Red aces Being three cases of Mr. Reeder
himself. Unfortunately for him, I saw not only that the car had been
in the grounds all night, and that his story of having driven down
from town was a lie, but--um--certain other things.”
The telephone bell rang, and Mason took up the instrument.
“He went out a quarter of an hour ago--you don’t know where?… It was
Desboyne, was it? She didn’t say where she was meeting him?”
Reeder sighed and rose wearily.
“Do I understand that Miss Anna Welford has been allowed to leave her
house?” There was a quality of exasperation in his tone, and Mr. Mason
could not but agree that it was justified. For the first request that
Reeder had made, and that by telephone from Rotherhithe, was that a
special guard should be put over Anna Welford. Certain of Mr. Mason’s
local subordinates, however, thought that the least likely thing that
could happen would be that Desboyne would come into the neighbourhood,
and here they were right. Matters had been further complicated by the
fact that the girl had gone out that day, and was still out when the
police officers called. She had rung up, however, a moment before
Desboyne had telephoned, and had given her number, which was
transferred to him. Later, when she was called up at the address she
had given, it was discovered that she had gone out to meet him; nobody
knew where.
“So really,” said Gaylor, “nobody is to blame.”
“Nobody ever is!” snapped Mr. Reeder.
It was Mr. Clive Desboyne’s little conceit that he should arrange to
meet the girl at the corner of the Thames Embankment, within fifty
yards of Scotland Yard. When she arrived in some hurry, she saw
nothing that would suggest that anything unusual had happened, except
the good news he had passed to her over the telephone.
“Where is Johnny?” she asked, almost before she was within talking
distance, and he was amused.
“I really ought to be very jealous,” he bantered her.
He called a taxicab as he spoke, and ordered the man to drive him to
an address in Chiswick.
“Reeder hasn’t been on to you, of course? I’m glad--I wanted to be the
first to tell you.”
“Is he released?” she asked, a little impatiently.
“He will be released this evening. I think that is best. The
authorities are very chary of demonstrations, and Scotland Yard have
particularly asked that he should give no newspaper interviews, but
shall spend the night, if possible, out of town. I have arranged with
my cousin that he shall stay at his place till to-morrow.”
It all seemed very feasible, and when of his own accord he stopped the
cab and, getting out to telephone, returned to tell her that he had
’phoned her father that she would not be back before eight, the
thought of his disinterestedness aroused a warm little glow of
friendship towards him.
“I have been besieged by reporters myself, and I’m rather anxious to
avoid them. These damned papers will do anything for a sensation.”
The swift express van of one of these offending newspapers passed the
taxi at that moment. On its back doors was posted a placard.
“ALLEGED MURDERER’S DARING ESCAPE.”
Later the girl saw another newspaper poster.
“POLICE OF METROPOLIS SEARCHING FOR MURDERER.”
The taxi drove up a side street, and, as he tapped on the window,
stopped. There was a garage a little further along, and, leaving Anna,
he went inside and came out in a few moments with a small closed
coupe.
“I keep this here in case of emergency,” he explained to her. “One
never knows when one might need a spare car.”
Exactly why he should need a spare car in Chiswick he did not attempt
to explain.
Avoiding the Great West Road, he took the longer route through
Brentford. Rain was falling heavily by the time they reached Hounslow.
She was so grateful to him for all the services he had rendered, and
which, though she was unconscious of the fact, he had particularized,
that she did not resist his suggestion that they should go on to
Oxford. She wondered why until they were on the outskirts of the town,
and then he explained with a little smile that Johnny had been
transferred to Oxford Gaol that morning.
“I kept this as a surprise for you,” he said. “Only about three people
in London know, and I was most anxious that you should not tell.”
They went into a teashop on the other side of the city, and she was
puzzled why he should prefer this rather poverty-stricken little café
to an hotel, but thought it was an act of consideration on his
part--part of the general scheme for avoiding reporters. They lingered
over tea until she grew a little restless.
“We’ll go to the prison and make inquiries,” he told her.
Actually they did go to the prison, and he descended and rang the
bell. When he came back he was grinning ruefully.
“He was released half an hour ago. My cousin’s car picked him up. We
can go on.”
It was getting dark now and the rain continued to fall steadily. They
took another route towards London, passed through a little town which
she thought she recognized as Marlow, turned abruptly from the main
road, and as abruptly again up a dark and neglected carriage drive.
She had a glimpse of the sheen of a stagnant backwater on her left,
and then the car drew up before a forbidding looking door, and,
stepping down, Clive Desboyne opened the door with his key.
“Here we are,” he said pleasantly, gave her his hand, and, before she
realized what had happened, she was in a gloomy hall smelling of damp
and decay.
The door thundered close behind her.
“Where are we… this isn’t the place,” she said tremulously, and at
that moment all her old suspicions, all her old fears of the man
returned.
“It is quite the place,” he said.
From the pocket of his mackintosh he took an electric lamp and
switched it on. The house was furnished, if rotting carpets and
dust-covered chairs meant anything. He held her firmly by the arm,
walked her along the passage, then, opening a door, pushed her inside.
She thought there was no window, but found afterwards that it was
shuttered.
The room was fairly clean; there was a bed, a table and a small oil
stove. On a sideboard were a number of packets of foodstuffs.
“Keep quiet and don’t make a fuss,” he said.
Striking a match, he lit a paraffin lamp that stood on the table.
“What does this mean?” she asked. Her face was white and haggard.
He did not answer immediately, and then:
“I’m very fond of you--that’s what it means. I shall probably be
hanged in about six weeks’ time, and there’s a wise old saying that
you might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb. You for the
moment are the lamb.”
The bright, shining eyes were fixed on hers. She almost swooned with
horror.
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to murder you or cut your throat or do
any of the things I tried to do to Mr. Reeder this morning--oh, yes, I
was the fantastical gentleman on the _Zaira_. The whole thing happened
a few yards away from where you’re standing. Now, Anna, you’re going
to be very sensible, my sweet--there’s nobody within five miles of
here who is at all concerned----”
The hinges of the door were rusty: they squeaked when it was moved.
They squeaked now. Clive Desboyne turned in a flash, fumbling under
mackintosh and coat.
“Don’t move,” said Mr. Reeder gently.
It was his conventional admonition.
“And put up your hands. I shall certainly shoot if you do not. You’re
a murderer--I could forgive you that. You’re a liar--that, to a man of
my high moral code, is unpardonable.”
The dozen detectives who had been waiting for three hours in this dank
house came crowding into the room, and snapped irons on the wrists of
the white-faced man.
“See that they fit,” said Mr. Reeder pleasantly. “I had a pair this
morning which were grossly over-size.”
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g. bargemaster/barge-master,
drawing-room/drawing room, tool-shed/tool shed, etc.) have been
preserved.
Alterations to the text:
Punctuation: fix a few quotation mark pairings, missing periods, etc.
[Red Aces/Chapter IV]
Change (“I seldom read magazine stories,” said Mr. _Reader_) to
_Reeder_.
[Red Aces/Chapter VI]
“that all the money he paid in was in French bank notes” delete the
first _in_.
(“He owed him money. I know no more _that_ that.) to _than_.
[Red Aces/Chapter X]
“he _addresssed_ the company again without taking his eyes” to
_addressed_.
[Red Aces/Chapter XI]
“It _were_ no accident: it was a deliberate double-cross.” to _was_.
“endeavouring to open the safe behind the bookcase, The telephone”
change the comma to a period.
“was sent anonymously to the younger _Mackay_ by Machfield” to
_McKay_.
[Kennedy The Con. Man/Chapter IV]
(“What’s biting you,” demanded blue trench coat.) change the comma to
a question mark.
[Kennedy The Con. Man/Chapter V]
(“F.S.” frowned the inspector. “That’s a pretty common initial.”) add
a comma after _F.S._
(“Why should it be Seafield. That’s wildly improbable, Reeder.”)
change the first period to a question mark.
[The Case Of Joe Attymar/Chapter IV]
“Gaylor opened an _attache_ case and took out a battered” to
_attaché_.
[The Case Of Joe Attymar/Chapter VIII]
(“By _jove_!” said Desboyne suddenly. “I left it outside) to _Jove_.
[End of text]