`I'd never met her. But I know her husband slightly, through Bitton.'
'What's this Lester Bitton like?.
'I don't like to say,' the General answered, doubtfully. `Don't know the man well enough. He's older than she is; considerably, I should think. Can't imagine him enjoying these athletic activities of hers. I believe he made a lot of money in some financial scheme.'
Hadley turned his attention to the handkerchief, knotted up like a bundle, which contained the dead man's effects.
`Here we are. Wrist-watch; crystal broken, but still running. Bunch of keys. Fountain-pen and stylo pencil. Banknotes, silver and coppers. Only one letter…. Pure trash pale mauve envelope, and scented; woman's handwriting.'
He drew out a single sheet of paper, and Rampole and the General bent over it as he spread it out on the table. There was no date or heading. The message was written in the centre of the sheet: `Be careful. Tower of London, one-thirty. Suspect. Vital.- Mary.'
Hadley read it aloud, scowling. `Mary?' he repeated. 'Now we've got to find a Mary. Let's see. Postmarked London, W, ten-thirty last night. This thing is beginning to get on my nerves.' Pushing the letter out on the desk, he turned to the contents of the handkerchief again. `I must say the sergeant is thorough. He even included the dead man's ring and tie-pin. But here's our hope. Loose-leaf note-book, black leather.'
Opening the note-book, he let his eye run along the few scrawled lines on the first sheet.
`Listen to this! Notes of some sort, with dashes between. Apparently it's in Driscoll's handwriting:
` "Best place?.:. Tower?… Track down hat… Unfortunate Trafalgar… can't transfix… 10… Wood Hedges or shield. Find out".'
`But that's gibberish!' General Mason protested, somewhat — superfluously. `It doesn't mean anything. At least, it may have meant something, but….'
`But he's left out the connecting words,' Hadley supplied. `It seems to refer to some clue for following our hat-man.'
`Read that again!' Dr Fell. suddenly boomed from his coreer. On his big face was a blank expression which slowly turned to something like amusementas the chief inspector; repeated the words….
`Mrs Larkin is here, sir,' said the voice of Sergeant Hamper from the door.
A series of chuckles were running down the bulges of Dr Fell's waistcoat. His small eyes twinkled, and ashes' from his pipe were blown about him. He looked like the Spirit of the Volcano.
Mrs Amanda Georgette. Larkin looked about carefully before she entered, rather as though she expected to find a bucket of water balanced on the top of the door. Then she marched in, saw the empty chair beside Hadley's' desk, and sat down without further ado. She was a tall, rather heavy, woman, well dressed in dark clothes of the sort called 'sensible'; which word, as in its usual context, means an absence of charm.
Hadley hitched his own chair round. `Mrs Larkin, I am Chief Inspector Hadley. Naturally, you understand, I dislike having to inconvenience any of you. But you may be able to give us some very important information.'
`Maybe,' grunted Mrs Larkin, hitching her shoulders. 'But, first, before you ask me any questions, give me your word anything I say will be treated as a confidence.'
Hadley considered gravely. 'I can make no promises. If anything you say has a direct bearing on this investigation, I can't treat it as a confidence. Is that clear?'.. Besides, Mrs Larkin, I'm almost positive I've seen you somewhere before.'
She shrugged, `Maybe you have, and maybe you haven't. That's as it may be. But there's no slop in the business who's got anything on me. I'm a respectable widow. I don't know anything, about your investigation, and I haven't anything to tell you.'
All this time Mrs Larkin seemed to be having: some difficulty with her cuff. Under her dark coat she, seemed to have on some sort of tailored suit, with turned-up white cuffs; whether the, left-hand one was sliding down, or her capable fingers had a habit of, playing with it, Rampole could not tell. If Hadley, noticed it, he gave no sign.
'Do you know what happened here, Mrs Larkin?'
`Certainly I know. There was enough talk from the crowd over the way.'
`Then you may know that the, dead man is Mr Philip Driscoll, of Tavistock Chambers, Tavistock Square. On the paper you filled out you say that you lived in this building also. What is the number of your flat?'
A brief hesitation. `Number 1.'
'Number 1. Ground floor, I suppose?’ Quite so. You must be an old resident, Mrs Larkin?'
She blazed. `What the hell difference is it to you? If you've got any complaint to make, make it to the maeager of the flats.
Again Hadley gravely considered, his hands folded. `Who would also tell me how long you had been a resident. After all, it can't harm you to give us a bit of assistance, can it?' Some time' — he raised his eyes — 'some time it 'might help you a good deal.'
Another hesitation. `I didn't mean to speak so sharp,' she told him, moving sullenly in the chair. `Well, if it does you any good, I've been there a few weeks; something like that'
`That's better. How many flats on each floor?'
`Two. Two in each entry of the building.'
'So,' Hadley said, musingly, `you must have lived directly
across the way from Mr Driscoll. Did you know him?' `No. I've seen him, that's all.'
`Inevitable, of course. And passing in and out, you may have noticed whether he had visitors?'
`Sure I did. I couldn't help it. He had lots of people coming to see him.'
'I was thinking particularly of women.'
For a moment Mrs Larkin scrutinized him with an ugly eye. `Yes. There was women. But what about it? Live and let live, that's what I say. It was none of my business. But if you're going to ask me who the women were, you can save your breath. I don't know.'
`For instance,' said Hadley. He glanced over at the sheet of mauve notepaper. `You never heard the name "Mary used, did you?'
She stiffened. Her eyes remained fixed on the notepaper, and she stopped fiddling with her cuff.
`No. I told you I didn't know him. The only woman's name I ever heard in connexion with him was on — the up-and-up. It was a little blonde. She used to come with a big thin bird with eyeglasses on. One day she stopped me as I was coming in and asked me how she could find the porter to get into his flat. There's no hall-porter; it's an automatic lift. She said her name was Sheila and she was his cousin. And that's all I ever heard.'
Hadley remained silent for a time.
`Now, about this afternoon, Mrs Larkin…. How did you happen to come to the Tower of London?'
`I've got a right to come here if I want to. I don't need to explain why I go to a public building, do I?’
'When, did you arrive?'
`Past two o'clock. Mind, I don't swear to that! I'm not under oath. That's what time I think it was.'
`Did you make the tour..go all round?'
`I went to two of them — Crown Jewels and Bloody Tower. Not the other one. Then I got tired and started out. They stopped me.'
Hadley went through the routine of questions, and elicited nothing. She had been deaf, dumb, and blind. There were other people about her… she remembered an American cursing the fog… but she had paid no attention to the others. At length he dismissed her, with the warning that he would probably have future questions.
The moment she had disappeared Hadley hurried to the door. He said to the warder there:
`Find Sergeant Hamper and tell him to put a tail on the woman who's just left here. Hurry! Then tell Hamper to come back here.' he turned back to the desk, thoughtfully beating his hands together.
`Hang it all, man,' General Mason burst out, impatiently, `why the kid-glove tactics? A little third degree wouldn't have hurt. her. She knows something, right enough. And she probably is a criminal.'