“No!” she said wildly. “I wouldn’t ever go with you. But, Harry, I’m warning you; don’t do it. Go away before it’s too late. You won’t get away with it. I know you won’t. Please—please don’t go through with it !” And before he could stop her she had jumped to her feet and darted to the door.
Harry stared after her, a cold tingle going up his spine. Then he kicked back his chair and rushed after her. He caught her on the stairs and grabbed hold of her.
“Julie ! What do you mean? What do you know?”
She tried to wrench herself free, but he pulled her round so he could look into her eyes.
“You haven’t talked, have you?” he demanded, shaking her. “You haven’t squealed?”
“Oh, no,” she gasped, suddenly frightened of him. “It’s just I—I’m scared. It’s too dangerous. I feel it won’t come off.” Then, as his suspicious eyes searched her face, she exclaimed, “Let go of me! Do you hear? Let me go!”
“Hey, miss, is this fella annoying you?” asked a hard voice from the bottom of the stairs.
They looked into the lobby. A big man in a slouch hat and raincoat was looking up at them. Harry recognized him as a plain-clothes man from Savile Row station and he hurriedly released Julie.
“It’s all right,” Julie said, scared. She ran down the stairs, passed the detective and on into the street.
“Watch it, fella,” the detective said to Harry. “Or you and me’ll take a little walk.”
Harry said, “I’ll watch it,” and went back into the club.
III
While Harry was trying to persuade Julie that he loved her, Mrs. French was discussing the last details of the robbery with Theo. She was sitting at her desk by the window. The waning sunlight reflected on her ear-rings, making dancing patterns on her blotter.
Theo sprawled in the arm-chair facing her, his furry hat crushed down over his ears. He never seemed conscious of his looks. It didn’t cross his mind that he could improve his appearance if he made an effort. He seemed to go out of his way to make himself look as moronic and hideous as he could. Sitting there, his ears bent down under the hat, a long greasy strand of hair across his eyes, a sullen, hateful expression on his fat, spotty face, he looked like an exaggerated cartoon of a gangster.
Mrs. French had already arranged about what car should be used for the robbery, and now a sudden silence fell between them. Mrs. French brooded out of the window, a cold look in her eyes. Theo picked his nose, twisting his mouth out of shape as he dug a dirty finger-nail into his nostril.
“There’s nothing else, is there?” Mrs. French asked suddenly without looking round.
Theo grinned to himself.
“There’s the girl —Julie Whatshername,” he said, and stretched his legs out and regarded his dusty shoes thoughtfully. “Harry’s soft on her.”
“I wonder if she’ll talk.” Mrs. French said as if she were thinking aloud. “This is a big job. It’ll be worth eight thousand apiece. If she talks . . .”
“You’re not going over all that again, are you?” Theo asked sharply. “I said I’d fix her : I will.”
Mrs. French watched a car draw away from the kerb opposite. The girl who was driving had a cigarette-holder nearly a foot long clenched between her teeth. Mrs. French thought she looked ridiculous.
“But now Harry’s gone soft on her I’ll need help,” Theo went on.
Mrs. French turned her head, surveyed him with bleak eyes. “What kind of help?”
“The way I figure it,” Theo said, “is like this.” As he spoke, he undid his waistcoat, pushed his hand through the opening of his shirt and scratched his ribs viciously. “Harry pulls the job and sends the furs down to me by the service lift. Then he ties the girl up and leaves her. He comes down the front way with the sparklers. I’ll put the furs in the car, but Dana must do the driving. It’s a three-handed job now, see?”
Mrs. French saw all right, but she made out she didn’t.
“I don’t want Dana mixed up in this,” she said brusquely. “You’ve always driven before.”
Theo stared at her.
“What’s the matter with you?” he demanded crossly. “I’ve got to look after the girl, haven’t I?” His nails clawed at his ribs again.
“And just how are you going to look after her?” Mrs. French inquired.
“I’ll come up the service lift, wait until Harry gets out, go in there, untie her and shove her in the safe. When they find her they’ll think she got trapped like it says in that paper she gave us.”
Mrs. French continued to look out of the window. “That’s murder, Theo,” she said, as if to herself.
Theo picked his nose.
“It’ll be an accident,” he said after a little thought. “Anyway that’s how it’ll look.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t a good idea,” Mrs. French said. “I think it’s smart. There isn’t any other way we can be sure she won’t talk. But I don’t stand for murder, Theo.”
Theo wasn’t impressed. He took off his wreck of a hat, peered into it, found a crumpled packet of Player’s Weights inside, selected one that was less greasy than the others, lit it, put his hat on again.
“I want to spend some of that dough,” he said, blowing a long stream of smoke down his nostrils. “Like you said, if she talks I won’t ‘ave a fat lot of time for spending : nor will you or Dana.”
“Or Harry,” Mrs. French said generously.
“I don’t care a lot what happens to Harry,” Theo said. “I’d like to get even with that — —”
Mrs. French flinched.
“I won’t listen to such language. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
“Oh, I am,” Theo said, and began to scratch himself again.
There was another long pause, then Mrs. French said : “He’s going to the States, anyway.”
Theo sneered.
“Can’t you get your mind off Harry? We’re talking about the girl.”
Mrs. French shook her head.
“I don’t want to know anything about her. I don’t stand for murder.”
Theo eyed her a little doubtfully. He wasn’t quite sure if she were serious or not.
“Don’t I keep telling you it’ll be an accident?” he persisted, swore under his breath as his skin began to irritate again.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Mrs. French said shortly, added after a pause : “You’ll have a bigger share than Harry and Dana. Another fifteen hundred.”
Theo brightened and grinned to himself.
“Make it two thou while you’re about it. It’s worth that.”
“Fifteen hundred,” Mrs. French said obstinately. “I’ve got to explain to Harry.”
“No you “aven’t. We’ll make the new split after I’ve done the job. He can’t object then: it’ll be too late.”
“All right; two thousand,” Mrs. French said.
Theo nodded.
“And Dana to drive?”
“I don’t see why you can’t drive.” Mrs. French avoided Theo’s eyes. “But if you say you can’t I suppose Dana will have to do it.”
“What are you going round the point for? We’ve got no witnesses. You want me to do it, don’t you?”
“I said it was a smart idea,” Mrs. French said cautiously. “I said it seemed to me it was the only way to stop her talking, but I also said I didn’t stand for murder. Let’s drop it, Theo.”
“I still get the two thousand and Dana drives?”
Mrs. French nodded.
“All right,” Theo said, getting to his feet. “You drop it. I’ll think about it.”
When he had gone, Mrs. French sat for a long time, staring out of the window. Then Dana came in.
“All alone?” she asked. “Theo gone?”
Mrs. French grunted.
“Got it fixed?” Dana went on, looking at her mother with questioning eyes.
“Everything,” Mrs. French said abruptly.
“That Holland girl worries me,�
� Dana said, sitting on the edge of her mother’s desk. She massaged the red mark where her garter had bitten into her flesh above her knee.
“Don’t let her worry you,” Mrs. French returned, without turning from the window. “You’ll have to drive the car.” Dana’s eyebrows shot up.
“Why? Can’t Theo drive the car? Isn’t that what was arranged?”
Mrs. French got to her feet.
“Theo says he’s got something more important to do,” she said and ear-rings bobbed in the sunlight. “I don’t know what he’s got to do and I’m not going to ask and I don’t want you to ask either.”
Dana stared at her for a moment, then she lost some of her colour.
“Now look, Mother, you don’t mean
“Shut up!” Mrs. French said, and turned back to the window.
IV
On the following afternoon Detective Inspector Dawson was at work in his office when Wesley was announced. Dawson nodded to the police constable, pushed back his chair as Wesley came in.
“There’s a chair just by you, Mr. Wesley,” he said, signaled to the constable who pushed the chair against the back of Wesley’s knees. Wesley sat down.
“Well, I hope you’re ready for them this evening,” Wesley said quietly. “I thought I’d look in just to check over any last-minute details.”
“It’ll be all right, sir,” Dawson returned, sat down and stared thoughtfully at Wesley. “Everything arranged. There won’t be any trouble.”
“Now what in the world is a fellow like this doing fooling around with that Holland girl,” he was wondering. “Not as if he could see her and be infatuated by her looks. She’s a nice-looking girl; I’ll say that for her, but there’s nothing else to her. This chap’s got a lot of money, plenty of education and culture. They’ve got absolutely nothing in common. I wonder what the idea is?”
He had been intrigued by the plain-clothes detective’s report, but realized that it was no business of his. It had just so happened that in keeping an eye on Julie, Clegg had spotted what was going on between these two. Although it wasn’t his business, Dawson couldn’t help being puzzled and interested.
“You’ll have a clear field,” Wesley said after a moment’s hesitation. “My wife and I are going to the theatre. I don’t usually go to the theatre, but it’s the only way I can get my wife away from the flat. I am most anxious she should know nothing of what’s happening to-night.” He made a quick impatient gesture. “She would insist on being there, and that would make things very difficult.” He moved uneasily, went on : “You think no harm will come to Miss Holland?”
“None at all,” Dawson returned. “She tells me they plan to leave her tied up when the robbery’s over. Anyway, we’ll be at hand and she’s only got to scream.”
“Exactly where will your men be?” Wesley asked.
“We’ll have a couple in the hall. Two in the alley at the back, another two on the landing outside the flat, and two more on the roof. As soon as we know they’re inside we’ll throw a cordon right round the building. We’re not taking any chances.”
Wesley nodded.
“That sounds all right,” he said, and got to his feet. “You won’t be able to contact me until after the theatre. We’re going to the Hippodrome, but I don’t suppose you’ll want me. I’ll ring you in the interval which I believe is around eight-forty. Will that do?”
“It should do,” Dawson said. “But there’ll be nothing to worry about.”
“Thank you,” Wesley said, offered his hand. “Then I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure you have plenty to do.”
“Well, I keep pretty busy, sir,” Dawson said, shaking hands. But this little job is a real holiday. It couldn’t be better arranged for us. It’s not often we get the chance of a tip-off like this, you know.”
“Make sure they don’t slip through your fingers,” Wesley returned quietly.
“No fear of that. We’ll have ‘em all right.”
“I suppose you’ll want Miss Holland as a witness?” Wesley asked. “I’d prefer not if you can avoid it. I don’t want any publicity about her if I can help it. Is it necessary, do you think?”
“Was this why he’s come?” Dawson wondered, said, “I don’t think we’ll need her. If we nab them with the goods it’ll be plain sailing. We’ll need you, of course.”
“Oh yes, that’s quite all right,” Wesley said. “You see, the girl has an odd background. But then you know all about that. I’d like her to have a fresh start if I could arrange it. If it gets known it was through her the gang was caught there might be trouble from her old associates.”
“There might be,” Dawson agreed. “I won’t call her unless I have to, sir.”
Wesley nodded.
“Good.” Still he didn’t make a move to go. “Inspector, Miss Holland interests me,” he went on after a pause. “You’re a man of the world and will know what I mean by that. I’m taking care of her when this business is over. So you see, the least publicity might be embarrassing.”
“Well, that’s hardly my business,” Dawson said, taken aback. It was the last thing he expected.
“Oh, I know.” Wesley smiled. “But she has been associating with criminals, hasn’t she? I wouldn’t want you to be interested in her when this is over. I shall look after her and see she doesn’t get into any further trouble. I’ll make her my responsibility.”
“I wouldn’t be interested in her unless she did get into further trouble,” Dawson said, a shade coldly. “There was no need to tell me any of this, sir.”
“But I wanted you to know. I hope I shall not be followed by a plain-clothes man in the future, Inspector,” Wesley said, and his mouth tightened. “It is an experience I can well do without, and if repeated I shall take prompt action.”
Dawson grimaced.
“Got me there,” he thought. “No wonder he’s been so frank. I suppose that blasted girl spotted Clegg.”
“That was an accident, sir,” he said quietly. “I must apologize. We were giving Miss Holland police protection and happened to run into something that didn’t concern us.”
“So it seems,” Wesley said. “In the future when your man sees Miss Holland and me together, will you instruct him to leave us alone?”
“I hope there won’t be any occasion to watch Miss Holland after this evening,” Dawson pointed out.
“Of course not,” Wesley said, and smiled. “I’ll telephone you some time this evening. Could your man kindly show me to my taxi?”
When he had gone, Dawson ran his thick fingers through his hair.
“I wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of that chap,” he thought. “His bark is quiet enough, but I bet his bite is hell.” He went to the window to watch Wesley’s taxi drive away. “Don’t exactly blame him. He’s a good bloke; lots of guts; V.C. and blind. Well, if he gets a bit of fun out of that girl—good luck to him.”
And he settled down once more to his work.
V
Julie was pacing up and down in her room. It was a few minutes to seven o’clock, and in another hour Harry would arrive. The suspense of waiting was becoming unbearable. All the previous night and during the day she had tried to screw up her courage to warn him the police were waiting for him, but every time she moved to the telephone she remembered Theo’s threat, and the ghastly photographs of the women he had shown her. If she saved Harry, Theo would come after her, and besides, Wesley wouldn’t like it. Now that Harry had told her he loved her some of the old attraction she had had for him returned. If Wesley had been nicer to her she wouldn’t have thought of Harry, but it was all too plain that Wesley was bribing her to keep quiet. He wasn’t in love with her as Harry was, and a girl needed love, she told herself. Her mind was in an agony of indecision. Even now she was still in two minds as to what to do, although she knew the chance of getting Harry on the telephone was remote. She had left it too late.
A soft tap sounded on the door, making her start. Wesley came in. He was in evening dres
s, and in spite of the black-lensed glasses Julie thought he looked very handsome.
He closed the door gently, set his back against it and smiled at her.
“Scared, Julie?” he asked. “Heart going like a trip-hammer?” She nodded miserably.
“It’ll soon be over,” he assured her. “I wish I could see you through it, but it’s the one thing you’ll have to do on your own. But it’ll be worth it, Julie. Once you’re free of these people you can begin your new life and I’ll do my best to make it a happy one.”
“I—I keep thinking of Harry,” she blurted out. “I saw him yesterday. He wanted me to go to America with him. He—he told me he loved me, and I could see he did.”
Wesley’s face was expressionless.
“I see,” he said slowly. “And you’re feeling pretty bad because the police are going to get him, aren’t you?” He thrust his hands into his trousers pockets. Although he appeared calm enough, Julie had a feeling that he was inwardly as nervy as herself. “But a fellow like Gleb would never give you any happiness; sooner or later he would get into trouble and then you’d be in trouble, too. You have no alternative really, have you? You must think of yourself.”
“I know,” Julie said. “But it seems such a rotten trick to play on someone who loves you. I wish I could warn him to keep away. If it weren’t for Theo . . .”
Wesley didn’t say anything for a moment. He studied her as she wandered miserably to the window.
“I have something here for you. See if this’ll cheer you up.” She turned quickly. He was holding out a cheque-book.
“It’s for you. I’ve opened an account for you. You have two hundred and fifty pounds to spend. Every quarter I’ll pay in a similar amount. You can go along to the bank tomorrow and give them your signature. Then you can begin to draw the money.”
The Paw in The Bottle Page 15