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Huh! Better write another book and then perhaps you will!
We are amused, responded Lomond dryly. No, I haven t caught The
Ringer, but I dare say I could put my hand on him.
Bliss looked at the other suspiciously.
Think so? You ve got a theory, eh?
A conviction, a very strong conviction, said Lomond mysteriously.
Now you take a tip from me. Leave police work to policemen. Arthur
Milton s a dangerous man. Seen his wife lately?
No have you?
Bliss turned.
No; I don t even know who she s living with.
The doctor s face hardened.
Would you remember you re speaking of a particular friend of mine? he
demanded.
Inspector Bliss allowed himself the rare luxury of a chuckle.
Oh, she s caught you, too, eh? She does find em!
Have you never heard of a woman having a disinterested friend? demanded
Lomond.
Oh yes, there s one born every minute, was the harsh reply, and, seeing
Wembury s disapproving eye on him: You re a bit of a sentimental Johnny,
too, aren t you, Wembury?
That s my weakness, said Alan coolly.
That girl Lenley she s in Meister s office, isn t she?
Wembury smiled his contempt.
You ve found that out, have you? There are the makings of a detective in
you, he said, but Bliss was not perturbed by the studied insult.
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Sweet on her, they tell me. Very romantic! The old squire s daughter and the
love-sick copper!
If you must use thieves slang, call me busy . Were you ever in love,
Bliss?
Me ! Huh! No woman can make a fool of me! said Inspector Bliss, one
hand on the door.
It takes a clever woman to improve on God s handiwork. What are you
doing down here, anyway? retorted Alan rudely.
Your job! snapped Bliss, as he went out, banging the door behind him.
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CHAPTER 42
Carter was intrigued.
It s curious that the inspector doesn t know station routine, isn t it, sir?
Everything about Mr. Bliss is curious, said Alan savagely. Bliss! Where
he got his name from I d like to know!
Lomond went to the door of the inspector s room, where Meister lay under
the watchful eye of a relief . He was rapidly recovering, the doctor said. As he
returned, a policeman came in and whispered to Wembury.
A lady to see me? Who is it?
It s Cora Ann Milton, said Lomond, again displaying that uncanny instinct
of his. My future bride!
Cora Ann came in with an air in which defiance and assumed indifference
were blended.
Say, is there something wrong with your date book, doctor?
Alan regarded the old doctor suspiciously as Lomond took the woman s hand
in his.
There s something wrong with you! Why, you re all of a dither, Cora Ann.
She nodded grimly.
I never wait longer than an hour for any man.
Wembury looked up at this.
Good Lord! I was taking ye to dinner! gasped the doctor. I was called
down here and it slipped out of my mind.
Cora Ann looked round with every indication of distaste.
I can t blame you. If I were called to a place like this my mind would slip a
cog. So this is a police station? My idea of hell, only not so bright! She looked
at Wembury. Say, where s your fancy dress? Everybody else is in uniform.
I keep that for wearing at parties, he smiled.
She shuddered.
Ugh doesn t it make you sick? How can you stay here there must be
something wrong with a man s mind who likes this sort of life.
There s something wrong with you, said Lomond quietly. There s a queer
vacant look in your eye.
She eyed him steadily.
The vacancy isn t in my eye I haven t had anything to eat since lunch!
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Lomond was all remorse.
You poor hungry mite could you not eat by yourself?
I prefer to take my meals under the eye of a medical man, said Cora.
I m not so sure that it would be safe, he bantered.
Do you think I ll poison you?
You might poison my mind.
All the time Wembury was listening with undisguised astonishment. What
was the doctor s game? Why was he making friends with this girl?
Are you going to take pity on a poor hysterical female? she demanded.
There was an element of desperation in her tone; it was as though she were
making one last effort to& what? Alan was puzzled.
I d love to, Cora Ann, but Lomond was saying.
But! But! she mocked. You re a butter , eh? Listen, Scottie, you won t
have to pay for the dinner!
He grinned at this.
That s certainly an inducement, but I ve got work to do.
In a second her face had grown haggard.
Work! She laughed bitterly, and with a shrug of her shoulders walked
listlessly towards the door. I know the work! You re trying to hang Arthur
Milton. That s your idea of work! All right.
Where are you going now, lassie? asked the doctor, anxiously.
She looked at him, and her smile was a little hard.
It s too late for dinner. I think I ll go and have supper and a music lesson at
the same time. I ve a friend who plays the piano very, very well.
Lomond walked to the door and peered out into the fog after her.
That sounds like a threat to me, he said.
Alan did not answer immediately. When he spoke his voice was very grave.
Doctor I wish you wouldn t make love to The Ringer s wife.
What do you mean?
I mean I don t want the possibility of two tragedies on my mind.
Carter, who had been into the room where Meister was lying, came back to
his desk at that moment.
How is he now?
He s all right, sir, said the sergeant.
Tramp, tramp, tramp!
Alan s keen ears had caught the sound of the measured march, the peculiar
tempo of a man in custody, and he drew a long breath as Johnny Lenley, his
arm gripped by a plainclothes policeman, came through the door and was
arrayed before the desk. There was no preliminary.
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I am Detective-Constable Bell, said the tall man. This evening I was on
the roof of 57, Camden Crescent, and I saw this man come up through a
trap-door in the attic of No. 55. I saw him searching behind the cistern of 57,
and took him into custody. I charged him with being on enclosed premises for
the purpose of committing a felony.
Lenley stood looking down at the floor. He scarcely seemed interested in the
proceedings, until he raised his head and his eyes found Wembury s, and then
he nodded slowly.
Thank you, Wembury, he said. If I had the brain of a rabbit I shouldn t be
here.
Carter at the desk dipped his pen in the ink.
What is your name? he asked automatically.
John Lenley.
Silence and a splutter of writing.
Your address?
I have no address.
Your trade?
I am a convict on licence, said Johnny quietly.
The sergeant put down his pen.
Search him, he said, and Johnny spread out his arms while the tall officer
ran his hands through his pockets and carried what he had found to the desk.
Who put me away, Wembury?
Alan shook his head.
That is not a question to ask me, he said. You know that very well. He
nodded to the desk to call the prisoner s attention to the man who was, for the
moment, in supreme authority.
Have you any explanation for your presence on the roof of 57, Camden
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