Mr. Zero by Patricia Wentworth Page A

told me how he had made a steel combine toe the line.”
    Algy burst out laughing.
    â€œMy poor child! I’m afraid I can’t break his head for that.”
    â€œNo—it’s a pity, isn’t it? And when he had finished about the steel combine he began about a gas corporation—he’s got a tame one that eats out of his hand. And he rolls in wealth, but he’s very careful about girls—not to give them any encouragement, you know.”
    â€œCan you look me in the eye and swear he told you that?”
    â€œNo, darling. That was Poppy Wessex-Gardner. Being kind, you know, so that I shouldn’t have any false hopes raised through being danced with and having heart-to-heart confidences about gas. And I said, ‘Oh, no , Mrs. Wessex-Gardner,’ and, ‘Oh, yes , Mrs. Wessex-Gardner,’ and looked meek, and my old black dress helped a lot, so she thawed a little and let me off with a caution instead of sending for the court executioner and saying ‘Off with her head!’”
    â€œMy child, you rave.”
    â€œI know I do. It’s Aunt Agatha’s capital punishment people.” Her voice changed suddenly. “Why do you want to know about Mr. Danvers, and what do you want to know about Mr. Danvers?”
    Algy leaned nearer and said in a low, direct voice,
    â€œI want to know whether he’s your blackmailer, Gay.”
    They were at a table in an alcove. There was no one near enough to hear, but anyone might have seen Gay’s change of colour and her startled look. She said all in a hurry,
    â€œWhy should he be?” And then, “I haven’t got a blackmailer! Don’t call him mine!” After which she took breath and said in a serious voice, “Algy, what on earth do you mean?”
    Algy did not answer at once. He took time to look at Gay, time to be sure that he trusted her, time to tell himself that he had been a fool. He said at last,
    â€œWhen we were here the other night something was slipped into one of my pockets, and I’m wondering who did it. You asked me what I would do if someone tried to blackmail me, and then you were angry because I thought you meant that someone was blackmailing you. I wish you’d tell me the rest.”
    â€œThere isn’t any more, and if there was, I couldn’t tell you. What did you find in your pocket—a love letter?”
    â€œSomething that had been stolen.”
    â€œAlgy—not really! How thrilling!”
    Algy said, “No.” And then after a pause, “Damnable.”
    Her face changed.
    â€œAlgy, please . What is it? Do tell me.”
    He shook his head.
    â€œI can’t. You’ll probably hear about it—there’s a considerable amount of chat going on. But I’d rather you didn’t say anything about the envelope being put into my pocket.”
    Her eyes opened so widely that the lights shone down into them as the sun shines into dark peaty water, lightening its colour, filling it with floating golden specks. He thought with a faint shock of surprise, “Her eyes aren’t dark at all, they’re amber. It’s the shade of the lashes that makes them look black.”
    She caught her breath and opened her lips to speak, but didn’t speak. She was remembering something, and trying not to remember it.
    Algy said quickly, “What is it, Gay?” and she said nothing. And then,
    â€œWhy should anyone put an envelope in your pocket?”
    Algy leaned an elbow on the table.
    â€œI think someone had the kind thought that my rooms might be searched, and that it might be found there. Fortunately I found it myself.”
    Gay leaned over the table too.
    â€œAlgy—how horrid! Who could possibly—”
    â€œThat’s what I’m going to find out.”
    She spoke quickly.
    â€œYou’re not—in any trouble? It’s not—it’s not serious?”
    â€œIt might be.”
    â€œHow?”