Maurice Procter - Two men in twenty

But the efforts of the Granchester City Police had not been entirely without results. 'At least two of them in my twenty selections,' he mused. 'Not so bad.'

When he reached Headquarters he caused a message to be sent to Scotland Yard, to the effect that Edward James France, alias Jimmy the Gent, was now believed to be associated with Howard Cain in the oxy-acetylene safe-cutting crimes. The message also contained the information that the whole gang was believed to have left Granchester in a hurry. The responsible officer at the Yard would draw his own conclusions from that.

Martineau did not regard the exodus as the end of the case for himself, though it did seem that he would be able to relax somewhat, and turn to other affairs. There was still work to be done in the matter of the oxygen cylinders. He was hopeful of clearing that up before Scotland Yard cleared the entire case with the lead he had given.

There was, too, the inquiry concerning the house in Grange Gardens: who owned it, who was the agent, if any; how had it come to be occupied by the XXC mob.

* * * * *

Cain's party inspected the arrangements at Naylor Street without enthusiasm. Unlike Mossbank, Churlham was not a district which had seen better days. It had been a poor sort of place from the start, and time had not improved it. From the outside the two humble little houses looked habitable, because they had been well maintained by Aunt Doris Baker in her lifetime. But interior decorations had been the responsibility of the tenants, and apparently there had not been a house-proud person in either dwelling. Patterned paper still adhered to the walls, but it was so soiled and faded in every room that it was nothing more than a vaguely lined nightmare in all shades of drab, grey, brown, and dirty pink. The grimy wooden floors were without carpets, and the scanty furniture was of the sort which could be picked up in salerooms for next to nothing.

Each house had two living-rooms and two bedrooms, and a single-storey kitchen built alongside a narrow backyard. Fuel was kept in a shed in the backyard, and the toilet was an outdoor affair built on to the end of the kitchen. Neither house had a bathroom, and all ablutions would have to be managed in the kitchen. There was one advantage in the matter of security. Both backyard gates were nearly six feet high, of solid woodwork in good condition. In each house the view from the window of the back room downstairs was of the fuel shed and the gate. The kitchen window permitted a view of the fuel shed only. The back window upstairs showed a vista of untidily fenced hen pens and allotments, with a railway embankment on the left and the backs of main road buildings on the right. The two front windows stared across the street at similar windows in similar dwellings. Front doors opened directly on to the street.

Cain had arranged for Coggan, France, Husker, and Jolly to sleep at No. 20 and eat at No. 22. Because of this, the only furnishings at 20 were four beds and a shaving mirror in the kitchen. There were bitter complaints. The men would have to live out of their suitcases, which would have to lie on the bedroom floor. There would be no hot water for shaving. There was not an electric light bulb in the house.

'It's worse nor a concentration camp,' Husker grumbled.

'It were better nor this in the trenches,' Jolly declared.

Cain was not conciliatory. 'I'll get you lights,' he said. 'You'll all sleep in the back, two up and two down. I want nobody at all in the front. You'll come and go by the back door.'

'I can't live like this,' said Coggan, with something like despair in his voice.

'Nor I, for more than a day or two,' France said.

'It is only for a day or two,' Cain said. 'We'll just do one more job, and we'll make it a good 'un. We'd be barmy if we didn't. The coppers here are thinking we've cleared out. They'll be back to normal, taking it easy. We'll just do this one job and then we'll scarper.'

'We don't need to do another job,' France objected.

'Maybe we don't, but we're going to,' Cain retorted, and there was no further argument.

Conditions were a little better at No. 22 where Cain, Dorrie, and Flo were to live. There was furniture of a sort, and some kitchen equipment. But the opposition was more serious.

'I'm not staying here,' Dorrie said.

'What a dump,' said Flo, with a curling lip.

'It's only for a day or two. A week at the most,' said Cain.

'Look at that filthy old gas stove!'

'Seen the tin bath, Dorrie? It must've come out of a museum.'

'How do you expect me to cook for seven people on this?'

'Look,' said Cain firmly. 'We've got to camp out here for a bit. You'll be back in the Smoke soon enough. The coppers think we're there already, that's why we're safe here. There's only you been spotted, if you're telling the truth.'

'Of course I'm telling the truth!'

'Then you'll stay indoors. Flo can do the shopping.'

'Then you can look out for some rough meat. She doesn't know a sirloin from a hambone.'

'Well, we won't be needing any more meat for a bit.'

'I'm not staying here!'

'All right, go. And see what happens. They're on the lookout for you. They'll have you spotted before you can buy your railway ticket.'

Dorrie was silent.

Cain went on: 'Leave it a few days, and they'll stop looking for you around here. You'll be all right then.'

Dorrie picked up one of her two cases and went to look at the bedrooms. Her sister was left alone with Cain. She looked at him.

'Suppose she'd gone?' she asked softly. 'I couldn't have stayed here with you.'

Cain had been listening to the click of Dorrie's heels on bare boards. He turned his head and looked sharply at Flo. He also spoke softly. 'Why not, kid? Why not?'

'Well, you might. .'

'I might be tempted, and that's a fact.'

'Would you hit me, if I-wouldn't?'

Cain's eyes widened. His long, slow intake of breath was utterance enough. He reached and caught the girl with one hand. He swung her towards him, and the hand and arm went round her, crushing her roughly to him. With head back, looking at him, she laughed softly. His free hand moved, seeking her thigh. She relaxed, then flung away from him. She picked up one of her cases, and with a final laughing glance behind her, she went to join her sister.

* * * * *

In spite of his stated opinion that he and his associates were still safe in Granchester, Cain was a little uneasy with regard to one thing. Following his assumption that the concentration of police inquiries in Mossbank would lead to the discovery that a number of English people had departed hurriedly from a house in Grange Gardens, he guessed that everybody in the street would then be questioned. The police would ask about cars. The current vehicle, a two-year-old Rover, had waited in front of No. 11 Grange Gardens often enough. Somebody-some kid maybe-might have taken enough notice of it to come up with a dangerously accurate description. Cain looked doubtfully at the car.

It was just the car, he told himself. Everything else was all right. The police would also seek the owner of the house, and whether they came across the name of Doris or Doreen Baker, they would gain nothing. They probably wouldn't attach any importance to the name of the lawyer who had handled the last transfer of the property, but if they did, how would they set about finding him? It would simply be a case of going to every solicitor in town and asking, and that would be a long, long job. And if they found him it was unlikely that he would tell them about Florence Baker and the houses in Naylor Street, because Florence Baker was, in a manner of speaking, a client of his.

But this car was different. It would have to be changed. And that meant a trip to London.

It was on Sunday morning that Cain made the decision to go to London, and after some thought he announced it when the Sunday midday dinner was being served.