walking along it, also whistling; Roger approached him, and said: ‘I’m Inspector West.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Big brown eyes were on Roger. ‘Detective Colton of Kingston, sir.’ It was Colton who had telephoned.
‘How long will it take you to get another man here?’ Roger asked.
‘About fifteen, to twenty minutes, if I telephone. Or perhaps it would be better if you phoned. There’s a kiosk at the next corner.’
‘You phone,’ said Roger. ‘Say that I’ve asked for it.’ He watched the CID man go along the street, and glanced up at Harrington’s flat. The curtains were pulled aside, and Harrington was looking out. Roger fancied that he saw the girl by his side.
Roger strolled past.
He waited at a corner until the reinforcements arrived from Kingston. One man he detailed to watch Harrington, the other the girl who, the first detective told him, had arrived at about half-past three. He was reminded that it was not going to be easy in the black-out.
‘Do the best you can,’ Roger said, and walked briskly towards Kingston Hill.
Harrington was no longer looking out of the window. Roger started to whistle again, and eyed the kiosk on the corner of the next street. He felt that he needed more information about the Transoms, and particularly on how Harrington stood in relation to them. He did not believe that Harrington was ignorant of Garielle’s identity, and while it had not been incumbent on him to do so there was no apparent reason why he should not have told of his association with a member of a Dreem family on the previous night.
Roger entered the kiosk and rang up Sergeant Sloane, asking him to find out how Harrington stood with the Transoms. He was concentrating on this, and did not notice the man who approached the kiosk slowly. A man who had come from Hill Mansions Road, with a muffler well about his neck and wearing a large hat; it was too large, and had a very wide brim. A dozen people had passed the kiosk, but this man was obviously making for it.
‘Yes, ring me at Fulham,’ Roger said, and rang off.
The large hat filled his immediate vision, and the owner of it opened the kiosk door. Roger doubled his fist instinctively, and then saw an eye peering at him from beneath the brim, a bloodshot but humorous, familiar eye.
‘Hold it,’ implored Lessing.
Roger stepped on to the pavement, took Mark’s arm, and led him away.
‘Why the swaddling clothes? Aren’t you supposed to be resting in your little flat?’
‘I was tempted,’ admitted Mark. His other eye appeared. He had dispensed with bandages and was managing with sticking plaster. He had a headache, he said, but nothing else. ‘I wanted to see more of Harrington.’
‘Wrapped up like an imitation Texan,’ jeered Roger. ‘You could have been knocked into the middle of next week. Harrington doesn’t want visitors tonight.’
‘So I guessed,’ said Mark. ‘I was in a flat opposite. I bribed a little maid for a window seat. Ten shillings and my charm showed me most of what happened, although I didn’t hear the bull bellowing. He did bellow, didn’t he?’
‘Did you see the girl?’
‘I’ve already prepared a story that will make Janet set about you with more than the kitten,’ Mark said. ‘Who is she?’
‘Garielle Transom,’ said Roger.
‘I take it that Harrington is having an affaire, and objected to you muscling in?’
‘Are you really as dense as you make out?’
Mark frowned. ‘About what? I – Good God, Transom!’
‘The penny has dropped,’ said Roger sardonically. ‘Yes, that’s Harrington’s lady love, and in the words of the politicians it opens up avenues for exploration. She knows him well, she has her own key, and she was taking a housewifely interest in his supper. A matter of some interest.’
Mark said: ‘What’s the stronger, word? What are you going to do?’
‘All I can,’ said Roger. ‘It looks like a job for you, to begin with. I wish you hadn’t been cracked over the
‘Yes, sir.’ Big brown eyes were on Roger. ‘Detective Colton of Kingston, sir.’ It was Colton who had telephoned.
‘How long will it take you to get another man here?’ Roger asked.
‘About fifteen, to twenty minutes, if I telephone. Or perhaps it would be better if you phoned. There’s a kiosk at the next corner.’
‘You phone,’ said Roger. ‘Say that I’ve asked for it.’ He watched the CID man go along the street, and glanced up at Harrington’s flat. The curtains were pulled aside, and Harrington was looking out. Roger fancied that he saw the girl by his side.
Roger strolled past.
He waited at a corner until the reinforcements arrived from Kingston. One man he detailed to watch Harrington, the other the girl who, the first detective told him, had arrived at about half-past three. He was reminded that it was not going to be easy in the black-out.
‘Do the best you can,’ Roger said, and walked briskly towards Kingston Hill.
Harrington was no longer looking out of the window. Roger started to whistle again, and eyed the kiosk on the corner of the next street. He felt that he needed more information about the Transoms, and particularly on how Harrington stood in relation to them. He did not believe that Harrington was ignorant of Garielle’s identity, and while it had not been incumbent on him to do so there was no apparent reason why he should not have told of his association with a member of a Dreem family on the previous night.
Roger entered the kiosk and rang up Sergeant Sloane, asking him to find out how Harrington stood with the Transoms. He was concentrating on this, and did not notice the man who approached the kiosk slowly. A man who had come from Hill Mansions Road, with a muffler well about his neck and wearing a large hat; it was too large, and had a very wide brim. A dozen people had passed the kiosk, but this man was obviously making for it.
‘Yes, ring me at Fulham,’ Roger said, and rang off.
The large hat filled his immediate vision, and the owner of it opened the kiosk door. Roger doubled his fist instinctively, and then saw an eye peering at him from beneath the brim, a bloodshot but humorous, familiar eye.
‘Hold it,’ implored Lessing.
Roger stepped on to the pavement, took Mark’s arm, and led him away.
‘Why the swaddling clothes? Aren’t you supposed to be resting in your little flat?’
‘I was tempted,’ admitted Mark. His other eye appeared. He had dispensed with bandages and was managing with sticking plaster. He had a headache, he said, but nothing else. ‘I wanted to see more of Harrington.’
‘Wrapped up like an imitation Texan,’ jeered Roger. ‘You could have been knocked into the middle of next week. Harrington doesn’t want visitors tonight.’
‘So I guessed,’ said Mark. ‘I was in a flat opposite. I bribed a little maid for a window seat. Ten shillings and my charm showed me most of what happened, although I didn’t hear the bull bellowing. He did bellow, didn’t he?’
‘Did you see the girl?’
‘I’ve already prepared a story that will make Janet set about you with more than the kitten,’ Mark said. ‘Who is she?’
‘Garielle Transom,’ said Roger.
‘I take it that Harrington is having an affaire, and objected to you muscling in?’
‘Are you really as dense as you make out?’
Mark frowned. ‘About what? I – Good God, Transom!’
‘The penny has dropped,’ said Roger sardonically. ‘Yes, that’s Harrington’s lady love, and in the words of the politicians it opens up avenues for exploration. She knows him well, she has her own key, and she was taking a housewifely interest in his supper. A matter of some interest.’
Mark said: ‘What’s the stronger, word? What are you going to do?’
‘All I can,’ said Roger. ‘It looks like a job for you, to begin with. I wish you hadn’t been cracked over the
Similar Books
