post than the doorstep on which he had squatted on the previous occasion. They had broken into an empty house and established themselves at an upstairs window.
Joe was beside him, flat on his back and snoring. It was gone half past seven before he rolled over, grunted, sat up and said, ‘How long’ve I bin asleep?’
‘Difficult to say,’ said Luke. ‘It was two o’clock or thereabouts when you started to snore. You might have been asleep before that.’
‘Is that a fact? Well, seeing as how no one turned up, it didn’t matter whether I was awake or asleep, did it?’
‘What makes you think that no one turned up?’
‘If there had been anyone for us to follow, I suppose you’d have woken me up. I mean, we’re on the job together, aren’t we? Correct me if I’m mistook.’ Like most people who feel that they’re in the wrong, Joe managed to sound aggrieved.
Luke said, ‘I never supposed we’d be able to follow anyone. All I wanted to do was to see if someone turned up.’
‘And did they?’
‘Two people. Neither of them stayed more than a few minutes. The first one’—Luke looked at his scribbled notes—’dropped in at 3.15 and the second at 4.25. Both were youngsters. One of them could have been Tomacoff. I imagine they were dropping in written messages for collection later. If we’d followed them we might have found out where they lived. Hardly worth the trouble, though.’
So what do we do now?’
‘We pay a visit – an official visit – to the widow Triboff. Look as fierce and formidable as possible.’
‘I can’t look formidable when I’m dying of starvation.’
‘Work first, breakfast next.’
A double rap on the Triboff door, repeated with increased emphasis, produced an untidy old lady in a dressing-gown with her hair in rags. Luke showed her his police identity card and pushed past her into the room at the back of the house which seemed to do duty as sitting-room, kitchen and bedroom combined. The old woman followed him, squawking indignantly. Joe followed her to cut off her retreat.
Standing with his back to the window, Luke surveyed the dirty, cluttered room in silence until the old lady’s protests had died down to a mumbling and clucking. Then he said, ‘Your name is Triboff?’ All he got was what might have been a nod. ‘I want to know who the two men were who visited you last night. What they came for, and if they brought letters, what you’ve done with them.’
The widow snapped her toothless jaws shut and said nothing. Luke stepped up to her. When he was so close to her that he could smell her breath and her fear, he repeated the question; with the same result.
He thought, with disgust, she expects me to hit her. Followed by a second thought. However much I hurt her she isn’t going to talk. He appeared to change his mind. He said, ‘When you’ve got dressed you’ll come along to the police station in Leman Street to answer some questions. If you’re not there by nine o’clock you’ll be fetched. Which may not be so pleasant. You understand?’
The old woman bobbed her head. Luke could see that she was deeply relieved by this change of plan.
‘Then get on with it.’ He strode out into the front passage, followed by a mystified Joe. When he reached the front door he snibbed back the catch on the lock and slammed the door behind them. Then they walked away until they were out of sight of the house.
‘Give her two minutes,’ said Luke.
When they got back they eased the front door open and tiptoed along the passage. The living-room was empty, but someone was moving upstairs and they heard a metallic sound.
‘Come on,’ said Luke. ‘Quickly now.’
The room above the widow’s sordid den was, as they saw when they burst into it, an altogether superior apartment. Neat, well warmed and lighted, with a big desk alongside one wall and a bed pushed back against another; it was an office-cum-bedroom, comfortable and ready for use. The heating came
Joe was beside him, flat on his back and snoring. It was gone half past seven before he rolled over, grunted, sat up and said, ‘How long’ve I bin asleep?’
‘Difficult to say,’ said Luke. ‘It was two o’clock or thereabouts when you started to snore. You might have been asleep before that.’
‘Is that a fact? Well, seeing as how no one turned up, it didn’t matter whether I was awake or asleep, did it?’
‘What makes you think that no one turned up?’
‘If there had been anyone for us to follow, I suppose you’d have woken me up. I mean, we’re on the job together, aren’t we? Correct me if I’m mistook.’ Like most people who feel that they’re in the wrong, Joe managed to sound aggrieved.
Luke said, ‘I never supposed we’d be able to follow anyone. All I wanted to do was to see if someone turned up.’
‘And did they?’
‘Two people. Neither of them stayed more than a few minutes. The first one’—Luke looked at his scribbled notes—’dropped in at 3.15 and the second at 4.25. Both were youngsters. One of them could have been Tomacoff. I imagine they were dropping in written messages for collection later. If we’d followed them we might have found out where they lived. Hardly worth the trouble, though.’
So what do we do now?’
‘We pay a visit – an official visit – to the widow Triboff. Look as fierce and formidable as possible.’
‘I can’t look formidable when I’m dying of starvation.’
‘Work first, breakfast next.’
A double rap on the Triboff door, repeated with increased emphasis, produced an untidy old lady in a dressing-gown with her hair in rags. Luke showed her his police identity card and pushed past her into the room at the back of the house which seemed to do duty as sitting-room, kitchen and bedroom combined. The old woman followed him, squawking indignantly. Joe followed her to cut off her retreat.
Standing with his back to the window, Luke surveyed the dirty, cluttered room in silence until the old lady’s protests had died down to a mumbling and clucking. Then he said, ‘Your name is Triboff?’ All he got was what might have been a nod. ‘I want to know who the two men were who visited you last night. What they came for, and if they brought letters, what you’ve done with them.’
The widow snapped her toothless jaws shut and said nothing. Luke stepped up to her. When he was so close to her that he could smell her breath and her fear, he repeated the question; with the same result.
He thought, with disgust, she expects me to hit her. Followed by a second thought. However much I hurt her she isn’t going to talk. He appeared to change his mind. He said, ‘When you’ve got dressed you’ll come along to the police station in Leman Street to answer some questions. If you’re not there by nine o’clock you’ll be fetched. Which may not be so pleasant. You understand?’
The old woman bobbed her head. Luke could see that she was deeply relieved by this change of plan.
‘Then get on with it.’ He strode out into the front passage, followed by a mystified Joe. When he reached the front door he snibbed back the catch on the lock and slammed the door behind them. Then they walked away until they were out of sight of the house.
‘Give her two minutes,’ said Luke.
When they got back they eased the front door open and tiptoed along the passage. The living-room was empty, but someone was moving upstairs and they heard a metallic sound.
‘Come on,’ said Luke. ‘Quickly now.’
The room above the widow’s sordid den was, as they saw when they burst into it, an altogether superior apartment. Neat, well warmed and lighted, with a big desk alongside one wall and a bed pushed back against another; it was an office-cum-bedroom, comfortable and ready for use. The heating came
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