A faint shade of melancholy triumph invaded Pearson’s manner as he repeated the word.
“Blackmail-that was Mr. Porlock’s business. One of our clients was in a terrible state over it-something he’d got on her, she wouldn’t tell us what. So Mr. Blake, he sent me here to see if I couldn’t get something that would scare Mr. Porlock off.”
“Blackmailing the blackmailer-eh?”
“Oh, no, sir.”
Lamb gave a short laugh.
“What else? But that’s not my pigeon. You say Porlock was a blackmailer. Have you any evidence of that?”
Pearson diffused a certain modest pride.
“Only what I’ve heard with my own ears.”
Frank Abbott had drawn a chair up to the far side of the table. His overcoat removed, he was seen to be elegantly attired -grey suit, grey socks, a blue and grey tie, a blue and grey handkerchief just showing above the line of the pocket. As always, his very fair hair was slicked back and mirror-smooth, his light eyes cool and observant, his manner cool and detached. Lamb jerked a “Notes, Frank,” over his shoulder, and the long, pale hand began to move busily above a writing-pad.
Lamb leaned forward, a hand on either knee, his body vigorous in spite of the flesh it carried, his florid face expressionless under the thatch of strong dark hair just beginning to thin away from the crown. He looked at Pearson and repeated his words.
“What you heard with your own ears? Do you mean that he was blackmailing any of these people in the house?”
The shade of triumph deepened.
“Most of them, I should say.”
“If that’s the case, you’d better pull up a chair and we’ll get down to it.”
Quietly and deferentially Mr. Ernest Pearson fetched himself a chair. When he was seated, hands folded, feet nearly together, he coughed and observed that it was a little hard to know where to begin.
Frank Abbott leaned across the table to lay a list of names before his Chief. It was received with a grunt and a nod. Lamb read from it the names of Mr. and Mrs. Tote.
“Know anything about them?”
“Oh, yes. Him and Mr. Porlock had very high words in this room after tea yesterday. By leaving the door unlatched after attending to the fire I was enabled to overhear part of what passed between them. A butler has great advantages in the line of overhearing conversations, if I may say so. What with taking in drinks, and fetching out trays, and attending to fires, he can pretty nearly always have an excuse for being close to a door, and with a centrally heated house no draught is felt if the door should be left on the jar.”
Frank Abbott’s hand covered his lips for a moment. Mr. Pearson’s meek ingenuity had threatened him with a smile. Lamb’s face remained a frowning blank. He said,
“You overheard a conversation between Porlock and Mr. Tote?”
The mild brown eyes met his without a tremor.
“Part of it, sir. Mr. Porlock was saying things to Mr. Tote that made him very angry-Mr. Tote, if you take my meaning.”
“What sort of things?”
“Well, you couldn’t call it anything else except blackmail- you really couldn’t. Mr. Tote, he used the word himself-fairly shouted it out. And then there was one of the maids come through the hall and I was bound to move away. I crossed over to the morning-room on the other side of the hall, and when I got back Mr. Porlock, he was saying, ‘Well, there’s two can swear to time and place, and you know as well as I do that if the police begin to look into it there’d be plenty more.’ ”
“What were they talking about?”
“Black market, sir. Mr. Porlock, he put it to him straight when he tried to explain it away. ‘You can tell that to Scotland Yard,’ he said. ‘I suppose you think they’ll believe you,’ he said. ‘And if they don’t, you can always try the Marines!’ he said, and he laughed hearty. Very fond of a joke, Mr. Porlock was.”
“And did Mr. Tote laugh too?”
“Oh, no, sir-he cursed and swore something shocking. And Mr. Porlock said, ‘Come, come, Tote-you’ve made a pot of money, and if you won’t spare a thousand to shut these men’s mouths you don’t deserve to keep it.’ And Mr. Tote said, ‘Shut their mouths, my foot! It’s your mouth wants shutting, and if you don’t look out you’ll get it shut so that it’ll stay that way! I’m not a man to be blackmailed!’ And Mr. Porlock laughs very pleasant and says, ‘Black market or blackmail-you pay your money and you take your choice.’ ”
Lamb’s frown deepened.
“You say Mr. Tote was threatening him?”
“He used the words I’ve said, and his manner was very threatening too, sir.”
“Hear any more?”
“No, sir. Mr. Tote got up-using very violent language, he was. So I went back and attended to the hall fire until he came out, which he did almost at once, and off up the stairs, as red as a turkey cock.”
Without moving his position Lamb said,
“That’s Tote. Who else?”
Mr. Pearson hesitated slightly.
“Well, sir, Mr. Porlock came out of the study and went into the drawing-room. But he didn’t stay there. He came out again with Miss Masterman and her brother and took them off to the billiard-room, so I went to lay the table for dinner. That’s the dining-room, sir, on the other side of that wall behind you, and where those book-shelves are there’s a door going through. You can see it on the other side, but of course it can’t be used because of the shelves. Still, you know how it is-voices carry through a door the way they wouldn’t if it was a wall. And presently I could hear that Mr. Porlock was in the study again, and one of the ladies with him, so I went up close-polishing my silver in case of anyone coming in.”
“Well?”
Ernest Pearson looked mournful and shook his head.
“Not very satisfactory, I’m afraid, except that it was Miss Lane he’d got with him, and there was something about a bracelet, and I heard her say, ‘I shouldn’t like my cousin to know,’ and something about being in a frightful hole and having to have the money. I don’t find a lady’s voice quite so easy to follow-not so resonant, if you take me. Now Mr. Porlock, he had what I should call a ring in his voice-I could hear him all right. I don’t know what you’ll make of it, but this is what he said- ‘Well, don’t sell it again. It’s a bit too dangerous-someone else might recognize it next time.’ And then he said, ‘I’ve got the receipted bill, you know. It describes the bracelet. You can have till Monday morning to make up your mind. Meanwhile we’ll call a truce.’ And I couldn’t help noticing when she came down to dinner that Miss Lane was wearing a very valuable diamond and ruby bracelet.”
Lamb grunted.
“You said you didn’t know what I’d make of all this. What do you make of it yourself?”
“Well, sir, with one thing and another, it did come into my mind to wonder about Miss Lane selling the bracelet-whether she had the right to, as you might say. I certainly got the impression that Mr. Porlock thought he’d got something he could use against her. But it didn’t look to me as if it was money he wanted, because if he bought that bracelet he must have paid a lot of money for it. It looked to me as if there was something he wanted Miss Lane to do, and she didn’t want to, so he was giving her time to think it over. She’s a lady that goes about a lot-very well connected, as you might say. A high-class blackmailer like Mr. Porlock-well, there are ways a lady like Miss Lane could be a lot of use to him.”
Lamb’s grunt may have meant that he agreed. On the other hand it may just have been a grunt.
Frank Abbott’s pencil travelled, and his thoughts too. What a case! What a pity to have to hang even a Tote for removing a blackmailer from the body politic. Perhaps it wasn’t Tote. He hoped quite dispassionately that it wasn’t the lady who might or might not have stolen a diamond and ruby bracelet. But perhaps there were others… He turned his attention to Pearson, who was at that moment producing Mr. Leonard Carroll like a rabbit out of a hat.