Room 13
trembled at the corner of her mouth. “Very well, I’ll come back.”
It was not till ten minutes later, when he judged the photograph had
been taken and the guests had gone again to the house, that she
appeared, demure but curious.
“Sit down,” said Johnny. He threw away his cigarette and moved to the
end of the stone bench.
“Don’t stop smoking for me, Captain Gray,” she said.
“How long have you been here?” he asked.
“With Mr. Kane? About six months,” she said.
“Pretty good job?” he asked carelessly.
“Oh, yes, sir, very.”
“What is your name?”
“My name is Lila. Why do you ask?”
“I think you and I ought to get better acquainted, Lila,” he said, and
took her unresisting hand.
Secretly she was amused; on the surface she showed some sign of being
shocked.
“I didn’t know you were that type of flirting man, Mr. Gray--you’re a
Captain, though, aren’t you?”
“‘Captain’ is a purely honorary title, Lila,” said Johnny. “I suppose
you’ll miss your lady?”
“Yes, I shall miss her,” said Lila.
“A nice girl, eh?” bantered Johnny.
“And a very nice husband,” she said tartly.
“Do you think so?”
“Yes, I suppose he is a nice fellow. I don’t know much about him.”
“Good-looking?” suggested Johnny.
The woman shrugged her shoulders.
“I suppose he is.”
“And very much in love with Miss Kane. That fellow adores her,” said
Johnny. “In fact, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a man so much in
love with a woman.”
She suppressed a sigh.
“Oh, yes, I suppose he is,” she said impatiently. “Do you want me any
more, Captain Gray, because I’ve a lot of work to do?”
“Don’t run away,” said Johnny in his most gentle voice. “Weddings
always make me romantic.” He took up the thread where it was
interrupted. “I don’t expect the Major will have eyes for any other
girl for years,” he said. “He’s head over heels in love, and why
shouldn’t he be? I suppose,” he said reminiscently, avoiding her eyes,
“he is the sort of man who would have had many love affairs in the
past.” He shrugged his shoulders. “With the kind of girls that one
picks up and puts down at pleasure.”
Now a flush, deep and even, had come to her face, and her eyes held a
peculiar brightness.
“I don’t know anything about Major Floyd,” she said shortly, and was
rising, but his hand fell upon her arm.
“Don’t run away, Lila.”
“I’m not going to stay,” she said with sudden vehemence. “I don’t want
to discuss Major Floyd or anybody else. If you want me to talk to
you----”
“I want to talk to you about the honeymoon. Can’t you picture them,
say, on Lake Como, in a bower of roses? Can’t you imagine him
forgetting all that’s past, all the old follies, all the old
girls----?”
She wrenched her arm from his grip and stood up, and her face was
deadly white.
“What are you getting at, Gray?” she asked, all the deference, all the
demureness gone from her voice.
“I’m getting at you, Miss Lila Sain,” he said, “and if you attempt to
get away from me, I’ll throttle you!”
She stared at him, her breath coming quickly.
“You’re supposed to be a gentleman, too,” she said.
“I’m supposed to be Johnny Gray from Dartmoor. Sit down. What’s the
graft, Lila?”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“What’s the graft?” asked Johnny with deadly calm. “Jeff Legge put you
here to nose the house for him, and keep him wise as to what was going
on.”
“I don’t know Jeff Legge,” she faltered.
“You’re a liar,” said Johnny ungently. “I know you, Lila. You run with
Legge and you’re a cheap squeak. I’ve seen you a dozen times. Who is
Major Floyd?”
“Go and ask him,” she said defiantly.
“Who is Major Floyd?”
The grip on her arm tightened.
“You know,” she said sullenly. “It’s Jeff Legge.”
“Now listen, Lila. Come here.” He had released her, and now he crooked
his finger. “Go and blow to Jeff, and I’ll squeak on you both--you
understand that? I’ll put Jeff just where I want him to be--there’s a
vacant cell at Dartmoor, anyway. That gives you a twinge, doesn’t it?
You’re keen on Jeff?”
She did not reply.
“I’ll put him where I want him to be,” he repeated slowly and
deliberately, “unless you do as I tell you.”
“You’re going to put the ‘black’ on him?” she said, her lips curling.
“‘Black’ doesn’t mean anything in my young life,” said Johnny. “But I
tell you this, that I’ll find Reeder and squeak a whole pageful unless
I have my way.”
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I want to know where they’re going, and where they’re staying. I want
to know their plans for the future. Are you married to him, by any
chance?”
A glance at her face gave him the answer.
“You’re not? Well, you may be yet, Lila. Aren’t you tired of doing his
dirty work?”
“Perhaps I am and perhaps I’m not,” she replied defiantly. “You can do
nothing to him now, anyway, Johnny Gray. He’s got your girl, and if
you squeaked like a garden of birds you couldn’t undo what that old
God-man did this morning! Jeff’s too clever for you. He’ll get you,
Gray----”
“If he knows,” said Johnny quietly. “But if he knows, Reeder knows
too. Do you get that?”
“What are you going to do?” she asked after a silence.
“I’m having one of my little jokes,” said Johnny between his teeth. “A
real good joke! It is starting now. I can’t tell Peter, because he’d
kill your young man, and I have a particular objection to Peter going
to the drop. And _you_ can’t tell Jeff, because there’d be a case for
a jury, and when Jeff came out you’d be an old woman. That’s not a
good prospect, eh? Now tell me all you’ve got to tell, and speak
slowly, because I don’t write shorthand.”
He whipped a small notebook from his pocket, and as she spoke,
reluctantly, sulkily, yet fearfully, he wrote rapidly. When he had
finished:
“You can go now, my gentle child,” he said, and she stood up, her eyes
blazing with rage.
“If you squeak, Johnny Gray, I’ll kill you. I never was keen on this
marriage business--naturally. I knew old Legge wanted him to marry
Peter’s daughter, because Legge wanted to get one back on him. But
Jeff’s been good to me; and the day the busies come for Legge I’ll
come for you, and I’ll shoot you stone dead, Johnny, as God’s my
judge!”
“Beat it!” said Johnny tersely.
He waited till she was gone through one of the openings in the box
hedge, then passed along to the other and stopped. Peter Kane was
standing in the open, shielded from view by the thin box bush, and
Peter’s face was inscrutable.
CHAPTER VI
“Hallo, Johnny! Running for the compensation stakes?”
Johnny laughed.
“You mean the maid? She is rather pretty, isn’t she?”
“Very,” said the other.
Had he heard? That was a question and a fear in Johnny’s mind. The
marble bench was less than six feet from the bush where Peter Kane
stood. If he had been there any time----
“Been waiting long for me, Peter?” he asked.
“No; I just saw you take a farewell of Lila--very nice girl, that,
Johnny--an extraordinarily nice girl. I don’t know when I’ve met a
nicer. What did you find to talk about?”
“The weather, dicky-birds and the course of true love,” said Johnny,
as Kane took his arm and led him across the lawn.
“Everything variable and flighty, eh?” said Peter with a little smile.
“Come and eat, Johnny. These people are going away soon. Marney is
changing now. What do you think of my new son-in-law, eh?”
His old jovial manner held. When they came into the big reception-room
and Peter Kane’s arm went round his son-in-law’s shoulder, Johnny
breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God he did not know! He had sweated
in his fear of what might follow a discovery.
Thirty-six people sat down in the dining-room, and, contrary to
convention, Marney, who sat at the head of the table, was wearing her
going-away dress. John shot a quick glance at her as he came in, but
she averted her eyes. Her father sat on her left; next to him was the
clergyman who had performed the ceremony. Next came a girl friend, and
then a man, by whose side Johnny sat.
He recognised the leathery features instantly.
“Been away, Johnny?” Detective-Superintendent Craig asked the question
in a voice so carefully pitched that it did not reach any farther than
the man to whom he spoke.
The chatter and buzz of conversation, the little ripples of laughter
that ran up and down the table, did something to make the privacy of
their talk assured.
As old Barney bent over to serve a dish, Craig gave a sidelong glance
at his companion.
“Peter’s got old Barney still--keeping honest, Barney?”
“I’m naturally that way,” said Barney _sotto voce_. “It’s not meeting
policemen that keeps me straight.”
The hard features of the detective relaxed.
“There are lots of other people who could say that, Barney,” he said,
and when the man had passed to the next guest: “He’s all right. Barney
never was a bad man. I think he only did one stretch--he wouldn’t have
done that if he’d had Peter’s imagination, Johnny.”
“Peter’s imagination?”
“I’m not referring to his present imagination, but the gift he had
fourteen--fifteen years ago. Peter was the cleverest of them all. The
brilliant way his attack was planned, the masterly line of retreat,
the wonderful alibis, so beautifully dovetailed into one another that,
if we had pinched him, he’d not only have been discharged, but he
would have got something from the poor box! It used to be the life
ambition of every young officer to catch him, to find some error of
judgment, some flaw in his plan. But it was police-proof and
fool-proof.”
“He’d blush to hear you,” said the other dryly.
“But it’s true, Johnny! The clever letters he used to write, all to
fool us. He did a lot of work with letters--getting people together,
luring ’em to the place he wanted ’em and where their presence served
him best. I remember how he got my chief to be at Charing Cross under
the clock at ten-past nine, and showed up himself and made him prove
his alibi!” He laughed gently.
“I suppose,” said Gray, “people would think it remarkable that you and
he are such good friends?”
“They wouldn’t say it was remarkable; they’d say it was damned
suspicious!” growled the other. “Having a drink?” he said suddenly,
and pulled a wine bottle across the table.
“No, thanks--I seldom drink. We have to keep a very clear head in our
business. We can’t afford to dream.”
“We can’t afford anything else,” said Craig. “Why ‘our business,’ old
man? You’re out of that?”
Johnny saw the girl look toward him. It was only a glance--but in that
brief flash he saw all that he feared to see--the terror, the
bewilderment, the helplessness. He set his teeth and turned abruptly
to the detective.
“How is _your_ business?” he asked.
“Quiet.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said John Gray with mock concern. “But
trade’s bad everywhere, isn’t it?”
“What sort of time did you have--in the country?” asked Craig, and his
companion grinned.
“Wonderful! My bedroom wanted papering, but the service was quite
good.”
Craig sighed.
“Ah well, we live and learn,” he said heavily. “I was sorry about it,
Johnny, very sorry. It’s a misfortune, but there’s no use grieving
about it. You were one of the unlucky ones. If all the people who
deserved prison were _in_ prison--why, there wouldn’t be any housing
problems. I hear there were quite a lot of stars there,” Craig went
on. “Harry Becker, and young Lew Storing--why, old Legge must have
been there in your time. And another fellow--now, what’s his name? The
slush man--ah, Carper, that’s it. Ever see him?”
“Yes; he and I were once harnessed to the same cart.”
“Ah!” said Craig encouragingly. “I’ll bet you heard a few things. He’d
talk to you.”
“He did.”
Craig bent toward him, lowering his voice.
“Suppose I told you a certain party coppered you, and suppose I said