“I think you remember that particular night,” said Roger. “You refuse to tell me that, too—that right?”
“I tell you I don’t remember!”
Roger glanced at the shorthand writer.
“Got that, Sergeant?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right, Tenby, I shan’t hold you—yet. But you’re in big trouble, unless you remember where you were on the night of the 31st of October.”
Tenby’s little eyes were looking everywhere but at Roger, and his hands were working. The sergeant stood stolidly by.
“Get going,” Roger said, roughly.
Tenby hesitated.
“Well?” asked Roger, abruptly.
“I can’t remember what happened nearly three weeks ago,” Tenby muttered. “Tonight—”
“Yes?”
“I was out seeing some of me old friends. Just because I’ve ‘ad a bit o’ luck, it doesn’t mean that I drop me old friends like ‘ot cakes. Wouldn’t be fair.” Tenby became virtuous. “I got a Number 11 to the Bank, then picked up a 13 to Algit. That’s where I was, see? If you’d asked me decently, I would have told you right from the beginning.”
“Where did you go?” demanded Roger.
“The Three Bells.”
“What time did you arrive there?”
“Round about ten, I s’pose.”
“It doesn’t take an hour and a half to get from Chelsea to Aldgate.”
“I ‘ad to wait for a bus—”
“There’s a good bus service,” said Roger, coldly, leaning back in his chair. “Have you seen Warrender tonight, Tenby?”
“Who?”
“George Warrender. Raeburn’s secretary.”
“Now, listen,” said Tenby, earnestly. “I wouldn’t go to see that geezer if you was to offer me a five-pound note. I did a few jobs for them once, mind you. When Raeburn bought ‘is dog-racing tracks, I kept an eye open for them before the races, to see there wasn’t no funny business with , the dogs. But d’you know what? They wanted me to dope the dogs. Me! I soon sheered off them. Mind you, they didn’t come out in the open; a lot of ‘ints, that’s all there was, but it told me plenty. I don’t interfere with a man’s sport, Mr West, you can take that from me. Why, I ‘aven’t done a stroke of work for Warrender or Raeburn since then —you can ask them if you like. They can’t say no different.”
“And you haven’t seen Warrender tonight?”
“Of course I haven’t!” Tenby rubbed his hands together, nervously. “Listen, Mr West, I’ll tell you what did happen tonight, Gawd’s truth. I ‘ad a telephone message at The Lion, a man asked me to meet him at Algit Pump, see? ‘E said he was a friend of a friend. ‘E said he’d got a dead cert for me at Birmingham, so I said I’d go along. I was early and he was late, that’s how it was I was so long getting to The Three Bells. This bloke wanted me to lend ‘im some money—that was the truth of it. You’d be surprised the tricks they get up to. I’m sorry I can’t account for where I was every minute of the evening, but that’s the truth, Mr West.”
“It had better be,” Roger said, grimly.
“And if you’d been as friendly when you woke me up as you arc now—”
“You’d have lied to me then, instead of now,” said Roger. “You won’t get away with murder, Tenby.”
“Why, I never said a word about—about murder!” Tenby jumped up. “It’s not fair, Mr West, picking on me like this just because I ‘ad a bit o’ luck!”
“Tony Brown didn’t have much luck.”
“I never knew there was such a man until I read about him in the paper,” protested Tenby. “I’ve told you the solemn truth, Mr West. I give you my oath on it.”
“All right. I’ll want you back here to sign a statement in the morning,” Roger said. “You can make up your mind about any additions by then.”
“I don’t mind what I sign,” declared Tenby. “I want to make things as easy as I can. But you rake my advice, Mr West, and don’t trust that Warrender or that Raeburn. They’re nasty pieces o’ work.”
“I know a lot of nasty pieces of work,” said Roger, and Tenby gave up.
Roger sent a sergeant to drive him back.
There was the gap which Tenby could not account for, and a lot could happen in three-quarters of an hour. Roger made a note to inquire from the landlord of The Lion whether there had been a telephone message, and, after a few minutes’ talk with Turnbull, went home.
Peel’s condition was unchanged.
Before Tenby arrived next morning, the landlord of The Lion confirmed that the man had been called to the telephone; that part of his story seemed true. But why had he refused to tell it earlier? In the cold light of morning, Roger found another important question: why had Tenby’s manner changed so abruptly? Had he been knocked completely off balance by the talk of Tony Brown’s murder?
Undoubtedly, Tenby had been at The Three Bells, Aid- gate, at ten o’clock, but his movements between those critical hours of nine and ten could not be checked. There were no grounds for making a charge, or even searching his rooms. If anything had been concealed in the corner, it would almost certainly be gone by now.
Nothing else had happened at Eve’s apartment.
Raeburn and Warrender reached the City office together soon after ten o’clock; that was normal enough.
Roger had a telephoned report about that at a quarter to eleven, and was then told that Tenby was waiting to see him. The statement was already typed out. Roger went along to a waiting-room, and the little man signed before witnesses. His manner was calmer, and more ingratiating.
“If there’s anything I can do for you at any time, Mr West, I’ll be only too glad, I will really,” he said. “Last night was a bit of a shock. I wouldn’t have behaved like that if I ‘adn’t just been woke up, that’s the truth.” He rubbed his bleary eyes. “I’m sorry I be’aved so badly.”
“There is one other job you can do for me,” Roger said.
“Anything, Mr West, anything! What is it?”
“I want you to have a look at a man who’s been knocked about a bit,” said Roger. “You may recognise him.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Tenby, “but I’ll see ‘im.”
Tenby seemed on edge on the way to the City Hospital, but had recovered some of his confidence. Once or twice he rustled some chocolate paper in his pocket.
They walked along the corridors, Tenby complaining that he didn’t like the smell of antiseptics: they always made him feel sick; he never went into a hospital unless he was forced to, he declared.
“Nor did this man,” said Roger, dryly.
He reached Joe’s room, and opened the door without knocking. Joe was sitting up in bed with a newspaper in front of him. He glanced up, and his expression hardened when he saw Roger who entered first.
Then he saw Tenby. There was a flash of recognition in his eyes; only a flash, but quite unmistakable. Roger looked sharply at Tenby, but Tenby’s face was blank.
So there was another indication; still not evidence, but another line which might develop. Given a trivial charge against Tenby, they could step up the pressure against him.
Where could he find a charge?
He left Tenby in the hall, eating chocolates, and went along to see Peel, who was conscious, but still drowsy. He was not badly hurt, and the chief effect was from morphia. Peel could only suggest that his flask of tea had been doped.
As Roger left, a little old lady hurried along the passage: Peel’s mother, intent on seeing her son.
In the office, Roger still worried about Tenby’s sudden change of mood, then put it in the back of his mind, and set to work on other possibilities. He rejected the idea of telling a newspaperman about Raeburn’s forthcoming marriage; a leakage would probably be blamed on Eve, and do no good. He was anxious to locate the cottage she had mentioned, and sent out a memorandum to the provincial police.