The Attic Murder. S. Fowler Wright

      He thought, as he had done before, that he saw curiosity in her eyes, beyond reason toward one whom she had met in so casual a way. Could it be that she suspected the truth?

      He doubted that, but felt an instinctive desire to tell it; to gain a confidante who, he felt sure, would not betray him, even for a reward. But if she did not herself betray, she might talk. His liberty would not be long if he should reveal his identity to every stranger he met.

      “I’m sorry you’re not likely to stay,” she said; “we could do with someone else here.”

      “You are here permanently yourself?”

      “I don’t know any more than you seem to. At present, I’m looking for work that I can’t get.”

      It was then that a wild vague thought entered his mind that she might be one who would share his fortunes, who would help him (for a consideration, of course) in the delicate operation of drawing the money from his bank for which it might be so dangerous to apply, and was yet so vital to have. Perhaps even to spend it with him on a more permanent basis to help him to a new identity: to assist in rebuilding all that had seemed so utterly lost.

      But, as he looked at her, he did not feel it to be a plan to which she would be likely to conform in a docile way. He had sufficient detachment of mind to see it as an idea which would not have come to him in more normal circumstances. But the instinct to confide in those around him, to gain allies if he could, which had taken him down to Mrs. Benson’s kitchen the night before, urged him again, and in greater confidence than he had then felt. And he saw that his decision must be promptly made, or the opportunity might be gone. The meal was done. Any moment she might rise and disappear for ever out of his life.

      “Miss Jones,” he asked, with a nervousness in his voice she had not noticed before, “have you anything very urgent to do this morning?”

      She looked a natural surprise, but answered simply: “No. Why do you want to know?”

      “I wondered whether I might ask you to do something for me. Of course, I’d pay for your time.” He added, as though in self-defence: “It was you saying you were looking out for a job that put it into my mind.”

      “So I am. It depends upon what it is that you want me to do.”

      “It’s only to go to the bank for me, but there’s something that I should have to explain first.”

      “I don’t see why I should refuse that. But I’m an utter stranger to you. I think I ought to explain too. I’m out of work, and my money’s just about gone. Mr. Rabone might happen to tell you that.... So,” she concluded with a smile, “you mustn’t tempt me too far.”

      “I shouldn’t worry much about that.... Could you believe that anyone could be convicted of a very serious crime, and not be guilty at all?”

      “Yes, I could believe that; though I don’t think it often happens.... But don’t you think you’d better ring the bell first—it’s the one on the left, the other’s a dud—and let Mrs. Benson clear away before you tell me what you want me to do...? I’ve got a few things to see to upstairs before I could go out.”

      With these words, Miss Jones rose and left the room. He saw the wisdom of deferring the tale he had to tell until their landlady should have cleared away, and withdrawn from the scene. He recognized the easy efficiency with which Miss Jones handled the situation, and the difficulty of reconciling this character with the words and tone which he had heard through the attic door recurred to his mind.

      Who could this Rabone be, and why, though he appeared to be one whom she both feared and disliked, should she have confided to him that her money was nearly gone? He felt an active dislike for the man with whose razor he had made acquaintance, though he knew him only as a heavy step on the stair. If the girl were being persecuted or molested by him, the law was surely equal to her protection! Single girls should be secure in their lodgings from molestation by fellow-boarders of habits and manners as execrable as he had doubt that those of Mr. Rabone would prove to be.... The law? He saw that it was not a drama in which he could be cast for a leading part.

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      It was half an hour later when Miss Jones re-entered the room. She did not come near the fire, but sat down at the farther side of the table, as though desiring that a formal distance should be maintained. “I’ve been thinking over,” she began, “what you said, and I thought at first I’d rather you didn’t tell me more than was necessary for what you want me to do, because we’re really strangers to one another, and mayn’t meet again, for all we know, after today. But I’ve thought since that you ought to be the best judge, as you know what it is, and I don’t; and the more I know the less likely I shall be to put my foot in it, so I’ll just leave it to you.”

      “I’ve been thinking it over too,” he replied, “and it’s clear to me that I can’t ask you to do anything till I’ve fully explained. Apart from other reasons, it wouldn’t be fair to you. And if—anything—were to happen, I should like to feel that there’s someone who knows what the truth is.”

      “Very well,” she said. “Fire away. Anyhow, I shouldn’t want to go out in this rain. It seems to be getting worse all the time.” She sat with her elbows on the table, and her chin in her hands, as she listened to the tale that he had to tell.

      “I suppose,” he said, as it concluded, “it makes me sound rather a fool. It’s just a question of fool or knave, and the less there is of the one, the more the other comes up. The jury must have seen that, and they may have thought I’d tried to make myself out a bigger fool than anyone was likely to be.

      “But you can see that there were some things that I couldn’t tell. I should think that that often happens, and people have to let things that they did sound worse than they really were.”

      “Yes,” she answered, “perhaps it may. But I should think the jury were rather fools too.”

      The remark, noncommittal as it was, gave him a new confidence, with the conviction that she believed his tale. He added: “You see I hadn’t even meant to use any name but my own. It wouldn’t have come into my mind. I only went there at all because Bob Powell said that if we didn’t finish up with a night-club it wouldn’t be worth calling a night at all. But then, when we got in, he said that there were some people there who didn’t know him by sight, but would know his name, and be certain to tell his wife, and he called himself something that I forget, and introduced me as Harold Vaughan.... And I don’t know whether Tony ever doubted that it was my own name, though that’s hard to say. But I feel sure that Augusta didn’t, and it was for her sake that I kept in with the gang.

      “And what part she had in it herself I don’t know even now, but I’m glad she didn’t get hauled into the dock, though I can’t say that I ever want to see her again. But it’s a fact that till I was arrested I’d never guessed what the game was.

      “It sounds silly now, but if I’d met Tony, it would be easier to understand. He could talk the leg off a chair in his plausible smiling way.... And not guessing anything must have made me twice the value to him.... But I couldn’t say how I met him, and came to be using another name, without it all coming out who I really was, beside giving Bob Powell away.”

      “Yes,” she answered doubtfully. “I think I see how you felt, though it doesn’t sound much of a reason when you look at what a mess you’re in now. And the fact that they couldn’t find out who you were, that you had no background that they could check up—the judge would know that, even though it mightn’t be allowed to come to the jury’s ears—would prejudice everyone against you, and make it seem certain that you were one of the gang.... But the question is, what do you want me to do now?”

      “I’ve got money in my own bank, which I’m bound to get hold of. I thought, to begin with, I might give you a note to the bank, asking for a cheque-book. They’d know my signature, and wouldn’t be likely to ask any questions about that. It wouldn’t be exactly like drawing money, and even that they’d have no right to raise