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  Mannering heard voices.

  The door of the big room was closed. He put his ear to it, but couldn’t distinguish anything except the fact that people were talking. He opened the door with the same caution as he had before, and looked inside.

  A man and a woman were talking.

  Charley Southpaw Simpson was talking to Cunningham’s onetime secretary, Miss Bettley, Theo’s find of the century. Mannering peered closer into the room. They were sitting together on a couch, and a trolley was in front of them, containing early breakfast.

  Miss Bettley stretched forward to pour out tea when Mannering said, ‘Good morning, folk. Where’s Rosamund?’

  He had never seen two people move more quickly or in such alarm. Charley was on his feet in a bound, and banged the table. A cup tippled over, and tea spilled from it, splashing on to the woman’s lap, but she did not appear to notice, just gaped, open-mouthed.

  Simpson barked, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ and then raised his right hand as if he wished he were near enough to drive his fist into Mannering’s face.

  ‘I’ve told you, surely,’ Mannering murmured. ‘I’m looking for Rosamund.’

  ‘She isn’t here!’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ Mannering said. ‘I want to know whether she came of her own free will, or whether you brought her by force or under duress. Where is she?’

  ‘Mannering, you must be crazy.’ Simpson lowered his arm slowly. ‘We haven’t the faintest idea where Rosamund is. Isn’t she at your flat? I thought you were supposed to be looking after her. When Theo finds out—’

  ‘Theo is in custody,’ Mannering told him. ‘When he comes out, he’s going to find out a lot of things. For instance, that you killed Micky Odell. That you took Miss Bettley on as secretary, knowing who she was. That the pair of you planned Odell’s murder between you, as you planned to ruin Theo. That with him in hiding or in custody you were going to flood the markets with stocks he owns and bring the prices crashing. Then you and Cunningham, probably Cunningham’s daughter, and almost certainly Norman Kilham were going to buy at rock-bottom prices. The stocks are sound and are bound to recover. You were going to ruin Theo as he’s ruined a lot of others – but he fought by the rules and you tore the rules to pieces.

  ‘Why is it, Charley?

  ‘Just for money? Just for love? Or do you simply hate Theo?’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Fair Rosamund

  ‘You are crazy,’ Charley said in a choky voice. ‘Miss Bettley came in early because there’s so much to do. We’re going to carry out Theo’s instructions. You heard what he told us to do; you were here when he telephoned.’

  ‘It won’t do, Charley,’ Mannering said. ‘You’ll never get away with it. Will he, Miss Bettley?’ He actually smiled at the woman. ‘You followed Theo about wherever he went – when it suited you, Charley. When it didn’t, you blamed him for avoiding you. Unlike Mary’s little lamb, your skin’s as tough as hide, and whenever Theo was in trouble, you didn’t want to go. No one was ever surprised when you followed him, though; that was one of the things you were paid for. In some ways, you improved on the little lamb – on the occasion when you went ahead of Theo. You heard Odell make the appointment with him, went ahead, and killed Odell before Theo arrived.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Charley denied, and spread his hands. ‘Theo gave me the slip.’

  ‘You framed him, then came back here and pretended that you knew nothing about it,’ Mannering insisted. ‘It wasn’t Betty; I knew she was in this suite all the time. It wasn’t Rosamund, because she was at my flat. It wasn’t Abe Cunningham, because he was flying to New York. It wasn’t Diana Odell; she was with friends. So by a process of elimination we come to you.’

  ‘It could have been any of a dozen people!’

  ‘A dozen wouldn’t know about Odell’s visit to the flat and the rendezvous.’

  ‘Odell’s friends—’

  ‘Who would want to kill him there and then?’ asked Mannering. ‘And who would believe that Theo would tell his friends that he was going to see Odell? Charley, I’ve been thinking about other things – especially why Theo went to meet Odell at the flat. He wouldn’t go simply to hear accusations against Rosamund. He had the sense to know that if he got mad with Odell, he might kill him, and he didn’t want to land himself in dock on a charge of murder. Odell was the very last man with whom he would make an appointment unless there was some strong overpowering reason why he should. There was some plot to ruin him, and Odell said he’d heard of it, and would sell his knowledge. Theo told me that.’

  ‘You’ve seen him?’

  ‘Never mind what I’ve seen, think of what I’m saying. Odell was going to sell Theo information about a plot: this plot. If Odell was in the plot, he wouldn’t sell: so he was outside, but he knew about it. Who told him?’

  ‘You’re dreaming this up,’ Charley growled.

  ‘Odell’s wife had reason to want to get her own back, and her father conveniently left the country,’ Mannering went on. ‘She’s been heard to say she wouldn’t name Odell’s killer for any price. Know why, Charley? Because her husband found out what she was plotting. Whether he also found out that she didn’t give a damn for him but was in love with you, I don’t know. But I do know the basic facts. You and Diana Cunningham were in this, getting expert advice by remote control from Cunningham, and technical help from Miss Bettley. The essential condition for success was to get Theo out of the way. You tried, by needling him until he was living on his nerves. You employed men to attack him. You planned with Odell to find a girl who would help to crack him. Odell had his own game to play, of course; he didn’t know he was a tool in your hands too.

  ‘Theo thought that Odell had been murdered so as to frame him, of course,’ Mannering went on in the same positive manner. ‘And Theo jumped the gun, not knowing Southpaw-Stab-in-the-Back was rejoicing. Charley, where is Rosamund? Did she come here of her own free will? And why did you hate Theo so?’

  ‘He doesn’t hate Wray; he just wanted to take as much money as he could,’ Miss Bettley broke in thinly. ‘He was the only one who didn’t hate Wray. I did, because he ruined the kindest employer who ever lived. Diana did, because he ruined her father and killed her mother. Abe did too – but Charley didn’t; he was just in it for what he could get. He killed Odell, to stop him talking and because he wanted Odel’s wife. I know; I’ve seen him and that slut together. I didn’t know he was going to kill anyone – I’ll swear in God’s name that I didn’t know, nor did Abe. We just wanted Wray out of the way – we thought he’d go off with his Rosamund, and that would have been time enough, but when he decided to clear everything up before his honeymoon, something drastic had to be done.’

  Southpaw Simpson leapt at her, and as she backed away, he turned on Mannering. He was as hard as a man could be; he had been a professional fighter for ten years of his life, and now came with hatred and with murder in his eyes, because it seemed that only Mannering stood between him and getting away.

  Mannering took his hand out of his pocket and showed a knife.

  ‘I shouldn’t,’ he said. ‘Miss Bettley, telephone 999 and ask the police to come here at once.’ He saw the woman, so used to taking orders, go to the telephone. He watched Charley, knowing that it would be only a moment before the man tried to get past him, defying the knife.

  ‘Rosamund!’ Charley cried. ‘Rosamund, get him, get him quick!’ As he spoke, he flung himself past Mannering, and had Mannering looked round, he could not have stopped the man. But Mannering didn’t look round. He shot out his leg and tripped Charley up. He gripped the man’s right wrist, forcing it behind him in a hammer lock. Then he let him go, spun him round, and cracked him under the jaw; and Charley’s eyes rolled as he dropped, unconscious.

  ‘I told you—’ Mannering began to Miss Bettley.

  ‘I’m going to,’ she said gaspingly. ‘I was afraid he was going to hurt you. He forced me to help h
im this morning, Mr Mannering; he said if I didn’t, he would kill me too. I just didn’t know a thing about it … Hallo! Hallo! … This is Mr Wray’s suite, will you please send the police here at once?’ She put down the receiver noisily.

  Mannering stood back from Charley and asked, ‘Is Rosamund all right?’

  ‘Yes, sir, she’s unconscious, on Mr Wray’s bed. He gave her a drug. I swear I couldn’t help myself, Mr Mannering!’ She was almost in tears. ‘I hated Mr Wray at first for what he’d done, but I couldn’t condone murder.’

  ‘When you knew about the murder you could have turned Charley in,’ Mannering said coldly.

  ‘He frightened me into saying nothing! And—and my future depended on him. So did Mr Cunningham’s. He had us where he wanted us, Mr Mannering. When he rang up and told me to come early, I couldn’t help myself. And when I got here he told me he’d been to bring Miss Rosamund away, that if there was any trouble he would kill her too. I just couldn’t help myself—’

  Then there was a thump at the door. A moment later a house detective and two policemen came in …

  Rosamund lay in a drugged sleep, like Lorna and the maid at Green Street.

  ‘I should say she’ll be round by noon,’ said the doctor who saw her. ‘She’ll be a bit tired after it, but she’ll come to no harm.’

  ‘Can she be moved?’

  ‘Oh, yes, in an ambulance or in a car. She’ll have to be carried down, though.’

  Mannering went with Rosamund in the ambulance to Green Street, watched a nurse put her back into the spare bed, and waited while the doctor confirmed that Lorna and Claudia were suffering from the effects of the same drug, and there was no need to fear. Then he asked the Yard to send a man to guard the flat against emergency, and Bristow’s night-duty opposite number promptly promised to send one round.

  ‘Then I’d like you to come and see me, Mr Mannering.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Mannering said.

  He was at the Yard at half past eight, and Bristow was already there. Mannering told the police all he knew and had reasoned, and the police measured his statement against Miss Bettley’s; that won an almost reluctant smile of approval – and a grin from Bristow.

  When they were alone, Bristow said, ‘What time did you leave Odell’s apartment this morning, John?’

  Mannering frowned. ‘I didn’t go near it, Bill. What’s on your mind?’

  Bristow was still smiling. ‘Mrs Odell told a story of a man who broke in there and did quite a job of helping Theodorus Wray. She didn’t place you, and her description doesn’t fit you, but if you weren’t there, I’m the Chief Constable.’

  ‘Well, so you should be. I don’t know who it was, Bill. Wray has a lot of odd friends, remember. Why don’t you ask him?’

  ‘He says he doesn’t know who it was either,’ said Bristow. ‘Just says that he wants to find him so that he can give him a million pounds.’

  Mannering whistled. ‘I don’t know who it could have been,’ he insisted, ‘but I wish I could make Theo Wray believe that it was me. Have you released him yet?’

  ‘Released him! He was out of the Yard like a streak of lightning,’ Bristow said. ‘He waited only to make sure that Rosamund Morrel was safe, then went back to the Panorama. He says he wants to undo any harm that the others did, and he’s probably got New York on one telephone, Tokyo on another, and Siam on one at his feet. By the way, Simpson has made a statement too. He knew it wouldn’t be any use holding out in view of the Bettley woman’s evidence. There’s one thing you didn’t know.’

  ‘Just one?’

  Bristow smoothed his brown-stained moustache and said, ‘Only a trifle, John, but there has to be something! Simpson had one fear: that you might discover the truth. You knew more about the association between him and Wray than anyone else, and might realise that he was the obvious suspect. He wanted to make quite sure he could finish the job even if Wray was released. So he kidnapped Rosamund Morrel. He would have taken her out of the apartment if Wray had been released, and threatened to kill her if Wray tried to fight back. Simpson made an impression of a key from Lorna’s handbag, went to your flat, drugged Lorna and the maid with a nasal spray with morphia in it, woke Rosamund, and told her that Theo was back at the hotel. She couldn’t get there fast enough, and didn’t dream that Simpson was in the plot against Wray.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Mannering. ‘That was my chief worry: that she’d gone of her own free will. She’d got up and dressed; there was no sign of a struggle; and obviously she could have been in the plot.’

  ‘I don’t mind admitting that for once in my life I took a suspect’s innocence for granted,’ said Bristow. ‘I don’t understand it; I’ve never felt so certain about anyone before. If any of my chaps had told me that story, I’d have told him he was losing his grip. There’s something about that girl—’ He broke off, frowning, and asked sharply, ‘What are you smiling about?’

  ‘Guess.’

  ‘I don’t see why—’ Bristow began, and then drew in a sharp breath. ‘Damn you, no! That legend about the Red Eye of Love is an old wives’ tale. There can’t be anything to it.’

  ‘If it isn’t the ring, it’s the girl, and if it isn’t the girl, it’s the ring,’ Mannering said. ‘Everyone wants to fly to Rosamund’s side and become a little St George. You and me too. But it doesn’t much matter, because we’ll never be able to think of the girl and the ring apart.’

  ‘Wray won’t expect her to wear it all the time, will he?’ Bristow asked, yet sounded as if he thought Wray was quite capable of that.

  ‘Just in case of such an emergency, I had a replica made days ago, worth seventy-five instead of seventy-five thousand pounds,’ Mannering said. ‘I always like to have a dummy for show purposes. It’s going to be my wedding present to Rosamund. She can tell Theo when she’s wearing the real thing if she wants to. That everything, Bill?’

  ‘Just one more warning,’ said Bristow dryly. ‘You’ll soon be too old for acrobatics.’

  ‘I gave that kind of thing up years ago,’ Mannering declared, and went off from the Yard.

  He went by taxi to the Panorama, and was eyed by everyone in sight until he reached Theo’s suite. There a young man stood, as if on guard, but opened the door immediately he recognised Mannering.

  Mannering went in.

  Theodorus was in solitary state. He had a scrap pad and a stump of a pencil in front of him, and four telephones at hand. He was speaking into one, and to Mannering it seemed almost as if time had stood still.

  ‘I’m not making any changes for three months,’ Theo was saying. ‘I’ll sell if I think there’s any need, but I’m not buying. I’m going on a honeymoon. Yes, sir, a honeymoon. Yes, right away; I’m not waiting for banns or anything else, I’m going to get married right away … Yes, I know I might lose a chance of making a fortune – I don’t want to make any more fortunes for three months … Yes, thanks very much … Goodbye.’ He rang off.

  He beamed up at Mannering. ‘Hi, John,’ he said. ‘That’s the last business call I intend to make for three months or more. Know where it was from? You’ll die laughing. My London lawyer’s home, in Grosvenor Square! My, you look as if you could do with some sleep. Been up all night? I’ll ring for some coffee, and then we can go to Green Street and see how Lorna and Rosamund are getting on. Don’t misunderstand me, I’ve made inquiries; but asleep or awake, I like to gaze upon Rosamund’s face – and the ring on her finger too.’ He smiled, and moved to the great window, looked over the green beauty of Hyde Park, the few people in it at this hour of the day, the traffic in Park Lane, and the panorama of distant London. He put a hand on Mannering’s arm, and was much quieter and more subdued than Mannering had known him. ‘Wonderful city,’ he declared. ‘Wonderful place. Hasn’t got the exhilaration of New York or Sydney, but it gets a hold on you. Like you do. Typical of your kind, John, aren’t you? At least, half of you is. I’d like to get to know that other half better.’

  ‘You’re dreaming,’ M
annering said. ‘Which other half?’

  ‘The half to which I owe a million,’ Theodorus said, and his smile was the smile of a very wise man. ‘The one with a scratch on his cheek.’

  He looked at the scratch Diana Odell had made on Mannering’s face.

  And he winked.

  Series Information

  Published or to be published by

  House of Stratus

  Dates given are those of first publication

  Alternative titles in brackets

  ‘The Baron’ (47 titles) (writing as Anthony Morton)

  ‘Department ‘Z’’ (28 titles)

  ‘Dr. Palfrey Novels’ (34 titles)

  ‘Gideon of Scotland Yard’ (22 titles)

  ‘Inspector West’ (43 titles)

  ‘Sexton Blake’ (5 titles)

  ‘The Toff’ (59 titles)

  along with:

  The Masters of Bow Street

  This epic novel embraces the story of the Bow Street Runners and the Marine Police, forerunners of the modern police force, who were founded by novelist Henry Fielding in 1748. They were the earliest detective force operating from the courts to enforce the decisions of magistrates. John Creasey’s account also gives a fascinating insight into family life of the time and the struggle between crime and justice, and ends with the establishment of the Metropolitan Police after the passing of Peel’s Act in 1829.

  ‘The Baron’ Series

  These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

  Meet the Baron (The Man in the Blue Mask) (1937)

  The Baron Returns (The Return of the Blue Mask) (1937)

  The Baron Again (Salute Blue Mask) (1938)

  The Baron at Bay (Blue Mask at Bay) (1938)

  Alias the Baron (Alias Blue Mask) (1939)

  The Baron at Large (Challenge Blue Mask!) (1939)