XXIII

OF REGINALD ROWSE AND MARION-LIZ

Grice came briskly into the room, and Rollison looked first into his eyes and then at his chin. Nothing could hide the bruise on that long jaw. Rollison raised one eyebrow, looking up into the Superintendent’s eyes again, and let his lips curve in a smile.

‘I won’t give no trouble, Guv’nor,’ he said, in a fair imitation of Skinner’s voice. ‘It’s a fair cop.’

Grice said, ‘You blistering fool.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘You deserve to hang.’

‘I never killed no one, Mister.’

Grice said savagely, ‘You look as if you’ve had a rough time, and for once I’m glad about that. Perhaps this will bring you to your senses. How long did you leave the Lane girl on Wednesday night?’

‘Oh, lor’,’ said Rollison, ruefully, ‘do we have to go into all that again? Bill, I was with her from half past eight until half past two, remember. She didn’t go away, and she didn’t kill Keller. I don’t yet know who did. The girl taken for Marion-Liz is in another room here, and I don’t know her name, either. You’ll probably find a dress like one of Marion-Liz’s, too. Sorry, but you’d like something left for the maws of the Yard, wouldn’t you?’

‘So you’re sticking to that story.’

‘Tight as glue. With some evidence.’

Rollison went into some detail, but before he finished, Grice cut him short.

‘We can hear all that at the Yard. Middleton!’

Sergeant Middleton came in promptly.

‘Richard Rollison,’ said Grice in a heavy voice, ‘it is my duty to charge you with obstructing the police in the course of their duty, striking a police-officer, which is common assault, and I have to warn you that anything you say may be used in evidence. All right, Sergeant, take him to the Yard. I’ll come as soon as I can.’

Iris cried, ‘But he didn’t do it, you can’t—’

‘If I were you, Miss Cartwright,’ said Grice heavily, ‘I should keep quiet until I start to question you. Jolly, you will return to Gresham Terrace and wait there until I send for you. Come on, Rollison.’

‘I’ll come quietly,’ said the Toff humbly.

He was remanded for eight days; on bail.

At the second hearing, the magistrate fined him twenty-five pounds. The police preferred no other charges. That against Reginald Rowse, for striking Grice, was dropped.

The trial of Leah Woolf, the elder Rowse, Nevett, and the girl, whose name was Lois Denton, took up five days of the Old Bailey Calendar that autumn. It had more space in all the newspapers than any other case of the year. Much transpired.

The Woolfs had been accomplices of Marion-Liz’s father in his crimes, and it was only one of their major crimes. With James Michael Rowse, they had organised robberies, confidence tricks, crime on a large scale; and Leo Woolf had believed that when he got the Riordon Collection he could call it a day. It had obsessed him, he’d worked and planned to get at the cache.

He had given evidence for Lane’s defence, and so had won the loyalty of Marion-Liz. He had believed that she had the keys to the strong-room where the collection was hidden, and knew where the strong-room was.

She swore that she did not know.

He had given her a few gay weeks, renting a furnished flat for her, and then dropped her. That was normal; and his normal behaviour had worked on his wife’s nerves until she had become distraught and neurasthenic, but beneath it all, passionately devoted to him; and he had traded on that. It was an ugly story, but none of the ugliness which came out in court matched that which Rollison had seen at the Woolf ’s flat or the Hampstead house.

Marion-Liz had called the Woolf affaire a closed book, although she was nervous of him, and started to work with Eddie-Harry Keller. All that she had told Rollison about her plans to work with Keller, she said in court, was true; but her bitterness seemed to have gone. Judge and jury could not fail to be favourably impressed. She said she hadn’t been sure that Woolf still believed she could get at the Riordon cache. He’d watched and waited his chance, learned of the quarrel with Keller, planned swiftly and struck. He had intended to frame her, by luring her to Hexley; when she didn’t go, and he discovered she had gone out with Rollison, he had framed Rollison as well. The independent witness had speeded up the police work, but the gang had framed Liz perfectly.

Nevett had actually killed Keller. Nevett had stolen Rollison’s knife. Nevett, later, had killed Woolf because he knew Woolf, if caught, would lead to disaster for him, Rowse, and Leah Woolf; the papers in his safe would have damned them all. Lois Denton had passed for Marion-Liz, and weapons with carefully preserved prints had been used.

Most of the truth came from the Denton girl, who turned Queen’s Evidence; much from Marion-Liz; more from the papers taken from Woolf ’s safe; these damned Woolf ’s accomplices, and provided evidence on their own which gave the police all they needed; and included the fact that Nevett had actually killed Keller. Liz had once told Woolf, in their palmy days, that if ever she were in trouble, she would go to her friend’s flat in Kensington. Woolf had bought out the flat tenant, and put his own man there. She went there – and played into his hands.

One part of Marion-Liz’s evidence held Rollison as enthralled as the rest of the court. It was simple and straightforward, and explained much that was mystifying.

When she had parted from Woolf, she had said that she was going to consult Rollison. She couldn’t ask the police to help, she’d used Rollison’s name to try to frighten Woolf off. That, she said, was why she had gone to Devon, but she’d lacked the courage to make the request. She didn’t mention the missing buoy or the quarrel with Keller, she said she’d contemplated a life of crime but not actually started it. The jury might not have been so willing to believe her, but for the story of the burn scars and her insistence that she had no idea where the Riordon Collection was or where the keys of the vaults could be found.

She defended Reginald Rowse passionately. She hadn’t really run away from him; she had been frightened about the murder, and gone away, making Rowse the excuse. He was just a friend. She didn’t believe that Reginald was a criminal. He couldn’t help his relations, he was as honest as the day. And Reginald, in evidence, said that he had no idea of the life his brother led, although it was true that it was through Jim-Micky that he’d met Marion-Liz and fallen in love.

The Denton girl had made it clear that Micky Rowse had decided that Woolf ’s obsession might be too dangerous; had been a party to the frame-up, and waited for a chance to get rid of Woolf. Nevett earlier had rushed up to London and pushed a letter through Rollison’s letter-box, written on paper which Keller had handled; another part of the framing of the Toff.

And Reginald Rowse and Marion-Liz gave eyewitness evidence of the killing of Woolf.

So it ended …

Except for Reginald Rowse, Marion-Liz, and the Toff.

Rollison invited the two to the Gresham Terrace flat, a week after the trial. Jolly, lined of face and sorrowful looking, served drinks and went out, but left the door ajar, so that he could hear exactly what was said. It was six o’clock. At half past six, Iris Cartwright and Lady Gloria were due, and Rollison thought that half an hour would be sufficient for his purpose. He stood by the trophy wall where the front page of a newspaper, with his photograph and ‘toff hunted by c.i.d’ was framed and glazed. He was tall and bronzed and with a gay light in his eyes, showing no signs of what had happened, cuts healed, and bruises long forgotten. He was an amiable host.

Reginald Rowse sat on the arm of a chair, with an arm round Marion-Liz’s shoulder. She looked pale, for the trial had been an ordeal. Yet nothing had touched her beauty.

‘I don’t mind telling you,’ said Reggie, ‘that if it hadn’t been for you, I think it would have been a dreadful business for Marion-Liz.’ He’d caught the habit of the double name, and the girl answered to it naturally. ‘It was a bright idea, you know, threatening Woolf that she’d ask you for help. Pity she didn’t tell you the whole story, but …’ He shrugged. ‘You can understand it, can’t you?’

Rollison just smiled.

The young man immediately sounded aggressive.

‘Well? Can’t you?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Rollison brightly. ‘Easily. By the way, Reggie, why did you come to Hilton Street?’

‘Eh? Damn it, you’re not going into that again! I gave my evidence, it was a place where I discovered Marion-Liz might have hidden. I just had to see her – can’t you understand that, too? I’d give—my life to help her.’

The girl glanced at him, and knew that he meant it.

‘No perjury?’ murmured the Toff.

Rowse jumped up.

‘Look here, that’s an insult!’

‘Not a deadly one,’ said Rollison mildly. ‘Nothing like the insults I’ve been saving up. Liz, look at me.’

She looked at him; she was just – lovely.

‘I am now going to tell you the things you didn’t tell the police. First – about the missing buoy at the cove. You knew it was missing. Keller went out at dawn and unfastened it. You went down to swim, knowing I was watching. I behaved very nicely, but if I hadn’t noticed the missing buoy, you were going to get into difficulties and I was going to save you. That would make me a hero.’

Rowse cried, ‘You’re crazy!’

‘Everyone says so, but listen longer. Liz, you staged those quarrels with Eddie-Harry for my benefit. It was all done for my benefit. The story that Keller wanted to rob me, then you quarrelled, then you decided to have a go, was obviously phoney. Reggie came down to see you, and you quarrelled with him – just to impress me. His story stank to high heaven – the offered cigarettes and tobacco story was obviously made up. Remember? The quarrelling was thrust under my nose, even the manhandling by the yew-hedge in a spot I couldn’t miss. Liz screamed to bring me to the window. So, said I, why? It was a put-up job, my lovebirds, and you put up a lot of it, Liz!’

Marion-Liz started violently, and said huskily, ‘Yes?’

‘You told me the truth about yourself, within limits, but you forgot to say that you had a third partner in the confidence tricks which you and Eddie-Harry had worked and planned to work. Our Reggie.’

Reggie clenched his fists. Marion-Liz stirred restlessly, and began to look less happy.

‘And it was all beautifully worked out,’ said Rollison dreamily. ‘I was to help Reggie to reform you, Liz, and get myself completely tied up. I was to trust Reggie completely, and when you’d reached that stage – abracadabra. All the time, an old friend of mine, named sceptic, kept me company when I was with you. He was wise. What’s behind it, Liz?’

She didn’t answer.

Reginald Rowse just stood with his hands clenched.

‘Tell me, how were you going to work the trick?’ asked Rollison. ‘What did you hope to get out of me?’

No one spoke; but there was guilt in two pairs of eyes.

Rollison chuckled.

‘Let’s leave that for a minute. All went well, up to a point. Then Eddie-Harry came back to tell you that Woolf was on the warpath again. Woolf sent a message, purporting to come from Harry, summoning you to Hexley, but had the other girl handy in case you didn’t go. Why didn’t you try to go? I’d have driven you.’

Marion-Liz answered almost inaudibly, ‘I thought it was a trick. Woolf ’s trick.’

‘And were you right! Woolf planned his game perfectly, and Eddie-Harry died. Then you had to forget about your little plot with me, and worry about the really serious business. Right, Marion-Liz?’

‘It—yes. Yes, it’s true.’

‘Why such an elaborate plan to win my confidence?’ asked Rollison mildly.

Rowse said, ‘What—what are you going to do?’

‘Let’s handle it stage by stage, Reggie. Why were you so anxious to get me in the web?’

Marion-Liz said hoarsely, ‘I almost hate myself. I hoped you’d never know.’

‘Don’t hate yourself, tell me the truth.’

‘All right,’ she said, and Rowse groaned. ‘You’re quite right. We wanted your help. We thought it would work that way. It was Harry Keller’s idea. You see – we know who can tell us where to find the Riordon Collection, and where to find the keys needed. We don’t know where it is, but – my father does. Yes, my father’s in gaol, I know. I’ve told you how I feel about him. We couldn’t get at him, but you were friendly with the police. We were going to tell you everything, and suggest that if you could get the Riordon Collection, it would be a great triumph for the Toff. We were sure you’d fall for it – you’d manage to see Father, give him a message from me, find out where the collection was.’

Rowse said, ‘Oh, hell! We were all going to find it together, Rollison, and we’d have some strong-arm boys on the spot. We’d have dealt with you, just knocked you cold, and got off with the stuff.’

‘Have another drink,’ said Rollison hospitably.

‘What are you going to do?’ muttered Rowse.

‘Do? Just what you planned, with a minor exception – get the truth out of your father, Liz, and pass it on to the police. Simple.’

‘But—us?’

‘You? I’m going to be a witness at your wedding, and I’m going to be a benevolent uncle, keeping an eye on you for a long time. Until you’ve given up the crazy idea of avenging yourself on an innocent society.’

Marion-Liz was crying silently.

Reginald Rowse looked like a schoolboy caught out in a heinous crime.

The front-door bell rang.

Lady Gloria and Iris arrived together and appeared to notice nothing remarkable about the puffy redness at Marion-Liz’s eyes.

Rollison and Grice stood in the passage, beneath a house near Watford, a house owned by Marion-Liz’s father and let to tenants who had no idea what was below their cellar. Grice held a set of keys in his hand.

He handed them to Rollison.

‘Bill,’ said Rollison, as he turned the key, ‘did I ever say I was sorry I clouted you?’

‘No.’

‘Well, I am. You will forever be my favourite policeman.’

He pushed at the heavy door.

Torches flashed about a dark vault, cobwebs hung down on packing-cases and boxes and safes. Grice’s men came in and were busy with crowbars and keys. More light was brought in and shone on jewels which brought fire into the vaults; on objets d’art and oil-paintings; on a fortune.