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.

“The Leonard Carroll!” he exclaimed.

Lamb turned the frown his way.

“Know him?”

“Society entertainer. Clever-sophisticated-very much the rage at the moment. I don’t know him personally. If I did I should probably dislike him quite a lot.”

The Chief Inspector enquired darkly,

“One of these crooners?”

“Oh, no, sir. There’s always one bright spot, isn’t there? It is nice to reflect that whatever else he has done, he has never crooned.”

“Well, what has he done?” growled Lamb.

“Perhaps Pearson is going to tell us, sir.”

Ernest Pearson had plenty to tell. Mr. Carroll had arrived later than any of the other guests. He had gone straight into the study, and circumstances being favourable, there had been some very satisfactory listening-in. “Everyone being upstairs dressing for dinner, as you might say. Which of course Mr. Carroll would count on, for there wasn’t any keeping his voice down. Not exactly loud, if you know what I mean, but very carrying.”

“What did he say?”

“It’s more what didn’t he say, sir-or what both of them didn’t say. Mr. Carroll, he started in hammer and tongs. ‘What’s all this about Tauscher? I don’t know the man from Adam. Who is he-what is he? You’re a damned blackmailer, and I’ve come down here to tell you so!’ And Mr. Porlock says, ‘You’ve come down here to save your neck.’ ”

The Chief Inspector whistled.

“His neck-eh? What had he been up to-murder?”

Pearson shook his head.

“Worse, if you’ll excuse my saying so. Because there’s murders you can understand how a man came to do them. I wouldn’t like you to think I was excusing them, but you can see how they got there. But meeting enemy agents on the sly when you were supposed to be out with a concert party entertaining the troops, and giving things away that might mean hundreds of lives-well, that’s the sort of thing that nobody can understand except those that have demeaned themselves to do it.” A dull flush coloured his cheekbones as he spoke. “I’d a boy out there myself in ’forty-five, and I’ve got my feelings.”

Lamb said, “That’s all right. What did you hear?”

“Well, it was a bit here and a bit there. Seems there’s a man called Tauscher that Mr. Porlock got his information from, and according to Mr. P. this is what it amounted to. Tauscher says he had a brother who was a Nazi agent. When this brother died-he got bumped off towards the end of the war-this Tauscher opened up a box of papers his brother had left with him. That’s Mr. Porlock’s story, if you understand, and I’m not saying how much of it’s true. All I say is, he put it to Mr. Carroll that Tauscher had left notes of their meetings which incriminated him up to the hilt, and what did he propose to do about it? Mr. Carroll, he uses most awful language and says it’s all a lie, and Mr. Porlock laughs and says of course he knows his own business best, and if that’s the way he feels, then it don’t matter about Tauscher going ahead and turning his brother’s papers over to our people out there-it being his idea to show what a good German he is by doing so. I thought Mr. Carroll was going to have a fit-I really did, sir. And anything like the language-well, you know what you come across in the way of business, but I give you my word it was enough to curl your hair. Mr. Porlock, he just laughed very pleasantly and said, ‘We won’t say another word about it, my dear fellow.’ And Mr. Carroll says, fit to kill, ‘How much do you want, damn you?’ ”