Rollison and Roger Kemp exchanged almost imperceptible glances. Roger let out a long, slow, almost painful breath.
Madam Melinska looked gravely across the desk at Bartolph, but said nothing.
Bartolph squared his shoulders.
“Madam Melinska, I will be glad to undertake your defence, although I must warn you that it will not be easy to persuade the jury that you are innocent of the charges.” The barrister taking over from the man, thought Rollison. “But I will endeavour—” continued Bartolph, placing the fingertips of each hand meticulously together— “to convince them that any advice you gave was advice given without your conscious awareness. Now we have a very difficult problem.” He looked at Rollison.
“Whether to use this defence in the Magistrates Court, or whether to allow Madam Melinska to be committed for trial at the Assizes so that I can plead to a jury. If we fail to convince the magistrate at this hearing, I doubt whether we should find it easy to convince a jury later.”
“What do you advise, sir?” asked Roger Kemp.
“On the whole—to allow committal, so that we have more time to prepare the defence.”
“Please,” interrupted Madam Melinska. “I think it would be much better if you were not to wait. If it is possible, I would like to return to Rhodesia next month.”
“If you’re committed for trial, it won’t be.”
“I am fully aware of the risk,” Madam
Melinska said quietly.
* * *
“That was incredible—absolutely incredible,” Roger said to Rollison. “Could she have already known about this son in South America, do you think?”
Rollison shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
Madam Melinska had gone back to the Marigold Club by taxi, and Roger and Rollison had taken their leave of Bartolph and were now at Roger’s office. Roger had a baffled, almost a dazed look, which told of the measure of his bewilderment.
Rollison frowned. “Bartolph knows that he hasn’t an earthly, of course. He’s sticking his neck out simply because she hit the nail on the head as regards his son. She certainly made a big impression there—I’ve never known a Q.C. plead in a Magistrates Court before.” He stood up. “Oh well, if you can think up some new angle I’ll be damned grateful. I’ll leave you to it, I can see myself out.”
As he moved towards the door, the telephone bell rang.
Roger lifted the receiver. “Who? Yes, he’s here.” He beckoned to Rollison. “Rolly, it’s for you.”
“Nice timing,” said Rollison, and stepped back to take the receiver. “Hallo . . . Oh yes, Jolly . . . Has it, then!” He stiffened—Jolly had reported that an airmail letter had just arrived from his banking friend in Rhodesia. “Open it, will you, and read it out to me.”
There was silence for a few moments. When Rollison spoke, his voice sounded heavy. “I see. Thanks.” He rang off.
Roger sensed his concern. “What is it, Rolly? Bad news?”
“Mona Lister has had the money. The money that the Webbs said was paid to Madam Melinska. It’s been paid into Mona Lister’s account—every penny of it.” Rollison paused for a moment, then looked at Roger very straightly as he added. “And Mona Lister is Madam Melinska’s partner.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Second Hearing
Rollison walked from the sunlit Temple Gardens, heavy-hearted, then towards the Strand. It was only a step out of his way to visit the Space Age Publishing offices, and he turned towards them, remembering vividly what had followed his first visit here. He was almost surprised when Jane did not come out of the door, stand and stare at him, and then run back inside. As he reached it, however, it opened—and he waited for events to repeat themselves.
Instead, Chief Inspector Clay stepped into the passage, with Michael Fraser just behind him.
Rollison drew back.
Clay gave the broadest grin Rollison had seen on his big face.
“Good afternoon, Mr Rollison. I was coming to see you. I’ve some news for you. Lucifer Stride has made a statement exonerating Mr Fraser and his friends of the murder of Mrs Abbott, and accusing Bob Webb.”
“So the Webbs were lying,” exclaimed Rollison.
“Well, it was their only chance to save themselves,” remarked Clay, in the heartiest of moods. “Can’t give you the details, but the Webbs weren’t after the dossier, they were after jewels—apparently Mrs Abbott had a great deal of jewellery lying around her flat, and the Webbs got wind of it.”
He went almost gaily along the passage and Rollison watched him turn a corner, then followed Fraser into the inner office. Ted Jackson was standing with his back to the window.
“Did you hear that?” asked Fraser.
“Yes. Afternoon, Mr Rollison. Sorry we gave you an unfriendly reception the other day—but we were just so mad at you for defending Madam Melinska. We got the crazy idea we might scare you into dropping the case. But I guess you got your own back.” He passed an explanatory hand over his jaw.
“Forget it.” Rollison sat down in an office chair of black plastic and bright tubular steel. “So you’re in the clear regarding Mrs Abbott.”
“But still broke,” gloomed Jackson. “Cigarette?”
“Thanks.” Rollison lit up. “Clay was in a very expansive mood. Did he tell you anything else?”
“Only that my half-brother, Lucifer Stride, was also after the dossier,” said Fraser. “It seems that he’d talked Mona into doing something she shouldn’t—Clay didn’t say what, but he did say she was put up to it by Stride—and they were anxious to find out if the Webbs had got on to it. So Lucifer moved in with the Webbs and pretended to be working with them against Madam Melinska—in fact, he was trying to find out exactly how much they knew about Mona. Just what she has been up to I don’t know.”
“I think I can tell you,” said Rollison slowly. “How’s this? It seems that most of Madam Melinska’s clients came to her with money worries. I understand that Mona was always present when Madam Melinska gave her readings, so she would hear whatever advice Madam Melinska gave. Supposing, whenever she advised her clients to make an investment, Mona told them they must make this investment through Madam Melinska, and then intercepted the money before Madam Melinska saw it.”
There was a moment’s pause.
“It’s possible,” said Jackson.
Fraser looked shaken. “You mean Mona’s at the bottom of the whole thing, and not Madam Melinska. I can’t believe—”
“I can,” Jackson interrupted. “Sorry, Mike and all that, I know you’re still fond of the girl, but you know how persuasive that half-brother of yours can be. And she’s fallen for him hook, line and sinker.” He turned to Rollison. “In which case Madam Melinska’s in the clear. But you’ll never prove it. If she was in one of her trances she wouldn’t know what Mona told anyone, and Mona’s not going to admit anything. And according to the Webbs’ dossier they had the devil’s own job getting any of the clients to give evidence. Wait a minute, though.” He looked across at Rollison. “Wasn’t your aunt—?”
Rollison interrupted him. “She was,” he said grimly, “and I’ve just remembered something. She sent her cheque direct to Space Age Publishing, Limited, and that disappeared as well. Which rather makes nonsense of what I’ve been saying.”
Jackson looked at Fraser. Fraser looked at the floor. For a few moments there was silence.