An Apostle of Gloom Page 19

  “I—I don’t believe you,” she said, but her tone suggested that she wanted to.

  “You must!” said Janet. “Lois, I won’t let him betray you.” The use of the word ‘betray’ was just right, it put into meaning everything that the girl had feared. Lois looked at her, her lips parting, the clouds fading, if only temporarily, from her eyes.

  “Will you swear that?” Her voice was barely audible.

  “On any oath you like,” said Janet.

  They stared at each other for a long time. Roger seemed to be outside the immediate issue, watching the two women from a long way off. He read indecision in Lois’s face and had to force himself not to speak at a moment when a single word might ruin every chance he had of learning her story. That she was worked up to a point where hysteria was never far off had been apparent from the start; he had thought that the reaction, when it came, would bring a full revelation. Before, he had not thought her evidence of outstanding importance, but now he believed that the girl held the key to the problem.

  Then Lois swung round on him.

  “I knew you’d worm it out of me!” she said in a low-pitched voice. “I knew someone would have to know but – oh, don’t lie to me! Don’t try to pretend that it doesn’t matter, don’t say that the police will take no action! Let me know the worst. I must know it. I can’t bear the suspense any longer!”

  Roger did not speak.

  “I—I’ve worked for Malone,” she went on. “I worked with him during the blitz, he used my canteen to hide—to hide things he stole during the air raids – yes, looted, looted! Do you see that?” She held up her hand, where the single diamond scintillated in the bright light. Her face was drawn and almost haggard, yet there was a blazing excitement in her eyes. “I always said it was my mother’s. It wasn’t, I stole it, I took it during the blitz; oh I don’t know what came over me, I—”

  She broke off, gulped, and then said in a steadier voice: “But what’s the use of lying? A jeweller’s shop had been hit. I wasn’t far away. This fell almost at my feet. I knew I was doing wrong but I—I picked it up and put it on. The guns were banging and bombs were falling, there were flares in the sky, it was a devil’s light and all the fire in the world seemed to be in that diamond. I kept it there. I told myself that I would give it up the next day, that I only wanted to wear it for a few hours, but I knew I was lying to myself, I knew I meant to keep it!”

  She paused again but neither of the others interrupted her. They knew what she was feeling. They felt a deep sorrow for her because of the confusion of her thoughts and the losing fight she had waged with her conscience, living with the knowledge that she had been wrong. Roger wondered how often such a thing had happened during the blitz. Her words were clear, cut as cleanly as the solitaire, telling the story with a harsh brilliance which matched it.

  She went on: “I didn’t know that a man had seen me. It was Benny Cox. He was a warden, he’d left the house just after me – I was on the way to the canteen. He didn’t tell me at first but a few days afterwards he started admiring the ring and I knew that he knew where I’d got it. I thought he meant to try to—to bargain for his silence – he was a beast of a man, always with different women. But he didn’t make any suggestions. What he did do was to tell Malone.”

  “Ah!” exclaimed Roger.

  She did not seem to hear him.

  “He worked for Malone although I didn’t know it then. Malone came to see me. You—you know what he’s like. He frightened me. I was so scared that I don’t think I could have refused him anything. He didn’t stay long, just said that if I wanted nothing said about the diamond I must do whatever Benny Cox told me to. He said the canteen would be very useful for hiding other things which were ‘found’ in the blitz. ‘Found!’” she repeated bitterly. She paused for a moment, then went on: “Well, Benny brought me things, sometimes jewellery wrapped up in paper, sometimes furs, oh, dozens, hundreds of different things! I hid them under the counter or in the waste bin of the canteen. There was always another helper with me, of course, and several times – on Benny’s instructions – I handed what I’d got to the police, to make out that I was being honest. Honest! It went on and on, all through the raids. I knew what it meant, I knew the penalties for looting but I couldn’t get out of it. I—I knew I had only myself to blame, if I hadn’t kept that diamond it could never have happened. But – it did.”

  This time she stopped and turned and looked into the mirror, as if she wanted to see the tears which had flooded her eyes. Janet stood up and stepped to her side, putting an arm about her waist, but did not speak.

  Lois clenched Janet’s hand.

  “When the bombing stopped nothing much happened, of course, and I thought it was all over,” she went on. “The only thing I’d taken was the diamond, I wasn’t given payment for what I did. I stayed at New Street and Benny made no approaches to me. He wouldn’t talk about Malone although I knew he worked for him. Then – a year ago – Malone came again. He told me that someone was looking for a girl who could speak languages. I know French, Dutch and Flemish. I left a translation office to join the A.R.P. He sent me to Pickerell. Pickerell told me that he knew exactly what I had done but that nothing would be said about it while I behaved myself. I—I had a bad time then,” she said, “I thought it was a spy organisation but soon I found that it wasn’t. I had to take messages to different people and sometimes to Malone. I knew that there was a lot of—of stealing. I had to take packages to different men, sometimes to jewellers. I realised that the Society was used as a distributing office. Mrs. Cartier didn’t know, only Pickerell knew that. I was so relieved that it wasn’t spying that I was almost happy about it. I’d met Bill and when I moved away from Battersea, no one raised any objections. It—it became just part of ordinary business. I didn’t think of it as crime for months on end, until—until they started to send me with the money to your bank. They didn’t tell me what I was really doing, you were known only as ‘West’ and I didn’t realise that you were a policeman until Malone came one day and I overheard what he said to Pickerell. But – what could I do?”

  “Nothing,” Roger said, quietly.

  She stared at him. “Nothing? You have the nerve to stand there and say ‘nothing’! Of course I could have done something! I could have told you what was happening, gone to the police station and made them understand it, I shouldn’t have cared what happened to me. Sometimes I thought that it would be a relief to get it all over and to come out of prison after serving my sentence, knowing that there was nothing hanging over my head, but – there was Bill. And I couldn’t screw myself up to it, I just went on and on – until that day when you came in.”

  She turned away abruptly. She fumbled with her handbag and to Roger’s surprise she took out a cigarette case. Her fingers were trembling. He saw several little tablets in the case – or rather, their reflection in the mirror; Janet could not see them.

  Roger snapped: “Don’t be a fool!”

  She swung away, making Janet stumble, and put her hand to her lips – but Roger knocked it away. The tablets flew across the room and struck against the far wall. Lois stood staring at him, wild-eyed.

  “I—I don’t want to live!” she gasped, “I don’t—”

  Roger gripped her wrists. He was looking into her face when the door burst open and Bill Tennant strode in, ignoring protests from Mark, who was just behind him.

  “What are you doing to her?” Tennant demanded in a harsh voice. “You told me you wouldn’t do anything—”

  Roger spoke without looking over his shoulder. “She has tried to kill herself, because she doesn’t think you’ll be interested in her when you know that she has mixed with thieves and rogues.”

  “I don’t care what she’s done!” Tennant snapped.

  “Do you mean that?” demanded Roger, looking into Lois’s eyes.

  “Of course
I mean it,” said Tennant, fiercely.

  Janet caught Roger’s eye. He pressed Lois’s shoulders and spoke without smiling.

  “If the worst comes to the worst you will perhaps be sent to prison for six months but it isn’t very likely. By telling everything you know, you’ll almost certainly be allowed to go free and you’ll have paid for what you’ve done by giving information about the others, especially Malone. And”—his voice was very gentle—”you haven’t done so very much, you know.”

  Then he turned and left her. Janet was already at the door and Mark in the other room. Janet closed the door firmly and they heard Tennant ask: “Darling, what is it all about?”

  “That’s exactly what I want to know,” said Mark, eagerly. “What is it all about, old man?”

  Roger told him, quietly and quickly, glad of the opportunity for going over it again. He could see how carefully it had been built up, how the weight of her conscience had worsened her plight in every way and encouraged her to play into Malone’s hands. He had deliberately made comparatively light of it, believing that she had suffered enough already. He was sure that the police would take no action, provided she told everything she knew of Pickerell and Malone, and gave all the addresses to which she had taken the mysterious packages from Welbeck Street. He did not think she would hesitate to make a full confession now, but when he finished, Mark put into words one of the thoughts which weighed heaviest on his mind.

  “They’ll know what she can do and they won’t let her stay away for long without making a big effort to get her,” Mark said.

  “No-o,” admitted Roger.

  Janet said: “The best place for her is in a police station. I won’t be happy until she’s in one.”

  “I told Tennant so this afternoon and I think she’ll be amenable,” Roger said. “When she’s had it all out with him, she’ll be a different girl. I don’t think he’s likely to let her or us down.” After a pause, he went on: “Well, we’re making progress! I missed something at New Street, Battersea – I didn’t discover that Benny Cox was one of Malone’s gang, which was bad.”

  “Do you think that’s the only reason they tried to frame you?” Mark sounded incredulous.

  “I don’t know – it’s probably one of them,” Roger said. “Friday the 13th. Pickerell sounded pretty annoyed with superstition. I thought, when I first heard that record, that it meant he himself was superstitious but I’m beginning to wonder if someone else didn’t give him his instructions, someone who was influenced by the 13th. The thing is, if I had seen a connection between Cox and Malone I would have been after Malone very quickly. We’ve always assumed that Cox killed his wife for her money, but supposing she discovered what he was doing, supposing New Street was used for storing looted goods and Mrs. Cox threatened to tell the police?” Roger frowned. “Cox was a miserable little specimen and I can’t imagine him going through the trial and letting himself be hanged, if by squealing on Malone he could perhaps have saved his life.”

  “A brick wall of some thickness,” Mark said.

  “Ye-es. On the other hand, he may have killed her and, knowing that he couldn’t save himself no matter what he did, he just let things go. He acted dumb all the time – he was never very bright mentally. I once thought that the defence might try to prove insanity, Oliphant hinted at it once or twice, but Oliphant’s a good enough lawyer to know whether the plea would have a chance of success. He hardly said a word once he was caught, it seemed as if the shock was too much for him. Dull-witted,” he added, “very dull-witted.” His voice rose. “Too dull-witted?”

  “What the deuce are you getting at?” demanded Mark.

  Roger said, gently: “I’m wondering if Cox was drugged before we caught him and whether that made him seem so dull?”

  Chapter 19

  LOIS’S WHOLE STORY

  Mark said that it was a possibility, but he wondered whether Roger were not allowing his imagination to run away with him. Roger agreed that it was only possible but he went into the other room and took out the files of the Cox Case. He turned up the medical reports and scanned them carefully. Three doctors had examined the man, one for the police, two for the defence. They were unanimous in saying that Cox had been a person of low mentality, very nearly sub-normal. The police doctor said that there was no doubt at all that he knew what he was doing and he was fully responsible for his actions. Obviously medical opinion for the defence had not really thought it possible to prove otherwise, and so the defence, in the hands of Oliphant, had not tried to sway the jury on the grounds of insanity.

  ‘Reflexes, dull,’ Roger read, ‘pulse below normal, pupils enlarged . . .”

  “Well?” asked Mark, after nearly half an hour’s silence. “Have you found anything?”

  Roger looked at him steadily but seemed to be thinking of something else.

  “Er—no,” he said. “That is—no, it can’t be!”

  “How brightly he goes on,” drawled Mark.

  “Be quiet!” snapped Janet.

  Roger looked at her and smiled vaguely. Lois’s voice came from the other room, only occasionally interrupted by Tennant’s. Now and again Roger, hearing footsteps outside, looked up as if he half expected them to come into the room. He was on edge because he was afraid that Malone would find out where Lois was staying; of Malone’s intention towards the girl there was little doubt. If she was found, her life would not be worth a moment’s purchase – that was dramatic but an inescapable fact. Undoubtedly a police station cell would be the safest place for her, if she could be persuaded to go to one. She would be afraid that he was going back on his promise, of course. The very word ‘cell’ might make her withdraw all she had said.

  He thought again of Friday the 13th.

  The sordid little house, the floorboards, the nauseating smell, the ‘straightforward’ murder and the dull-witted Cox. He remembered him at the police station awaiting the second hearing at the police court; he had been remanded for eight days at the first.

  “I just can’t credit it!” he exclaimed, standing up and pushing his chair back.

  Mark shrugged his shoulders and said in sepulchral tones: “The great policeman is slowly going insane.”

  This time Janet said: “Can’t we help, Roger?”

  “No-o,” said Roger, brushing his hair back, slowly, as he recollected. “No. That is – I was at New Street collecting all the paraphernalia of evidence. The camera work was done, and the fingerprints. I’d found the hammer which Cox used. There were bloodstains on the wood, he hadn’t cleaned it properly, and it certainly caused the wounds in his wife’s scalp. In short, all the evidence was there. I was going off, feeling fully satisfied although it was a beastly show and I’ve never liked that kind of case. Then—”

  He paused.

  Mark no longer acted the fool, but eyed his friend intently. The voices came from the other room in a steady ripple.

  “A taxi drew up outside,” Roger said. “Oliphant came out. Oliphant,” he repeated, softly, “saying that he had been asked to act for Benny Cox.” He leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. He saw the portly solicitor, Mortimer Oliphant, a well-known lawyer who frequently acted for poorer criminals. He was ambitious and took on difficult jobs which a less forceful solicitor would have refused. He worked for the Poor Person’s Legal Society and was one of its brighter members. Penniless or briefless barristers often accepted bad cases when the defendants could not afford legal aid, and the court paid them. Some solicitors set aside a special section of their business to handle such cases, but for the most part it was a question of fighting for a lost cause. It was rare that a defendant who had to be granted legal aid had anything of a case, seldom that he got off – not because he was not well defended, but because he was so obviously guilty.

  Mortimer Oliphant was in a different category from the usual poor man’s lawyer.
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  He had a man at the courts regularly, watching, and when a case appeared particularly tricky, or when there seemed to be the slightest chance of pulling off an odds-against case, he would volunteer to take it. He briefed young barristers who usually did well. His reputation was excellent and he often managed to win a case which the police thought was a foregone conclusion. A man of middle age, he had a large private income, and he always claimed that he specialised in criminal cases because he liked the excitement of matching his wits against the police. Roger knew him well.

  He remembered the smile on Oliphant’s open face when he had squeezed along the narrow passage and seen Roger in the kitchen. He had pulled a wry face and said that he hoped it wasn’t necessary to stay in that atmosphere for long. Roger had not thought twice about his appearance, for he had guessed why he had come.

  “I’m going to look after Benny Cox,” Oliphant had said.

  Roger remembered smiling. “You’ve backed a loser this time!”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Oliphant had said, “anyhow, it will give me some mental exercise, West. I always enjoy a few rounds with you. You don’t mind if I look round?”

  Roger remembered admiring the man’s thoroughness. Few solicitors would have taken the trouble to come to the scene of the crime. He had thought nothing of it even when he had read through his report for the day – ‘Oliphant saw me at New Street, and said that he was going to handle Cox’s defence.’ He had not troubled to go over it again, because it was characteristic of Oliphant. Also, he came to the Yard more often and asked for the information. Being a likeable fellow, one somehow always gave him what he wanted, within the necessary limits laid down by common sense and regulations. If he didn’t get all he wanted, he took no umbrage.

  Well-dressed, dark, with a good, olive complexion and smiling eyes, he was always amiable and even placid, but with a quick mind and a ready wit. Every man at Scotland Yard knew and trusted him.