by John Creasey
“I’m fine.”
“Be very careful,” said Larraby.
Bristow had warned him; Lorna had warned him; and now Larraby.
A few minutes later, from the office downstairs, Mannering watched Larraby walk past, inconspicuous in a faded, shapeless raincoat and a battered trilby hat. He smiled faintly, but it wasn’t a laughing matter – and, of all that had happened, the kidnapping of Alicia Hill was least funny. Lorna was right; that was storing up trouble, and as yet it had served little purpose. Was there going to be any real vindication of his impulse? When he tried to analyse his own feelings at Liddell Street it was difficult to be sure what had prompted him to take her away. Not danger to her; he could have avoided that by sending for the police.
He had felt that he could learn more from her than the police ever would.
Now Lorna wasn’t sure that Alicia was telling all the truth. Why shouldn’t she? Was she frightened? Had he been right in thinking her nervousness had been due to a long-standing anxiety? He didn’t think it had all begun when Nigel Courtney had given her the jewels. She had said that she hadn’t known what he had given her. Had she lied to shield Nigel? How did she think a lie of that kind would help him?
Where was Nigel Courtney? Had the police discovered that he was Alicia’s boy friend?
He looked through the morning’s correspondence; there wasn’t a great deal, nothing that Rodney couldn’t handle. Things were quiet, which was not unusual towards the middle of spring. He could afford the time to dally with danger.
There were three distinct parts to this mystery. First, the theft of the diamonds; second, Thelma Courtney’s appeal to him, third, Allingham’s odd approach. Following up one line of inquiry would probably make him cross the trail of another. There was a fourth part: the attack on Alicia and the theft of the stolen jewels, all allied to Nigel’s show of fear on the telephone.
Mannering regarded his own contribution sardonically.
He’d put himself into a nasty spot with the police, and he hadn’t given Allingham cause to love him. Would more violence follow or would Allingham still try to work with him?
That brought him to a fifth line: the fact that one of the jewels which Nigel had stolen was paste, and the possibility, therefore, that none might be genuine.
Rodney, heralding his approach with a small, discreet cough, placed a cup of tea on the desk. This was daily routine; almost ritual. Rodney had not been with him for long, and was paving the way to becoming indispensable.
“Thanks, Rodney.”
“A pleasure, sir.” The manager withdrew, and as he did so a bell buzzed faintly near the office. The front door was being opened. Leaving his own tea in some secret place where it could not be seen by customers, Rodney walked quickly along the carpeted shop. Mannering heard him say: “Good afternoon, madam.”
“Is Mr. Mannering in?”
“I’m not sure, madam. I will find out.”
Rodney appeared in the doorway.
“Another cup,” Mannering suggested, “will be needed.”
Chapter Ten
A Little More Truth?
Mannering was standing up when Thelma Courtney entered. She was dressed exactly as she had been at the country house, in a deceptively simple tailored suit. She smiled mechanically, and sat down in the chair which he had drawn up opposite his desk. Rodney appeared soundlessly with another cup of tea, and withdrew, closing the door.
“Milk?” asked Mannering.
“Thank you.”
She took the cup gravely, watching him from the grey depths of her eyes. It was hard to believe the previous scene in which she had so astonishingly predominated.
He waited. She had called; she could start wherever she wanted to, but would get no help from him.
She said presently: “What took you to Courtney Grange, Mr. Mannering?”
“My curiosity.”
“About what?”
“You.”
“You could have satisfied that by coming to see me, and saved yourself a tiresome experience,” said Thelma Courtney. “I shall be grateful if you will tell me the truth.”
“If we’re to work together, frankness on your side, also, might be desirable.”
“Have you accepted my commission?”
“Yes.”
She seemed relieved but dubious. “And you went to the Grange because of it?”
“I wanted to see Allingham and the set-up there.”
“Why?”
“You’d mentioned two possible thieves, and I thought there might be a third,” said Mannering. That sounded plausible; unless Allingham had told her the truth, which wasn’t likely, she would probably believe it, especially if he added a few convincing touches. “It didn’t take long to know that your husband had left a secretary in charge of his affairs. I thought it possible that someone from his country house had stolen the diamonds, and went to have a look round. Allingham and I didn’t take to each other. Did he know of the thefts?”
“Yes. He is entirely trustworthy.”
Mannering regarded her with an expressionless face. She didn’t wilt, didn’t look away, but he thought that faint colour tinged her cheeks.
He said: “Would Mr. Courtney think so if he knew what I know now?”
“That is beside the point. Mr. Allingham is quite trustworthy so far as the property is concerned. He has worked for my husband for many years and knows as much about his business as he does himself. You can be sure that Mr. Allingham did not steal those diamonds.”
“But I’m not,” said Mannering.
“You’re being absurd.”
“My job is to find them. When I’m asked to start, I don’t see any point in looking in all the obvious places. You suspect your stepson, don’t you? You did your best to damn him last night. Why?”
“If I did that, it was quite unconsciously,” said Thelma Courtney. “It is true that I know he is in financial difficulties and quite capable of trying to adjust them by stealing – when he thinks it is safe. He would know that I wouldn’t go to the police.”
“What are the financial difficulties?”
“Debts – largely due to gambling.”
“Women?”
“Possibly. I don’t think his vices run that way.” Her voice was like ice. “He has become friendly with a girl for whom I have little regard. I don’t know what relationship there is between them, but from what I know of her she wouldn’t encourage him to wild extravagances. He has always gambled heavily. I tried to stop it by cutting off most of his allowance – an allowance that was far too generous for a boy of twenty-four. I don’t seem to have succeeded. I think it was worth trying.”
Mannering said: “Wait a bit. You’ve cut off his money. That’s put him into a financial jam—”
“He was in difficulties before, this simply increased them,” she interrupted. “He was able to get credit for a few months and stave off the duns. By cutting short his income I compelled his debtors to press him. Several of them tried to get their money from me – as, I believe, they have got it from his father in the past. I refused. And I learned that the sums of money involved were much greater than he could have met out of his normal allowance.”
“And Nigel blamed you for his difficulties, did he? The diamonds were yours. Why not get himself out of trouble and make you smart, too – is that how you think his mind worked?”
“It could be.”
“Is that what you think?” demanded Mannering sharply.
Thelma Courtney said: “Yes.”
“Couldn’t Nigel appeal to his father, over your head?”
“If he could, he would have. He didn’t know where his father was. Nor did I. Private and secret business took him to the United States. I heard regularly from him, and sent letters to a forwarding address. Nigel didn’t have that address. I persuaded my husband that it would be good for Nigel if he were to be left to manage for himself for a few months. He has always relied too much on others – especially his fath
er.” Mrs. Courtney’s tone did not alter, nor did the cool composure of her manner. “I suppose, in the circumstances, you have to know the background, Mr. Mannering, although I don’t see how all this helps. All I want you to do is to find out who stole the diamonds.”
“I know who stole them.”
She started; it was the first time he had seen her really shaken out of her poise.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Nigel. He passed them on to his girl friend, Alicia. Haven’t you read the evening papers?”
Mannering handed her the Evening News, folded to the front page headline. She leaned forward, frowning as she read, the compression of her mouth the only sign of nervous tension. How much of her composure was forced? What would she be like when it relaxed completely?
She finished reading, tapping the paper.
“You infer from this?”
“That Nigel dragged the girl into it; someone else got wind of it and went after them.”
“Why should they kidnap her?”
Mannering shrugged. “Have you heard from Nigel this morning?”
“No,” she said. She appeared to have paled as she fumbled with her handbag. Her movements lacked the precision which he had come to expect from her. He opened his cigarette case and she took a cigarette; the interlude was time enough for her to recover. “The young fool! This is bound to come out now. I wanted, above all, to keep it from my husband.”
“Having his welfare so much at heart,” Mannering suggested drily.
If she flared up and said that it was no business of his what she did she would be right; and yet she didn’t flare up, just sat back and watched him calmly. She managed to make him feel uneasy under that close scrutiny. It was almost as if she were calling him a fool for jumping to conclusions, or for thinking that because she had a lover it meant that she had any less regard for her husband.
She said: “My husband is fully aware that Nigel is weak. Yet he has great pride in the boy. This”—she shrugged her shoulders—“at best, it will be a nasty shock, at worst, it will make him feel that the boy is all bad. It certainly cannot do good. Is there any chance of keeping the truth away from the police?”
“I doubt it,” said Mannering.
She nodded and sipped her tea, obviously trying to make up her mind about the next step. Mannering was very conscious of her nearness. Yet hers was an impersonal beauty, the promise which he believed she had shown him the night before withdrawn, or perhaps wrongly interpreted.
The thought was hardly in his mind before she leaned forward, smiling. It was as if he were the only man in her world, and she the only woman in his.
“The diamonds are still missing,” she said slowly.
He nodded, finding it impossible to speak.
“Will you help to find them? I feel sure that it might be possible to do something to save the situation, but not if I have to deal with the police.”
Mannering said stiffly: “Have you seen Nigel today?
“No.”
“When did you last see him?”
“Yesterday morning. I left him at my flat – alone, but for the maid.”
“Will you give me his address and telephone number? asked Mannering, and pushed a pad and pencil towards her. She wrote swiftly, and pushed the pad back to him. He appeared to study it, looking at her under his lashes. That perfect composure was there again. He couldn’t read her thoughts, couldn’t even guess at them – except the obvious one, that for some secret reason she wanted his help.
He said: “Why did you have paste diamonds instead of the real ones, Mrs. Courtney?”
She started, her composure broken completely, far more so than when he had found her with Allingham.
“It’s an old trick, you know,” said Mannering. “And a theft is a theft, whether of forty pounds’ worth of paste or forty thousand pounds’ worth of diamonds, but the police and the insurance companies wouldn’t much like it if the two were mixed up. Nor would Nigel like to think he’d risked his freedom for a few worthless baubles.”
The colour which had drained out of Thelma Courtney’s cheeks came flooding back. He settled more comfortably into his chair and smiled amiably. He didn’t force the issue, but would be astonished if she left him without an explanation.
“How did you know that they were paste?” she asked in a husky voice.
“Does it matter?”
“The real ones—” she hesitated, then went on in a sharper voice, as if she were telling herself not to be a fool, no more harm could be done by telling the truth about this. “The real ones were stolen before, I don’t know when. I suspected Nigel. I had a set of replicas – on all but the most important occasions I wore the replicas. I said nothing about the loss, didn’t report it—”
“Now, come!” murmured Mannering.
“I did not report it,” she repeated. “I discovered it almost by accident a week ago. The real diamonds were kept in a special safe in the strongroom. Months often pass without them being examined. I was offered a diamond brooch by a perfectly reputable dealer, so remarkably like one of my own that I opened the safe. The diamonds weren’t there. The safe had been opened by someone who had all the necessary keys, who knew exactly how to get in. As I say, I immediately suspected Nigel. I told no one—”
“Not Allingham?”
“No.”
“So you weren’t too sure of his trustworthiness then.”
“I preferred to keep the matter to myself,” said Mrs. Courtney. “I made some inquiries among my friends because I wanted to use the services of a private individual who might get them back. You were mentioned by several of them. I should have come to see you, in any event. Yesterday’s second theft confused and bewildered me. If Nigel had taken the first lot, there was no real sense in thinking that he had also taken the second. Mr. Allingham was in the flat when I discovered their loss; it was necessary to tell him. I was going to tell him then, anyhow. But—I was confused and worried.”
“Why so worried?”
“I don’t think you can properly understand without knowing my husband,” said Mrs. Courtney. “For many years he was a widower, and he doted on Nigel. The influence that the boy has over him is quite remarkable. Nigel is almost—oh, it’s foolish, but almost his evil genius. That is why I encouraged him to take the opportunity of going abroad for six months or so – I wanted to separate father and son. Their relationship was bad for both of them.
“When I first discovered the theft I was sure that Nigel was the thief. I intended to challenge him. But I wanted to be quite sure of his guilt. You would have made sure of that. The second burglary seemed much more like him, though, and—it meant that someone else had access to my flat and to the strongroom.”
“All fingers point to Mr. Allingham.”
“I don’t think they do. But if you are going to investigate, you will have to do and think what you like,” said Mrs. Courtney quietly. “I shall not allow any personal feelings to affect my judgement, Mr. Mannering. If you can prove that any one individual was responsible – I mean prove, not guess – I shall accept it.”
“I see. Where did you keep the paste gems?”
“In my jewel box on my dressing-table.”
“What else?”
“What else do you wish to know?”
“Why have you been going round to dealer after dealer recently?” She was surprised again. The room was very quiet – until suddenly she laughed. That was so unexpected that it startled Mannering. She raised her head as she laughed, and it was a good sound. The facade was cracking, showing a woman clearly, warmly human. Mannering found himself smiling; and also found himself wondering whether she was really amused or whether she was acting in order to make a fool of him.
“What don’t you know?” she asked, after a while.
“Don’t get any fool notions about my omniscience,” said Mannering. “The jewel trade is a small, close, circle. Once you’re in the circle you learn everything – or nearly everythin
g. Your husband is known to be a big buyer of gems. When his wife visits a dealer, it gets round – the dealer doesn’t breathe a word about it, no one knows how the story spreads, but it spreads. Mrs. Courtney is known to be looking for jewels. The trade assumes that she is acting for her husband, and is extremely interested. I hear a word there, a word somewhere else. And usually many unlikely people hear the rumours, too. Are you interested?”
“I am absorbed.”
“The secret circle has two others, linked with it. One is called, by the romantic, the underworld. There are some very clever and astute crooks working in precious stones, and they pick up these odds and ends of information and store them away – you never know when they might come in handy, do you? That’s so well-known that the police – the other linked circle – keep their ears open very wide. Everyone in the trade, every crook of any standing, and Scotland Yard, know what you’ve been doing, although they don’t know why. Bit shattering, isn’t it? Especially when you thought that you were being so discreet.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Courtney, her expression one of interest, feigned or real. “Now that you’ve put me in my place, what do you propose to do?”
“Find out who took the paste jewels from Alicia Hills’ room. Find out, if I can, who stole the real ones. They’ve probably been cut up into small stones and are quite unrecognisable by now – it isn’t often that diamonds are kept for long in their original shape. Hot stuff is dangerous. Then I’m going to find out why you’ve been seeing the dealers—”
“Can’t you guess?”
“You’ve been trying to find out whether any of the stolen jewellery was being offered by the reputable dealers, is that it?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s only half the reason. I’m not sure why you kept the loss to yourself for a week. It was bound to be discovered sooner or later.”
“I’ve told you why. I preferred to do nothing that would start rumours which might reach my husband. When he returns I shall tell him. It is a heavy loss, but even if there were no insurance to be recovered—”
