by John Creasey
“So that’s it,” said Rollison.
King looked up.
“What?”
“A jewel case,” said Rollison.
“But they said—”
King broke off with a gasp of astonishment, for on to the table from the little box there spilled diamonds and pearls and sapphires and rubies, small and large jewels all loose and without their setting, protected by a flimsy piece of cotton wool which was dull against their brilliance. There were fifty or sixty, and they seemed to make little rivulets of flame as they rolled about the table.
Into the silence which followed, Rollison said: “A nice present for Mrs. Murgatroyd! I don’t think Babette would have been allowed to keep it, do you?”
“No wonder everyone was so anxious about it!” exclaimed King, and then he added, bewilderedly: “But everyone seemed to think it would contain papers!”
Grice looked up, and smiled at Rollison.
“Shall I tell him, or will you?”
“Your turn,” said Rollison, gracefully.
“I think Arnott gave it out to everyone that he had written evidence which would convict them of some crime or other, and put it about that the evidence was in that box. Instead—” Grice actually laughed. “The proceeds of a lot of robberies, I imagine.”
“Or donations to Arnott’s hoard from officers indebted to him,” said Rollison, thoughtfully. “Quite a little prize packet. I didn’t know what I was handling!”
“What’s that lot worth?” asked King, eagerly.
“I wouldn’t like to put a value on them,” said Rollison, picking up a diamond as large as a pea. “That would sell for several thousands, and it isn’t the largest.” He tossed it up in the air.
“Be careful!” exclaimed King.
Rollison laughed. “It won’t come to any harm. Well, Bill, are you going to stay here for the night?”
“We’ll get back to town, I think,” said Grice. “Look after Murgatroyd, Inspector, and send him up by train in the morning. Just at the moment,” he added, “I’m very anxious to talk to Mrs. Fotheringay.”
When Rollison reached the Gresham Terrace flat, after Grice had dropped him nearby and was hot foot to see the woman in hospital, he was not surprised to hear an American voice call his name. Gerry Wilmot came from the other side of the road, with an apologetic smile.
“Hallo,” said Rollison, and they went upstairs.
“I guess I hate worrying you, Mr. Rollison,” said Wilmot, “but I promised Sheila to stay around until you came back. She felt pretty sore at the way you ran out on her.”
“That’s too bad,” said Rollison. “Where is she?”
“At her home. I promised I’d call her.”
“Come in and use the telephone,” said Rollison, “it’s in that corner.” He watched Wilmot as the American called Sheila, saw him flush, heard Sheila’s voice faintly. He replaced the receiver and said: “She’s corning right over.”
“Good!” Rollison lit a cigarette. “Wilmot, there have been a lot of unexpected things in this business, and not the least of them is the fact that you and Sheila were acquainted before. Why didn’t you say so?”
Wilmot’s eyes widened.
“Why, it just isn’t true, Mr. Rollison!”
“Danny Bond recognised you. You got mixed up in a fight at a night-club.”
Wilmot grinned. “Well, I guess we all do silly things, Mr. Rollison, and that was one to chalk up against me. There’s no reason why a fellow shouldn’t talk to a pretty girl he meets on a train, is there, especially in this country.”
Rollison laughed. “Why especially? Oh, it doesn’t matter,” he said.
Wilmot said: “I don’t mind admitting one thing, Mr. Rollison, I was going to take a peek at Winchester on my way down, because I’d seen that guy Arnott buy a ticket for Winchester. He was on the same train, but things got too hot, so I didn’t trouble about him. I wanted to talk to the guy,” added Wilmot with a frown, “because one of the things he lifted from me was a diamond ring which I value pretty high, Mr. Rollison. It had a diamond which my girlfriend was going to get for an engagement ring, one day.”
“I think you might get it back,” said Rollison. “So you’ve a girlfriend?”
“No, I haven’t,” said Wilmot naïvely. “But I guess the happy day will come. What was that you said? I won’t see that again, not as long as I live.”
“You want to live in hope,” said Rollison,
Footsteps on the stairs made him break off. Sheila reached the front door and did not take her finger off the bell until Rollison opened it. Then she pushed past him.
“Rolly! Of all the beasts! Where have you been? What’s been happening? Where is Danny?”
“He’ll be all right,” said Rollison, and his eyes were narrowed and cloudy. “He’s got over the poison.”
“Poison!”
“Yes, being in love with you.”
“Rolly!”
“It’s about the most virulent poison I know,” said Rollison, “and it does a lot of damage.”
“There’s no need to be so beastly insulting!” Sheila clenched her hands. “I can’t help it if men fall in love with me, can I? and I hate being unkind to them, they are such dears. Of all the brutes!” she cried. “Look how I worked myself to the bone to make you save Danny! Look how I helped with Alec! Look—”
Rollison said: “Sheila, did you know who Mrs. Fotheringay was?”
“Fotheringay? That poor old lady? Why, no, who—?” She caught her breath. “Rolly! Alec doesn’t know. Rolly, please tell me, Alec doesn’t know! I made Danny swear that he wouldn’t tell him. Rolly—”
“How long have you known?” asked Rollison.
“I saw Danny the night before he ran away, he told me then. I knew what an awful blow it would be to Alec, he thought she was dead. Rolly, does he know?”
“Yes. And he’s at the bungalow, alone.”
She stared at him. “Poor Alec. Poor darling Alec! I—Rolly! Is there a train tonight? I don’t care if I have to travel all night, is there a train?”
“There’s one at half-past eleven.”
“I must catch it.” She looked at her watch. “Goodness, it’s nearly eleven now, I must fly!” She turned and ran out of the room, and Rollison motioned to Wilmot.
“Will you see that she’s all right?”
“I guess I’d better hurry,” said Wilmot, “but won’t I be in the way down there?”
“I don’t think they’ll notice you,” said Rollison.
He was smiling a little when the door closed behind the American. Soon he heard running footsteps in the street, and Sheila calling: “Taxi! Taxi!” He went into his study and sat down, leaning back, and wondering whether Grice would telephone to come to see him, when there was a ring at the front-door bell. He admitted Danny Bond, who looked less harassed, as if at long last the burden was off his shoulders.
“You did invite me here, didn’t you?” he asked.
“Yes, make yourself at home,” said Rollison.
“Thanks. I’ve seen Grice,” announced Danny. “It’s all come out. He asked me to tell you that it was Arnott who attacked Mrs. Fotheringay, as she called herself. She’s come round. Apparently she would not connive at violence, that’s why they fell out.” Danny sat on the edge of the desk and lit a cigarette. “How is Alec?” he asked.
“About how you’d expect,” said Rollison.
“The meanest thing I ever did was to tell him the truth,” said Danny. “I did try to make up for it afterwards.”
“I told him you did.”
“That was nice of you. Is there anything else, do you know?”
“I don’t think so,” said Rollison. “It’s worked out better for some than for others. Babette has the thick end of the stick, I’m afraid.”
“I suppose so,” said Danny, swinging his leg. “Yet she did everything to try to save her father. Rollison, hasn’t it been the very devil of a mix-up?”
“Yes.”
“She’s gone down to Winchester.”
“To see Alec?”
“Yes.”
Danny stood up, and began to pace the room.
“I suppose I ought to be glad, but I don’t mind admitting that I’m afraid she’ll play old Harry with him. I know what it’s like to be engaged to Sheila, and I simply can’t imagine her settling down on a poultry farm. Do you think Alec will take the risk?”
“I do,” said Rollison. “I think there’s a sound chance that it will work out all right, and I’m quite sure that neither of them would be happy until they’ve tried!”
Ten days later Rollison went down to Winchester to fetch Jolly, not because Jolly could not have travelled to London on his own, but because he wanted to see the bungalow and Alec and Sheila.
A great deal had happened in a week.
Alec and Sheila had been married by special licence. The Public Prosecutor had decided not to charge Babette with murder, and on the lesser charges she would not get a heavy sentence, although her father would. Arnott and Murgatroyd had been remanded on charges of murder, and there was no doubt of how their trials would go.
Tenby, Barney, and others, named by Tenby, who had made a full confession, were held on various charges; they included the men who had raided Alec’s farm. There was to be no charge against Danny Bond. Mrs. Fotheringay was not likely to live for her trial on a charge of receiving stolen goods, the chief one against her. The police were advertising for officers and men who had been robbed of jewels and already there were many claimants.
As he went with Jolly in a taxi from the hotel to the bungalow, Rollison reviewed the case from its beginning, and was still astonished at the way one thing had developed into another.
“It is a very good thing finished with,” said Jolly, as they came in sight of the bungalow. “It was a cancerous growth sir, and I like to think that I had even a small part in helping to cut it out.” He looked at the poultry houses. “Changing the subject, with your permission, I must say that Mr. Alec’s poultry produce excellent eggs.”
“What I’m worried about is whether they yield happy marriages,” said Rollison.
The front door was closed and he knocked. The garden looked as well-tended as ever, and hundreds of fowls were in their large runs, only an occasional squawk coming from them. Everywhere there was peacefulness, but the quiet was broken by hurried footsteps in the hall.
A radiant Sheila, in a green house-coat, opened the door, stepped back, and then threw herself into his arms.
“Rolly, darling! Alec! Alec! It’s Rolly—oh, and his—I mean Jolly! Isn’t it funny how differently you pronounce the letter ‘o’, sometimes, it isn’t surprising that people find English hard to learn is it?” Words tumbled out as she stood back and beamed, while Alec came slowly from the kitchen. Rollison was quite happy about what he saw.
“So we’re really married!” said Sheila, after Jolly had politely insisted on making a solitary inspection of the farm. “Alec is absolutely marvellous. You needn’t tell him that he’s old enough to know better! Rolly, I’ve thought such a lot about you,” she went on, looking at him keenly, “and I think you’re wonderful, too, but why don’t you get married? I mean, men ought to get married.”
Rollison laughed.
It was Alec who mentioned lunch and Sheila flew into the kitchen to prepare it. The sound of breaking china came into the room where Rollison and Alec were sitting, and Alec grinned.
“It’ll be all right,” he said.
“I know it will.”
“I’d better go and lend her a hand,” said Alec.
“We’ll both go. Oh, I nearly forgot—a trifle by way of a wedding present.”
It was not until after he and Jolly had left that Alec opened the envelope and found, torn into pieces, his I.O.U. for the hundred pounds to cover the grandfather clock. At the moment when Sheila was saying, in a strangely subdued voice, that she had never really appreciated Rolly, Rollison was saying to Jolly: “One thing I never understood was the good fortune which put into Lancelot Stewart’s tyre a piece of glass at the crucial moment.”
Jolly smiled serenely. “There was a bottle in the car, sir, I broke it. I thought it would be effective.”
Rollison laughed. “Trust Jolly!” He took a crumpled envelope from his pocket and passed it over. “That ought to be effective for the wall at home, too.”
Jolly looked puzzled until he drew out a handful of feathers, some stuck together with dried blood of fowls.
Series Information
Published or to be published by
House of Stratus
Dates given are those of first publication
Alternative titles in brackets
‘The Baron’ (47 titles) (writing as Anthony Morton)
‘Department ‘Z’’ (28 titles)
‘Dr. Palfrey Novels’ (34 titles)
‘Gideon of Scotland Yard’ (22 titles)
‘Inspector West’ (43 titles)
‘Sexton Blake’ (5 titles)
‘The Toff’ (59 titles)
along with:
The Masters of Bow Street
This epic novel embraces the story of the Bow Street Runners and the Marine Police, forerunners of the modern police force, who were founded by novelist Henry Fielding in 1748. They were the earliest detective force operating from the courts to enforce the decisions of magistrates. John Creasey’s account also gives a fascinating insight into family life of the time and the struggle between crime and justice, and ends with the establishment of the Metropolitan Police after the passing of Peel’s Act in 1829.
‘The Baron’ Series
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
Meet the Baron (The Man in the Blue Mask) (1937)
The Baron Returns (The Return of the Blue Mask) (1937)
The Baron Again (Salute Blue Mask) (1938)
The Baron at Bay (Blue Mask at Bay) (1938)
Alias the Baron (Alias Blue Mask) (1939)
The Baron at Large (Challenge Blue Mask!) (1939)
Versus the Baron (Blue Mask Strikes Again) (1940)
Call for the Baron (Blue Mask Victorious) (1940)
The Baron Comes Back (1943)
A Case for the Baron (1945)
Reward for the Baron (1945)
Career for the Baron (1946)
Blood Diamond (The Baron and the Beggar) (1947)
Blame the Baron (1948)
A Rope for the Baron (1948)
Books for the Baron (1949)
Cry for the Baron (1950)
Trap the Baron (1950)
Attack the Baron (1951)
Shadow the Baron (1951)
Warn the Baron (1952)
The Baron Goes East (1953)
The Baron in France (1953)
Danger for the Baron (1953)
The Baron Goes Fast (1954)
Nest-Egg for the Baron (Deaf, Dumb and Blonde) (1954)
Help from the Baron (1955)
Hide the Baron (1956)
The Double Frame (Frame the Baron) (1957)
Blood Red (Red Eye for the Baron) (1958)
If Anything Happens to Hester (Black for the Baron) (1959)
Salute for the Baron (1960)
The Baron Branches Out (A Branch for the Baron) (1961)
The Baron and the Stolen Legacy (Bad for the Baron) (1962)
A Sword for the Baron (The Baron and the Mogul Swords) (1963)
The Baron on Board (The Mask of Sumi) (1964)
The Baron and the Chinese Puzzle (1964)
Sport for the Baron (1966)
Affair for the Baron (1967)
The Baron and the Missing Old Masters (1968)
The Baron and the Unfinished Portrait (1969)
Last Laugh for the Baron (1970)
The Baron Goes A-Buying (1971)
The Baron and the Arrogant Artist (1972)
Burgle the Baron (1973)
The Baron - King Maker (1975)
Love for the Baron (1979)
Doctor Palfrey Novels
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
Traitor’s Doom (1942)
The Legion of the Lost (1943)
The Valley of Fear (The Perilous Country) (1943)
Dangerous Quest (1944)
Death in the Rising Sun (1945)
The Hounds of Vengeance (1945)
Shadow of Doom (1946)
The House of the Bears (1946)
Dark Harvest (1947)
The Wings of Peace (1948)
The Sons of Satan (1948)
The Dawn of Darkness (1949)
The League of Light (1949)
The Man Who Shook the World (1950)
The Prophet of Fire (1951)
The Children of Hate (The Killers of Innocence; The Children of Despair) (1952)
The Touch of Death (1954)
The Mists of Fear (1955)
The Flood (1956)
The Plague of Silence (1958)
Dry Spell (The Drought) (1959)
The Terror (1962)
The Depths (1963)
The Sleep (1964)
The Inferno (1965)
The Famine (1967)
The Blight (1968)
The Oasis (1970)
The Smog (1970)
The Unbegotten (1971)
The Insulators (1972)
The Voiceless Ones (1973)
The Thunder-Maker (1976)
The Whirlwind (1979)
Gideon Series
(Writing as JJ Marric)
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
Gideon’s Day (Gideon of Scotland Yard) (1955)
Seven Days to Death (Gideon’s Week) (1956)
Gideon’s Night (1957)
A Backwards Jump (Gideon’s Month) (1958)
Thugs and Economies (Gideon’s Staff) (1959)
Gideon Combats Influence (Gideon’s Risk) (1960)
Gideon’s Fire (1961)
A Conference for Assassins (Gideon’s March) (1962)
