John Creasey - Meet The Baron

But Mannering was not concerned with that. Long didn’t know it, but Mannering was the one man in the world who would not care about his crimes. Mannering’s concern was to make quite sure that no suspicion of guilt in this case rested on Long. If it came to the point he would return the pearls.

“But that,” he muttered to himself as he entered his flat, “wouldn’t clear Gerry. It would be assumed that he’d been scared by the police and that he was trying to squeeze out of it. It would do more harm than good. And that means . . .”

He broke off, whistling to himself. He could see only one way to clear Gerry Long. It was dangerous, perhaps, but there would be a zest about it. . . .

Mannering stopped whistling, and smiled to himself. The lights dancing in his eyes would have mystified anyone who knew him. There was devilment, amusement, challenge. He knew, very suddenly, what he would do, and how he would do it.

For the next half-hour there was no sound in the flat but the scraping of a pen across paper and an occasional chuckle from Mannering as he wrote. Twice he screwed up and burned his efforts. The third pleased him more. He sealed it and addressed it. Then he hurried from the flat to a garage where he parked his car, drove from Piccadilly towards Victoria, and posted the letter at an ordinary pillar-box.

The glint in his eyes was a little harder, perhaps, than it had been; but the challenge was still there.

From a telephone-kiosk at Victoria Station he called Gerry Long, who was still staying with Colonel Belton. Gerry was in, and agreed to visit the service-flat just after six. From the tone of the other’s voice Mannering knew that the American was still anxious.

Mannering smiled to himself, satisfied that he had done all he could to ease the situation. But it was still awkward, and he was not altogether happy.

Only the fact that he knew that Long could not make any admission about the robbery had persuaded him to arrange the interview with the police within hearing-distance. Bristow and his men could not hear a thing that could cause Gerry trouble. On the other hand, if Mannering handled the interview well they might easily be convinced that the American knew nothing about the robbery.

The big stumbling-block was the existence of the dummy pearls.

Gerry Long had possessed those dummies, and the police would want to know the reason. Mannering was inclined to think that he knew it, and he worked it out in his mind.

The American was stone-mad; their conversations had proved that. The sight of precious stones, especially a rare piece that could not be bought, had seemed to make Gerry Long brood. In a man so young and so normal in every other respect it was strange; but Mannering had discovered enough in the past few years to prepare him for eccentricities in the most unlikely people. According to Mannering’s reckoning, Gerry Long had bought the dummies, and had planned to exchange them for the real stones. It was a trick that anyone smart at sleight-of-hand could have contrived without much trouble.

Mannering chuckled to himself suddenly, and the weight of his depression lifted. He wondered what Gerry Long had thought when he had found the pearls missing; and he was inclined to believe that the American really suspected Lady Kenton. Detective-Inspector Bristow certainly did, but the real humour of the situation would come only if the Dowager discovered it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

MANNERING IS TOO LATE

“SO YOU’VE HEARD OF THAT, HAVE YOU?” SAID GERRY LONG.

He looked haggard and worn. The effort which he had made until that morning to keep cheerful despite the difficulty of his position had been exhausted. He was scared of the possibility of arrest and conviction on the count of the pearls, and to Mannering there was something pitiful in Gerry’s constant smoking of cigarettes; in his hands, which were never still; and in his nervous gestures. Twenty-four hours before the American had been one of the most self-possessed young men in London. Now he was very close to a nervous wreck.

“I’ve heard of them,” said Mannering quietly.

They were sitting opposite each other in the Englishman’s living-room. In the bathroom and the bedroom, Mannering knew, were Bristow and the sergeant with the curious name of Tanker — at that time Mannering did not know why the sergeant was so called, but certainly it was suitable — and he was hoping that they would get enough to convince themselves, even then, of Long’s innocence.

“And — the police ?” Gerry’s eyes were haggard.

“They’re bound to have heard it,” said Mannering, still quietly. He stretched his legs out, and looked evenly at the younger man. “Well, it’s up to you, Gerry. I suppose you have been telling the truth ?”

There was no offence in the words, and there was no bitterness or resentment in Long’s voice as he answered: “I have. I didn’t touch the pearls.”

Mannering nodded.

“Then you’ve nothing to worry about, surely? They can’t prove you did take them if you didn’t. It’s rather nasty, I know, but . . .”

“It’s more than that,” broke in Long bitterly. “I may as well be honest, Mannering. I tried the funny stuff twice before, and I was lucky to get away with it. I can’t explain why . . .”

“Don’t try,” said Mannering quietly.

Long’s expression showed his gratitude, but he did not speak of it.

“You can imagine,” he said, “that life wasn’t all honey afterwards. I made a fool of myself , and suffered for it. Now it’ll start again. You can guess this won’t be kept over here. Even if nothing happens officially the rumours will fly. You’d never believe how fast they travel . . .”

“What it amounts to,” said Mannering, with a deliberate challenge in his words, “is that you’re afraid to go back to New York unless you can disprove the suggestion ?”

There was a flash of spirit in Gerry’s reply.

“I’m afraid of nothing, he said quickly. “If I’ve got to face it I will. But — there’s a girl, Mannering.”

Mannering was very still for a moment, filled with a flood of understanding.

He had been puzzled by Gerry Long’s manner right from the start. Long did not create the impression that he was lacking in pluck, and his attitude over the pearl-robbery had been mystifying, to say the least of it. But if there was a girl . . .

“I see,” murmured Mannering, and the smile in his eyes was of sympathy, and not of amusement. He went on: “Well, you can only keep on denying your part, young fellow. Stick to the truth. It’ll see you through.”

Gerry nodded, without much conviction.

“I’ll try that,” he said quietly. “But there’s one thing I can’t do.”

Mannering looked his curiosity.

“I can’t explain away that dummy necklace,” said the American. “It must have been slipped into my pocket, but in view of all the circumstances the yarn looks pretty thin.”

Mannering nodded, and his smile was still encouraging.

“I shouldn’t worry,” he said. “The police will probably want to see you again. Stick to your story; you’ll be all right.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then Long held out his hand impulsively.

“You’re a great guy,” he said, very simply.

Mannering suddenly remembered the wedding-reception.

“Here’s how!” he said, and for the first time that day Gerry Long laughed as though he meant it.

“That’s that,” said Mannering as Detective-Inspector Bristow and Sergeant Jacob (Tanker) Tring, having come from their hiding-places, awaited him. Gerry Long had gone, in a more cheerful frame of mind, Mannering believed, and the latter was satisfied that the talk had done some good. “If you care to believe Long had anything to do with it, you’re welcome. I don’t.”