Complete works of peter.., p.428
Complete Works of Peter Cheyney. Illustrated, page 428
Vaness took the girl's note from his pocket. Her telephone number was on it, and he rang her. It took ten minutes to get through, but he was rewarded by the sound of a soft and sleepy voice asking who it was.
"Listen, Miss Durward," he said, "this is Vaness speaking. I've done a bit of checking up on Police Constable Selks, and I rather think I may have a clue at last. One thing you definitely must not do. You are not to go anywhere near Pinner tomorrow night. At ten o'clock I want you to come round here to my rooms. I shall be going out to Pinner myself. You will stay here until I return, and several people will know that you're here. This time I'm going to see that you have a perfect alibi. I'm taking this precaution in case this letter is another attempt to get you in a little deeper over the Strex business. Whatever Police Constable Selks was going to say to you he can say to me. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I do, Mr Vaness," Alexia said. "And I'll do whatever you say. I'll tell you how grateful I am when I see you to morrow night."
"Don't worry about that. Keep cheerful, and be here tomorrow at ten! I'll be glad to see you. Good-night, Alexia."
Vaness hung up the receiver. It was not until he had done so that he realised he had called the girl by her first name.
NEXT morning found Vaness at the coroner's inquest. This was the mere formality everyone knew it would be. On the request of the police, the inquest was adjourned for ten days.
Ralston, sitting in his chair, his round face as good humoured as ever, nodded to Vaness, and when the proceedings were over joined him in the corner where pressmen were discussing the crime.
"Well, my lad," he said, "give me a hand down the steps, and I'll be obliged."
Vaness assisted Soames to carry Ralston and his chair down the steps from the coroner's court. When they had stowed him safely into his car Ralston beckoned Vaness to join him.
"If you're not going anywhere else, I'll drop you at your place."
The car started, and soon they were threading their way through the London traffic.
"Have you got any more clever ideas?" asked the detective brightly. "Mind you, I think it's a good thing for a pressman not to be swayed too much by what policemen think. There's always the other side of the question, although in this case, Vaness, you're backing a loser."
"That's as may be," said Vaness, "but I'm now thoroughly sure in my own mind that the girl's innocent. What do you think of this?"
He handed the second anonymous letter to Ralston who read it, then handed it back with another smile.
"Well," said the detective, "I think it was written by the same person who wrote the first one, and if I'm allowed one guess I'd say that person was Alexia Durward. Look here, young fellow, don't you realise this girl is making a fool of you? She's got brains all right, like her father had, and she knows we're going to get her for this murder. Obviously then, the thing for her to do is draw as many red herrings across the trail as possible. It's an old dodge indulged in by many criminals. She's producing new evidence—evidence which we shall prove is worthless, but which she thinks will possibly affect the minds of the jury at her trial. She's set herself out to create the idea someone else has committed this murder, and that this someone had enough brains to try pinning the whole business on her. Take it from me, she wrote that letter."
Vaness lit a cigarette. "All right. For the sake of argument, let's imagine you're right. Let's take it for granted she wrote both the letters. Very well, how is it that she has the knowledge which the writer of these letters certainly possesses? In the first place, how did she know that the Daily Sun had commissioned me to write those crime stories? How did she know the inquest this morning would be adjourned for ten days, and how did she know about this fellow Selks?"
"All perfectly obvious questions," said Ralston, "and each one with a perfectly obvious answer. It stands to reason that before this crime was planned she had enough sense to investigate the circumstances surrounding it. She probably heard through somebody in the Daily Sun offices about your writing the story of the Durward trial. Don't you see that's just the time when a clever criminal would elect to act? She had to act pretty quickly because otherwise Strex might have given away something which she wanted kept quiet. By coming round to you, asking you not to write the stuff, informing you she was going on to Strex's place, then producing the first letter which told her to go there, she creates a motive other than that of killing Strex. I know perfectly well that when she goes on trial and is asked why she went to Strex's house, she will say because she received the anonymous letter telling her to do so.
"That's her get-out. We know she went to Strex's house for the purpose of shutting his mouth, and nothing else. When she found she could not do this by fair means, she used foul, that's all. This girl is clever enough to prepare beforehand an excuse for anything she plans to do. I admire this in her. Most criminals do the job first, and think of the excuse afterwards."
"All right," Vaness conceded. "Be that as it may. But how does she know about Selks?"
"That, too, is perfectly obvious," said Ralston. "Remember that Alexia Durward was seventeen at the time of her father's trial, and I don't mind telling you that if anyone could have got him off she would. She was a tough witness. She swore black was white, and green was blue. Luckily, our evidence was so strong, and so plainly truthful, that the jury didn't believe a word she said, although I'm certain most of them sympathised with her. They always do with a pretty girl. Now Selks, who was then a Detective Sergeant at the Yard, was working with me on this case. While we were gathering our evidence I had an intuition something funny was going on. I sent Selks to interview several witnesses and take statements. When I read those statements it seemed to me most of them were in favour of John Durward.
"One day I took the trouble of checking up a statement which Selks had taken from a witness. I found the statement had been modified—generally cut about and altered by Selks to such an extent that, had I not seen the witness myself and got the true story from him ... well, we should never have bothered to put him in the box, which is just what Selks wanted.
"Unfortunately, I was never able to prove Selks had been got at. But I'd bet my last penny that Miss Alexia Durward had bribed Selks to alter and modify statements so that they would read in her father's favour.
"As I say, I couldn't prove anything, but after Durward was convicted I put the whole thing up to the authorities at Scotland Yard. Selks denied vehemently that he had been grafted, but they evidently didn't believe him—they transferred him to Pinner, and I don't know of anything worse that could happen to a policeman.
"Apparently they were justified. Selks's record since then hasn't been particularly good. After his first quarrel with the authorities for something or other—I forget what—they reduced him to the rank of constable, hoping and believing he would reform. For some reason known to himself, he didn't do so.
"What's more natural therefore," concluded Ralston, "than that the girl, having made use of Selks in her father's trial, now proposes to make use of him again in her own? Do you see my point?"
Vaness sighed. "You're a horrible fellow, Ralston. Every time I make myself believe I've got a new line on this case you very carefully and very logically smash the whole thing to pieces. Still, I'm not dead yet. I believe Alexia Durward is innocent, and I'm going to try and prove it."
"Why not?" said Ralston. "Go right ahead. Wouldn't it make a wonderful headline? 'Leading Crime Journalist Confounds Scotland Yard!' But, take it from me, you'll never see that in print. I've told you before it's always the person who least looks like a murderer that is one. Ever seen a photograph of Crippen? You have? Well, will you find me a more good-natured and nicer-looking gentleman? Do you remember the Seddon trial? Another nice-looking killer. Believe me, the person who looks like a murderer never is one, and I think you will one day agree that under the charming exterior of our friend Miss Durward lies a very cruel and calculating brain..."
The car drew up outside Garron Mansions.
"Well, here we are, I expect I'll be seeing you soon. When you've got some fresh clues let me know. In the meantime, rest assured I'll have your Alexia at the Old Bailey inside a month. So long, Vaness."
Vaness waved back from the pavement. Although he had agreed with the logic of Ralston's theories, he was not satisfied in his heart. He ascended to his flat, and rang Alexia.
"The inquest's over," he told her. "It's been adjourned for ten days as we thought. We've got to get a move on, because it's certain, unless something wonderful turns up, that you'll be arrested during the next week. Don't lose heart. Everything's going to be all right, and don't forget that you're to be round here at ten sharp tonight."
"I promise," said the girl. "Tell me, Mr Vaness, did you inform Mr Ralston of the second letter? You did? Didn't that make any difference?"
"Not very much, I'm afraid," said the journalist. "Ralston's got an idea in his head that some attempt was made during your father's trial to bribe Selks. He believes, too, that Selks is a bad lot, and that he would allow himself to be grafted again today. No, Ralston isn't inclined to believe anything at all about the Selks business, except that you're making a bid to confuse the issue. Never mind though. Don't worry. Everything will be all right."
Vaness said goodbye and hung up. But he did not feel as cheerful as he had sounded. He realised how intensely the girl must be suffering. She must know she was being watched, that every movement she made was under the surveillance of Scotland Yard, and the arm of the law was only biding its time until it stretched out its fingers to take her.
THE day dragged wearily through. Every minute seemed like ten to Vaness, who was impatient to see what the interview with Selks would bring forth. In spite of what Ralston had said about Selks, Vaness believed that no police officer of Selks's experience was going to be foolish enough to allow himself to be brought into this business without having something to say which at least sounded like the truth. Against this, Vaness could not help thinking that if Selks really knew something in Alexia's favour, it would have been his duty to come forward earlier in the proceedings and made a statement.
At last ten o'clock arrived. It was a drizzly, foggy, night. Looking from his window, Vaness was able to see only the half-obscured lights of the street lamps. Presently he heard the sound of a car, and felt his heart thump with excitement at the thought of seeing the girl.
He ran down the stairs to the entrance to meet her. His brain had been so busy on the intricacies of the case that he had hardly given a thought to himself and her as personalities. He realised, half angrily, that this girl was beginning to mean more to him than mere newspaper "copy".
She entered the mansions smiling, her cheeks prettily flushed. She held out both hands to Vaness.
He said, "I'm delighted to see you looking so well. What's the cause of it?"
"Did you expect to see me looking like a ghost?" she answered. "Or like the papers prefer to think the conventional murderess looks—a haggard female, glancing always over her shoulder to see if she's being watched? I know I'm being watched, but I'm not allowing it to worry me very much. You see, being innocent, I don't think that anything horrible can happen to me."
"Of course it won't," said Vaness. "But we mustn't stand here in the cold. Come upstairs."
He led her into his sitting-room, and took her coat.
"My sister-in-law will be here in a minute," he said. "I rang her up, and asked her to come round here so that you shouldn't be alone. I've given orders that you're to have sandwiches and tea. There are lots of books, or if you like you can even read one or two things written by that well-known journalist Anthony Vaness."
"I should like to do that," she said. She looked at him mischievously. "Do you think I've got sufficient intelligence to understand the writing of this famous journalist?"
Vaness grinned. "I expect so. You've got courage, haven't you? I think you're very brave to make yourself appear so light-hearted when, underneath, you must be worrying terribly."
He took her hands. "Don't worry too much. Somehow, I'm certain this is going to come out right."
She looked back at him. Her eyes were very soft.
"I feel that, too. Funnily enough, it's only since this morning that I've felt like that. I think you're awfully good to me. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Don't you?" said Vaness. "I haven't done very much, but I hope before we're through that I shall have done much more. Anyway, I can hear the step of my esteemed relative on the stairs."
Vaness's sister-in-law, a middle-aged woman, entered the flat, bringing with her an atmosphere of good cheer. The journalist had tactfully explained to her the circumstances when he had telephoned her earlier in the day, and she, like most women, was glad to feel she was taking part in something which savoured a little of the mysterious.
Vaness almost forgot the more important business of the evening as they sat in front of the fire and talked about everything except the Strex murder. It was almost with regret that at a quarter past ten he put on a leather overcoat, bid them "Au revoir," and went off to his car.
CHAPTER VII
THE fog had lifted a little outside London, but the streets were wet and greasy. Vaness drove carefully, his mind busy with the interview which lay ahead.
He found himself wondering what manner of man Selks was, whether he would be truculent, or whether, if his information was worthwhile, he would be prepared to come out in the open and state frankly what he knew. Vaness recognised that even if he were successful in persuading Selks to adopt the latter course the policeman's evidence would be somewhat discounted by his record. It would be only natural that Ralston would do his utmost to question the veracity of a witness whose reputation was not of the first quality.
He allowed his mind to drift back to the girl as he had seen her last—smiling, close to happy, as she talked. A thought came to him almost as a shock; it was why was he was taking all this trouble over a business that seemed almost hopeless? He calculated that in fighting for Alexia Durward he was fighting for himself. Behind all his scheming and planning lay the protective instinct of a man to fight for the woman he loved.
Sitting impatiently at the wheel, Vaness cursed the slippery roads and his tyres which, very worn, skidded easily, and necessitated attentive driving. Arrived at Pinner, it took him some little time to locate Grange Road, but eventually, after being misdirected twice, he found it.
The road was long, bounded on either side by the usual type of suburban house, with an occasional tree here and there. One or two street lamps illuminated the darkness weakly. Altogether, Vaness thought, Grange Road was a most unprepossessing place. He drove slowly along it, for he had gathered Alexia's appointment with Selks had been made to take place at the far end of the road.
Vaness wondered what sort of brain Selks possessed, and just how much trouble he was going to give. By all accounts Selks was a fairly truculent customer. Vaness knew the London policeman gets a very square deal from his superiors, and that Selks had first been transferred, then reduced in rank, did not influence Vaness to think favourably of his character. On the other hand he must have been a fairly obstinate man to stay on in the police force after being demoted when, as Ralston had pointed out, everybody thought and hoped he would resign.
All things considered, the more he thought of it the more he was inclined to believe that Ralston's theory about Selks was correct. Vaness's mind was divided into two parts. One part was drawn irresistibly to Alexia; trying hard to believe in her innocence in spite of all evidence to the contrary, endeavouring to seize on every favourable point and multiply it in her favour. The other part, the logical side of his mind, realised that the actual weight of evidence, and the theories adduced by Ralston, were almost incontrovertible.
Vaness rounded a bend in the interminable Grange Road, and was astounded to see at least another half mile of road before him. The road seemed to get more dreary and desolate as he progressed. The houses now were smaller and detached. On the right and left of him open, dank, green spaces showed up fitfully in the light of his headlights.
This was a most peculiar place for an appointment, but it fitted with the other grim, somewhat grotesque features in the case.
Suddenly Vaness was awakened from his half reverie. Somewhere ahead of him came the strident blast of a police whistle; then another; then a shout. He trod on his accelerator, and the car leapt forward.
In the darkness, in spite of his headlights, Vaness could hardly see where he was going. Then twenty yards in front of him he saw the figure of a policeman with his hand raised.
Vaness jammed on his brakes, and pulled up. The policeman came up to the car, and put his head in.
"Sorry to trouble you, sir," he said, "but I'll be obliged if you drive straight down the road, take the first on the left, and drive until you come to the police station. Would you go in, ask for Inspector Durrant, and say that Morgan would like the ambulance sent along?"
"Certainly," replied Vaness. "Has there been an accident? I hope this job won't take me long because I've got an appointment here with a policeman who, I think, is attached to your station—Police Constable Selks. Do you know him?"
The policeman looked at him queerly.
"I know him all right, sir, but I'm afraid he won't be able to keep that appointment. He's just been shot on the corner of the road here. I found him two minutes ago as I was going off duty. I've blown my whistle, but there's nobody much around here to hear it. Be as quick as you can, sir."
Vaness restarted his car, and drove towards the police station as he had been directed. His mouth was set in a taut line, but his eyes were bright.
His theory about the letters was right and Ralston was wrong. Alexia had been sent the first letter telling her to meet Strex the night Strex was murdered. Had she come to meet Selks she could just as easily have been accused of his murder.
