them.’
‘Have you turned suddenly squeamish?’ Corridon asked, puzzled. ‘You were keen enough to murder Mallory when last we met.’
‘I never thought they’d catch up with him,’ Ranleigh said in a low, hesitant voice. ‘I’ve never taken their plan seriously. I swear I haven’t!’ His voice shot up. ‘I’m going to the police. I won’t have anything to do with murder.’
‘It’s a bit late to get cold feet now,’ Corridon said. ‘It’s no use going to the police. What we have to do is find Mallory, and find him quickly.’
‘But don’t you see,’ Ranleigh said, beating the arm of the chair with his fist, ‘if I go to the police and tell them what’s happened, it’ll let you out. I won’t let them shift Crew’s murder on to you.’
‘The police have been trying to get their hooks into me for years,’ Corridon returned, moving restlessly about the small room. ‘They wouldn’t believe you. Besides by this time tomorrow I shall probably be wanted for another murder.’
Ranleigh started up in his chair.
‘Another murder?’ he repeated. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I went home with Rita Allen tonight. She fell downstairs and broke her neck.’
‘But that’s not murder—’
‘Isn’t it?’ Corridon said. ‘She was pushed. The point is I was there. Sooner or later the taxi driver who drove us to her house will give the police a description of me. I was seen leaving Crew’s flat by the tobacconist in the shop below. Sooner or later he, too, will give a description of me. Then some bright lad will put two and two together and he won’t make it add up to five.’
‘But who pushed her?’ Ranleigh asked, leaning forward. ‘How do you know she was pushed?’
‘Can’t you guess? I think it was Mallory.’
Ranleigh flinched.
‘I don’t believe it.’
‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t. I think he was in the house when we got there. She was giving secrets away, and half the time she was yelling her head off. She went upstairs to get something for me and he gave her a shove. If it wasn’t Mallory, who else could it be?’
Ranleigh turned pale. ‘It’s unbelievable,’ he said and lay back limply in the chair.
‘What makes you say that? You were full of Mallory when we first met. He was this and that and the other. He was a killer. Why should it be suddenly unbelievable?’ Corridon demanded. ‘You’re not conforming to type. How did you get mixed up in this cockeyed idea of killing Mallory? Just where do you fit in?’
‘I don’t,’ Ranleigh said miserably. ‘As a matter of fact I don’t fit in anywhere.’ He hesitated, then plunged on, ‘I’ve been a bit of a failure all my life. I suppose I’ve never really grown up. Ever since I was a kid I was always reading adventure stories. I have a penny-dreadful mind. When Jeanne said she was going after Mallory the idea appealed to me. I never thought she would catch up with him, otherwise I wouldn’t have touched it.’ A faint flush spread over his ravished face. ‘To tell you the truth I dreaded coming back to England and trying to find a job. I was pretty useless, but now with only one arm . . .’
He wasn’t asking for sympathy, but just stating a fact. He went on: ‘It seemed to me to be just the thing to stay on in France with them. Harris and Lubish had a bit of money. So long as we all stuck together they were willing to share. We lived pretty rough, but it was good fun, and there were no responsibilities to worry us. I had my gratuity and could pay my whack for a bit, and when that ran out Harris was always willing to lend me a quid. It was right out of an adventure book for me until Harris died. That shook me, although I didn’t believe Mallory had anything to do with it. I still don’t somehow. Harris was an odd type. He had a horror of water. He was found in a pond. If he had accidentally fallen in he would have panicked. He couldn’t swim. I still don’t believe Mallory killed him.
‘Then
‘Have you turned suddenly squeamish?’ Corridon asked, puzzled. ‘You were keen enough to murder Mallory when last we met.’
‘I never thought they’d catch up with him,’ Ranleigh said in a low, hesitant voice. ‘I’ve never taken their plan seriously. I swear I haven’t!’ His voice shot up. ‘I’m going to the police. I won’t have anything to do with murder.’
‘It’s a bit late to get cold feet now,’ Corridon said. ‘It’s no use going to the police. What we have to do is find Mallory, and find him quickly.’
‘But don’t you see,’ Ranleigh said, beating the arm of the chair with his fist, ‘if I go to the police and tell them what’s happened, it’ll let you out. I won’t let them shift Crew’s murder on to you.’
‘The police have been trying to get their hooks into me for years,’ Corridon returned, moving restlessly about the small room. ‘They wouldn’t believe you. Besides by this time tomorrow I shall probably be wanted for another murder.’
Ranleigh started up in his chair.
‘Another murder?’ he repeated. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I went home with Rita Allen tonight. She fell downstairs and broke her neck.’
‘But that’s not murder—’
‘Isn’t it?’ Corridon said. ‘She was pushed. The point is I was there. Sooner or later the taxi driver who drove us to her house will give the police a description of me. I was seen leaving Crew’s flat by the tobacconist in the shop below. Sooner or later he, too, will give a description of me. Then some bright lad will put two and two together and he won’t make it add up to five.’
‘But who pushed her?’ Ranleigh asked, leaning forward. ‘How do you know she was pushed?’
‘Can’t you guess? I think it was Mallory.’
Ranleigh flinched.
‘I don’t believe it.’
‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t. I think he was in the house when we got there. She was giving secrets away, and half the time she was yelling her head off. She went upstairs to get something for me and he gave her a shove. If it wasn’t Mallory, who else could it be?’
Ranleigh turned pale. ‘It’s unbelievable,’ he said and lay back limply in the chair.
‘What makes you say that? You were full of Mallory when we first met. He was this and that and the other. He was a killer. Why should it be suddenly unbelievable?’ Corridon demanded. ‘You’re not conforming to type. How did you get mixed up in this cockeyed idea of killing Mallory? Just where do you fit in?’
‘I don’t,’ Ranleigh said miserably. ‘As a matter of fact I don’t fit in anywhere.’ He hesitated, then plunged on, ‘I’ve been a bit of a failure all my life. I suppose I’ve never really grown up. Ever since I was a kid I was always reading adventure stories. I have a penny-dreadful mind. When Jeanne said she was going after Mallory the idea appealed to me. I never thought she would catch up with him, otherwise I wouldn’t have touched it.’ A faint flush spread over his ravished face. ‘To tell you the truth I dreaded coming back to England and trying to find a job. I was pretty useless, but now with only one arm . . .’
He wasn’t asking for sympathy, but just stating a fact. He went on: ‘It seemed to me to be just the thing to stay on in France with them. Harris and Lubish had a bit of money. So long as we all stuck together they were willing to share. We lived pretty rough, but it was good fun, and there were no responsibilities to worry us. I had my gratuity and could pay my whack for a bit, and when that ran out Harris was always willing to lend me a quid. It was right out of an adventure book for me until Harris died. That shook me, although I didn’t believe Mallory had anything to do with it. I still don’t somehow. Harris was an odd type. He had a horror of water. He was found in a pond. If he had accidentally fallen in he would have panicked. He couldn’t swim. I still don’t believe Mallory killed him.
‘Then
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