VIII

Although it would have pleased Harry Labar to tumble into the fastest motor car he could find and engage in swift and melodramatic chase of Larry Hughes and Penelope, he was deterred by many considerations. Chief among them was the fact that they had a start that made pursuit in such a manner impracticable. Then, again, the whole thing might prove a wild goose chase. It might be just a pleasant comedy staged by Larry for reasons of his own.

Labar forced himself to reason coldly on the matter, although there was a tinge of apprehension in his mind so far as Penelope was concerned. But he dare not take his own personal feelings into account. He was surprised, but then Larry had a habit of doing the unexpected thing. Larry would appreciate the construction that must be put upon the episode⁠—that Penelope’s evidence was of such importance, that he was compelled to this seemingly reckless method of ensuring her silence. But he must realise that he could not hold her indefinitely.

Do not imagine that the detective inspector sat idle while he balanced these things in his mind. He had to adjust the machinery to meet the case. As soon as he was perfectly clear on the facts, he had begun to work.

“All station” messages to the two hundred or so police stations in London were being sent out over the private wires. To those county and borough forces that held sway over certain strategic points on the roads leading from the metropolis, requests were broadcast to “stop and detain” Larry’s car and its passengers. Thus thousands of men would be on the look out for the fugitives, although Labar feared it would be too late. Before instructions could reach the men on their patrols the car would in all likelihood be far away. But there was more than a chance that the route would be picked up, although Labar was too old a hand to rely confidently even upon this.

Men were on their way to Larry’s house at Hampstead, and Malone was even then swearing out a search warrant. All this was more or less an ordinary adaptation of the Scotland Yard organisation to meet an emergency. Labar considered the advisability of getting on to the Yard and obtaining permission to use the newspapers. It was a resort of which the authorities were not too fond, for there is still a certain suspicion of the Press at Scotland Yard. The inspector resolved that the step might well wait till all else failed.

As his grip on the work before him tightened, a flash of inspiration came to Labar. He nodded grimly in confirmation of his own reasoning. There was only one way in which Larry Hughes could make certain that Penelope could be forever prevented from giving evidence. A married woman, so the law runs, cannot be compelled to give evidence against her husband.

He turned cold at the thought. Would Larry dare? Was there after all anything he would not dare? But even so no marriage could take place without the consent of the girl. Was she likely to succumb to Larry’s persuasions⁠—or threats?

He stood at the door of his room and shouted a name. “Here, you! Tumble down to Somerset House⁠—Registrar-General’s Department. I want to know what steps have to be taken to get a special marriage licence. If any application comes in with regard to a couple called Hughes and Noelson, I want to know at once. Get off right away.”

There was nothing more he could do for the present in regard to the abduction. He glanced at his watch. He ought to go down to Streetly House, but at any moment they might bring in Gold Dust Teddy, and he wanted to be at hand to see that gentleman. He decided to wait. Throwing himself back in his chair he put his feet on the desk and closing his eyes indulged in the luxury of a nap.

Half-an-hour passed before he was roused by the information that Teddy was downstairs in the charge-room awaiting his pleasure.

“Have much trouble?” he asked the officer who brought him the news.

“Not what you might call a lot, sir. Found him in his favourite pub and jumped him before he had a chance to get ugly. He was half-lit up, and gave Down a black eye before we got the bracelets on him. But he’s sobered up a lot now, though he’s still talking big.”

“Right oh. Put him in the detention-room. I’ll be down to see him in a minute.”

Gold Dust Teddy greeted Labar with a sort of surly amiability some five minutes later. There is no overt enmity between the ordinary professional rogue and the police. He recognises that the detectives are merely doing a job in bringing him to justice, and, though he will do anything to keep out of their clutches, once there he accepts matters as they are with a sort of philosophy. Now and again there is an officer against whom he nourishes some bitter grievance, and he will talk with venom and contempt of the “Johns” and the “bodies” among his intimates. But face to face detective and crook meet on those terms of intimacy that might exist between members of opposing teams.

Teddy did not look a Bill Sikes. He would have passed any normal scrutiny as a respectable middle-class citizen. He wore a collar and tie, and there were distinct traces of a crease in his trousers. His cleanshaven face was hard, but not in the least forbidding, except that the puffy eyes betrayed something of sottishness. You might set him down as a hard case perhaps, but you would not condemn him on his looks.

“I been wanting to see you, Mr. Labar,” he said aggressively. “It’s a bit tough on a bloke that’s trying to run straight to have your fellers come and rough house him without giving him a chance. Wouldn’t even tell me what it was for. It’s illegal, that’s what it is.”

“Just wanted a little talk with you, Teddy,” observed Labar quietly. “Nothing to get excited about.”

“Excited. You should tell them birds not to get excited. On my back like a pair of ravening wolves they was. And I’m telling you, Mr. Labar, there ain’t anything against me. Not a thing. I’ve got a clean sheet, I have, since I did that last lot.”

“Glad to hear that, Teddy. Got enough money to retire on, have you? Or have you got a job? Let’s see. It’s nine months since you came out of stir. What have you been doing, besides drink?”

Well aware that Labar knew a great deal about him, Teddy shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve had a glass now and again,” he said defiantly. “Why shouldn’t I? You know how hard it is for a bloke like me, guv’nor. Tried hard I have. What chance is there for a bloke like me?”

“Where was your last job? Have you got any references?”

“Fat hope. The wife had a bit of money by her and that’s kept us going.”

“Uh-huh. Getting pretty well up against it last week, weren’t you? Or did your wife have a new dividend in on Monday?”

The detective had not raised his voice, but Teddy winced as though the question had been shouted at him. “ ’Struth, guv’nor, you don’t think I was in that Gertstein job, do you? I can prove where I was all that night. I can bring witnesses.”

“Sure you can?” Labar’s voice was soothing, velvety. “What kind of witnesses?” He did not doubt that the other had taken some kind of steps to establish an alibi. “I wonder if a jury would believe ’em against the story I might have to tell. Mind you, Teddy, I like you. I’d hate to have to push all I know.” The hint, half threat, half promise, was delicately conveyed. “Much better for you to give me the full strength of the yarn.”

Teddy blinked. “You’re bluffing,” he asserted, doggedly. “I had nothing to do with it. You can’t lay anything over me.”

“Bluffing, am I? Don’t you believe it, son. I know all about Larry and the others. You think that Larry will help you out of this mess. He won’t. He’s on his way out of London, and he’s leaving you and the others to hold the baby. Here.” His voice changed and he fixed his eyes sternly upon the burglar. “How do you account for this?” He fished a piece of paper from his waistcoat pocket. “This was found in your house, and it’s a message from Larry to you. ‘All ready. Cut out the booze or I’ll put you in the mud. Meet tonight at⁠—’ ” The inspector mumbled something incoherently and thrust the paper in his pocket. “You thought that you’d burnt that, Teddy, but you hadn’t. You’ve botched it, Teddy. Now are you going to help me or are you going to be a fool? Make up your mind.”

Teddy’s face had visibly paled while he listened. His first impression that Labar had been bluffing was right. But the inspector on his slender materials had managed to weaken the burglar’s opinion. He was determined to break Teddy down, and since the Third Degree is frowned upon by British law, there was only this way open to him. It might be questioned by a pedant whether even so he was within the narrow confines of legality. That troubled him little. The strict interpretation of the law in the letter and the spirit would paralyse half the activities of Scotland Yard.

There is possibly honour among thieves in a few exceptional cases. Here and there one may find a “straight crook” who will loyally stand by his associates, but as a general principle known to every police force in the world, there is scarcely a thief who will not give away another thief if pressed, either to curry favour or in the hope of some measure of protection for himself.

This time, however, Labar realised that it might be more difficult. Among those who knew him Larry Hughes was recognised to have a long arm. He gave rewards lavishly, but he held stern discipline. There were tales in the underworld, even among those who would not have recognised Larry Hughes if they saw him, of certain, if sometimes long delayed, vengeance on those who had talked too much. Larry never forgot, and never failed to repay. It was an element in his own methods of ensuring safety.

Teddy hesitated. He was in a police station and Labar was the more immediate danger. Against that, not even Labar could hold him immune from a long term of imprisonment if he admitted complicity in the robbery. The most he could do would be to refrain from pressing the case too heavily. Supposing he thus saved a year or two of his sentence, there were still Larry and Larry’s friends to be reckoned with. He had heard of men being “framed” by Larry for crimes they had not committed, men against whom the police had found convincing evidence to their hands. There were others, cripples for life, who dare not tell in what strange encounter they received their injuries. There were still others who had dropped out of all human knowledge, with only the possibility of a grim guess at their fate. All of these had in some degree failed to keep faith with Larry Hughes.

“I don’t know any Larry.” He met the gaze of the inspector with a fixed stare. “I ain’t had no message from no one. You didn’t find that paper in my place, and if you did it don’t prove anything. You won’t get me spilling anything, Mr. Labar, so you may as well save your breath. If you’re going to keep me here I want to see a mouthpiece. I know my rights.”

“We’re good friends, Teddy.”

“You don’t blarney me any more than you can bluff me,” said the other, dourly. “I know my rights.”

“That’s all right then. Better be careful.” Labar was as mild as ever, and perhaps a shade more genial. “Run along now and be a good boy. Don’t get into any more mischief.”

Teddy scowled uneasily and shifted to his feet twirling his soft hat in his hands. He did not know what to make of this dismissal, but he was more than a little suspicious. In his experience divisional detective inspectors did not give up in this way.

“You’re through?” he asked.

“Through for now. I may have to see you again, I hope. Look after yourself.”

Sufficient for the day are the troubles thereof. That was part of Gold Dust Teddy’s philosophy. He did not for an instant suppose that Labar was as generous as he appeared to be⁠—there was certainly something behind this move. But the immediate fact was that he was out of a hole. Whatever happened thereafter could be met from outside a cell.

With a cheerful salute he passed through the door which the inspector unlocked for his benefit, and so through a few odd uniformed police and one or two detectives at whom he leered triumphantly out of the entrance to the station.

Labar thrust an arm through that of a frowning young detective sergeant whose discoloured eye told Teddy’s prowess and led him upstairs.

“You’ve helped a whole lot on this job, Down,” he said. “Don’t you worry about Teddy. We’ll get our hooks on him when we want. I’m using him as bait. What I want you to do is to watch when the big fish bites.”

He expounded at greater length when he was back at his desk. “This joker’s in the game up to the neck, but you can bet Larry’s only trusted him as far as he had to. How much he knows I can’t say. He’s scared to death to say anything, now. But it’s odds, now that we’re on to him, that he’ll try to give the office to Larry either direct, or through someone else. You’ve got to tail him closer than a brother. Take Heath to help you⁠—he doesn’t know Heath. And be particularly careful when he’s stewed. He may drop something that we’d like to know. See if you can get a line through what channels his money comes, though Larry’s likely to have seen that you don’t get back to him that way. If you do get hold of anything burn the wires in getting it to me.”

Down jerked his head in comprehension. “I’ll attend to it, sir. Heath will be on the job when I have to stay under cover.”

“Get to it then. I’m relying on you not to fall down.”

The divisional detective inspector turned to other matters.