shelves gaped where whole sections of books had been' tossed out; and the drawers of the desk hung out empty and drunken. A portable typewriter, its cover off, had become entangled with the telephone, and the contents of several brass ash-trays were sprayed across some carbon paper and pencils.
Hadley glanced quickly into the other rooms as Dr Fell opened the door of the kitchen.' The bed was still unmade in the bedroom. The search here had been more perfunctory, confined to the bureau. And the dining-room had not been touched at all. It had seldom or never been used for eating purposes, but there had palpably been a use for it. Two gigantic rows of empty soda-siphons had been lined up on the sideboard. Under a mosaic dome of lights over the table there mingled in confusion empty bottles, unwashed glasses, a cocktail-shaker and ash- tray.
`The kitchen also,' Dr Fell observed at his elbow, `seems to have been used chiefly for mixing drinks' He swept his arm about. `You see? That sitting-room he kept tidy for casual visitors like his uncle. This is where he really lived. H'mf.'
He was wheezing in the kitchen doorway. Over his arm he carried a large market-basket which jingled with iron.
`You said tools?' inquired Hadley, sharply. `Was that what you were looking for? You mean a chisel or a screwdriver used to force open the outer door of this flat?'
'Good Lord, no!' snorted the doctor. `You don't suppose the woman got into the flat, came back here, found a chisel, and went out, again so that she could break open the door for sheer amusement, do you?'
`She might have done just that,' said the inspector, quietly, `to give the impression it was some outsider who had burgled the flat.'
`It's entirely possible, I grant you. But, as a matter of fact, I wasn't interested in the breaking or entering. It was an entirely different sort of tool I was looking for.'
`It may further interest you to know,' the chief inspector pursued, rather irritably, `that while you have been poking about in the kitchen we've learned a great deal from Bitton….'
The doctor nodded several times, and the black ribbon on his glasses swung jumpily.
`Yes,' he agreed, `I thought you would. He was here to get information from his private detective, and you've scared him into forcing, her to tell what she knows by making out a thundering case against his wife. I imagined
I could safely leave that to you. But from my point of view it wasn't necessary. I'm rather sure I can tell you what the Larkin woman knows, Come over here to the study for a moment, and have a look at Driscoll's character.'
'You infernal old stuffed-shirt bluffer…!' said Hadley, like one who commences an oration.
'Oh, come,' protested the doctor, with a mildly injured air. `Tut, tut! No. I may be a childish old fool. I admit that. But I'm not a bluffer, old man. Really, I'm not. Let's see, what was I talking about? Oh yes; Driscoll's character. There are some rather interesting photographs of him in the study,'
Sharply and stridently through the silent passage the telephone in the study rang.
12. Concerning X—19
`That;' said Hadley, whirling about, `may be a lead. Wait a moment. I'll answer it.'
They followed him into the study.
He said: `Hello!… Yes, this is…. Chief Inspector Hadley speaking… Who?… Oh yes.. It's Sheila Bitton,' he said to, the others over his shoulder, and there was a tinge of disappointment in his voice. `Yes…. Yes, certainly, Miss Bitton.' A long pause. `Why, I suppose you may, but I shall have to have a look at everything first, you know. No trouble at all! When will you come over?'
`Wait!' said Dr Fell, eagerly. He stumped across. `She's coming over here to-night?'
`Yes. She says there are some belongings of Philip's that her uncle wants her to bring to the house.'
`H'm. Ask her if she's got anybody to bring her over here.'
`What the devil…! Oh, all right,' Hadley agreed, then spoke again. `She says she's got Dalrye,' he transmitted after a moment.
`That won't do. There's somebody in that house I've got to talk to, and I've got to talk to him out of the house or it may be no good. Let me talk to her, will you?'
Hadley shrugged and got up from the desk.
`Hello!' said the doctor. `Miss Bitton? This is Dr Fell, Mr Hadley's colleague.You do? Oh yes; from your fiance.
HEY?'
'You needn't blow the mouthpiece out,' Hadley observed, sourly. `What tact! What tact! Ha!'
'Excuse me, Miss Bitton. I may be, of course, the fattest walrus Mr Dalrye has ever seen, but… No, my dear, of course I don't mind….'
they could hear the phone tinkling in an animated fashion; Rampole remembered Mrs Larkin's description of Sheila Bitton as a `little blonde,' and grinned to himself. Dr Fell contemplated the phone with an expression of one trying to smile in order to have his picture taken, presently he broke in.
`What I was trying to say, Miss Bitton, was this. You'll undoubtedly have a number of things to take away, and they'll be quite bulky…. Oh! Mr Dalrye has to be back at the Tower by ten o'clock? Then you will certainly want somebody to handle them. Haven't you somebody there who could?… The chauffeur's not there? Well, what about your father's valet? What's his name? — Marks. He spoke highly of Marks, and… But please don't bring your father, Miss Bitton; it would only make him feel worse. Oh, he's lying down? Very well, Miss Bitton. We shall expect you. Good-bye.'
He turned about, glowering, and shook the tool-basket until it jangled. `She burbles. She prattles. And she called me a walrus. A most naive young; lady. And if any humorist on these premises makes the obvious remark about the Walrus and the Carpenter…'
`Dr Watson… ' Hadley muttered. `Thanks for reminding me. I've got to put a call through to the police station at Golders Green. Get up from there.'
He began a series of relay-calls through Scotland Yard, and finally left his orders. He had just finished informing some mystified desk sergeant on the other wire to phone him here after he had made sure the message was delivered to the guard at Arbor's cottage, when they heard footsteps in the sitting-room.
Evidently it had taken some time for Lester Bitton to persuade Mrs Larkin that it would be advisable to talk. Bitton was pacing the front room, looking flushed and dangerous. Mrs Larkin was holding back the: curtain of the front window and peering out with extreme nonchalance.' When she saw Hadley she examined him coldly.
`You tecs,' she said, her upper lip wrinkling; `pretty damn smart, ain't you? I told his nibs here you'd got nothing on his wife. He should have sat tight, and let you go ahead, and then we could both have got a sweet piece of change out of you for false arrest. But no. He had to get scared and spill the beans.'
Hadley opened his brief-case again. This time he was not bluffing; the printed form he opened carried two decidedly unflattering snapshots.
'Amanda Georgette Larkin',' he read. '`Alias Amanda Leeds, Alias Georgie Simpson. Known as 'Emmy' Shoplifting. Speciality, jewellery, large department stores. Last heard of in New York …
'You needn't go through all that,' interrupted Emmy. `There's nothing on me now. I told you that this afternoon. But, go on and get his nibs to tell you what agency I work for. Then you'll tell them, and, bingo! I'm through.'
Hadley folded up the paper and replaced it. `If' you give us a clear statement, I don't think I need warn your employers about Georgie Simpson.'
She put her hands on her hips and studied him.
`All right. Here she goes.'
Mrs Larkin's manner underwent a subtle change. That afternoon she had seemed all tight corsets and severe tailoring, like an especially forbidding schoolmistress. Now the stiffness disappeared into an easier slouch and she dropped into a chair.
`What we want to know is everything you did to-day, Mrs Larkin,' Hadley told her.
