was over. The Chief's problem was that he liked things black and white and he liked things played by the rules, and there were too many grey areas around him these days. He knew where he stood personally, he wasn't going to stand by and see his country insulted, disrupted, untidied, by wildcat strikers, scruffy students or violent immigrants. His instinctual need for order and quiet was deeply felt. But it was a grey area in which you could never be wholly right, there were no rules, no villains, no 'fair cops'. It had been the same with Langley-Smythe; the Chief had known he was being used but that was his job, and he was bound to protect the interests of a fellow-countryman against foreigners who might use him as a scapegoat for any amount of villainy. But it was vague; it was grey. That safe full of illegally imported money, that stolen bust with an indisputable government seal around its neck were like a tonic to him. The man was a villain. The rules were in operation; if they were Italian rules and not English, at least they were rules. In return for his sudden, overwhelming co-operation the amazed Captain had agreed to keep the foreign press at bay until English interest in the case had died down. Langley-Smythe had been more than justly punished for his sins and there was no point in hounding the dead. His property would probably be confiscated and the matter closed. As for how much the family had known …
Jeffreys, who had only ever seen the Chief operating in the grey areas, was even more amazed than the Captain. Every now and then he glanced covertly across at the Chief's placidly cheerful face. 'It's funny,' he said to Carabiniere Bacci, 'that nobody other than Miss White ever saw Mr X. You'd think after four successful years they'd have got a bit careless about their meetings … could have phoned each other, I suppose, apart from the night visits …'
There was something troubling the back of Jeffreys's mind; something he had meant to ask Miss White in that connection but he'd put it off until after hearing the more important part of her story and now it had completely escaped him. He was obliged to give it up. If it did turn out to be something important he could always go back up and ask her. It was, in fact, but it also turned out to be a very long night and he never did find the time.
The four men sat for some time, notebooks on their knees, in the dimly-lit room, as the dusk outside in the courtyard faded to darkness and smoke from the Chief's pipe eddied slowly about in the gloom near the high ceiling. Some things at least were established: Langley-Smythe had been expecting his visitor, had still been dressed under his dressing-gown, whiling away the night with a science-fiction book and a bottle of whisky in the bedroom, covering himself with the eiderdown to keep warm. The night guard did a round at about three, which was, no doubt, the reason why Langley-Smythe remained in the bedroom rather than by the fire which was the only source of heat in the flat; a light in the living-room would have been visible under the door when the guard left his ticket. Once the guard had gone, and his departure as he banged the great door to, would be easily audible to anyone in the building, Langley-Smythe was free to open the door and let his removal men in.
'But he must have come out to open the street door, sir,' put in Carabiniere Bacci hesitantly. 'There's no electronic switch in his room.'
The Captain frowned. 'The man I suspect of being our Mr X,' he said slowly, 'could have done it from upstairs.'
'Someone in the building,' the Chief pondered. 'Yes … but it makes it all the odder, you know, that nobody ever saw them speak or visit each other.'
'But not so odd,' said Jeffreys, 'that Miss White thought she recognized him and didn't like to say …' But she had said something … Jeffreys could swear it was something to do with one of the other tenants. The Captain was going on:
'Let's assume that the
Jeffreys, who had only ever seen the Chief operating in the grey areas, was even more amazed than the Captain. Every now and then he glanced covertly across at the Chief's placidly cheerful face. 'It's funny,' he said to Carabiniere Bacci, 'that nobody other than Miss White ever saw Mr X. You'd think after four successful years they'd have got a bit careless about their meetings … could have phoned each other, I suppose, apart from the night visits …'
There was something troubling the back of Jeffreys's mind; something he had meant to ask Miss White in that connection but he'd put it off until after hearing the more important part of her story and now it had completely escaped him. He was obliged to give it up. If it did turn out to be something important he could always go back up and ask her. It was, in fact, but it also turned out to be a very long night and he never did find the time.
The four men sat for some time, notebooks on their knees, in the dimly-lit room, as the dusk outside in the courtyard faded to darkness and smoke from the Chief's pipe eddied slowly about in the gloom near the high ceiling. Some things at least were established: Langley-Smythe had been expecting his visitor, had still been dressed under his dressing-gown, whiling away the night with a science-fiction book and a bottle of whisky in the bedroom, covering himself with the eiderdown to keep warm. The night guard did a round at about three, which was, no doubt, the reason why Langley-Smythe remained in the bedroom rather than by the fire which was the only source of heat in the flat; a light in the living-room would have been visible under the door when the guard left his ticket. Once the guard had gone, and his departure as he banged the great door to, would be easily audible to anyone in the building, Langley-Smythe was free to open the door and let his removal men in.
'But he must have come out to open the street door, sir,' put in Carabiniere Bacci hesitantly. 'There's no electronic switch in his room.'
The Captain frowned. 'The man I suspect of being our Mr X,' he said slowly, 'could have done it from upstairs.'
'Someone in the building,' the Chief pondered. 'Yes … but it makes it all the odder, you know, that nobody ever saw them speak or visit each other.'
'But not so odd,' said Jeffreys, 'that Miss White thought she recognized him and didn't like to say …' But she had said something … Jeffreys could swear it was something to do with one of the other tenants. The Captain was going on:
'Let's assume that the
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