John Creasey - The Toff and The Lady

The receptionist went out, closing the door with a decided snap.

Rollison picked up a magazine, without sending more than a cursory glance at the other “patient”, but the quick movement had caught his eye. He glanced over the top of a Sphere, and the other looked furtively over Punch. When he realized that Rollison was staring at him, he averted his eyes and tried to hide his face again, but he was too late, and Rollison recognized Farrow the footman.

Slowly, and without speaking, both men stood up.

CHAPTER TWENTY

MOTIVES

THEY stood quite still, staring at each other. Rollison expected Farrow to show some sign of fear, but now that he had been recognized, the footman seemed prepared to put a bold face on it.

Rollison said: “I suppose you know that you are wanted for the murder of Mrs. Barrington-Ley.”

The footman said, sharply: “Is she dead?”

“There isn’t much hope for her,” said Rollison. “You know what happened, don’t you?”

“What?” Farrow did not seem unduly alarmed.

“She was given two injections of adrenalin, which affects the heart, and you had the opportunity each time. There is a warrant out for your arrest.”

“I didn’t do it,” said Farrow. There was no bluster about him, only a quiet and impressive confidence. “I think I know who did, though.”

“So do I,” said Rollison, and, moving towards the other, went on very quietly: “Why have you come to see Renfrew?”

“Why have you? ”

“I don’t think we’re going to get much further if we keep talking at cross purposes,” said Rollison. He felt a quickening sense of urgency, and he glanced over his shoulder, half afraid that Renfrew might come in. “I don’t think you gave her the injections, but appearances are against you, and you are a sitting bird. If you know anything about this business, you probably know that already several people have been cleverly framed and blamed for crimes they did not commit. Barrington-Ley is among them, and might still pay for another man’s crimes. If you can give him the slightest help, you’ll also help yourself.”

“I wonder,” said Farrow.

“You haven’t much time to decide,” Rollison said. “Why did you go to work at Barrington House?”

“Because I was paid for it,” said Farrow. He gave a quick, mirthless smile. “I didn’t know what I was letting myself in for!”

“What inquiry agency did Mrs. Barrington-Ley hire you?”

For the first time he really surprised the man, who moved back a pace, and stumbled against a chair. For a shot in the dark it was an achievement, and with its success many other things fell into their right perspective. Rollison hardly heard Farrow’s astonished: “Well. I’m damned!” but realized for the first time something of the depth of Hilda’s mental torment. She had suspected David of wanting to be rid of her, suspected him also of fraud, and to try to find out the truth she had employed a man from a private detective agency. Pomeroy had raised no objection, had probably give his outward support, for such a man as Farrow was a ready-made victim for the frame-up which was planned.

“I didn’t think anyone would spot it,” Farrow said, in a wondering tone. “I’m from Morgan’s Bureau. I’ve heard of you, but”

“Let’s cut out everything that’s irrelevant,” urged Rollison. “Renfrew may come in at any moment and we want to get this ironed out quickly. Mrs. Barrington-Ley employed you to watch her husband, did she?”

“Yes.”

“For what reasons?”

“She was pretty vague. She said she thought he was worried and being blackmailed, but I soon found out she was afraid he was having an affaire and planning to murder her,” said Farrow. He joined Rollison and spoke in a low-pitched voice, glancing at the door from time to time. “I haven’t found a thing against Barrington-Ley. Absolutely nothing at all. The little fat swab, Pomeroy, has fooled B.-L., I know that, but I don’t know what he’s after. I do know that Renfrew tried to do away with Mrs. B.-L. I went into her room soon after he’d come out, after the first attack, and if I hadn’t made it plain that I had suspected him, I think she would have died. He pulled her round, and I let him think that I would keep my mouth shut for a share of the spoils. I’m here to collect— information, not spoils! I’ve made a full report in writing to the office, I’m not putting anything across you. I’ve come across a lot of people in my time, but I’ve never met a woman with more guts than Mrs. B.-L. That’s the truth, Mr. Rollison, and if I can put this clever doctor on the spot, that’s where he’s going.”

“He’s on it,” said Rollison.

Farrow snapped: “Are you sure?”

“Yes, quite sure. Have you got anything else?”

“Renfrew’s up to his neck in debt,” said Farrow. “He thinks he can put himself right by marrying Gwendoline. She’s lent him a small fortune already, but he just can’t hold money, his fingers are greased. His only hope is to get a bumper marriage settlement, and he’ll get a better one if Mrs. B.-L. is dead. The daughter will inherit all there is, then, and Renfrew will be on a good thing.” Farrow scowled. “I think he’s going to have a cut at polishing off Barrington-Ley when Mrs. B.-L. is dead and buried, but I can’t be sure of that. What are your ideas?”

“Not far removed from yours,” said Rollison, softly. “I didn’t see that motive, but I certainly should have done. Do you know anything about Pomeroy and the Yugo-Slav Relief Fund?”

“Not much,” said Farrow. “Pomeroy’s as slippery as they come. All I know is that he’s an outsize crook, and Barrington-Ley has been taken in by him— and I don’t mean maybe! Does that Fund matter?”

“Yes,” said Rollison. “And I think I see where it comes in. I”

He broke off, for Farrow, looking at the door, suddenly backed away and sat down. But it was only the receptionist, who looked even more sour.

“Dr. Renfrew will see Mr. Farrow,” she said, with a sharp glance at Rollison, “and you afterwards. He says he may be some time.”

“I think we’ll see him together,” said Rollison. He took the receptionist’s arm and she resisted in a flurry of alarm. “We’re on police business.”

“Police!” she gasped.

She stared at them, white-faced, as they crossed the hall to a room marked Dr. Renfrew—Surgery. But she made no effort to interfere, and Rollison, with a detaining hand on. Farrow’s arm, waited until she had disappeared through another door. Then he said softly:

“Go in and leave the door ajar, will you?”

“Any special questions?” asked Farrow.

“No, but speak clearly.”

Farrow was as helpful now as he had been hostile before, and he managed to leave the door unlatched without it being noticed, so that Rollison could hear every word that was said. He realized that someone else was in the room besides Renfrew, but did not yet know who it was.

Renfrew said: “I told you to come to-morrow, Farrow.”

“It wasn’t soon enough,” said Farrow, “I’m taking enough chances as it is.” He played up well, adding nervously: “How do I know I won’t be arrested for that murder?”

“She’s not dead yet,” said Renfrew, damning himself utterly. “I’ll see that you’re all right, Farrow, but not now. Did you see Rollison in the waiting-room?”

“Yes.”

“Did he speak?”

“No, but I don’t like the way he looks at me.”

“You fool!” came a woman’s voice, with a note of searing contempt which probably made Farrow flinch. You don’t like the way he looks at you! Why”