“Well, sir, I didn’t mean it quite like that,” Bobby protested, “but I do feel that the duke and duchess aren’t being entirely frank with us. I feel they could tell us more than they have. They have some reason, or think they have, though it may have nothing to do with the murder, for keeping quiet. Certainly the duke doesn’t want it known where he was about eight or nine Saturday night.”
“Then I suppose we’ve got to find out,” sighed Ulyett. “Got to. Duty. Hell. Nicely we shall burn our fingers poking about in a duke’s private affairs. Unless, of course,” he added, brightening up, “it’s something dirty, but not criminal, we can ignore officially, but put the screws on privately – a woman perhaps?”
“So far,” Bobby said, “it doesn’t seem it’s that. Everyone seems to agree he’s not that sort.”
“You never know,” said Ulyett hopefully – and reminiscently.
“Well, sir,” said Bobby, “my own feeling is we can wash that out – unless, of course, something else turns up. But it does seem clear he was rather oddly interested in the necklace, and gave the idea he might be a buyer. Miss May states the firm were quite hopeful in spite of what she told them.”
“Thought the price too high, didn’t he?” asked Ulyett. “Of course, if he got it for nothing – but that’s silly, a duke and all.”
“Yes, sir,” agreed Bobby. “Another thing is, he knew Jessop was a gambler. It’s odd a man in his position should know anything about the private life of a man in Mr. Jessop’s.”
“There’s plenty of gambling goes on at the Cut and Come Again – high stakes, too, even though we’ve never been able to bring them in.”
“I thought of that,” Bobby said. “I’m fairly sure the duke has never been near the Cut and Come Again.”
“If the duke had somehow got to know something about Jessop,” mused Ulyett, “could he have been putting the screws on him to get the price down? Was T.T. the intermediary? Did something happen while they were discussing it? Clear as mud, isn’t it?”
“The duchess,” Bobby went on, “admits having seen the necklace when Miss May took it to the Park Lane flat, but denies that she ever saw it at Hastley Court. Yet there seems good evidence it was taken there to show her. If she is lying when she says she never saw it there – well, why? If it was shown to someone else – well, who? And why didn’t Jessop say so? Why did he let the others, Jacks and Wright, believe he had seen the duchess again?”
Ulyett was gazing at the ceiling.
“Wright states that Miss May had been dismissed on suspicion of her honesty,” he said slowly. “Said to have been associating with someone called Denis said to be a suspected jewel thief. We’ve no record of any Denis that I know of, though I’ll check up on that; and then in the jewellery trade sometimes they know more suspects than we do ourselves. Is it possible this Miss May brought off a masquerade as the duchess? She would know her way about Hastley Court quite well. In a case like this,” he added apologetically, “no suggestion is too wild to consider.”
“No, sir,” agreed Bobby, “only I don’t quite see what the object of such a masquerade could be – and Miss May is about a foot taller than the duchess, and height is one thing you can’t very well disguise. And then Jessop brought the necklace away with him.”
“Yes,” agreed Ulyett, “there’s that. She’ll have to be checked up on, though. Nearly done in to-day, from what the doctor said. Perhaps when she knows that she may be willing to talk. There must be some connection between the attack on her and the murder. That half-smoked cigar pretty well proves it by itself.”
“I did wonder,” Bobby said, “if that was left there to make us think so.”
“Possible,” agreed Ulyett, “only, if it’s that way, it must be someone who knows a good deal. Nothing published yet about any cigar. There are a lot of angles to this case – the duke and duchess; this Hilda May girl and her young man; what Jessop was up to; the tension between him and his partner; Wynne. Odds are, it’s Wynne we want. We can’t be sure how long it was after he turned back to the house before the shot was fired. If he knew Jessop was there, trying to do a deal with T.T. over the necklace, he would have had time enough at a push. Only, of course, that means T.T. did really know Jessop, and I admit he didn’t seem to.”
“Also,” Bobby added, “Wynne escaped over the wall to the north of the house. The study where Jessop was shot is on the other side, the south side, and the imitation necklace was found there, as if it had been thrown away by the murderer while escaping. He wouldn’t want it any more if he had the genuine.”
“It might have been thrown through the study window – though it would have been a jolly good throw, and the lie would probably have been different. But one can’t be sure of that, and the direction’s good enough – line of escape for a fugitive, too, of course. Not much to go on; not enough to clear Wynne, anyhow. There’ll be plenty to ask him when we pull him in.”
“There’s another thing, sir,” Bobby continued. “That theory means Wynne double-crossed T.T. No one ever does that with T.T. and gets away with it. If it’s that way, we shall be getting plenty of information from T.T. before long.”
“No sign of it yet,” commented Ulyett. “Apparently he can’t talk of anything except moving to a new house after what’s happened.”
“I shouldn’t have thought he was so sensitive as all that,” remarked Bobby. “Would you, sir?”
“No,” agreed Ulyett. “Bit of a shock, I suppose. Think better of it, perhaps. Hope he does myself, though. That place where he is, is a sight too convenient. You can get in back way, from the common, or front way, from the street, and on one side there’s an empty house with a big deserted garden. And when he has his scouts out like he had the other night, not much chance of anyone getting near without being spotted.”
“That’s another point, sir,” Bobby remarked. “Why had he his scouts out? He can’t have been expecting us, because we only fixed it up on short notice. He only takes precautions like that when he is expecting a raid or has something big on. Looks as if he was expecting either Jessop – but apparently he did not know him – or else Wynne. But that suggests Wynne had the necklace, and how had he got hold of it? There seems no connection – except that in the list of members of the Cut and Come Again there’s a Count de Teirney.”
“Yes, we’ve got that,” agreed Ulyett, fumbling amidst the mass of papers on his desk. “Seems clear that’s Wynne, though he doesn’t seem to have been there much. But the whole place seems to have been buzzing with rumours about a big deal T.T. was bringing off. And not only the Cut and Come Again. Half the crooks in London seem to have known T.T. had done it again, though apparently none of them knew details. We haven’t got the rumours traced to their source yet, but one story is Wynne had been boasting when a bit over the nine. Only then, again, those stories have been going round several days – we had a hint of them ourselves last Wednesday, I think; anyhow, two or three days before the definite report we got in Saturday we linked up with the Jessop ’phone message. There’s another snag – presumably Jessop only missed the necklace on Saturday; and, if it actually was the Fellows necklace Wynne was boasting about, he must have had it in his hands, or been dead sure of getting it, several days before. It’ll save a lot of trouble if Wynne has tried to do down T.T., and T.T. comes across with what he knows. We know now the necklace is missing; it’s as good as certain someone had it at Brush Hill Saturday night, and, if it wasn’t for this attack on the Hilda May girl, I should say it was safe betting Wynne has it now. Only this new affair makes it look as if the girl had got hold of it somehow and someone knew. Wynne again, perhaps?”
“Yes, sir,” agreed Bobby, “only there’s no link as yet between Miss May and Wynne, and it’s difficult to fit in T.T. I’ve been wondering, sir, if there could be anything behind his talking so much about wanting to move?”
“What could there be?”
“And why he seemed worried,” Bobby continued, discreetly ignoring this
question, “over the football results from the Evening Announcer being missing?”
“Good Lord,” protested Ulyett, “you don’t want to bring football results into it, do you?”
“No, sir,” answered Bobby hastily, “not unless they’re there already. And I’ve been wondering about that copy of the Upper Ten Mr. Jessop had in his pocket.”
“Didn’t know there was one,” said Ulyett. “Is it listed?”
“Yes, sir, I think so. It got kicked under a chair and left there, so I picked it up. The only thing about it is that there’s a snap of the duchess at the races two weeks ago.”
“Her again,” grunted Ulyett. “Why shouldn’t she be at the races?”
“I don’t know, sir,” answered Bobby, “only it seemed funny Mr. Jessop should have a paper with a snap of her in his pocket. May be nothing in it, of course.”
“Don’t quite see what there could be,” Ulyett remarked, looking rather worried, though. “Gives me the willies the way this blessed duke and duchess keep cropping up. I’ve been trying to check up on Jacks’s story that he was at a cinema as he says; can’t do it. He knows all about the programme, but he may have seen it another night. He’s got the stubs of the two tickets for stalls he bought, but it doesn’t say he was sitting there all evening. He and Mrs. Jacks turned up together at their friend’s, but that doesn’t prove they came together.”
“And Mr. Wright,” Bobby asked, “has he anything he can show to confirm his motoring story?”
“I was going into that with him when you rang up about the Hilda May affair,” Ulyett answered. “As a matter of fact, he hasn’t. He admits it was nearly midnight when he got to his hotel at Winchester. Says he made a long circuit, just for the sake of the trip, without looking or caring much where he was going. Nasty night for motoring. Says that after a week shut up in town he needs a breath of fresh air, rain or no rain. Can’t suggest anything by which we can confirm his story.”
“I met Magotty Meg leaving the Cut and Come Again,” Bobby said. “She’s not a member, but she’s always in and out there. She’s down on the list of staff as housekeeper, though I don’t suppose she either housekeeps or draws any pay – except for commission on the pigeons she brings in. It’s possible she may know something, for she went out of her way to tell me she didn’t hold with murder.”
“What she knows,” Ulyett sighed, “she won’t tell. Never known her come across with anything useful yet. Wynne still seems our best prospect. If we can trace the pistol found near Jessop’s body to him, it’ll be good enough for an arrest. I don’t suppose that thumb torn from a rubber glove will be any good; gloves made away with by now, most likely. There’s a report in from the uniform man on a beat at Brush Hill that night may mean something. Says he saw a young fellow running down the Lane about the time of the murder. Didn’t notice him much at first – wet night, and he might have been running for a train, or the trams or buses. But when he saw the policeman he slacked up and began to walk, and then dodged down a side-street, and was out of sight in no time. Uniform man thought it a bit suspicious, but not enough to take action on, especially as young fellow wasn’t carrying anything. Inquiries made at tube station and from the ‘bus and tram men, but no one else seems to have noticed him. May have been our man, but there are plenty don’t like policemen looking at them, and, anyhow, not much hope of tracing him. Uniform man didn’t even see his face. Also there’s a report about the summer-house in the garden of the empty house next to T.T. I’ve had it gone over pretty thoroughly. Lots of fingerprints, but none we have any record of, nothing useful noted about the cigarette-ends, burnt matches, paper bag that had held chocolates, and so on. One odd thing – several bits of ends of human hair, all different, and all quite small. Looks as if half a dozen girls had been sitting there combing their hair. Don’t quite see what to make of that, though, or where it comes in.”
CHAPTER 17
GENERAL QUESTIONS
“Triple problem,” Bobby muttered to himself as he walked slowly homewards. “Who killed Jessop? Who has the Fellows necklace? Who attacked Hilda May?”
That the answer to one would be the answer to all he felt fairly confident, and busily his thoughts went to and fro, from duke and duchess to Denis Chenery, from Hilda May to T.T., from the missing Wynne to the Cut and Come Again, from Magotty Meg to Charley Dickson, from Jessop’s partner and their manager back to duke and duchess again, and all of it adding up to no more, he told himself ruefully, than just confused noises in the head.
He turned into the street where he lived, and there saw Charley Dickson strolling up and down. Charley, catching sight of him at the same moment, waved a hand and came briskly forward.
“They told me at your place you hadn’t got back,” he said. “I thought I would wait – even if the Yard never sleeps, I supposed it came home sometimes.”
“How did you know where I lived?” Bobby asked.
“Cut and Come Again,” explained Charley. “Not much they don’t know there.”
“There isn’t,” agreed Bobby feelingly. “Do you know where they do their big gambling stunt? I don’t mean the John Smith flat upstairs – we know all about that. I mean the place where the extra fat pigeons are plucked.”
“Wouldn’t be quite cricket to tell if I did, would it?” Charley asked. “As a matter of fact, I don’t. Some of the pigeons don’t either; just whisked there in closed motors and haven’t an idea where it is. I have heard they’ll even buy an old house in the suburbs somewhere, use it once or twice, and then sell it again.”
“Yes, we know that,” Bobby said. “I suppose they can afford to drop a hundred or two on the re-sale if they’ve made a few thousands on the gambling.”
“Wish they would let me in on the racket,” said Charley, grinning. “Shouldn’t have to worry then about jobs in film agencies in Hollywood or anywhere else. Look here, what’s this about Miss May?”
“Who told you?” Bobby asked sharply.
“Half over London by now, I should think,” retorted Charley. “When I got away from Park Lane, I ran into a pal – Logan; Penny Logan, they call him; decent sort of chap, though Denis Chenery doesn’t like him; says he’s a wrong ’un. You ought to have seen how they glared at each other – ‘cut your throat for two pins’ sort of a look on each side.”
“One moment,” interposed Bobby. “When was this?”
“Just outside the flats where Miss May lives,” Charley answered. “Penny Logan’s rooms are in Soho, and so we had to pass there – Penny asked me to come along with him for a drink and a yarn. Chenery was just coming out – of the flats, I mean; in a deuce of a hurry, too. He and Penny looked blue murder at each other, and Chenery went off. I didn’t stop long at Penny’s – someone rang him up while I was there and wanted him to come along to them, so I cleared out. I went back to look up Miss May – don’t see why Chenery should make all the running – and the porter told me there had been a burglary and she had been half murdered. He didn’t seem to know much, and the bobby in the flat wouldn’t say a word, so I thought I would ask you. Is she badly hurt?”
“Doctor says she’ll be all right soon; only wants to be kept quiet a day or two. No thanks to whoever attacked her, though; she might easily have been killed. What time did you see Mr. Chenery?”
Charley was a bit vague. He hadn’t noticed the time particularly. Presently, however, it was fixed as being about half an hour or so before Bobby’s arrival at the flats, and Bobby reflected that the doctor had thought Hilda could not have been where he had found her more than about thirty minutes.
“Did the porter at the flats see you the first time?” Bobby asked.
“I don’t know. Why? I shouldn’t think so. When I’ve been there he’s generally either busy answering the ’phone in that little cubby-hole of his at the back or else he’s trying to work out a good double from the racing reports in the paper.”
“Do you know why Mr. Chenery and Mr. Logan don’t like each other?”
&n
bsp; Charley shrugged his shoulders.
“Chenery runs a small garage; deals in second-hand cars; says Logan tried to do him down. Logan says he didn’t, and, anyway, if you can do down a dealer in secondhand cars – well, it’s one up to you and that’s all there’s to it. You haven’t told me what happened to Hilda.”
“Come in and have a drink,” Bobby said, “and I’ll tell you.”
Charley accepted the invitation – Bobby, indeed, was inclined to think that an invitation to a drink was one the young gentleman seldom refused – and listened with close attention to the story of what had happened.
“Beastly for Hilda,” he said. “Lucky you found her in time or she might easily have suffocated. Poor old girl.” He seemed genuinely disturbed; even Bobby’s offer of a second drink passed him by unheeded – sufficient testimony to his disturbed mind. “Poor old girl” he repeated. “Rotten experience. Suppose she hadn’t time to use her gun?”
“Has she one?”
“I think so. So have I. Nice fat ’45. Have to if you’re private sec. to an old girl who is always wanting you to run round with her blasted crown jewels. I’ve had to pack off from Hastley Court to Park Lane with twenty thousand pounds’ worth of stuff in my pocket, and I expect Miss May had to, too. I know she told me once she had a toy automatic just to make her feel safer. She knows how to use a gun, too.”
“Do you know what make it was?”
“No, I don’t think she ever said. Why?”
“I was just wondering,” Bobby answered. “The flat was examined pretty carefully to see if any clue to the burglar could be found, or what was missing. There was no pistol.”
“Perhaps the johnny, whoever he was, took it off – thought it more suitable for a burglar than for anyone else,” observed Charley.
“I suppose you can’t suggest anything – or anyone?” Bobby asked.
Charley shook his head.
“Can’t understand it,” he said, frowning heavily. “Can’t have been an ordinary burglary if nothing was taken. You say the flat had been turned upside down as if something was being looked for? Do you think the chap who shot poor old Jessop can have thought he might have left the Fellows necklace in her charge and was looking for it? It’s Sunday, and all the banks and usual places are shut up. Jessop might have left it with her with the idea that no one would think of her having it.”
Mystery of Mr. Jessop Page 15
