The Crime Club

by Frank Froest

‘Huh! Who else sleeps in the flat? You’ve got a servant?’

  Jimson nodded. ‘I—I felt something like that myself after the poisoned milk yesterday. I sent him away last night. It couldn’t be him.’

  ‘Did he have a key?’

  ‘I took that from him before he went.’

  Penny pulled up a big arm-chair and sank into its luxurious depths. From under his shaggy eyebrows he looked long and steadily at the little blackmailer. ‘I don’t know if this is something you’re putting across on me,’ he said sternly. ‘I don’t believe it is. All the same, I have a kind of idea that no one wants to murder you at all.’ He pulled the knife out of the desk and stroked its edge with his thumb. ‘Now if they could get in here with this skull and cross-bones business they could just as easily have croaked you as not. What better opportunity could they want? Ever seen this toy before?’

  ‘N-no. I’m not a nervous man, Mr Penny. I d-don’t know why I escaped in the night. B-but I feel sure they mean b-business.’ He spread out his arms. ‘How could anyone get in? I locked the p-place myself.’

  ‘Dunno,’ retorted the detective brusquely. ‘Seems to me you’d better cough up who you think it is. You can’t hurt your reputation with us any, you know. I don’t know why you want to hold up information which, you thinking as you do, may help to save your skin.’

  Jimson shrugged his shoulders hopelessly, and Penny knew that scared or not he did not intend to put a weapon into the hands of the police that might be used against himself.

  Somewhere there was the whirr of a bell. Jimson moved to the door. ‘Nuisance my man being away,’ he apologised. ‘Won’t be a second.’

  Penny sat still—till his host was out of sight. Then, walking noiselessly, he moved to the portières that shrouded the entrance to the room. In the hall Jimson was holding the door ajar with one hand. The visitor said something that Penny could not catch.

  He saw Jimson shake his head. ‘I t-tell you I c-can’t see you now,’ he said curtly. ‘T-tomorrow, or this afternoon.’

  The detective shifted his position to obtain a view of the visitor. Then he stepped openly forward.

  ‘Good-morning, Sir Melton,’ he said quietly. ‘May I introduce myself since Jimson here seems to have lost his tongue. I am Chief Detective Inspector Penny of Scotland Yard. Don’t let this man’—he indicated Jimson—‘put you off on my account. Come right in. I should like a chat with you myself.’

  Jimson leaned back against the door-post. Under his scrubby moustache his lips curled in a challenging sneer. Sir Melton stood rigid and erect, and his eyes wavered up and down the detective. He had earned his knighthood by supreme daring in Arctic explorations and had the reputation of a man whose nerves were chilled steel. Yet now he seemed irresolute enough. His lips tightened.

  ‘I believe I will,’ he said. ‘Mr Jimson will excuse me.’

  He stepped in.

  Jimson was still smiling when they entered the sitting-room. The nervousness which he had not troubled to conceal from Penny he now had fiercely under control. In his own line of business he was unexcelled, and there emotion had no part. He loved a pose. A casual study of cheap romances had grafted on to his ability as a blackmailer a wish to look the part of the nonchalant society villain. He had little fear that anything the detective might obtain from Tarson would develop to his prejudice, and he felt fairly secure.

  Penny was thinking hard. Exactly how the visit of Tarson could help in the investigation in which he was engaged he was not clear. He clung to his main point, which was the matter of the threats. That Jimson had Tarson entangled somehow was a matter quite apart with which at that moment he had nothing to do. He was concentrated on the one thing, and the impulse that had made him reveal himself to Tarson was born of a readiness to catch at anything that might by a chance have some bearing on his work.

  All three were men of the world, yet as they entered Jimson’s luxurious sitting-room an awkwardness descended on them which Jimson was the first to break through. He produced cigarettes.

  ‘S-Sir Melton and I are old f-friends, Mr Penny,’ he explained. His face challenged Tarson to deny it.

  Tarson made a visible effort. A look in the detective’s face seemed to brace him. ‘Not exactly friends,’ he protested, a dry, metallic quality in his voice. ‘No, I should certainly not go so far as to say that.’

  The repudiation took both hearers by surprise. Jimson opened his mouth and his cigarette hung ludicrously from his lower lip. His teeth showed venomously.

  ‘Jimson is not a nice person,’ said Penny quietly. ‘Confidentially, Sir Melton, I should describe him as the most contemptible rogue in London. Perhaps your association is—shall we say—a matter of business rather than friendship?’

  ‘T-this ain’t fair, Mr Penny,’ whined Jimson. He had accepted the Scotland Yard man’s contemptuous attitude towards him while they were alone together as a matter of course. But by his victims he was accustomed to be treated with either respect or fear after the first hot outburst. Penny’s deliberate attempt to humiliate him had got under even his hardened skin. His painfully acquired grammar deserted him. ‘This ain’t fair,’ he repeated.

  ‘You may call it business,’ said Sir Melton levelly.

  Jimson glowered menacingly in his direction. ‘You’d better be careful,’ he snarled. ‘You know what’s likely to happen if you get fresh.’

  Penny reached out an arm and gripped the little man’s shoulder. He swung him to his feet and shook him fiercely. ‘Cut it out,’ he ordered sharply. ‘You hear me. Drop it.’ He pushed him back into his seat. ‘Now you sit here for a while. I’m going out with this gentleman. We’ll be back in an hour.’

  ‘W-what’s the g-game?’ demanded Jimson.

  ‘Never you mind. You’ll know all about it soon enough. Come along, Sir Melton.’

  Never a word did Penny say until they were down in the street. A baker’s man was outside sitting idly on his hand-cart. With an apology to Tarson, the inspector passed swiftly over to him. Something passed from hand to hand.

  ‘Find out who bought that and when,’ said Penny. ‘There’s a manufacturer’s name on it. It ought to help you.’

  He returned to his companion. ‘Shall we walk this way?’ he said idly. ‘I shall be glad if I can be of any help, Sir Melton. I’ve seen enough this last half-hour to convince me that I might be useful.’

  Sir Melton twirled his cane. ‘Thank you. Had I thought the police could help in any degree, I should have called upon them. It is a matter which must be settled with Jimson in other ways.’

  ‘In plain English, you are afraid of the publicity if you were to prosecute him for blackmail.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Sir Melton threw away his half-finished cigarette. ‘I don’t see why I should deny it.’

  ‘Listen to me,’ said Penny persuasively. ‘You know perfectly well what is to happen. You pay him once and you’ll have to pay him a dozen or a score of times. I don’t ask you to commit yourself if you would rather not. I’m not butting into this out of curiosity. If you have ever done anything illegal, keep your mouth shut. I don’t want to know it. But if what he’s holding over you is something of another kind—well, it might not be altogether necessary to prosecute him.’

  A weary, amused smile broke over his companion’s face. ‘Isn’t that a little unusual?’ he remarked. ‘I thought a high police official would be compelled to let the law take its course. Do you mean that you would be a party to patching up a crime?’

  ‘I mean nothing of the sort. I can’t arrest a man for blackmail, unless you agree to prosecute.’

  ‘I see.’ Tarson took two or three steps thoughtfully. ‘I don’t see why I shouldn’t trust you,’ he said suddenly.

  ‘Not the least reason in the world,’ agreed Penny cheerfully.

  Sir Melton did not answer for a little. He seemed to be arranging his thoughts. ‘You know I have a son in France,’ he said at last, ‘a boy about twenty-three—as good a lad as they make ’em.’r />
  ‘Ah!’ Penny sucked in his lips thoughtfully. A fresh light was beginning to break on him.

  ‘A year or two ago there was an incident with a music-hall artiste—nothing in itself very serious, but he wrote her a few foolish letters. She kept those letters, and when she ran across him again just before he went to the front, she made the most of them. I was ill at the time and he did a foolish—indeed a criminal—thing. He was short of money and rather than run a risk he paid her by cheque for the return of the letters. That cheque was signed with my name.’

  ‘Forgery?’ Penny’s tone was serious.

  ‘Precisely. Forgery. Don’t misunderstand me. He knew that had I been well he could have had the money without question. He was perfectly innocent of all intention of robbing anyone. In fact, the moment that my health allowed, he came to me with a clean breast and went at once to the bank. The cheque had never been presented. The girl—or those behind her—had guessed.’

  ‘That sounds like Jimson. So I suppose they started to bleed you on the supposition that you would go to any risk rather than have the boy charged with forgery.’

  ‘It would kill his mother—if she knew,’ said Tarson simply. ‘And it—it has hit me pretty hard.’

  ‘Naturally. I’m glad I ran across you this morning, though I should have come to see you anyway. I begin to believe I can straighten it out for you. Will you wait for me a minute or so? I want to telephone.’

  The minute or so lengthened to twenty before Penny emerged. He was smiling, and he was even disrespectful enough to clap Sir Melton on the back.

  ‘That’s all right,’ he said. ‘Now pull yourself together. I’m going to prescribe a stiff brandy and soda and then we’ll get along and astonish Mr Jimson.’

  He was in no particular hurry, however, and to Tarson, who, with tightened brows, was wondering what might be about to happen, he vouchsafed no further explanation. They sauntered back to Jimson’s flat. Outside in Jermyn Street, Penny again engaged in private conversation with a man in whom Sir Melton failed to recognise the baker’s roundsman of a little while before. Something again passed from hand to hand, and Penny rejoined Tarson, who headed for the steps of the entrance.

  ‘Just a minute before you go in,’ said the detective mildly. ‘I hate to trouble you, but I would like you to pass over to me a new Colt automatic you are carrying. I am sure you don’t intend anything rash, but it will perhaps be safer with me.’ He held out his hand expectantly.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Sir Melton icily. He had gone a trifle white.

  ‘Come, it’s plain enough,’ said Penny impatiently. ‘You bought it three days ago in the Strand. I know you have it on you. I am doing what I can for you, but I am not going to run any risks. That’s sensible. Thank you. Now we can go in.’

  It was not Jimson who admitted them to the flat, but a square-faced man who nodded confidentially to the inspector. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘They’re all here.’

  ‘Good,’ grunted Penny, and passed on.

  In the sitting-room there were assembled besides Jimson half a dozen people. Some of them were obviously detectives. Sir Melton started as he met the gaze of Miss Gabrielle Yatdown. She was swathed in furs, and her cheeks were a dead white. A little away was an unshaven, surly-eyed man, whose presence also seemed to disturb Tarson. The only occupants of the room who did not seem restless were Penny and his subordinates.

  ‘You boys can wait outside,’ said Penny. ‘This is going to be a little confidential conference. I’ll call you if I want you.’

  He closed and locked the door behind him. ‘Now we can talk,’ he said suavely. He nodded cheerfully to the sulky man. ‘How do you do, Fred? Haven’t seen you for donkey’s years. Most of you know each other, I believe. The gentleman who looks as if he would like to eat me is Lightning Fred. I forget his other names, but he was well known in pugilistic circles some ten years ago—weren’t you, Fred? He had a little misfortune—robbery with violence if I remember rightly. It was just about the time that he came out, that our friend, Mr Jimson, felt the lack of a trustworthy man-servant—a sort of combination of valet and chucker-out who could deal with any obstreperous clients who were beyond moral persuasion. As you see, Fred has more muscle than brain—a fact that perhaps weighed when Jimson selected him. Sit still, Jimson—don’t interrupt.

  ‘Now yesterday Jimson came to Scotland Yard. Someone had been threatening to murder him—more, they had in his opinion tried to carry out the threat. I hope, Sir Melton, you won’t think it was because we considered his life worth saving. that we agreed to go into the matter. It was our mere duty to prevent murder. We knew that a great deal of misery would be averted if something did happen to him, and it was with a certain amount of sympathy for the opposition that I began the investigation.’

  Sir Melton shifted uneasily. Miss Yatdown had pulled off one glove and was absently tearing at it with her fingers. Jimson sat flushed and nervous, and the toe of his patent leather shoe did a quick tattoo on the floor. Penny continued:

  ‘I want to deal with Fred first. Now, yesterday morning he arranged an accident which resulted in Jimson’s cat meeting with a quick and merciful death. That shook Jimson up a bit, for he lit on the incident as an attempt at poisoning. You were paid for that little bit of play-acting—eh, Fred?’

  Fred scowled at the detective. ‘O’ course it wasn’t meant to murder him, if that’s what you mean. I—’

  ‘Never mind. I’m doing the talking for a moment. Those letters must have got on Jimson’s mind, for he next fancies someone had tried to push him under a motor. I guess that it was largely imagination. Anyway it riveted in his mind that someone had determined on his doom.

  ‘He was so badly scared that he was taking no chances. He sent Fred away last night, taking his key from him. But for an astute man he made one error. He overlooked that Fred had had plenty of opportunities of having another key made. In fact, that was what happened. Fred could not resist a bribe. Am I right?’

  Fred hesitated. ‘All right, guv’nor,’ he said at last. ‘You know what you are talking about. It was …’

  ‘Shut up. I guess you’d better wait outside for a while with some of the boys.’ He unlocked the door and pushed the ex-pugilist out. Then he relocked it and smiled down at Jimson as he laid a dagger on the small Moorish table.

  ‘The man whom the duplicate key was passed to bought this little toy. Can you guess who it was, Jimson? Or you, Miss Yatdown?’

  The blackmailer pointed unsteadily to Tarson. ‘Y—you! Y—you’ll be sorry for this.’ His face was yellow with passion. ‘I—I’ll see that boy of yours within four walls for this. Yes, and you’ll be in it, too. Attempted murder m-means trouble you bet. You’re a police officer, Mr Penny. Arrest that man.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ retorted Penny calmly. ‘Wait a bit.’

  The detective menaced Jimson with a stumpy forefinger. ‘If you weren’t angry you wouldn’t be such a fool,’ he continued. ‘If Sir Melton here goes to gaol, what do you think’s going to happen to the pair of you? Bite on that. You know something about law, Jimson. You’d be uncommonly lucky if you got less than seven years.’ He thrust his face fiercely towards the blackmailer. ‘Why, you little hound, I’m about inclined to let other people take their chance and to send you down anyway. Where’s that cheque? Out with it quick before I change my mind.’

  ‘I—I haven’t g-got it,’ Jimson whined. ‘I-it’s lost.’ Then as Penny advanced on him menacingly, he pulled some keys from his pocket. ‘All right, sir. Don’t touch me. I’ll let you have it.’ He moved towards a safe that was shielded by a green curtain and unlocked it. From one of the inner drawers he produced a cheque and passed it to Penny who handed it to Tarson. Sir Melton tore it into fragments and pressed them down upon the fire.

  As he was about to close the safe, Penny pulled him away. ‘One minute, my lad. I want to look in there.’

  ‘You g-got no right—’ gulped Jimson, and found himself flu
ng violently to the end of the room.

  ‘Not the faintest right,’ agreed Penny. ‘I’m not worrying about rights today. Give me a hand here, Sir Melton.’ One by one he went hastily through the packets of papers in the safe and passed them to Tarson who dropped them on the fire. Penny at last swung the heavy door to and attended to the blaze with the poker.

  ‘That ought to do,’ he observed with satisfaction. ‘You can make a complaint to headquarters if you like, Jimson. Meanwhile, I’ll see that you get a society paragraph in the papers—you’ll like that, won’t you?—saying that by a fire accident Mr Reginald Jimson has suffered the loss of many valuable documents. That’ll relieve several people’s minds. And Jimson—if I were you I’d clear out of the country. The next time we come after you we’ll get you—see? And if I were you, Miss Yatdown, I’d stick to the stage in the future. It’s less risky than this kind of get-rich-quick game. Good-morning. Coming, Sir Melton?’

  Out in the street Tarson stretched out a hand to Penny. ‘I can’t say what I think,’ he said. ‘Believe me, I’m grateful. How you did it is beyond me.’

  ‘I’m no Sherlock Holmes,’ smiled Penny complacently, ‘but I’ll own I did that rather neatly. Everything came my way, of course, though’—he grinned—‘I didn’t do what I set out to do.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Land the man who was threatening Jimson in jail. It’s a mighty serious thing to try to kill a man—even a crook. But all this is away from the point. There’s been nothing very miraculous about it. When Jimson came to me yesterday, I hadn’t the faintest idea how things were going to turn out. I put men on to one or two possible lines of inquiry and handled what seemed to be the most likely myself. It looked to me uncommonly as if a woman was at the bottom of it. I drew all the most obvious places without much luck. Then I learned that Gabrielle Yatdown had been seen with Jimson, and an idea entered my mind that you might be concerned. I knew you had been seen with Jimson, and it required no remarkable acuteness to judge what was happening when a man like yourself associated with a man like him. I tried to bluff Gabrielle, but she saw I was fishing and just laughed at me. So there I was up a gumtree.