sam.” He rang off and then went into Danizon’s room, saying as he opened the door, “I want two men to go over to the Fulham station and to shadow Pearson when they let him out.”

“What’s he done to deserve getting out?” asked Danizon.

“He’s a good sprat to catch a mackerel,” Roger answered.-

Danizon hesitated, then slapped his knee and laughed; and doing so, looked more clown-like than ever.

“And you want the mackerel!” he cried. Then he sobered. “I’ll fix it,” he added. “Oh, before you go, sir, I’ve managed to get a quick line on the man Artemeus. He’s fairly new on the board of Allsafe, been there two years or so, I gather. He was with one of the big banks for several years as Chief Security Officer, and then Allsafe—”

Danizon stopped abruptly, as an idea suddenly struck him, his expression one of utter consternation.

“Good Lord, you’re—you’re not going to join them, sir, are you?” he asked. When Roger didn’t answer, he went on in tones of even greater distress, “You can’t, sir. It would be a disaster!”

“Tom,” said Roger at last, lying not only to soothe this man but also to make as sure as he could that no rumours circulated round the Yard that night or in the next few days; it was often said, and only half in jest, that after the House of Commons Scotland Yard was the biggest talking shop in town. “We are finding out whether some of the work we do overlaps with the security firms wastefully. Better not spread it around, though, or a lot of other people could jump to the wrong conclusion.” Then he chuckled. “But I’m not as important as all that, Tom.”

“Don’t you believe it,” rejoined Tom Danizon, and there was no shadow of doubt that he spoke from the heart. “This place would damn near collapse without you. What you don’t understand, if I may say so, is that the whole Yard’s behind you.”

“In what?” asked Roger, startled.

Tom Danizon winked broadly.

“I know you can’t admit anything or say anything about it, sir, but everyone knows about your little brush with the great white chief yesterday. And they hate his—I mean, they don’t really appreciate a man who comes in from one of the other services and starts laying down the law to us. A question of teaching your grandmother how to suck eggs, really. Anyhow, sir, the whole of the C.I.D. staff and a lot from the other departments are right behind you. And it’s bloody well time someone here had the guts to start leading with their right—like you did in court yesterday. And it’s time we coppers were allowed to do our job instead of being hamstrung by a lot of half-witted regulations. Supposing you did go into the room on your own and found Maisie Dunster, by herself; no one in their right minds would think you’d lay a hand on her. Anyone who says different is a stinker, that’s what I say.”

At last, Danizon stopped; and once stopped, fell into some confusion, as if embarrassed at having talked so freely. His talking had done one thing, however—enabled Roger to recover from his own surprise. And now he was ready with a question.

“Where did you get all this confidential information?”

Danizon looked even more embarrassed. Give him a pair of baggy trousers and he could walk straight into a circus, thought Roger irrelevantly, feeling a sudden warmth of affection for his assistant.

Danizon hesitated. “Well, no names no pack drill, but we’re behind you to a man. Do you know, there’s even talk of a strike if you’re suspended. Wouldn’t surprise me if it came off, either. See what I mean when I say that