“Hold everything,” a voice called from above and a moment later the cellar seemed full of policemen.

Detective Sergeant Adams’ office was small, sparsely furnished and without comfort. The primrose-coloured walls gave the little room a cold, forbidding look and

Susan Hedder, sitting on the edge of a hard chair, thought it was almost like a prison cell.

The door opened and Adams came in.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Hedder,” he said with a friendly smile.

“Not much of a place to receive a lady visitor, is it?”

He sat down behind his battered desk and offered her a cigarette.

Susan nervously refused.

“It’s all right,” Adams said, grinning at her. “You don’t have to be frightened. Of course, you’ve been a little foolish, but if it hadn’t been for you, we should have had a long and expensive investigation on our hands. Luckily Butch came clean about Crawford, so I haven’t told my boss that you’ve been concealing a murder. That wasn’t too bright of you, you know.”

Susan twisted her hands in her lap and didn’t say anything.

“What in the world made you mix yourself up in such a business?” Adams went on after a pause.

Susan avoided his eyes. “I don’t know,” she said. “It was Joe really. I felt sorry for him and he did want to help Mr. Weidmann. I—I was really—I couldn’t help myself.”

“Well, we’ve been trying to get our hands on Rollo for some time,” Adams went on. “But he was far too cute for us. Thanks to you, the gang’s been broken up.”

Susan shook her head. “It was really nothing to do with me,” she protested.

“Indirectly it was,” Adams returned. “Anyway, I’m grateful. If I hadn’t followed you, an awful lot of money would have changed hands.”

“I still can’t make out why I went there.”

“That’s something I don’t understand,” Adams said, frowning. “It was as if you were walking in your sleep. Butch said Gilroy was practising voodoo, but I can’t believe a yam like that. Anyway, when we called on Gilroy we found he had gone. He slipped over to France and we’ve just heard that he’s now on his way to the West Indies. We can’t do anything about him as he doesn’t seem to be connected with the case.”

Susan fidgeted. “What’s happened to Mr. Weidmann?” she asked, at last.

“That’s why I’ve asked you to call. He wants to see you.”

“Wants to see me? Why?”

Adams shook his head. “I don’t know. Anyway, I’ve got a car. If you want to see him, we can go now.”

Susan hesitated. “Where is he?”

“Well, he isn’t well, you know. We’ve had him taken care of. He’s in a home.”

“Joe said that would happen to him.”

“Yes. There’s nothing to worry about. He’s happy enough. I don’t think he cared much for the way Rollo treated him and I think he’s glad to have someone to look after him. We couldn’t let him roam around without some kind of supervision. He hasn’t any relatives and he has a fantastic fortune. His bank has taken over his affairs and he seems to have settled down.” Adams stood up. “Well, shall we go?”

“I can’t think what he wants with me,” Susan replied, getting to her feet. “But I suppose I can’t very well refuse to see him—it wouldn’t be polite, would it?”

Adams looked at her and smiled. He liked her. He liked her young, candid face, her hair and her rather frightened, bewildered eyes. “There’s nothing to be scared about. I’ll be there—if you want me.”

Susan smiled. “After what I’ve been through, it does seem silly to be nervous of a poor old man like that, doesn’t it?” she said. “But I am.” She pulled on her gloves. “All right, I’m ready.”

As they drove rapidly through the London streets in the dark blue police car, Adams tried to put Susan at her ease.

“Now that all the excitement is over,” he said, “what are you going to do with yourself?”

Susan shook her head. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “Find a job, I suppose. It’ll seem pretty flat after this.”

Adams laughed. “Well, you mustn’t think this sort of thing happens often. Why I’ve been in the police force for more than five years and this is my first murder case.”

Susan pulled a little face. “Perhaps you don’t look for excitement. If I had the money and could be independent—I think I’d try to find excitement. Although I’m scared at the time, I do like it afterwards.”

“We don’t want you getting into any more mischief. Poor Cedric was so worried about you. I’m sure he wouldn’t survive another bout of thrills.”

“I’ve still got some money left from the sum Joe gave me,” Susan said after a pause. “After that’s gone, I shall really have to find something to do.”

“Here we are,” he said, opening the car door. “Do you want me to go in with you, or shall I wait outside?”

Susan hesitated and then squared her shoulders. “I can manage, thank you,” she said, remembering her new attitude of independence.

“Think I might become too possessive?” Adams asked with a grin.

“I shan’t give you the opportunity,” Susan returned primly.

“All right. I’ll wait here. If you want me, throw something through the window.”

Susan ran up the steps and rang the bell.

A loose-limbed, elderly man opened the door. “Of course,” he said when Susan had told him who she was, “we were expecting you. Mr. Weidmann is quite bright today and he’s been looking forward to your visit.” He went on to introduce himself as Doctor Edgely and then conducted her along a passage and up some stairs.

“Mr. Weidmann mustn’t be excited,” Edgely said, unlocking a door at the head of another passage. “He’s here for a good rest and then perhaps he will be able to go home.”

He led Susan to a door, tapped gently and opened it.

“Miss Hedder has come to see you, Mr. Weidmann,” he said in that false, breezy tone doctors have for their patients. “I was saying that we mustn’t excite ourselves and we mustn’t keep the young lady too long.”

Kester Weidmann was sitting before a large fire, a rug over his knees and a book in his hand. Susan found the room stiflingly hot.

“Don’t bother me with your claptrap,” Weidmann said, scowling at Edgely. “Let the young woman come in and you go away.”

Susan advanced nervously into the room.

“Sit down,” Edgely said, pushing a chair forward. “There now, we can have a nice cosy chat.”

Weidmann again waved him away. “Do go away,” he implored. “I don’t want a cosy chat and I don’t want you hanging around. I see far too much of you as it is.”

Edgely gave Susan a sly, warning look and took himself off. When he had gone, Weidmann turned in his chair and stared at Susan thoughtfully. He stared so long that she became not only uncomfortable, but distinctly nervous.

“So you are Susan Hedder,” Weidmann said at last. “Forgive me for looking at you so intently, but from what I’ve heard, you are a remarkable young woman.”

“They’re trying to make out that I’m insane. It’s a lot of nonsense. I’m as sane as that old fool of a doctor, not that that is saying much; but if it pleases them to keep me here, I don’t mind. The fact is, my dear, I’m getting old. I can no longer run my business. Do you know why? It’s because my brother is no longer with me. Together we could do anything, but alone, we are very feeble, I’m afraid. Anyway, I’ve got my money, the place is comfortable, and I’m tired of looking after myself, so why not let them keep me here?”

Susan suddenly found that she was not afraid of this little man. He certainly did not look insane and she thought he was nice in a kindly, fatherly way.

So Susan told him how she had met Joe, how she had followed Butch and what had happened after that. She told him everything, including the moving of Cornelius’ body.

Weidmann sat in his chair, his fingertips together and his eyes closed.

When she had finished—it took her over half an hour—he nodded.