by Molly Thynne
She had the satisfaction of seeing that she had scored a point. Mellish turned to her with real interest in his eyes.
“Met her! Where?”
“On the landing outside this flat. I had just come in, and, as I got out of the lift, I saw her come out of Mr. de Silva’s door. I didn’t want to run into him, so I stayed where I was. Besides, they were having the most frantic row, and I didn’t feel inclined to burst in on it. He was standing in the doorway and she was screaming, literally screaming, at him. I couldn’t see his face, but his voice, when he answered her, was utterly hateful. Jasper, I was bored with him before, but I’m afraid of him now. I didn’t know he could be like that.”
“What was she saying?” asked Mellish.
There was nothing for Carol to complain of in his attitude now. Her eyes widened and there was a note of horror in her voice as she answered:
“She was accusing him quite openly of having murdered Conyers, the man in the cab. She kept on shrieking ‘You foul murderer!’ at the top of her voice. It was horrible! I wonder the lift-boy didn’t hear her, though he was half-way down to the hall by then.”
“What did de Silva say?”
“He was brutal! After all, the poor creature was beside herself. He told her to clear off, and said that if she came near him again he would put the police on to her. He accused her of being drunk. I’m sure she wasn’t that.”
“Did he say any more?”
Carol’s eyes twinkled with mischief.
“I’m sorry to shock your Victorian ears, Jasper dear,” she said demurely, “but he called her a common streetwalker. I’m sure she isn’t that either,” she finished thoughtfully.
Mellish snorted.
“Let me tell you that the Victorians were quite capable of calling a spade a spade, and far better able to recognize one than you are. However, in this instance, I agree with you. There was another accusation that de Silva might have levelled at the lady with justice. As he didn’t do so, I think we can take it for granted that he knows very little of her past history.”
“What do you mean? Don’t tell me that you know all about her too!”
“I know very little except the fact that she has served a term of imprisonment, and that, according to the police, she has run straight ever since. I gather that she’s a lady with a good deal of character.”
“I like her,” said Carol thoughtfully. “At least, I did, after I’d had a chat with her. And I was awfully sorry for her.”
Mellish’s eyebrows shot up.
“Am I to understand that you broke in on this pleasant little exchange of amenities and invited her to tea?”
“On the contrary, I kept very carefully out of the way while Mr. de Silva was there. Fortunately he went in fairly soon and slammed the door, and I was hesitating as to what to do when I saw the woman flop up against the wall. In another minute she’d have been flat on her back on the carpet. I had to lend a hand.”
“She might have been drunk,” suggested Mellish.
Carol gazed at him with pitying contempt.
“She might have been, but she wasn’t. Anybody could see that she wasn’t. She was simply all in. I believe it was only rage and excitement that had kept her on her legs till then. She wasn’t fit to be about at all. She must have been terribly fond of that Conyers man!”
“I apologize,” said Mellish meekly. “What happened next?”
“I grabbed hold of her and got her to the window on the landing. Fortunately it was open. I must say, she’s got plenty of pluck. She pulled herself together and said she was sorry to have made a fool of herself. The funny thing was that she recognized me.”
Mellish, remembering how he had tried to keep the fact of Carol’s presence at the Terpsychorean from Shand and how signally he had failed, was not surprised.
“Yes?” he said.
“She talked a lot. I think she’d got to a stage when she had to have the whole thing out with somebody. I was terrified that Mr. de Silva would come out of his room, but he didn’t. Aunt Irma heard me talking to some one, though, and she was furious when I told her who it was. I had to tell her, because she opened the door and saw me. That was when the whole thing was pretty well over, though.”
“You couldn’t tell your story more connectedly, I suppose,” was Mellish’s plaintive comment. “What did the distressed lady tell you exactly?”
“She declares that Conyers told her, more than a week before he was killed, that he had got a hold over de Silva and was going to skin him, as she put it. She is sure, from what he said, that he was going to see de Silva on the night he was murdered. She didn’t actually say so, but I suppose he must have been blackmailing him. Anyhow, she is absolutely convinced that de Silva killed him.”
“De Silva dined here at the Escatorial in the public dining-room, and was not seen to leave the flat afterwards. He was in bed when the police called to interview him. Besides, the taxi-driver had a good look at the man who got into his cab with Conyers, and I happen to know that they arranged for him to see de Silva passing through the hall here one day and he stated emphatically that he was not the man. No, with the best will in the world, I don’t see how anybody is to bring it home to de Silva.”
“All the same, I wish you could have seen that poor woman. There was something terribly convincing about her. I can’t get her out of my head. I asked her if she knew of any other enemies Conyers might have had, and she said, quite frankly, that there were a good many people who had no cause to love him, but that de Silva was the only person who had anything to gain by his death. She declares that Conyers told her that he had de Silva in the hollow of his hand, and that de Silva would give a good deal for the opportunity to put a knife between his shoulders some dark night. She’s beside herself, Jasper. I’m so afraid that she’ll do something foolish. He’ll be absolutely merciless if she does.”
“She didn’t say what Conyers’s hold over de Silva was, I suppose?”
“She doesn’t know. He never told her. I suppose the police are certain that de Silva didn’t go out again that night?”
“He can’t prove it,” Mellish admitted. “But they are inclined to believe his story. You see, he went straight to his flat after dinner. The boy who took him up in the lift has verified that. The porter was in the hall all the evening, and there are always one or two of the boys hanging about. It seems very unlikely that he could have gone out and come in again without being seen by any one.”
“The porter isn’t in the hall all the time,” Carol pointed out. “For one thing, he very often posts the letters himself. I’ve seen him. It would be possible to wait on the steps until the coast was clear and slip out when the porter’s back was turned. You can’t see the stairs from the lift.”
“It would be very risky, to say the least of it, and, remember, he would have to get back. Say that the porter did go to the post and de Silva waited in the street to see him go, he couldn’t possibly be sure that one of the boys wouldn’t be in the hall. You can’t see inside the hall from the street.”
“All the same, he might have risked it and carried it off, through sheer luck,” said Carol obstinately. “I don’t want to think that he did it. The whole thing’s horrible enough without that; but if you’d heard that poor woman, you’d feel as I do, that it can’t be all imagination on her part.”
“The police have gone into it pretty carefully, I fancy, but it might be worth their while to ascertain the porter’s exact movements during that evening, if they haven’t already done so. I’ll see Shand about it. By the way, he spoke to you the other night, didn’t he?”
Carol nodded.
“He was awfully nice. He said he knew you. I’ve got his telephone number in case I need it, but I don’t think there’s much fear of that. For one thing, I took the bull by the horns and spoke to Aunt Irma about Mr. de Silva.”
“Has he been making a nuisance of himself again?”
“He will lie in wait for me, and yesterday he literally pushe
d his way into the flat. I’m sure he knew that Aunt Irma was out. At first it was only a case of silly compliments and that sort of thing, and I thought it was just his way of being agreeable. But yesterday—”
Her colour deepened.
“What happened?” snapped Mellish.
“I think he lost his head altogether. I had a hateful time with him, but I made him understand at last that I simply wouldn’t be pawed. He saw then that he’d gone too far and tried to make me say I’d forget it and all that sort of thing, but I told him to get out and never speak to me again. He went like a lamb. I think he was afraid I’d tell Aunt Irma. I did, the moment she came in, and she said she’d speak to him.”
She laughed rather ruefully.
“The ridiculous thing is that I had all sorts of romantic ideas about him and Aunt Irma. I couldn’t imagine what she could see in him, but I really did think they were going to make a match of it. So that it was a complete surprise when I found that I was the attraction.”
“Do they seem really intimate with each other?”
“I don’t know. You see, he never comes unless he knows I’m alone in the flat. I believe they play bridge at the club together a lot, and Aunt Irma’s always going over to his flat with prospectuses and things. She consults him about everything, and I’m sure he’s got a hold over her financially in some way.”
“I don’t care what hold he’s got over her,” said Mellish emphatically. “I won’t have you subjected to annoyance of that sort. The thing’s intolerable! I’ll wait and see Lady Dalberry myself.”
“It’ll give the whole show away if you do,” Carol reminded him. “She doesn’t know that I’ve been seeing you and Gillie. Honestly, I’m sure it will be all right now I’ve spoken to her about it. She took it quite well, and said she was awfully sorry he’d been such a fool.”
“All the same, I’ll see her myself. It’s just as well she should know that I’ve got my eye on things. I don’t like the situation at all. You’d better make some other arrangements and get out of this place at once.”
“I will if it gets impossible, but I don’t believe he’ll dare to speak to me again. I told Aunt Irma quite plainly that I wouldn’t see him or have anything more to do with him, and she quite saw my point.”
“All the same, she may just as well see mine, too,” insisted Mellish stubbornly.
He settled himself down comfortably to await Lady Dalberry’s return, telling Carol to go out and leave him if she had other engagements. She refused, saying that it was seldom enough that she got him to herself nowadays, and that she was going to make the most of the opportunity.
He was more pleased and flattered than she realized. She had captured his heart in her nursery days, and confirmed bachelor though he was, he liked nothing better than to sit and watch her face light up with interest as he rambled on in his indolent way. And he was worth listening to. Carol was astonished to find how time had flown when Mellish paused suddenly in the middle of a sentence and held up a fat forefinger.
“That sounds like your aunt,” he said. “Will she come in here, or do we beard her in her den?”
Carol, who had not heard the front door open, was astonished at the quickness of his hearing. Before she could answer, Lady Dalberry entered the room.
“I came away earlier than I intended,” she began. “It was so hot and I had a headache …”
She stopped at the sight of Mellish hoisting himself out of his chair.
“But this is delightful!” she exclaimed. “We have not seen you for so long.”
For a time they talked desultorily, then Mellish firmly broached the subject of de Silva and his unwelcome attentions. He did so with a deliberation combined with a suavity that made Carol’s lips twitch. He was so polite and, at the same time, so inexorable.
“I’m sure you will agree with me that this must stop,” he finished smoothly.
While he was speaking Lady Dalberry’s face had been inscrutable. It was only when she turned to answer him that it flashed into animation.
“I cannot tell you how it has distressed me,” she assured him eagerly. “That our little Carol should have been frightened! And I know now how alarmed she must have been by that mad fellow, or she would not have run to you.”
There was a hint of malice in her voice, and Carol felt the hot blood rise to her cheeks as she realized the implication. She was being treated like a hysterical schoolgirl. Mellish came to the rescue.
“I should imagine that, as an experience, it was not so much alarming as unpleasant,” he commented gently.
“It was unfortunate,” corrected Lady Dalberry. “That, I think, is the worst you can say of it. I have spoken to Juan de Silva, and I find he is terribly distressed that he should have made so bad an impression on Carol. He was carried away by his feeling for her and forgot that he was in England, where, if Carol will forgive me, the girls are colder, less mature, than they are in South America. It is difficult for any one with southern blood to understand this. Of course, he had no right to behave as he did. He should have come to me first and told me of his feeling for Carol. He admits this and is greatly distressed. He is very anxious to see Carol and apologize to her in person. I told him that I was afraid he had offended her too deeply for that, and he begged me to intercede for him.”
She paused, but Carol made no comment, and she was forced to go on.
“Having lived so long in the Argentine, I can understand a little of his feelings. I know that he did not mean to frighten Carol, and I am sure that, now he understands her feelings, it will not happen again. Like all Latins, his emotions are very strong, and he has never learned to control them. He is in a state almost of despair, and, to tell you the truth, I am afraid for him. It would be a very kind and gracious act if you would see him, Carol.”
The girl threw a swift, appealing glance at Mellish.
“I’d much rather not,” she said uncomfortably. “I don’t want to be horrid, but, honestly, it seems to me waste of time.”
“He will be in the depths of despair,” said Lady Dalberry. “Everything is so exaggerated with these South Americans. Well do I know it; always we were having trouble with the men on the ranch. They are not like my people. In Sweden they live with their brains; in the Argentine, with their hearts.”
She spoke almost regretfully, and Mellish was seized with a suspicion that, of the two, she inclined towards the South American method.
“Carol’s right,” he said firmly. “An interview with Mr. de Silva now will, at best, be an uncomfortable one, and it can lead to nothing satisfactory for either of them. Better let the matter rest.”
“The truth is. Aunt Irma, I don’t like Mr. de Silva,” said Carol frankly. “I’m sorry, but I’ve always felt that way about him, long before this happened. Won’t you tell him that I don’t bear him any ill-will, but I’d rather not see him again? Of course, if we run into each other here, at any time, we shall meet on quite friendly terms, but I’d prefer it if he doesn’t try to see me. He has been making rather a nuisance of himself, you know!”
Her words were brave, but she felt horribly embarrassed. It was not easy to say these things about her aunt’s friend, and, as she spoke, she saw a swift spasm of anger pass over Lady Dalberry’s face. She braced herself for the unpleasant scene that seemed inevitable, but the other woman’s voice was quite mild when she answered.
“Of course, if you feel like that about it, my dear, there is nothing more to be said,” was her only comment. “But I am sorry, for Juan de Silva’s sake.”
Carol accompanied Mellish to the door and, at a sign from him, walked with him to the lift. There was something he wanted to ask her, and he wished to make sure that they were out of earshot of Lady Dalberry.
“I suppose you didn’t gather the name or address of the distressed lady you interviewed yesterday?” he asked.
“She never told me. You see, we were interrupted just at the end by Aunt Irma.”
“How much did you tell
your aunt? Not that she is your aunt, by the way. It’s difficult to remember that you’re not really related to the Dalberrys at all.”
Carol gave a little involuntary shudder.
“I’m glad now that I’m not. I’m sorry for her, but I should hate to feel, somehow, that she’d got any real claim on me. I told her as little as I could because I was afraid of what she might repeat to Mr. de Silva. I simply said that I’d found a woman leaning against the wall outside his door, and that, as she seemed to be ill, I had stopped to speak to her, and that then I’d recognized her as some one I’d seen dancing at the Terpsychorean. She asked if I had any idea who she was, and I said that I knew nothing about her except that and the fact that she had been calling on Mr. de Silva. I suggested that she should ask him. That put her off, I think. Anyway she did not ask any more questions, for which I was thankful. I hate lying, and I seem to do nothing else nowadays.”
“She didn’t connect the woman with the murder?”
“I don’t think so, but she evidently thought she was a bad lot. She was furious with her for having dared to speak to me, and said it was a piece of gross impertinence. I explained that, so far as that was concerned, I had done all the speaking in the beginning. The poor thing was too far gone then to say anything.”
On leaving the Escatorial Mellish climbed into a taxi and drove to New Scotland Yard. He found Shand in his room.
“I’ve developed an unholy interest in that vampirish-looking lady who was associated with the murdered man, Conyers,” he said. “I remember you alluded to her as the brains of the combination. Can you give me her name and address?” Shand smiled.
“I’m afraid you won’t find her a very pleasant companion, Mr. Mellish,” he answered. “She’s been down here twice, and I’m half inclined to have her watched. She’s out for blood, poor thing, and I don’t know that I blame her. She got hold of Conyers when he was down and out, and literally dragged him on to his feet again. It couldn’t have been an easy job, either, but there’s no doubt they’d both been running straight for a long time. And now …”
