Vicky frowned. "Why? Oh, I see! I suppose it'll suddenly be much more valuable! How on earth did you find out about it?"
"Actually, through a chap I know who's Andrews's clerk. I dare say you don't know whom I mean, but Andrews is my boss's rival. Get it?"
"Well, not utterly," confessed Vicky.
"How was Father going to pay for that plot of land?" demanded Alan. "He had to borrow a hundred from Carter only a couple of months ago, so I'd just like to know where the price of this land is supposed to be coming from! Why, it's as plain as a pikestaff! Obviously he'd put the scheme up to Carter, and they were going into some kind of a partnership over it, Carter putting up the cash, and Father and Jones getting a fat rake-off for having let him in on it, I dare say."
"Oh!" said Vicky, digesting it. "I wouldn't wonder if you're right, only I don't immediately see that it's going to help. I rather hoped there was something frightfully tortuous on, which would bring on an utterly undreamed-of suspect, and solve everything."
"You don't seem to see how damnable it is!" said Alan. "It's absolutely disgusting, and when I think of my father going in for that kind of dirty work it makes me feel like cutting away from him altogether."
"Oh, is it dirty?" said Vicky innocently. "Would you mind frightfully if I told Hugh Dering? Because at the moment the police think Percy Baker was blackmailing Wally, and this seems to show that he wasn't at all. You don't know Percy, and I don't really feel I can explain him to you, but he's a garage-hand, and I do rather feel that it's bad luck on him to be suspected of something he didn't do."
"With me," said Alan grandly, "the State comes above every other tie. Naturally I shall confront Father with my suspicions, and if some unfortunate devil is being ruined through his filthy dealings I shall go to the police myself, and tell them all I know. Of course, it won't be very pleasant for me - in fact, it's practically crucifying myself but '
"Darling Alan, I should hate you to crucify yourself, besides it isn't in the least necessary, and I don't think it's the done-thing to sneak about your father to the police. So I shall just tell Hugh, and see what he thinks we ought to do about it."
"I don't see what it's got to do with him," said Alan discontentedly. "As a matter of fact, I haven't got much use for him. He's one of those hearty, old school-tie fellows who make me rather sick."
"Well, I dare say you make him feel a bit squeamish, if he's noticed you, which I rather doubt," retorted Vicky.
This unexpected championing of Hugh had the effect of putting Alan so much on his dignity that he needed no urging to go away, but said in an offended voice that it was obvious he was not wanted, and he only hoped that Vicky would not regret having succumbed to the glamour of an old Etonian tie.
So when Vicky joined Hugh at one of the little tables which were dotted about the hall of the hotel, she naturally had a good look at the tie he was wearing, and said in a tone of considerable astonishment: "Is that an old Etonian tie?"
"No," said Hugh, pulling forward a chair for her. "Sit down, and I'll give you a drink. What would you like?"
"I'll have a Side-car, please. Weren't you at Eton?"
"I was. Why?"
"Well, I wondered, because Alan said that was an old Etonian tie. I thought he must be wrong. What sort of a tie is it?"
Hugh had moved away to ring the bell for a waiter, but he turned at this, and regarded Vicky with a mixture of amusement and surprise. "It's just a tie. Did Alan take you aside to give you erroneous information about my neck-wear?"
"Oh no, that was merely by the way! Actually, he's found out a sordid story about Wally and his father, and fat Mr. Jones, which proves that Mary was right all along. So that ought to be a lesson to you not to be fusty and dusty again."
"What sort of a sordid story?" asked Hugh. "Do you mean that he really did ask your mother for that five hundred for some business deal?"
"Yes, I'm now definitely sure he did. I say, what's become of your father?"
"Gone to buy some tobacco."
A waiter came into the hall at that moment, and while Hugh gave his order, Vicky had time to take stock of her surroundings, and to discover that at the far end of the hall, in a dim inglenook by the empty fireplace, Robert Steel and Inspector Hemingway were seated in close conversation. As soon as the waiter had departed, she called Hugh's attention to this circumstance. "Oh, I do think Janet is a menace!" she said. "I don't want Robert to be the guilty man!"
"Don't be silly," replied Hugh calmly. "And don't forget, in your anxiety to provide your mother with a husband, that you would hardly want her to marry Carter's murderer. I suggest that you wait until he's been cleared of all suspicion before you start match-making. Are you going to tell me about Alan's revelations?"
"Yes, because I quite think it's time I told the police that Percy wasn't blackmailing Wally. Because, though he said he was the enemy of my class, he was rather pathetic in a way, and I don't at all mind clearing his fair name.
"A beautiful thought," said Hugh. "The only flaw being that if you dispose of the blackmailing charge you at once pin a motive on to him."
"Oh dear, how tiresome! Yes, I see. The police will think he did it for revenge. Now I don't know what to do!"
The waiter came back with two cocktails on a tray.
Hugh paid for them, and lifted his glass. "Here's to you, Vicky. Tell me the whole story."
"Well, I will, only I expect you'll cast a blight on it, and refuse to believe a word," said Vicky gloomily.
But when Hugh had heard the tale, he gratified Vicky by taking it quite seriously, and admitting that it seemed probable that he had been mistaken in his first disbelief in Mary's theory.
"Yes, but it isn't really in the least helpful," said Vicky. "Except that it shows Percy wasn't blackmailing Wally, and even that doesn't seem to be altogether a good thing."
"It doesn't help to explain the murder," said Hugh, "but I certainly think the police ought to be told about it - for what it's worth." He glanced over his shoulder, and saw that Steel and Hemingway had got up, and that Steel was moving towards the door. He caught the Inspector's eye, and made a sign to him.
Hemingway came across the hall. "Want me, sir?" he inquired.
"Yes, Miss Fanshawe's got something to tell you, which I think you ought to know. Sit down, won't you? What's yours?"
The Inspector declined refreshment, but turned an interested eye upon Vicky. "Now, is this going to be on the level?" he asked. "Because if it's just one of your variety turns, miss, there's nothing doing. I'm a busy man."
"Oh, it's absolutely on the level!" Vicky assured him. "And if you're busy trying to convict Mr. Steel, just because of what Miss White said, it's the most utter waste of time. I don't say she didn't ask him to tea on Sunday, because she probably did, but she talks so much that I don't suppose he was paying the least attention to her. No one ever does."
The Inspector made no reply to this, but as Vicky's was precisely the explanation which Steel had already given him, her words carried more weight than even she had expected.
He listened to Alan White's story, as recounted by Hugh, in attentive silence, remarking at the end that he was sorry he had never had the privilege of meeting Wally Carter. He did not seem inclined to comment further upon the story, so Vicky, who felt that it had fallen flat, said hopefully that it was probably the clue to the crime. But even this failed to draw the Inspector. He shook his head, and said that he wouldn't be at all surprised if she were right.
To his Sergeant, twenty minutes later, he said that the case had now reached a highly promising stage. Wake scratched his chin, and said: "It beats me why you should say that, sir. What I was thinking myself is that whichever way we turn there doesn't seem to be anything to grasp hold of. You keep thinking you're on to something, and though you can't say definitely that you're not, yet it don't seem to lead far enough, if you take my meaning."