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

      "She doesn't much care what happens to Ling?"

      A flush mounted to Jimmie's temples, but the darkness of the night hid it from the detective. "I won't say that. I don't know. I've no right to speak for her."

      They were opposite the "Three Kings." Menzies dropped a hand on his companion's shoulder and gently piloted him to a private door. "We'll get in and see the poor girl," he said. "Should I be wrong in thinking; that it was Ling who brought Errol into this affair? If that is so she won't have much love for him eh?"

      The young man came to an abrupt halt. "See here, Menzies. How much do you know or rather how much don't you know? If, as you say, we're both on the same side of the game now, you've got to cough up."

      "I'll trust you," said Menzies with lowered voice and a confidential air. "Gwennie Lyne and Ling, with some of their confederates, are, I believe, within half a mile of where we stand. The round-up will begin presently and we'll probably get them. I don't want I'll admit it to have to rope this girl in as well, because I believe if she's done anything to bring her within the law at all it was under a sort of compulsion. If she still keeps silence she'll force my hand. I don't only want to get Ling, I want more direct evidence against him."

      He had told Jimmie Hallett nothing that he did not know, but he had adroitly side-tracked the demand for information. They passed into the house. Peggy was reclining in an armchair by the fire in a sort of shopparlour parted from the saloon bar by a glass partition shrouded by lace curtains. The landlady of the publichouse was sitting with her. With a muttered excuse, she rose and departed.

      The girl was pale and an infinite weariness was in her face. A flicker of interest was in her eyes as she nodded to Jimmie. "You know? It was good of you to come."

      Jimmie crossed over to her and took her hand. "You are all right?" he asked anxiously. "Not hurt?"

      "Only tired," she said.

      "We have had a doctor," explained Menzies, who had taken another armchair and was extending his feet to the cheerful blaze. "She's perfectly normal, but the shock has been rather trying. We shall soon have you as bright as ever, Miss Greye-Stratton. There's one or two things I'm going to tell you now that may cheer you up."

      "I thought you were going to round up Ling?" interrupted Jimmie.

      From the dissenting gesture which Weir Menzies made one would have imagined that the capture of Ling was a matter of trivial importance. His eyes twinkled. "In a hurry to turn me out eh? There's plenty of time for that. We don't want a big audience for that sort of thing. We'll let the crowd get to bed. Now--" he became serious, and placing his elbows on his knees, leaned forward towards the girl "I've talked to Mr. Hallett here and I've come to a conclusion."

      Jimmie again interrupted. "Hadn't you better leave that," he said.

      Menzies' ruddy face glowed benevolently. "Don't you chip in for a moment, Mr. Hallett. I know exactly how Miss Greye-Stratton feels. If you only knew it I'm her fairy godfather. Now listen, I'm going right through this case with you and will see where we all stand. I'm going to show you my hand."

      He paused for a moment, waiting as if for Hallett to say something. Jimmie remained silent. He was half suspicious of this new move, for he had learned that Menzies' candour was usually in the nature of bait. In that he was right. A detective has often to employ the weapons of the confidence man.

      "We'll begin at the beginning," said the chief inspector, laying the stubby forefinger of his right hand into the palm of his left. "Let's make it supposition shall we? Suppose now, Miss Greye-Stratton, you were to come into a big fortune on the death of your father. There's the starting-point of the whole thing. Suppose your brother to have fallen into the hands of a gang of American crooks. Now I want to say nothing against your brother, Miss Greye-Stratton whatever he was he has paid the penalty, but he was a weak man. We can agree on that.

      "Very well. Still supposing, we will agree that he bragged a bit about his rich relatives. It is the kind of thing he would do. The whole story would have been twisted out of him in five minutes. Then the thing became absurdly simple. There was little risk about it. All that had to be done was to seek you out, marry you to one of the gang, and wait for nature to take its course with the old gentleman."

      Peggy, who had been listening apathetically, roused herself to life. Her eyes were like stars.

      "You, my girl "he spoke with a kind of paternal patronage "can have little idea of the infinite pains which really great criminals go to in organising their projects how they plan point by point, slowly, carefully, sometimes for months. Their first business was to get Errol irrevocably into their clutches. That was easy enough. He is wanted by the American police for uttering forged Treasury bonds--"

      "That is a lie," broke in the girl impulsively. "He assured me "She cut off the sentence shortly.

      "He assured you," finished the chief inspector placidly, "that he had not committed any crime before he forged your father's name to the cheques which you passed to Mr. Hallett in the fog."

      Hallett jumped to his feet. Peggy's gaze had deserted Menzies and, reproachful and accusing, was fixed on him. "You "she choked.

      Menzies waited with the resigned air of a man who has been interrupted in a story. He gave no sign that he had deliberately seized the opportunity to surprise one or both of them into an admission.

      "I never told you," denied Jimmie vehemently. The protestation was meant for the girl. "How did you know?"

      "It's of small importance," said Menzies. "You've only confirmed that of which I am certain. I knew because it was an irresistible inference an inference you couldn't get away from in a court of law. I'll come to that in a minute. I knew about E-rrol in America without any magic. I asked Pinkerton's to rake him up for me, that's all. He had used another name but they got on to one or two episodes.... He came to England a year ago, near enough and curiously enough Ling, Gwennie Lyne, and Dago Sam, and probably some others, arrived about the same time by separate boats."

      "How do you know that?" asked Hallett.

      "How do you get at ancient history?" retorted

      Menzies scornfully. "By research. I didn't find Ling's collar stud nor Gwennie Lyne's shoe buckle in a stateroom. They were over here and they had been in New York. The Central Office in New York lost sight of them at a certain date. I got from Miss Greye- Stratton she will remember that I went into the matter closely the approximate date of her brother's reappearance in England, and then it was only a question of patience."

      He had abandoned the hypothetical method of stating his case and went on like a patient school-teacher demonstrating a subject to a class of school children.

      "Now at various times we picked up our facts and corroborative details. Mainly they were the cheques passed over to Mr. Hallett, the visit of Stewart Reader Ling to Miss Greye-Stratton's flat and particularly the one he paid the night the murder was committed. Ling dropped a wedding ring, which was found by the lift attendant. Miss Greye-Stratton followed him out hatless and in a hurry a few minutes later.

      "Don't imagine that I jumped to an irrevocable conclusion then. I found it was merely a matter of having marriage registers at Somerset House searched that she had gone through a form of marriage with Stewart Reader Ling. Then I had more than a suspicion of Errol. You were certainly uneasy when you came to see me, Miss Greye-Stratton, though I'll do you the justice to say you controlled your feelings well.

      But the biggest fool that ever stepped could see that you were holding something back.

      "I confronted the pair of you by as near surprise as I could work it, but you did me down. But the main thing began to stick out as plain as a pike-staff. Ling an adventurer, Dago Sam whom I then only knew as William Smith a tough from Toughville, Errol a wastrel, and you an heiress. The combination worked itself out. Why should you deny that you had passed the cheques over? Why should you have held back anything when we had a chat? You were either in the game yourself or you were doing it for someone else. Clearly you were afraid of Ling and you had quarrelled in the flat. It was