“So you’ve heard of that, have you?” said Gerry Long. He looked haggard and worn. The effort which he had made until that morning to keep cheerful despite the difficulty of his position had been exhausted. He was scared of the possibility of arrest and conviction on the count of the pearls, and to Mannering there was something pitiful in Gerry’s constant smoking of cigarettes; in his hands, which were never still; and in his nervous gestures. Twenty-four hours before the American had been one of the most self-possessed young men in London. Now he was very close to a nervous wreck.
“I’ve heard of them,” said Mannering quietly.
They were sitting opposite each other in the Englishman’s living-room. In the bathroom and the bedroom, Mannering knew, were Bristow and the sergeant with the curious name of Tanker - at that time Mannering did not know why the sergeant was so called, but certainly it was suitable - and he was hoping that they would get enough to convince themselves, even then, of Long’s innocence.
“And - the police?” Gerry’s eyes were haggard.
“They’re bound to have heard it,” said Mannering, still quietly. He stretched his legs out, and looked evenly at the younger man. “Well, it’s up to you, Gerry. I suppose you have been telling the truth?”
There was no offence in the words, and there was no bitterness or resentment in Long’s voice as he answered: “I have. I didn’t touch the pearls.”
Mannering nodded.
“Then you’ve nothing to worry about, surely? They can’t prove you did take them if you didn’t. It’s rather nasty, I know, but”
“It’s more than that,” broke in Long bitterly. “I may as well be honest, Mannering. I tried the funny stuff twice before, and I was lucky to get away with it. I can’t explain why”
“Don’t try,” said Mannering quietly.
Long’s expression showed his gratitude, but he did not speak of it.
“You can imagine,” he said, “that life wasn’t all honey afterwards. I made a fool of myself, and suffered for it. Now it’ll start again. You can guess this won’t be kept over here. Even if nothing happens officially the rumours will fly. You’d never believe how fast they travel”
“What it amounts to,” said Mannering, with a deliberate challenge in his words, “is that you’re afraid to go back to New York unless you can disprove the suggestion?”
There was a flash of spirit in Gerry’s reply.
“I’m afraid of nothing,” he said quickly. “If I’ve got to face it I will. But - there’s a girl, Mannering.”
Mannering was very still for a moment, filled with a flood of understanding.
He had been puzzled by Gerry Long’s manner right from the start. Long did not create the impression that he was lacking in pluck, and his attitude over the pearl robbery had been mystifying, to say the least of it. But if there was a girl…
“I see,” murmured Mannering, and the smile in his eyes was of sympathy, and not of amusement. He went on: “Well, you can only keep on denying your part, young fellow. Stick to the truth. It’ll see you I through.”
Gerry nodded, without much conviction.
“I’ll try that,” he said quietly. “But there’s one thing I can’t do.”
Mannering looked at him curiously.
“I can’t explain away that dummy necklace,” said the American. “It must have been slipped into my pocket, but in view of all the circumstances the yarn looks pretty thin.”
Mannering nodded, and his smile was still encouraging.
“I shouldn’t worry,” he said. “The police will probably want to see you again. Stick to your story; you’ll be all right.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then Long held out his hand impulsively.
“You’re a great guy,” he said, very simply.
Mannering suddenly remembered the wedding reception.
“Here’s how!” he said and for the first time that day Gerry Long laughed as though he meant it.
“That’s that,” said Mannering as Detective-Inspector Bristow and Sergeant Jacob (Tanker) Tring, having come from their hiding places, awaited him. Gerry Long had gone, in a more cheerful frame of mind, Mannering believed, and the latter was satisfied that the talk had dome some good. “If you care to believe Long had anything to do with it you’re welcome, I don’t.”
Bristow fingered his moustache.
“It sounded genuine enough,” he admitted, cautiously. “I’ll have a talk with him myself later in the evening.”
Mannering saw his visitors off, and went back into the room. Gerry Long had left twenty minutes before, and Mannering had strolled towards Piccadilly with the American, buying an evening paper on the way back. He had glanced at the front page, and had seen what he wanted to see but he did not show it to Bristow.
Despite the secrecy with which Colonel George Belton and the Wagnalls had handled the affair, the story of the robbery had leaked out. Mannering imagined that Mason, the stocky little private detective, had something to do with it. Mason had been angered by the way in which he had been treated on the previous day, and was of the type to want to get his own back.
The paper had exaggerated of course. The five-thousand-pound necklace had grown into twenty thousand pounds worth of jewels and the story was as vague as it could possibly be. But the fact remained that publicity had been given to it, and, worse still, there was a list of the guests at the wedding on a centre page. Gerry Long figured on that list.
Mannering felt restless. He was worried about Long, more than he had been before. The fact that there was a girl in the background complicated the affair. Men did strange things when they were in love and Gerry Long was certainly in a state of very high nervous tension.
In a few hours, Mannering knew, the other man would have nothing to worry about, but those few hours were the dangerous ones.
At half-past seven, he telephoned Scotland Yard, to learn from Bristow that he had just seen Long at Belton’s house.
“I’m glad it’s over,” said Mannering. “How did he seem?”
‘Worried out of his life,” said Bristow bluntly.
Mannering grunted, and rang off after a word or two more; he was in no mood for a long conversation.
From his flat to Park Square was little more than half a mile, but something warned him to hurry for that journey. He hopped into a taxi, and waited impatiently for the short run to finish. He had a ten-shilling note ready for the driver, and did not wait to see the expression of surprise on that worthy’s face when he received ten times the normal fare. A queer urge inside Mannering made him hurry up the steps.
A trim maidservant answered the door. She greeted him with a pleasant smile and told him that he would find Mr Long in his room. The Colonel and Mr Wagnall were out.
‘I’ll go up,” said Mannering.
His feeling of impending disaster was very strong at that moment. He had difficulty in preventing himself from running up the stairs, and when he eventually reached the door of the American’s room he grasped the handle and pushed hard. The door was locked.
Mannering went very still for a moment. Then he reached a decision quickly, drew back across the wide passage, and hurled himself at the door. He might be making a fool of himself, but he would risk that.
The lock burst from its fastenings at the third attempt. Mannering went flying into the room, and a single glance told him that his fears had been justified. He caught a glimpse of Gerry Long, standing near the window, and he saw the gun in Long’s right hand. For a split second Long hesitated, turning startled eyes towards the door. Then he raised the gun to his forehead Mannering had gone sprawling across the floor, carried half-way into the room by the impetus of his effort.
Somehow - afterwards he could never remember how - he contrived to twist his head so that he could see Gerry. The American’s face, deathly white and thrown into ghastly relief by the grey darkness of the gun, was like that of a ghost.
Mannering’s heart was pounding madly. He knew that if he tried to get to his feet and rush the other he would be too late. A second lay between Gerry Long and eternity - and if Gerry died Mannering would never forget why.
“God I” he moaned, and it was a supplication.
He fastened his hand round the leg of a stiff-backed chair near him. He was still moving along the floor as his fingers found their hold, and he hardly knew how he rallied strength enough to lift the chair off the ground and throw it towards Long. As if in a nightmare he saw the chair going, saw the American dodge it instinctively, heard it thud against the wall and hit Long on the rebound; then, fast upon it, heard the report of the gun!
The explosion echoed through the room, sharp and ominous. Still on the floor, Mannering saw very clearly the wisp of smoke from the gun, the mark on Gerry’s forehead; he saw the other’s eyes close, saw his body begin to sag, heard the gun clattering, and then watched, fascinated, as Gerry slumped downward.
Mannering’s forehead was covered with sweat as he started to clamber to his feet. He was staring at Gerry Long’s motionless figure, and he felt afraid . . .