Sanderson of the Yard E-Book

David Hume

• Herausgeber: Librorium Editions
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

1: Secret of the Strong Room
2: Call in the Yard
3: The Murder Trap

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

1: Secret of the Strong Room

2: Call in the Yard

3: The Murder Trap

SANDERSON OF

SCOTLAND YARD

David Hume

(John Victor Turner, 1900-1945)

Three Sanderson of

Scotland Yard novellas

2020

Contents

1: Secret of the Strong Room

2: Call in the Yard

3: The Murder Trap

___________________

1: Secret of the Strong Room

The Thriller Dec 1 1934

Weekly Times (Melbourne) 16 May 1936

1: Sudden Death

IT was seven o'clock in the evening, and a grey blanket of mist was smothering London, when a two-seater roadster came slowly round the corner into Gray's Inn. and pulled to a stop.

A tall, slim man, swathed in a black evening coat, slid from the driving-seat and strained his sight in an effort to view the gloomy buildings facing him. Finally, he strode up the well-worn steps leading to a ramshackle building, slipped a key from his pocket and opened the front door. For a moment he stood in the hall, but there was nothing irresolute in the man's attitude. Calmly and deliberately he replaced the key in his pocket, pulled a small mask of black crepe from the breast pocket of his overcoat, took off his hat while he affixed the elastic band round his head, replaced his hat and produced a torch. The beam of light flashed along a gloomy corridor to illuminate the foot of a staircase. The visitor walked forward silently, his footsteps deadened by rubber soles and heels. On the first landing he stopped, turned out his light and walked towards the end of the passage, where a dim film of illumination showed under the bottom of an ill-fitting door. Without hesitation, the man strode for ward and flung it back. Seated behind a desk at the far side of a small office was a stout, middle-aged man, attired in the regulation clothes of the legal profession— black coat and vest and striped trousers.

"I'm rather an unexpected caller, Curtis," said the man in the mask. His tone was metallic and dominating.

Curtis slumped back in his swivel chair, his eyes dilated, and the redness seeped from his lower lip as the teeth fastened on it in a nervous clench.

"Good evening, Number One," he said falteringly.

"Maybe it isn't such a good evening as you imagine it is, Curtis. I suppose you know why I've come?"

"Have you got some work for me to do?"

The visitor laughed ominously, and seated himself on the edge of the desk. His right hand was embedded in his overcoat pocket.

"I've certainly got some work for you to do," replied the man called Number One. "but this time you're not acting as my solicitor."

"No?" Curtis seemed to be recovering from the shock of the man's arrival. "I certainly won't do any work for you other than legal work."

"People don't talk to me about what they are going to do or what they are not going to do, and you should know that, Curtis. People do what I tell them to do, and if they get absent-minded about their instructions they're on a hot spot."

The solicitor smiled a little tremulously.

"It's no good trying to frighten me. Number One," he said. "Maybe it pleases you to scare some of the other men who work for you, but just because you are Number One, you're not going to give me a fit of the shivers."

The visitor bent forward and tapped on the desk with his left fist. Curtis looked up to find dark brown eyes peering at him through the slits in the mask.

"I'm going to talk to you for the good of your health." said Number One. "You're only trying to stand up to me because you think you've got a drop on me; you imagine you've got me just where you want me. That's exactly why I came to see you tonight, Curtis."

"I don't follow what you're getting at."

"You don't, eh? I employed you. Curtis, be cause I thought you'd got brains. This is one of the evenings when you'll have to use all the head-piece that Providence provided you with. You know darn well why I've come here, and you know me well enough to know that men who stand in my way take an excursion trip to the cemetery."

"I still don't know what you're talking about," remarked Curtis. "Why don't you explain the position?"

"I will," snapped Number One, slipping off the desk and standing erect. "Two weeks ago I handed over some documents to one of my men. He was told to burn them. This afternoon I met that mail. I had my doubts about him, Curtis. Those documents are very dangerous. Can you imagine what happened to that man?"

The solicitor grew pallid, and drummed nervously on the desk with his fingers.

"I haven't the slightest idea," he said.

"Then I'll tell you. I gave him the works for a couple of hours. And if I start to work on a man it's no picnic for him They either come through or go out. The man I amused myself with this afternoon did both. But he came through before he went out. Now do you know what I mean?"

The last question shot from the man's mouth was loaded with venom. Curtis squirmed uneasily in his seat. There was silence in the room— a menacing silence that seemed to speak of imminent danger.

"I'm beginning to know what you're talking about." said Curtis quietly.

"I'm not going to talk much longer about anything," snarled Number One. "You persuaded that man, Curtis, to hand those documents over to you. I suppose you thought they'd give you a good handle so that you could pull the 'black' on me?"

"You think I meant to blackmail you?" asked Curtis.

"You've been mixed up in crime so long that you can't kid me you don't know a criminal term when you hear it. Curtis give me back those papers immediately."

Curtis turned and pointed to the heavy safe set into the wall in a corner of the office.

"They're in there," he said, "and I haven't got the key, and can't open the door. You'll have to come for them some other time."

"By which time," snapped the visitor, "you won't be occupying this office, and the papers will have gone. That's a clumsy stroke to try and pull on a man like me. Open that safe and get those papers out. I'm in a hurry!"

"But I can't," insisted the lawyer.

"I've got something here that might be able to persuade you." Number One took his hand from his pocket, and the solicitor's eyes bulged as he stared down the black mouth of a revolver. He shivered as he saw the cylinder attached to the gun. Curtis, as a lawyer, possessed some curious knowledge, and among that store of knowledge was the ability to know a silencer when he saw one.

"You won't gain anything by shooting at me," he muttered. "The documents will still be safe when you've finished."

"Curtis, I started off as a small-time crook. In eight years I've travelled from the bottom to the top of the ladder. I got there by doing what I wanted, when I wanted to, and blotting out anyone who got in my way. And now you're telling me that I can't have those documents when I want them, and you're trying to get in my way by stealing them from me? The gates of eternity are open wide, and it looks to me as though you'll be the next person to pass through them."

"But you can have them back in the morning," protested Curtis.

"I'm having them back tonight," announced Number One emphatically.

"Well, listen to me just for a minute―"

"I'm not listening to you for one second. You got those papers so that you could black mail me. I've blackmailed so many people that I know that game from beginning to end. Here's my last remark to you. I'm going to count five, and if at the end of that count you haven't started to open that safe I'm going to pull this trigger, and it will be lights out for Mr Curtis, of Gray's Inn."

Curtis raised a hand and eased his collar away from a perspiring neck. The eyes behind the mask seemed to grow more vicious in expression, and dark in colour. Someone told Curtis once that you can tell a killer by his eyes. Now he knew that that was true. There was death in the man's brain, and the eyes were carrying the telegraphed message.

"One!" snapped the visitor.

"But just a moment―"

"Two!" Curtis stared at the steady hand and the unwavering gun barrel.

"Three!―"

"What I'm trying to tell you, Number One, is this—"

"Four!"

"Curse you!" shouted Curtis, pulling himself to his feet "You've got to listen to me!"

"Five!" said Number One, and as he spoke the index finger of his right hand flexed back.

There was a dull plop as the silencer deadened the sound of the explosion. The bulky figure of Curtis slumped back heavily in his chair, a bullet through his heart. Number One glanced at the corpse dispassionately, turned the barrel of the gun towards his mouth and blew delicately down the aperture to remove the fumes of the explosion. Then he walked over to the safe and examined the locks. Leisurely he strolled back to the desk and rolled Curtis a little to one side, since the man's position was interfering with the telephone cord. Then he called the exchange and asked for a Kilburn number. The call came through almost immediately.

"Is that you, Sadie?" he asked, and received a reply in the affirmative. Number One laid his gun down on the desk and spoke softly into the instrument. 'I've got a job for you and Andy. Meet Andy at the corner of the Strand and Chancery Lane at midnight tonight. He'll have all the instructions with him. Good-night, my child!"

He flicked down the receiver clip and gave a Hampstead number to the operator. This time the conversation was more prolonged.

"Is that you, Andy?"

"Yes. that's right. I know who you are. Carry on!"

"Listen carefully," said Number One. "Your girl friend wants to see you at midnight at the corner of Chancery Lane and the Strand. She wants to accompany you to see Peter. You follow me?"

"I certainly do. Where do we meet him?"

"At 45A Gray's Inn. You'll find him in the office of Robert W. Curtis, on the first floor. He'll leave the front door open for you. He only wants to hand over to you a bundle of documents in a large blue envelope: The outside of the envelope is marked 'Private and Confidential.' Don't open the envelope. I'll be sending round to your place for it in the morning. Is everything all clear?"

"Everything's perfectly okay. Is it a job for the girl friend, or for me?"

"For both of you. Good-night."

Number One replaced the receiver and sighed almost as though bored. Then he strolled over to the large cupboard standing in the corner of the room, swung back the doors and looked at the document cases in side. After examining them he turned to gaze at the corpse. For the next five minutes he was busy. But he was certainly following no usual occupation. When he left the office the document cases were piled on the floor in a corner, and the body of Robert W. Curtis, solicitor, was propped up inside the cupboard.

2: Midnight Episode

THE girl, crouching before the safe, suddenly stood erect, stretched her arms and yawned. The man by her side smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"M.V.H.L.T.2.2.2. That." said Sadie, "should swing back the door of this safe."

Andy, the peterman, looked at her astonished. It didn't seem possible that a girl could work out the combination of a multiple safe so quickly that within an hour she could give the letters and numerals. For the hundredth time he turned to admire the slender build, the hazel eyes, the chestnut-coloured hair running in ringlets down to her shoulders. the small, close-lipped, determined mouth, and the long, tapering fingers, before he could attempt any comment.

"Sadie," he said, "you look great to me. What do you say about getting spliced?"

"Just," replied the girl, "that you're wily a good peterman to me. I work combinations and break safes for a living. And men mean nothing to me in my small life. Maybe one day I'll decide that I want to get married. When I do, I'm going to marry a man who's straight, because the man who's crooked as you are, Andy, and the girl who's crooked— as I am— just don't mix.

"I want to make some- money, so much money that I've got nothing to worry about for the rest of my life, and then I'm going to get out of this crooked game for ever, call it a day, and be the wife of some decent, clean-living man who never looked up the dictionary to find out what the word crooked means. You're a nice lad, Andy, but you're as crooked as a corkscrew. Open the peter."

Andy pushed his eyeshade farther towards his hair and took a deep breath. He was young, pale-faced, dark-haired, and seemed delicate. But within his slender frame and covering his ten stone was a power of purposefulness and a considerable strength. He admired Sadie as a girl who could break the combination of a safe faster than any person he had met before— and he had met some safe-breakers. Sadie admired him because he had a nerve so elastic in its dimensions that nothing could shake it.

"Has it occurred to you." asked Andy, "that one day the police are going to drop on us, and then it's the spike for us both?"

"Before the police drop on me," said the girl, slipping the elastic gloves from her hands, "I'll be a respectable married woman, with a horde of children around me, and I'll be so well known as a respectable woman that the police won't come near me."

"I've never been to gaol, but you know, Sadie, you're getting yourself all wrong. You're letting sentiment interfere with business. I knew a man once who had day-dreams, and his day-dreams led him to a stretch on Dart moor that kept him out of London for seven years. Don't go on day-dreaming. Sadie, until you find yourself walking into Holloway for a stretch you'll never forget."

The girl slipped on a short coat, turned to have a final look at the safe, and then moved towards the staircase.

"Andy," she said, "as a safe-breaker you're pretty good. As a man, maybe there's a lot that one could admire in you. As an associate in a crooked game you're a complete partner. But above the neck you've got an idea for nothing but crime, and it seems to me that very soon we'll be parting company."

Andy looked dismal for a moment, and then raised his shoulders with a shrug.

"The difference between you, Sadie, and myself seems to be this— you're only working to provide a home you can get married into one day; I'm working because I like the job."

"If your idea of a permanent job is breaking safes you're not going to have a very happy life; and anyone who's mixed up with you is likely to do seven years in the country that they won't forget I came into this game, Andy, because it seemed to me the fastest way to make money. I'm going out of this game, because that's the best way of keeping out of gaol."

"Romance doesn't seem to mix with the job we're on now," commented the man. "Now that I come to think of it, it doesn't seem right to propose marriage to a woman when both of you are working hard on the door of some one's safe."

"You're right." agreed the girl. "Number One said that he'd open the place for us to come into. He did that. He left me to find out the combination of the safe. I did that. You were left with the job of collecting the documents from the safe. You've still got to do that. I'm going home now. You can finish your end of the work in five minutes. Don't talk to me again about crime, Andy. After one more job I've finished with crime. It's me for a quiet life. I wanted money. I've made the money. Now I'm going to be an honest woman!"

Andy walked over to the steel wall cloaking the door of the safe, took a combination in one hand and a punctuation combination in the other hand and commenced to work while Sadie retired to the back of the room and slipped into a leather coat.

By the time she had finished dressing the front wall of the safe swung back, and within another min ute the door of the safe was open. Andy turned round with a triumphant smile on his face, rubbed his hands together gleefully, and said; "You're a bright girl. How you work out this combination by just listening to the fall of those tumblers, I don't know."

Sadie smiled at him sarcastically and then commented: "One day, Andy, if you stay with this business long enough, you'll know the difference between an artist and a criminal."

"I'm beginning to think, Sadie, that you'll be out of it in time to realise the difference between being a married woman living in a quiet home, and being a criminal spending your days, and maybe pacing your hours, sighing through years, in penal servitude."

Andy commenced to search among the piled stacks of documents and envelopes. For some time Sadie watched him. noted the frowns that rose across his forehead, the puzzled twist on his lips. Minutes passed by.

"Get a move on!" urged the girl. "If you don't grab those documents soon you'll be here when the cleaners arrive." Her companion turned seriously. His face had paled. "There's something phoney about this lay out. kid," he said, "We've been sent here to collect something that isn't in the safe!"

"What?" Sadie was incredulous.

"I'm telling you, that envelope isn't here."

"What?"

"Search me! Either Number One has double-crossed us or someone has pulled a fast one on him. I can smell trouble— any amount of it. What'll we do?"

"Get out while we've got a chance."

"And suppose Number One thinks we've double-crossed him. Sadie. That'd put us in a queer street, kid?"

"It isn't the sort of thing I think about or talk about."

"Sammy Gleitz came to the conclusion that he was being bilked, or crossed by the boss," said Andy. "He broke the safe at Webley's and walked out with the money. He didn't walk out of the Thames. He was carried out. Sammy was dead. You can try and sell a pup to Number One once— you never get a second chance. Don't talk to me about any one in our crowd pulling anything phoney. Well, it's no good arguing about these things, Sadie. We were told by Number One that we'd find that envelope in this safe. Something has gone wrong, badly wrong, but I don't see that we can be blamed. I'll lock the case, and then we'll drift."

"This is just too bad," said someone standing behind both of them.

3: A Mysterious Visitor

SADIE and Andy wheeled round. A man stood in the doorway. In his right hand was an automatic pointing towards Andy's stomach. In his left was another gun, pointing towards Sadie's heart. The stranger was young— not more than thirty. Sadie and Andy scrutinised him carefully. They saw the deep-set blue eyes, the sharply defined nose, the small mouth, the resolute jaw, the powerful neck, the shoulders, widespread and strong, leading down in a tapering line over the powerfully built body to slim hips and-slim flanks. But above all, these, they noticed the steadiness with which his guns were held. Sadie, being a woman, took another look. She noticed the angle of the expensive hat, pulled down over his eyes, the line of his coat, and the air of nonchalance which combined with the man's attitude of intense determination.

"This is just too bad," he repeated.

"It certainly is," said Andy, whose unruffled life had never been crossed by a line of fear. "Maybe you'll put those fireworks out of your hands and tell me who you are and what you've come for."

The stranger smiled, showing a set of teeth both white and regular.

"My name," he said, "doesn't really matter. I know that you're Andy, and that your girl friend is Sadie. I know that you're employed by Number One. I know the arrangements by which you were sent here tonight to crack this crib. It's my job to crease Number One, and in the process of doing that I don't want to crease you two as well. Number One has got to go. I'm the man who'll see that he does go. You two are kids. I don't want to discover that as my rolling machine comes down the road of crime you're squelched under it. You, Sadie, have got the makings of a decent woman. Beat it, and be a decent woman.

"You, Andy, are a boy, who's been led adrift by the thought of big money and no work. Get out of here and never work for Number One again. I'm being kind to you. The next time I see either of you working for Number One I won't be so generous."

Andy stared at the man and moved towards him menacingly.

"Use your head, if you've got one," said the stranger. "You're so used to walking into other people's houses that you haven't got brains enough to see death when you're walking into it. This time, Andy, the grave is waiting for you twice, and both of the occasions are waiting for you in my left hand and in my right."

"Trying to scare me?" asked Andy.

"I wouldn't try to scare you. Bluff is a word that I never listed in my dictionary. You're in love with Sadie. Being a woman, she's being awkward and pretending that she isn't in love with you. The sooner you two get out of here, forget Number One. and settle down to an ordinary life the healthier it mil be for both of you."

"Wait a minute," interrupted Sadie. "It's all very well for you to stand there and talk high and mighty, as though you're the beginning and the end of everything, but as far as we're concerned you might be a double-crasser who's drifted in here to queer our pitch after we've done the job."

The stranger smiled and then slipped the guns into the pockets of his overcoat. For a moment Sadie and Andy were so surprised that they made no movement. Before they could think of anything to say the stranger walked across the room with his hands embedded in his trouser pockets.

"Listen to me, Sadie," he said deliberately. "Tonight I'm giving you two the biggest break a pair of crooks ever had. The reason for that is this; I don't want either of you; you're both too small to interest me, and I'm trying to do the best I can for you. The man I want is the man who employs you, the man who's so afraid of letting his own name be known that he calls himself Number One. Now I'll tell you why I came here tonight, and then you'll realise that I don't want the dirty money or papers, or anything else you might have taken from this safe, and why I'm only trying to put both of you on the right way. Just listen to me for a moment."

The stranger paused dramatically. Sadie looked towards him with a new interest. Andy was bewildered, still trying to place the man, persistent in his attempts to follow what was happening, to appreciate the mentality, the cause, the reason for the stranger's arrival. For a short time the man stared at them from under the brim of his hat; then he said:

"I could hold both of you here while I phoned for the police. That would be the end of all your dreams, the end of all your castles in the air. If I were a good law-abiding citizen that's what I would do. I've caught you red-handed, but I'm giving you a bigger break than you'd ever get from your boss. In return for that I want two things from you.

"In the first place I want to know where Number One lives. Secondly, I want to know why he sent you to break this safe. I'm not asking for much."

"Where's all this leading to?" asked Andy "You may think that you're talking intelligently, but what you've been saying means nothing to me."

"I'll repeat, I'm just a nobody. I'm only the man who's going to lead Number One to the gallows."

"And supposing he takes you for a joy-ride to the mortuary?" asked Andy.

The stranger smiled tolerantly and buttoned his coat. He viewed Sadie almost sympathetically. "There's a race between us," he said simply. "If I lose that race there's a bullet waiting for me. If I win there's a hempen rope waiting for him. Are you going to tell me what I want to know?"

"Yes," blurted Sadie. "We were sent here to collect an envelope full of documents marked 'Private and Confidential,' and after all the trouble of opening the peter we find it's not here."

"Shut your mouth!" snapped Andy.

"And close yours," said the stranger evenly. There was a flare of action. Andy lashed out with a pile-driving right, and the stranger swerved away from the punch and loosed a left hook that soared in an arc to land on Andy's jaw. The impact of the blow raised him off his feet, and he hurtled across the room, crashing into the cupboard door in the corner. Even as the stranger moved forward the door of the cupboard swung open and the body of Robert W. Curtis toppled out, pitching forward into the room upon the unconscious Andy. Sadie screamed and fainted. The stranger blanched and stared at the three bodies as though seized with a stroke.

4: Shocks For Everyone

THE stranger had not moved from his tense position in the centre of the office when Sadie rolled over on the floor and recovered consciousness with a sigh and a groan. For a brief interval she stared unbelievingly at the figure of the corpse sprawled over Andy's body. Then, as though for the first time, she noticed the presence of the stranger.

"What the heck's happened?" she asked. "Who killed that man? Who is he?"

"From the name on the office door," replied the stranger steadily, "I'd say it was Robert W. Curtis, solicitor. But if you want the answer to the other question you'd better ask your boss. Didn't either you or Andy know anything about this body when you came in here"

"Good heavens, no! We don't mind breaking safes; but we do object to working at the side of a stiff. Let's lift him off Andy."

The girl rose unsteadily to her feet, and then turned suddenly to regard the stranger with a suspicious store. By now her nerves were recovering, and her brain was beginning to function once more.

"Wait one moment," she said. "You re so fond of asking questions that it's time some one tried you with a few. What do you know about the body in the cupboard?"

"Nothing at all, and if I did Td say nothing. Compared with me, an oyster is talkative.'

"They say," sneered the girl, as she walked over to Andy, "that canaries some times ring. You've got a lot of explaining to do. Give me a hand with this man."

"You stand bade, Sadie, and use your head. Doesn't seem to have occurred to you that handling a murdered man before the police arrive on the scene is apt to leave traces behind. Wait until Andy comes round, and then he can pull himself from under the corpse. While you're waiting, fasten the door of that safe."

Before Sadie had locked the safe door Andy blinked his eyes and tried to turn over on the ground. A puzzled expression flitted over his face as he felt the burden pressing on his back. Again he wriggled, and then he looked up at the stranger.

"All right, Andy," said the man soothingly. "Don't get excited. You're lying under a corpse. When I hit you under the jaw I didn't know that you could produce a corpse from a cupboard as easily as a conjurer produces a rabbit from a hat,"

"What the deuce are you talking about?"

"That's right," said Sadie, turning away from the safe to stare at Andy. "The man isn't pulling my leg. When you hit that door a corpse fell out on top of you. Get up."

There was no need to offer further advice. Andy shot to his feet with startling speed, and immediately whipped round to look on the floor behind him.

"Am I seeing right?" he asked.

"You don't suppose the man on the floor is doing it for a joke?" asked the stranger. "Look here, children, in three minutes' time I'm going to ring up the police and tell them that I've found a body here. If I thought that either of you had anything to do with this murder I'd hold you until the police arrived. But I'm quite certain that neither of you knows the first thing about it. That's why I'm letting you make a getaway. In return for that I'll expect you to do me a good turn in the near future. Now get out of here before I change my mind."

Andy turned round wonderingly.

"What exactly is your game?" he asked.

"I've told you half a dozen times already."

"Are you a bogey?" inquired Sadie.

"If by bogey you mean detective," replied the man, "you've got another guess coming to you. Both you kids are risking you necks by staying here, and my patience is ebbing away very quickly. Collect any gear you've got with you, make sure you've left no fingerprints on the door of that safe, and get back to your homes as fast as you can travel."

"We certainly will," said Sadie. She paused for a moment before adding: "How are you going to break out of this lot? If you stay here after we've gone and telephone the police, it looks as though you'll be taking an unpleasant rap."

"Sadie, leave me to look after myself, and don't look a gift horse in the mouth by asking me questions when you ought to be going like smoke for your own home. Clear out!"

Andy took the girl by the arm, and, with out further comment, they commenced to descend the stairs. Immediately they had left the office the stranger dived towards Curtis's desk and his fingers worked with nimble speed through letters, memoranda and documents in half a dozen drawers. Five minutes later he slipped three envelopes into his pocket and walked round the desk to pick up the telephone.

"Whitehall 1212," he called.

A minute later Scotland Yard received an anonymous call telling them that a search of the first floor premises at 45a Gray's Inn, would provide them with a ready-made murder.

Almost before the officer on duty at the desk had time to replace the receiver the stranger was speeding westward in a small sports car. His exit from the scene of the crime was arranged with greater ease and less cause for apprehension than attended the exit of Andy and Sadie.

When they reached the pavement a tall, broad-shouldered man slipped from the doorway of the next house and strolled over to them.

"Hallo, friends," he said.

"I've been waiting for you for an hour. Where's the envelope?"

"Envelope? What envelope? I don't know what you re talking about"

"You came in here," said the man, "to collect an envelope from the safe. Your girl friend came with you to lend a helping hand. I want to know where the envelope is before I take both of you to the police station."

"And who are you?" asked Andy.

"Just Detective-Sergeant Wallis, that's all."

"I've only ambled out with the girl friend for a walk."

"He's quite right," added the girl. "I'm fond of night air."

"Your name," said the officer, glaring at her, "is Sadie Burns, and we've watched you for the last six months. Your boy friend is Andy Wilson, and we've been watching him for two years longer than we ought to have done. There's a stretch waiting for both of you."

"Are you trying to frame me?" asked Andy.

"I'm not going to waste my time," said the man, yawning. "I'm just going to collect a cab, see you to Cannon Row Police Station, and then have some sleep while you bed down in the cells."

"You've got this all wrong," commented Andy. "I told you that I brought my girl friend out for a walk round the block. You'll soon find that I've got no envelope. Someone has been pulling your leg, and if you take us to Cannon Row Police Station you'll make Scotland Yard look a bigger fool than it is now, and that's saying something."

Wallis stared at them impassively and waved his arm to flag a crawling taxi. As the cab was pulling to a standstill he slid a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, manacled Sadie and Andy, pushed them inside the taxi, and gave instructions to the driver. Then he hauled himself inside and sat down, his right arm encircling both his prisoners. Sadie laughed almost hysterically.

"Seems to me, Andy," she said, "that those people who go to the cinema and pay fifteen-pence for some excitement should have our job."

"Seems to me," replied Andy, "that I'm taking the cheapest cab ride I've ever had to the cheapest holiday in the country that any man can ever have."

"Just as well to be philosophic about it," interrupted Wallis. "You two are walking into something warmer than either of you have guessed."

It was then that Andy jerked upright in the car and stared through the window over the head of the driver. He whipped round angrily towards the man at his side.

"What game are you trying to pull on us?" he asked. "This cab isn't going to Cannon Row Police Station."

"You're right," replied Wallis casually. "Of course we're not going to Cannon Row Police Station. You must be a complete sucker to think that I'm a split."

"If you're not a split," said Sadie heatedly, "who the heck are you?"

"Be a perfect little lady," sneered the man. "Women who use bad language lose their femininity. And when a woman loses her femininity she's got nothing left."

"I want to know where we're going," said Andy aggressively. "If you don't tell me I'll put my fist through this window and ask the driver where he's taking us to."

"The driver," remarked the other man, "is a member of the firm."

"What firm?" inquired Andy.

"The same firm that employs you."

"Sounds to me as though I m going to be put on the spot," said Andy.

"Sounds to me, seems to me, appears certain to me, that you are on the spot,"

"Well, what's all this story about you being Detective-Sergeant Wallis?" asked Andy.

"One name'll do just as well as another while you're trying to think of something to say," remarked the man. The car braked to a standstill, and Sadie stared round, trying to place the district in which she had arrived. She didn't know it.

"This is where you get out," said the man. Facing you, you'll see a flight of steps. Get to the top of those steps and I'll see to the rest. If you try any funny business we'll, be wanting two graves, and you two will fill them. Start moving."

Andy bunched his shoulders disconsolately and looked towards Sadie. She ignored the glance, and continued to stare at the steps leading to the door opposite her.

"Is this a bumping-off job?" she asked.

"I don't know, said the man.

"My only job was to see that you arrived here, and you're certainly here now. Get but of this cab."

Andy and Sadie squeezed their way through the door and alighted on the pavement. Their gaoler held both of them by the arm, and bustled up the steps towards the door. For a moment he loosed Sadie while he rang the bell. Almost immediately the front door opened and a smug, unctuous butler hooked his head through me opening.

"I'm Number Seven," said the man, clutching Sadie and Andy.

"I'm Number Eleven," said the butler.

"In that case seven and eleven makes eighteen," remarked the other man.