THE WHODUNIT COLLECTION: British Murder Mysteries (15 Novels in One Volume). Charles Norris Williamson

"Hang it all, man, we've got to get him. He's part of my evidence." He turned to one of the firemen. "What are the chances of getting the fire under?"

      The man shrugged his shoulders. "The chief might be able to tell you. I don't reckon we'll do much myself. There's gallons of petrol been used and you can't put that out with water."

      The brow of the chief inspector furrowed. On a larger scale he was faced with a similar problem to that which is dealt with almost every day by the huge policeman with a small but obstreperous drunken prisoner. The policeman gets the aid of other constables as large as himself, not because he cannot manage by himself but because he might harm the man in custody did he exert his full strength.

      Only by violence could Errol be saved, but the probabilities were that in making the attempt several other lives would be sacrificed. Menzies had no doubt that any of his men would risk that eight-shot automatic, if need be, purely as a matter of course. He, himself, for that matter, was willing to take his chance, but his sober common sense told him it wouldn't do.

      He climbed down into the street and engaged the divisional officer of the fire-brigade a heavy- jawed young man in sea boots, his face begrimed and bloodshot.

      "Suffering snakes!" ejaculated that individual when the position had been made clear to him. "I don't see what we can do. If there's a madman with a shooter locked in the first room it's for you police to deal with him. Our job's putting out the fire and I don't see that we can save the place anyway. All we can do is to prevent it spreading. I've been in there "he nodded towards the door out of which a thick volume of smoke was emerging "and I tell you they haven't spared the petrol. The house is doomed, Mr. Menzies, and if your pal is going to shoot anybody who tries to get at him he can roast for me."

      The detective concealed his annoyance. In the fireman's place he would have felt the same. He would have to count Errol out of the game. He dismissed him from his mind for a moment and put another enquiry. The divisional officer nodded his head energetically.

      "That's so. That's so. Who ever set it alight knew what they were doing. It could have all been done in three minutes or less. As far as I could see this is what happened. It's partly a guess, mind. Some old clothes were soaked with petrol and thrown or placed on the stairs and at the bottom. A washbowl full of petrol was placed at the bottom and others with petrol in some of the rooms. Some tape was soaked in paraffine and laid from one to the other. A length carried to one of the windows and a match applied to it from outside would have set the whole place ablaze in ten seconds." He broke off to shout a curt order and Menzies, with a word of thanks, moved away.

      The fire had interfered with some of his arrangements but he had by no means given up hope of laying his hands on Gwennie Lyne and Ling and their confederates that night. He was playing against astute antagonists who were bound by no rules and who had the advantage of working on the defensive. He appreciated the significance of their move and lost not a moment in attempting to counter it.

      Orders were given that no man was to approach the fire and, getting on to the telephone, he sent a hurried explanation of the new development to the headquarters station of the division. To the subdivisional inspector of the uniformed branch who had been lurking quietly in the vicinity and now came at a run with his whistle between his teeth, he had outlined certain ideas, and at each end of Levoine Street detachments of constables had sprung up as if by magic and were lined across the street.

      All thoroughfares that entered Levoine Street were similarly guarded and no one except police officials and firemen were to be allowed to approach nearer than several hundred yards. Above all, no one was to leave the street. Menzies had determined that he would not allow his purpose to be rendered impossible by the collection of a big crowd. It was inevitable that there should be some sort of gathering, for within the cleared area there were two hundred or more houses, nearly all of which were human ant-heaps. But that could not be helped. In any case he had determined to sift the collection individual by individual if necessary.

      Within half an hour he had been promised reinforcements of two hundred constables more than sufficient to maintain clear the area in which search was to take place. More than that, every detective in London who could be spared at short notice was hurrying to the spot.

      He told himself that all that was possible had been done, yet he could not disguise from himself that in spite of all the resources of intricate organisation the odds were against him.

      The double row of police at the end of the street opened and a motor-car pushed through and ran silently to a standstill. He recognised Helden Foyle and one or two of the high administrative officials at Scotland

      Yard. To them he briefly outlined what had occurred.

      "There were plenty of men who'd have volunteered to fetch Errol out," he added, "but I didn't feel justified in letting 'em take the risk."

      "You were right, Menzies," agreed the superintendent. "There'd have been the deuce of a howl if any lives had been thrown away like that. Nothing can be done but let the fire burn out. You've lost Errol, anyway. I guess you did right in having the streets blocked."

      "No need for secrecy now so far as Ling is concerned," commented Menzies. "Instead of making a quiet house-to-house search it will have to be done pretty publicly. That's why I wanted more men. As soon as the fire's over and the excitement died down a bit I'm going through this district with a fine-tooth comb."

      "Miss Greye-Stratton?" said Foyle interrogatively.

      "Yes, I've thought of her. She's in the 'Three Kings ' at the corner there "he indicated the publichouse "for the time being. Half off her head. We may surprise something out of her presently or she may talk of her own accord. Errol being out of it may make a difference, but I've sent to Royal to bring up Jimmie Hallett."

      Foyle blinked. "Can't seem to keep him out of it," he laughed. He dug one forefinger into the chief inspector's rotund waist. "You infernal old matchmaker," he said.

      A sharp cry and a confusion of orders came from the firemen. Brass helmets clanked and dodged ludicrously away from the burning house. The roof collapsed like cardboard and a shower of sparks flew upwards.

      "Exit Errol," said Helden Foyle calmly.

Chapter XXVI

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      Like most detectives of experience Weir Menzies had a certain cynical outlook on life. Yet at heart he had most of the domestic virtues. Still it was part of his professional code to use every possible means which included every possible person to achieve his ends.

      He slipped his arm in friendly fashion through that of Jimmie Hallett, when that young man turned up in a taxi-cab, accompanied by the watchful Royal.

      "We're on the same side of the game at last, my boy," he said genially. "I knew you'd hate to be out of this show and so I sent for you. Errol's done for."

      "So Royal told me," said Jimmie coldly. "You've got a knack of mucking things up, Menzies."

      The chief inspector accepted the gibe. "I'm not one of those omniscient amateur detectives," he said placidly. "Don't bear malice, Hallett. You'll own you played me up a bit before I started to get my own back. But that isn't what I wanted to talk about. Tell me now, Errol was in this bad somewhere. Was it only to protect him that Miss Greye-Stratton was keeping her mouth and yours shut?"

      Jimmie lifted his shoulders. "You remind me of a newspaper man I used to know. He once went to interview a jeweller who, after heavily insuring his stock, was found bound and gagged beside an empty safe. The newspaper man being a tactful person anxious for a story, opened his interview with ' tell me now, mister did it really 'appen? '"

      Menzies laughed in delighted appreciation. "I've no tact," he said. "I'll own it freely. Honestly though now, aren't I right?"

      Jimmie frowned thoughtfully and withdrew his arm. "Yes," he said in a burst of confidence. "I don't see any harm in saying that's how I figure it."