With Cause Enough

by Sydney Fowler

The Harvill Press
London
1954

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        A Fast-moving story, with acute characterisation by an expert in detective fiction, involving as nice a legal problem as has ever been presented to detective fans and reintroducing that charming solicitor Mr. Jellipot.

        Three women of very different characters and social backgrounds have been betrayed by the same man. They become acquainted. The man is found murdered in circumstances which suggest that all three must have been present at the time and place of the crime.

        It is evident the murder has been committed by one of them and by one only; they do not deny this but they have entered into a conspiracy of silence, and the two who are innocent will not betray the murderess. By their attitude they become accessories after the fact. All three are therefore law breakers to the knowledge of the police. But which was the murderess? And, in the absence of certainty on this point, what action, if any, can the police take?

        These are the two problems round which the story revolves. The murderess is legally entitled to remain silent since she cannot be obliged to incriminate herself, but which of the women is in this privileged position? All three, the police argue, are liable to prosecution with the certainty of conviction and penalty . . . but . . . only at the point at which the police know which is which. Meanwhile it seems to be impossible to prosecute them for alternative crimes.

        Obviously this is not a position which the C.I.D can take lying down. . . .

CONTENTS

Chapter One	A Pre-nuptial Settlement
Chapter Two	Mr. Nolan requires Legal Advice
Chapter Three	Opinions differ
Chapter Four	Mr. Jellipot is Surprised
Chapter Five	Miss Westerham Explains
Chapter Six	Mr. Nolan is Quite Sure
Chapter Seven	Mr. Jellipot takes Advice
Chapter Eight	"Mrs. Nolan will stay with me"
Chapter Nine	Nolan follows Advice
Chapter Ten	A More Difficult Interview
Chapter Eleven	Lady Eleanor takes Advice
Chapter Twelve	Nolan proceeds
Chapter Thirteen	Committal
Chapter Fourteen	Day of Battle
Chapter Fifteen	Case for the Prosecution
Chapter Sixteen	Mrs. Lingfield in the Witness-box
Chapter Seventeen	Episodes
Chapter Eighteen	Mrs. Bruce Nolan calls
Chapter Nineteen	Conference between Lawyers
Chapter Twenty	Lady Eleanor learns the Truth
Chapter Twenty-one	Murder
Chapter Twenty-two	A Difficult Situation
Chapter Twenty-three	Inquest
Chapter Twenty-four	Dr. Ritchie sums up
Chapter Twenty-five	In the Jury Room
Chapter Twenty-six	Activities of the Chief Inspector
Chapter Twenty-seven	Bargain with the Police
Chapter Twenty-eight	Mainly Concerning Mabudaland
Chapter Twenty-nine	Marriages
Chapter Thirty	Confession
Chapter Thirty-one	Hesitations
Chapter Thirty-two	Mrs. Nolan must think again
Chapter Thirty-three	Escape?
Chapter Thirty-four	The Unexpected
Chapter Thirty-five	Arrest
Chapter Thirty-six	Sergeant Spencer thinks there is Something Wrong
Chapter Thirty-seven	Surprise for the Chief Inspector
Chapter Thirty-eight	Principle of Reciprocity
Chapter Thirty-nine	A Policy of Suspense
Chapter Forty	Chase
Chapter Forty-one	With Night Ahead
Chapter Forty-two	So Near, and Yet -

CHAPTER ONE

A PRE-NUPTIAL SETTLEMENT

        IT WAS the early summer of 1930. For nearly six months Edith Westerham had been Mr. Jellipot's stenographer, and he had had no cause for complaint, either as to the discretion of her conduct, or the quality of her work.

        It was about half-past four on Wednesday afternoon when the bell rang which notified her that he required her attendance.

        Her room opened into the outer office, through which those who left Mr. Jellipot's room would pass out, unless he should give them exit by a private door, which he seldom did.

        She rose with alacrity, and as she opened her door a young man, probably of not more than twenty-five, came out of the solicitor's room. He was not one whom it would be easy to overlook. He was tall, well-made, and handsomer than most people consider a man should be. He walked out briskly, giving no glance to the three male clerks who were at work behind the long counter at his left hand, or to the girl who stood at her half-open door, and who had paused for a moment there. But he had to walk the length of a large room while she stood sideways to him, and she had a good view, of which she made full use, her eyes following him to the door. Then she went on to take her employer's instructions.

        "I remember," Mr. Jellipot said, "that you have my permission to leave at five."

        "Yes," she said, as though her mind were on other things.

        "Will it inconvenience you greatly if I ask you to stay for another hour?"

        "Oh, I don't know . . . I mean, of course not. Not at all."

        "Miss Westerham," Mr. Jellipot asked, with his usual mildness, "are you listening to what I say?"

        The young lady appeared to rouse herself from a straying mind. She looked slightly confused, which might have surprised one who knew her well, for her feelings were not normally easy to read. "I am sorry," she said. "But it really doesn't matter at all."

        Mr. Jellipot was aware that she had recovered her usual alertness and self-possession as she said this. Her eyes met his directly. They were fine eyes. Large. Dark brown. With good brows. Mr. Jellipot may have been aware of these facts, but his mind was on the business he had to do. He began at once to instruct her with habitual lucidity.

        "This document," he said, "is the draft of a settlement to be made by Lady Eleanor Cresswell upon Mr. Bruce Nolan in anticipation of marriage. Her solicitor sent it to me this morning, and I have just taken Mr. Nolan's instructions upon it. He desires certain alterations which will necessitate - "

        "You mean the gentleman who has just left you?"

        "Yes. It will necessitate - "

        "That was Mr. Nolan who went out as I came in?"

        Mr. Jellipot looked surprised at this second interruption, but it was not natural to him to be rude to any woman, even though she might be his stenographer.

        "Yes. That was Mr. Bruce Nolan. Is the point of importance?"

        "I thought it might have been his solicitor - or - well, someone representing him."

        "I am Mr. Nolan's solicitor. As I was trying to say, the alterations proposed will involve a substantial re-drafting which I shall wish to submit to Messrs. Cole and Tilson not later than ten-thirty tomorrow morning. I will dictate it now, together with the covering letter it will require."

        Miss Westerham showed no further curiosity. She opened her notebook, and took down the solicitor's dictation with practised speed.

        When it was finished, she returned to her own room, completed the letters on which she had been engaged, and turned to the draft settlement, which she read with a closeness which may have assisted her to avoid errors in the suggested amendments she had to type; but when these, and the covering letter, were done, she showed no haste to be gone. Mr. Jellipot left. The clerks left. The noise of the caretaker's broom could be heard in the passage. But she still remained. It seemed that she was drafting a letter which she found great difficulty in wording to her satisfaction, and which must have been of particular privacy, for, after glancing at the empty grate, she tore up the rejected drafts, and put them into her bag.

        But, at last, she appeared satisfied with the wording which she had scribbled. She took some plain letter-paper from her desk, and typed it quickly. "I shall miss the last post," she said, half aloud, "if I lose any more time." She wished that there should be no risk of that.

CHAPTER TWO

MR. NOLAN REQUIRES LEGAL ADVICE

MR. JELLIPOT arrived at his office at about ten minutes to ten next day, and had not completed inspection of the morning's correspondence when he was told that Mr. Nolan had called, and wished to see him.

        He hesitated for a moment, feeling an impulse to say that he was too fully engaged, for there were matters of urgency on his mind, and he had given the gentleman a large part. of the previous afternoon. Besides, until he had received Mr. Tilson's reply to the suggested alterations, what more could there be to discuss? But caution and courtesy combined to lead him to a different decision. After all, he could make it a short interview, if it were no more than the time-wasting call of an over-anxious man. And suppose that the lovers had quarrelled yesterday evening? Such things do occur . . . "Yes, show him in."

        Mr. Jellipot saw at once that if it were not a lovers' quarrel of which he was to hear, it was likely to be something at least equally serious. His client's face had nothing of the smiling charm which had carried him so pleasantly through the years of his early manhood, and was now bringing in rich dividends in the form of a marriage settlement from a wealthy and lovely bride. His manner was flustered, and his hand shook slightly, as he held out a letter, with the words, "I had this by the morning's post. I've no idea what it means. But I thought I'd better bring it to you to deal with."

        Mr. Jellipot took the letter in his usual unhurried manner. He said: "Yes?" in a tentative voice, as he opened the single quarto sheet, and read:

33 Ashfield Terrace,
S.W.3.

Dear Mr. Bruce Nolan (or whatever you prefer to call yourself now),
        If you will send me £200 during the next seven days, I won't say you'll never hear from me again, because I shall expect the same payment annually, but subject to that being made, which you will easily be able to afford, you will have no interference from me.
        After the way you have behaved, I don't want to see you again, and it's nothing to me whom you "marry", though it hardly seems fair to her. But I suppose we most of us get, more or less, what we deserve.
        Anyway, that's how it is.
        If I don't hear from you, Lady Eleanor will certainly hear from me.

EDITH

        Mr. Jellipot read this carefully twice over, before making any remark upon it. Then he looked up to ask: "You have kept the envelope?"

        "Yes. Here it is."

        "Probably it is of no importance. But it is evidence of its having been sent to you . . . It appears that the lady considers that you are worth blackmailing . . . Who is she?"

        "I have no idea whatever."

        "Really?"

        "I have no recollection of having known anyone of that name since I was at a preparatory school."

        "Then it has the appearance of being a particularly audacious blackmailing attempt, of a rather amateur kind. The writer does not give her full name, but, without that, she should be easy to trace. Accepting your assurance that you do not know her, we must suppose that a letter addressed merely to 'Edith' will come into the writer's hands . . . It is clearly a matter for the police."

        "You mean I ought to prosecute the writer?"

        "It is often a public duty to do so. But I may add that publicity does not necessarily follow. Your name would probably be suppressed, and the newspapers are particularly discreet where the prosecution of blackmailers is concerned."

        "It wouldn't take much of a report to get Eleanor guessing."

        "You would prefer to take no notice of it whatever?"

        "If I do that, she says she'll go to Eleanor."

        "Which may be no more than an idle threat. If the writer is really a stranger to you, that is the most likely presumption."

        "Then what do you advise?"

        "I think you had better leave this letter with me, and I will get the police to make some enquiries concerning the writer, after which we can discuss the matter again."

        "We shan't be starting anything we can't stop? Not without my consent?"

        "If you mean will the police start a prosecution themselves without your consent, I think I can assure you absolutely that it would not occur . . . But I would add one further caution. In consulting the police, it is of the first importance to tell them everything - literally everything that we know. They are particularly keen on convictions of blackmailers, which are most difficult to obtain. Anything, even of a discreditable character, which is confidentially communicated to them in such a connection would be treated very much as it would be, shall I say, by your own solicitor."

        "I have no doubt you are right. But what you say hardly seems to apply in this instance."

        "If you are absolutely certain that the writer of the letter is a stranger to you, then it certainly does not."

        "I am absolutely certain that I don't know who the writer is."

        "That is what I meant, and you have put it with greater accuracy."

        "Well, I can give you my word of honour on that."

        "Then there is no more to be said. . . . I will let you know immediately I have obtained any further information. . . . The revised draft of the settlement will be in the hands of Lady Eleanor's solicitors within the next hour."

        "Oh, I'm not worrying about that. We talked it over last night, and Eleanor said she'll tell Tilson to agree to what you proposed, or she'll let him know where he gets off. I'll have all her business in this office within six months."

        Mr. Jellipot looked uncomfortable. "It is kind of you to suggest that," he said. "But I am already a busy man."

        "Well, it's up to you."

        Mr. Nolan rose. He had recovered some of his normal charm of manner as he shook hands and withdrew, with a neatly-worded assurance of Mr. Jellipot's ability to deal with any number of blackmailers of whatever kind.

        Mr. Jellipot shook hands with little less than his usual cordiality, and telephoned Chief Inspector Combridge as soon as his client left.

        He offered to come to Scotland Yard, but the inspector said he already had business in the city. He would be in Basinghall Street within the next hour.

CHAPTER THREE

OPINIONS DIFFER

CHIEF-INSPECTOR COMBRIDGE had no claim to Mr. Jellipot's faculty of patient, exhaustive, logical analysis which had solved some problems of criminal conduct baffling to official minds. But he was equally patient in seeking facts, and in fitting them into place till a complete picture could be built up.

        He listened to Mr. Jellipot's narrative without interruption, and then began to examine the letter.

        "It's good quality paper," he said. "It might have come out of a professional office."

        "Yes," the solicitor agreed. "It might have come out of mine."

        The inspector was not concerned with fantastic improbabilities. He went on: "It's the signature of an educated woman, too. One who is accustomed to use a pen."

        "Yes. We may find that we are up against something which has been prepared with more ability than the first indications suggest."

        "I wouldn't say that. It's more likely the woman's relying on his not daring to squeal."

        "You don't believe his assertion that he has no idea who she is?"

        "It's not likely, is it?"

        "Perhaps not Unless it be the work of professional blackmailers, who are relying upon his doing nothing which might jeopardise his engagement to Lady Eleanor, and the settlement he's getting from her."

        "It might be that. But why should there be any risk for him?"

        "The lady is said to be of a somewhat violent temper, and a particularly jealous disposition. She has already broken off two engagements. There may, of course, have been good reasons. I have been told that, apart from her temper, she is a very attractive young woman. She is also extremely rich. She may have had reasons which seemed good to her for doubting the motives of those who proposed to her - and she may have been right or wrong. In the present instance, those who know Mr. Nolan may have gambled on the probability that he would pay a few hundreds rather than that anything should occur to rouse her suspicions."

        "Yes. That's possible. But why say that they mean to make him go on paying? After being married, and getting his settlement, he wouldn't be so frightened that he'd do that. They'd have no real hold on him at all."

        "I am theorising," the solicitor replied, "on most incomplete data, and I may be very far from the facts, but it appears to me that there is some basis for an opposite deduction. They might think that he would reconcile himself the more easily to a single payment if he looked forward to a time when they would come again, and he would have the pleasure of kicking them down the stairs.

        "And, apart from that, you do not need me to tell you that the position would not be as simple for him as it is now, after one payment has been made. It is too near to a confession of guilt for those who pay once to gather courage easily to resist further demands."

        "Yes. And they mostly are guilty too. There may be cases of innocent men being blackmailed. I've no doubt there are. But I can't say that they've come my way."

        "No. They are the exceptions, no doubt. And we may have come on one of them in this case."

        "I'll keep an open mind about that. At any rate until I've found out who Edith is. I daresay Crabtree will know something about her."

        Superintendent Crabtree had made a special study of blackmailing in all its branches. He had a wide knowledge of those who practised it habitually, including some who had been too astute to come into the hands of the police. If this were the work of any regular practitioners, it was probable that he could not merely identify them, but give valuable guidance as to the procedure they would be likely to follow.

        But when Combridge saw the Superintendent an hour later, he could give no assistance beyond expressing a decided opinion that the letter was the work of an amateur hand.

        "You'll find," he said confidently, "that it's from a woman he's let down. She won't have done anything to cover her tracks, and she probably won't admit she's done anything wrong. It's her sort who are the easiest to catch, and the least worth catching.

        "Of course, that sort of thing ought to be stopped, though I've had cases where I'd rather have seen the other party put in the dock. You'll find it an easy case to solve, though it will end in smoke, for Nolan won't prosecute. All you'll be able to do is to warn her off, and you'll have had the satisfaction of helping a cad."

        With such comfort as could be derived from this confident opinion, Chief Inspector Combridge went at about seven o'clock that evening to make enquiries at 33 Ashfield Terrace, which, as he had already ascertained from the house agents, was occupied by Mrs. Corelli, the English widow of an Italian, who let it out in service rooms. He went with the intention of interviewing the residents there to whatever extent might be necessary to enable him to identify the writer of the letter, but after a short talk with Mrs. Corelli he came away. He had obtained the information he required without difficulty, and he had become an astonished and thoughtful man.

CHAPTER FOUR

MR. JELLIPOT IS SURPRISED

"You look," Mr. Jellipot said, "as though you are about to tell me something of greater gravity than I was expecting to hear."

        "I don't know about that. I think you will be surprised."

        "Well, I often am. But why should I be surprised now? It is a matter on which I have a most open mind."

        "You remember saying that the paper that letter was written on might have come from this office? Well, suppose it did?"

        "We will suppose it if you wish. But on what grounds? It is obviously improbable and would, I suppose, be very difficult to prove if it were true.

        "You may not know that Whitaker's sell that paper to a large proportion - probably a large majority - of the professional offices within a quarter of a mile of this street."

        "I daresay they do. But would Miss Westerham have access to those supplies, as she has to yours?"

        "Does the question arise? . . . Combridge, if you would tell me what you have found out - or what you surmise, which may not be quite the same thing - in a straightforward manner, you might be saving your time and mine."

        "Well, that's soon done. Number thirty-three Ashfield Terrace is let out in service rooms. Mrs. Corelli, an Englishwoman, widow of an Italian, is the proprietress. She answered questions frankly and seems reliable. She gave me a list of the lodgers. Mostly men. The only woman named Edith among them is Edith Westerham, a stenographer. Mrs. Corelli volunteered the information that she works for a solicitor named Jellipot in Basinghall Street."

        "Well, I am certainly surprised. It would deserve the word as a mere matter of coincidence, if Miss Westerham had nothing to do with the matter. Did you get any particulars from Mrs. Corelli concerning Miss Westerham's private life or friendships?"

        "She says that the girl has always been reticent about personal affairs. 'One as keeps herself to herself.' But yesterday she made a curious request which may have some connection with the matter. She said that a letter might be arriving for a Mrs. Lingfield, and asked that it should be given to her. She said that Mrs. Lingfield was a friend for whom she had agreed to take the letter in. . . . The normal procedure is that the postman puts all the letters into a box, of which Mrs. Corelli has the key, and she takes them out and distributes them among racks in the hall, which are numbered to correspond with the rooms."

        Mr. Jellipot had had time to consider the position while this explanation proceeded. Now he gave facts for facts.

        "Miss Edith Westerham is my stenographer. I have had her for about six months. I took her from the Townsend Secretarial Bureau without references other than their recommendation. She has been satisfactory in every way. The night before last she typed a document from which she would have learnt the particulars which are the basis of the letter. That she wrote it is a reasonable presumption, though it is not proved."

        "It is impossible to defend. It is almost impossible to explain. It is possible that it is nothing worse - or better - than a practical joke. She used her own address, and must have known - if she considered the matter at all - that enquiry would be certain discovery . . . It is exceedingly difficult to imagine any plausible explanation.

        "If she wrote the letter as a practical joke, she would want to see what the reply would be. She couldn't get it without giving her address. She may have thought that she concealed her identity sufficiently, in a house full of people, by giving only her Christian name."

        "Then she must be an extremely foolish young woman . . . But we shall get no further forward till we hear what she has to say. I propose to ask her for an explanation at once, as I am clearly entitled to do. . . . If you would like to be present, I think that, as I have consulted you on that matter, it would be a request I could not refuse."

        Chief Inspector Combridge would have liked a little more time to consider the expediency of this step. He might have preferred to have a talk with Bruce Nolan first, and perhaps arrange for the money to be offered in a room in which he would be concealed, so that he could step out to arrest her when her guilt would be beyond denial.

        But Mr. Jellipot had already touched the bell which communicated with the stenographer's room. In a moment, she might appear. He could not prevent her employer's questioning her and, if that were to be done, he certainly like to hear her replies. But he had another doubt. However keen the hunt for a criminal may be, it must be done according to rules. He said: that she ought not to be cautioned, if you're going to - "

        "I'm not going to take a statement from her, if you mean that. All I want is the truth. I shall tell her who you are and she can refuse to explain, if she likes. It's just possible that she can't - that she knows nothing about it, though that's hard to think. If so, she is directly concerned in finding out what the explanation is . . . You can keep entirely silent, if you prefer."

        Feeling that he was being rushed, but that matters were beyond his control, Combridge said no more. After all, Mr. Jellipot was an experienced lawyer, and the matter concerned the discipline of his own office, apart from its larger issues . . . And by this time Miss Westerham was in the room.

CHAPTER FIVE

MISS WESTERHAM EXPLAINS

THE girl came into the room, notebook in hand, and sat down in her usual chair. It happened frequently that she was summoned to take dictation in a client's presence, and she scarcely glanced at the detective officer as she waited for Mr. Jellipot to begin.

        But when he did speak her expression quickly changed. The inspector, watching closely, saw the sudden pallor of her face as Mr. Jellipot came to the point at once.

        "There is a letter here on my desk which Mr. Bruce Nolan received yesterday morning. This is Chief Inspector Combridge from Scotland Yard, who is making enquiries concerning it. You will therefore understand that anything you say is being communicated to the police. The letter makes use of confidential information which came to your knowledge in the course of your duties here. It bears your address. Its purport is to demand money with threats. It is signed with your Christian name. Is there anything that you wish to say?"

        "I wrote it, if that's what you want to know. But I didn't think he'd be such a fool."

        "To whom do you refer?"

        "Mr. Bruce Nolan, if that happens to be his real name."

        "I can assure you it is. You mean you thought he'd pay the money rather than risk a scandal?"

        "I didn't know what he'd do. I thought he'd come to try to talk me over, more likely than not, or to get better terms. But even he'd have needed some cheek for that. I didn't think he'd go to the police."

        "May I ask why not?"

        "Well, it's not what I wanted to happen. It's no good to me, and it must be ruin to him when it all comes out, as I suppose it will now. No, I didn't think he'd be such a fool."

        "When what comes out?"

        "That he's married to me."

        "You have proof of that?"

        "Well, we've got a child."

        Mr. Jellipot did not make the obvious reply that parenthood is no proof of marriage. He went on as though assuming that her assertions were true.

        "Do I understand rightly that, knowing that he was married to you, you would have kept silence while he went through the pretence of marriage with another woman, if you were paid to do so?"

        "I shouldn't put it that way. He owes me something, doesn't he?"

        "I should require to know much more than I do now before I could answer that. But so long as you were paid the sum you mentioned, you would have allowed his marriage to Lady Eleanor to take place without disclosing that you are his wife already? Is that what you wish me to believe?"

        "Yes, I should have been glad."

        "Why?"

        "Because it would have been best all round. If no one knew, what was the harm? He wouldn't have let it out after marrying her. And I should have been free. If you look at it sensibly, that's how it would have worked. But now he's gone to the police, I should say he's in the soup, and it's just what he deserves."

        "I am afraid it is your own position you have to consider, rather than his. Can you tell me when and where the marriage took place?

        "Yes, of course. It was June 22nd, 1927, at the Marylebone Registrar's."

        "You have the certificate?"

        "No. Harry kept that."

        "Who was he?"

        "That was what he called himself then. Harry Lingfield."

        "Then your real name is Mrs. Lingfield?"

        "Yes, unless he gave a false name, as I suppose he did. I don't know what it would be then."

        "It is a reasonable qualification. But as you are probably aware, a false name does not invalidate such a marriage, if it be regular in other particulars."

        "Well, I wish it did."

        Mr. Jellipot became silent for a long minute, during which the inspector thought of several questions he would like to put, but had the discretion to maintain a difficult silence. Then Mr. Jellipot said: "The matter which appeared serious before has assumed additional gravity as a result of the statements which you have made. For the moment you had better go back to your work, while I discuss with Chief Inspector Combridge what the next step shall be."

        Mrs. Lingfield (if that were really her legal name) rose but seemed in no haste to go. She looked as though there were other things she would like to say. But like the inspector she controlled her disposition to further speech and went slowly out of the room.

        She had scarcely closed the door when the inspector began: "You're going to keep that girl on?"

        "No. I have not decided to do so. I should think it's highly improbable. Apart from the more serious aspects of the case, she has betrayed her trust to myself in a manner which would be very difficult to overlook. But it is not a matter in which I should act in haste."

        "You believe her tale?"

        "Do you?"

        "I don't know what to think."

        "Neither do I. I conclude that either she or Nolan is a particularly cool and audacious criminal. There is no escaping from that. The question is which; and it is one on which we should not risk a mistake. I should be disposed to believe her largely on the ground that no woman of ordinary intelligence would hope to sustain such a tale if it were false, but for one overriding objection. If Bruce Nolan had really married her and were now proposing to commit bigamy, is it conceivable that he would have brought her letter to me, and consented to my suggestion that it should be passed on to you?"

        "That's how it looks to me. But it's a queer world . . . I thought you might have asked her a bit more that you did."

        "And I was not sure that I ought not to give her an opportunity of being separately advised . . . But the decisive reason was that if she talked for a year she could not have said substantially more than she had already. It seems to me that the next step must be to inform Nolan of the assertions that she has made.

        "If he admit their truth, his own position will be too discreditable - I should say too criminal - to allow of his prosecuting her; if he maintain that they are false, he is bound to take action; should he bring a jury to that view, she will have made her position immensely worse by the allegations she has made against him. It was in view of that possibility that I wondered whether she ought not to be given an opportunity of having separate advice.

        "I propose to get Nolan here this afternoon, and that we see him together."

        The inspector said that nothing would suit him better than that.

CHAPTER SIX

MR. NOLAN IS QUITE SURE

MR. NOLAN shook hands with Mr. Jellipot and was introduced to Chief Inspector Combridge by whom his charming smile was not warmly reciprocated, for the red-headed and somewhat blunt-nosed detective officer had a prejudice against handsome men.

        Ignoring this lack of cordiality, Nolan took charge of the conversation before Mr. Jellipot's more leisurely method had come into action. Mr. Jellipot did not mind that. He was always willing to listen. He knew that it is the listener, not the talker, who learns.

        "I've been thinking this over," Mr. Nolan began, "and I've decided that, if you've been able to find the woman who wrote that letter and have warned her of the kind of mess she'll be in if she tries to make trouble with Eleanor, I should be rather a fool not to leave it there.

        "I suppose I might prosecute without Eleanor's hearing about it but it seems an off chance to me, and that's the only angle from which I'm concerned about it in any way. But for her, I should probably have just thrown the letter on to the fire and wondered at the folly of anyone wasting the price of a stamp on so silly an attempt . . . You see," he added, turning to Combridge with a pleasant modulation of voice, as though he were giving him information of a particularly confidential character, "Lady Eleanor is inclined to be just a little unreasonable where other women are concerned, and I have to take that into account. If she should hear that I were prosecuting a woman on such grounds, it might be just as difficult to convince her that there was nothing in it as if the woman were to go with some lie to her . . . And whatever threats she may make, I don't see that she'd gain anything by that apart from the warning she's had from you."

        "I can't say I have warned her so far," Combridge answered with some irritation, being less patient than Mr. Jellipot at having the conversation taken out of their hands in such a manner. "I don't say that I should have adopted that course under other circumstances, but the fact is that the position has developed in an unexpected way."

        Mr. Jellipot spoke for the first time: "I don't think you can usefully discuss what course you will be wise to take till you know the full facts, as we have them now. In the first place, I have an explanation to give you and an apology to offer. You may have wondered through what channel the negotiation of the proposed settlement, or other relevant circumstances, became known to your correspondent. The fact is that she is a stenographer in this office and abused the confidential knowledge which came to her in that capacity."

        "You mean that she's here with you!" There was no doubt of the depth of astonishment that this information caused. The inspector, watching keenly and wishing that a different method had been pursued, that Nolan had been confronted with the lady who claimed so intimate a connection with him, thought that for a second there was an appearance of consternation also; but, if so, it was too transient for certainty, and it is easy to imagine that which we look to see.

        "Yes, I regret to say that that is the fact," Mr. Jellipot replied. "I must also tell you that the lady makes an assertion which, should she persist in it, would render it impossible in my judgement for you to contract the marriage which you now contemplate without first taking legal action against her. In a word, she asserts that she is your wife."

        "That's laying it on a bit thick."

        "She says precisely that she was married to you, in the name of Harry Lingfield, at the Marylebone Registrar's Office on June 22nd, 1927."

        "That might be anyone. She hasn't really had the cheek to say that she was married to me?"

        "Not in your own name. The matter might be disposed of, one way or the other, very much more easily if she had."

        "I expect she's too fly for that."

        "It is a legitimate contention."

        Mr. Jellipot knew that there was more than one blackmailing gang operating in London, well financed and controlled by astute, far-seeing men, adroit both to lay cunning plots for foolish or culpable victims and to avoid the penalties of the law. What better place could there be than a solicitor's office in which to obtain the kind of knowledge which their operations required? What better method could there be than to introduce a stenographer to such an office as his? And how could such an introduction be effected without the inconveniences of references through a better medium than that of a secretarial bureau? He saw that they must have a girl of the appearance and capacity which the part required, and then send her for a secretarial training which she might not require, so that she would be recommended in good faith for a confidential position. He blamed himself more keenly than before that he had engaged her with no greater precautions. He had always contemned references, preferring his own judgment of appearance and manner, of voice and the spoken word. But, of course, they would select one who would be expert to speak and act so that confidence would be won.

        Still, would it be good policy to use such an opportunity to act as Miss Westerham - or whatever her name might be - was now doing? Whatever other results it might have, would it not end her usefulness as a procuress of the confidential knowledge which she might have passed on to her employers for their evil uses for years to come? Surely it would have been sounder to keep the two roles apart? . . . But perhaps there was a limit to the number of ladies available for these diverse, but equally essential parts? . . .

        Such were the doubts that passed through the solicitor's very open and scrupulously logical mind during a long minute of silence, for Chief Inspector Combridge had decided to listen rather than to attempt to lead the course of the conversation, being uncertain of what part it might be necessary for the police ultimately to take; and Bruce Nolan was also facing a position which had given him cause for thoughts of a very different kind.

        Mr. Jellipot spoke again. "The issue is at least one about which there can be no ambiguity on your side. On hers, the possibility of mistaken identity might conceivably arise. But when she says she is married to you, and you say you are unmarried, and do not know her at all, you cannot be mistaken in what you say. . . . Should you like me to call her in?"

        Combridge's eyes were on Nolan's face as this question was asked, for he considered that he provided the most doubtful element of the problem. He did not doubt that it was a case of blackmailing, on which point he considered that the letter spoke for itself. But he knew that the guilt of Edith Westerham did not imply the innocence of Bruce Nolan. Most of the blackmailed men who had to be coaxed into prosecuting, and protected from hostile publicity like hothouse flowers, were of a vicious or criminal type. The less usual feature of this case was that the blackmailer asserted that she herself was the victim rather than one into whose hands documents or knowledge had come concerning an event which she did not share; and that augmented the probability that her assertions had at least some substance of fact. But probability is not proof.

        Now he thought that he saw again that momentary shadow of fear which he had imagined or noticed before. But again - if it were not imagination - it was too slight and transient for any certain deduction to be founded upon it. Then the naturally harassed man looked at Mr. Jellipot with a smile by the charm of which few men and fewer women would be entirely uninfluenced. "It is a matter," he said, "on which I should be guided by you entirely."

        Mr. Jellipot could not object to that. He was Mr. Nolan's solicitor in other matters, if not precisely in the unexpected issue that had arisen. But it was just that fact which made him slow to reply. Was it wise to confront the two, in the presence of a police-officer? To get at the truth, probably yes. In Nolan's interest? That must largely depend upon what the truth might be. Anyway, it was a responsibility he would not take till he should be better informed, or his position should be clearer than it now was.

        "Then," he said, "I think, for the moment, I will withdraw the suggestion. Instead of that, I will give you some advice which may not be easy to follow, but I believe you will find it to be sound, on the presumption - and only on the presumption - that you are a stranger to Miss Westerham."

        Mr. Nolan spoke readily now. He may be said to have interrupted the solicitor's leisurely periods, to interject: "I give you my word of honour on that. I cannot say that I have never met the lady. How could I? But I say emphatically that I have never married anyone, at Marylebone or anywhere else, and I have not the least idea who the young woman is."

        "Then my advice is this. It is not a matter on which it would be wise for me to represent you, particularly in view of the fact that the allegation comes from someone in my employment. Next to myself, Lady Eleanor's solicitors are most conversant with the whole position, and she, from a different angle, is almost as nearly concerned in clearing it up as you are yourself. If you go to them and lay the whole position frankly before them, it is a confidence which they can hardly fail to appreciate, and may largely influence the advice which they will in any case almost certainly be giving Lady Eleanor upon it before many days are past.

        "At the same time, you should tell her everything, including that you have gone to them. If you take that course, you may win her confidence and support, which you will naturally wish to have."

        "What will be done with the letter?"

        "You will give it to them yourself."

        "Very well. I'll do that."

        Mr. Nolan rose, shook hands with smiling cordiality both with Mr. Jellipot and the representative of the detective police, and went out to follow the advice he had received.

        Chief Inspector Combridge also rose. "It's Marylebone for me," he remarked. "And after that - "

        "After that we shall be about where we are now, unless Miss Westerham has told a lie which could not fail to be promptly exposed - and that is too much to hope."

        "Well, we've got to find out . . . But I think we should have kept the letter."

        "It is Mr. Nolan's property. In any case, it will be quite safe in the hands of Cole and Tilson."

        "Yes. I suppose so. I'll probably be seeing you again tomorrow. Going to keep the girl on?"

        "It would be an improbable assumption. But I shall have another talk with her before I decide anything finally."

        The inspector went, and Mr. Jellipot looked along his shelves to refresh his memory upon the law of blackmail; after doing which he said aloud: "Well, we have to take the law as it is . . . But I wonder what Patience would say to that."

        Then he rang for Miss Westerham.

CHAPTER SEVEN

MR. JELLIPOT TAKES ADVICE

MR. JE:LLIPOT did not go home when he left his office. He had an appointment to dine with Miss Patience Manly at the Waldorf that evening.

        Miss Manly was a lady of somewhat less than his own years, a member of the Society of Friends, of a robust vitality. This vitality, by a natural law, did something to reduce her apparent age, but in doing this it had no assistance from her. She was of sound and lively mind, and a directness of downright speech which Mr. Jellipot did not fail both to admire and enjoy, though it contrasted with his own qualified discretions.

        Their acquaintance, which had ripened into a friendship of increasing intimacy, had begun in the improbable atmosphere of a bizarre murder in the quiet village of Jordans. It was now habitual, when she came into town for a day's shopping or to attend one of the rather numerous committees on which she sat, to telephone the solicitor, so that they could arrange to dine together before she returned to the sober dignity of her Jordans home.

        "Edward," she said, as soon as she had ordered the meal (for that was a matter which he had learned the advantage of leaving to her), "you have something more than the usual business preoccupations upon your mind."

        "That is so," he replied. "It is a story which cannot properly be told in a few words. But. if it will not weary you, I should particularly value your opinion upon it."

        Miss Manly smiled. "I don't suppose I shall go to sleep. But is it anything relating to a client's affairs?"

        "Yes. It is a serious - almost certainly criminal - and extraordinary affair. One of two parties (a young woman) is an unscrupulous and audacious criminal, or the other (a man to whom she says she is married) is contemplating bigamy with an equal disregard of the penal consequences involved."

        "A woman wouldn't be likely to say she was married to a man of that sort, if it weren't true."

        "It is not as simple as that. There is a question of blackmail also."

        "It sounds interesting." Miss Manly's very blue eyes - the attractive feature of a plain face - were directed disconcertingly upon her companion as she added, with a humorous smile: "I remember you once told me what you thought of a solicitor who discussed his client's affairs with his wife."

        "But you are not my wife. There is no parallel whatever."

        Mr. Jellipot's protest was made with more haste than he usually showed, and it might have been difficult to find any living person who had seen him look as confused as he did next moment.

        He was aware at once that there was no sense in what he had said, and he was acutely conscious that he had brought a subject on which he spent much anxious debate into the forefront of his mind, and perhaps of hers.

        Should he ask her to marry him, what would her answer be? Should she consent, would it be a matter for future congratulation or regret?

        They were both of settled habits, of mature years, used to freedom in the control of their own homes.

        Probably she would refuse, with a kindly word and a characteristic smile. But would she add that the friendship had better end? He would regret that. His acquaintances were many, his friendships few.

        Another thought had troubled him much of late. Was he acting in an unseemly manner by developing the acquaintance for so long a time without making such a proposal?

        He had not lived for fifty observant years without realising that many women would expect an offer of marriage under such circumstances, or that affirmative replies are frequently given.

        Patience Manly's eyes did not leave his face, and he might have been even more disconcerted had he known how exactly she read his thoughts. What she said was: "Oh well, if that's clear to you! Anyway, go ahead."

        "The matter," Mr. Jellipot said, with a quick return to the verbal precision and logical adroitness which were normal to him, "is not solely that of a client. In addition to the fact that it is one on which I have already advised him, and he has agreed, to instruct another firm, there is the troublesome circumstance that a member of my office staff is involved, and I am not entirely certain that developments may not follow in which I should myself be the defendant in a legal action."

        "Then someone will be asking for trouble. I can give you that opinion without waiting to hear the facts. But I'm getting really curious to know what they are."

        With this encouragement, Mr. Jellipot narrated them with a lucid brevity which yet took him far through the course of a somewhat neglected meal before he came to the point at which he had called Miss Westerham into his office that afternoon.

        "I told her," he said, "that she would be wise to say nothing more, whatever the truth might be, until she had listened carefully to what I had to say to her.

        "I then told her that, even if she were Nolan's wife, it did not justify her in taking the course she did. When she saw him in my office she was, of course, free to assert her relationship, but not to use information of a confidential character subsequently acquired. She should have reported the whole matter to me."

        "I don't say you were wrong. But still, when a woman - "

        "Anyway, that is what I said. I went on to explain the law of criminal libel as it applied to such a letter as she had written - to the demanding of money by menace in any form - and I warned her of the almost certain consequences should she persist in her statements, if they were not true. I pointed out that, unless they were immediately withdrawn, a searching enquiry must be made, which would be certain to expose their falsity, and that while her position, after such a confession, might be very serious, she would have taken the only possible course to mitigate, if not to avert, the legal peril in which she lay.

        "On the other hand, if she had said no more than the truth, I should be able, without justifying what she had written, to take a widely different view, and would be disposed to consider to what extent I could assist her to obtain her undoubted rights."

        "She kept quiet while you said all that?"

        "Absolutely. Then she asked me a question: 'Do you think I want to be married to that cad?' And I replied that I wished in the first place to have a direct statement of the facts of the case, and we could then discuss any questions arising therefrom. After that, we talked for a long time, but, in a word, she persists that her tale is true. I may add that the details she gave make it more improbable than it sounded before."

        "How was that?"

        "She asserts that the circumstances of the marriage, and of some subsequent co-habitation which took place, were such that they may be less easy to prove than would be supposed."

        "It sounds as though she got into the hands of a very cunning rogue."

        "It is open to that explanation. It is also true that, if the whole story be a concocted plot, that is exactly the nature of the defence which would be set up."

        "But you believe her?"

        "She either told me the truth - more or less - or she is one of the most accomplished liars I have ever encountered in twenty-five years of legal practice. But as to that, it must not be overlooked that, if she be a professional blackmailer, she will certainly be an expert actress. And it may be added that women are commonly more skilful liars than men."

        "You really think that?"

        "I did not intend to imply that their standard of truth is lower. That would be a generalisation on which I would hesitate. But, on the average, they are less clumsy than men."

        "So it was a compliment? . . . What do you intend to do now?"

        "I am undecided. I told her I would consider and let her know in the morning, when she is to come into the office to clear up her work."

        "So you have sacked her?"

        "I thought it inexpedient to retain her services, for more reasons than one."

        "Has she any means of living?"

        "I told her that she would be paid a month's salary when she comes in tomorrow."

        "Then you did believe her?"

        "That would be going too far. She says that she is without means and that she has a child to support. It is a risk that I could not take."

        "No. You wouldn't. I should rather like to see this young woman. I've never met a real blackmailer. Not one on the active list, anyway."

        "It is what I hoped you would say. I thought you might get at the truth more surely than I feel able to do."

        "You mustn't depend on that."

        "It is my best hope."

        "Well, I'll have a try. You think she'll come?"

        "Not certainly. She may have seen that the game was up and have gone into hiding. In some ways it would be the best end of the matter for which we could hope."

        "It would go far towards clearing Nolan."

        "It would go all the way. And I should be glad of that."

        "All the way?"

        "Yes. I think so. Her talc was circumstantial about the child, which she says is boarded in Devonshire. I have the alleged address."

        "Yes. I see what you mean. Though - "

        "There are almost always qualifications. We may put that aside. You will come to Basinghall Street in the morning?"

        "Yes. About eleven."

        "I told her that you would be unlikely to be earlier than that."

        "You told her?"

        "As a possibility only. I did not, of course, mention your name."

        "Well, I'll do what I can. But we'd better be moving now, or I shall miss the train I said I'd be on. . . . It's my turn for the bill."

        Mr. Jellipot did not contest that. It was in accordance with a bargain they had made when these evening meetings had shown signs of a regular frequency. Miss Manly had said that for him always to pay was an assertion of the inferiority of women, which she would not lightly admit.

        Actually, they both had that indifference to money which is possible only to those to whom it comes in sufficient quantity without anxious effort, and to whom cupidity is an unnatural vice.

CHAPTER EIGHT

"MRS. NOLAN WILL STAY WITH ME."

CHIEF INSPECTOR COMBRIDGE called upon Mr. Jellipot next morning. He said: "I found out this much, and it supports the girl's tale as far as it goes, but you'll say that's no great distance. A woman who gave the name of Edith Westerham was certainly married to a man who gave the name of Henry Lingfield, on the date she says. The witnesses to the marriage were Connie Jones, who is dead (she was a professional witness, known to the registrar's officer), and a Lucille Belloes, who ought to help if she can be found.

        "Of course, the registrar doesn't remember what they looked like, nor anyone else there. It isn't likely he would. Then there are the signatures. There may be some help in them.

        "But what I'd like to know is where they went after they were married. Nolan isn't a man that people would forget or mistake. Not if he's stayed in their house. Even with a hotel, there'd be a good chance. But I expect she'll say he left her at once."

        "On the contrary, she says that they were together for between three and four weeks. But there may be difficulties for all that."

        "Still got her with you?"

        "She is leaving this morning. At present, Miss Manly is with her."

        "Miss Manly? . . . Oh, I see. You've called her in to help . . . Well, I'd say she'd get at the truth if anyone could."

        "I should value her opinion as to the girl's veracity. I wouldn't go beyond that."

        "You believe her tale?"

        "I am in grave doubt. I would like to believe both Nolan and her, which is impossible. But it appears probable that she will stand her ground."

        "Then Nolan will have to prosecute."

        "He certainly will, if he still intends to marry Lady Eleanor . . . Or, we might say, anyone else. . . . I suppose you will offer to conceal his name in the usual way?"

        "I expect we shall."

        "It is a monstrous injustice."

        Chief Inspector Combridge was not infrequently startled by the solicitor's opinions on the law which in different ways they both served, but he had rarely been more than he was now.

        He said bluntly: "I don't see what you mean by that. If we didn't, we couldn't get the blackmailers run in at all."

        "Probably not. And to discourage blackmail is a most meritorious end. But should not both names be protected equally?"

        "Cover up the blackmailer's name? We don't think helping that scum is any business of ours."

        "Naturally not. But is it not a principle of English law that an accused person is considered innocent till conviction is obtained?"

        "Well, that might apply to everyone we round up."

        "So it should. The question of whether the name of any accused person should be published without his own consent is a large one, and there is much to be said upon either side. But that proceedings should take place at which the name of one party is published and that of the other withheld is contrary to the spirit of equity Or so it appears to me."

        "Well, we don't do it for that."

        Mr. Jellipot did not pursue the subject further. He said: "Perhaps before you leave you would like me to ascertain whether Miss Manly has learnt anything which she thinks you should know."

        "Yes. That suits me."

        Mr. Jellipot took up the receiver. He said: "I should like a word with Miss Manly, if she's still in Miss Westerham's room . . . Very well, bring it in."

        He turned to the inspector to explain: "Miss Manly and Miss Westerham have gone out together. Miss Manly has left a note for me."

        Next moment a clerk brought it in. It was an unfolded half sheet of paper. He read in Miss Manly's rather bold writing: "Mrs. Nolan is coming home witl me, where she will stay unless I let you know otherwise. Perhaps you will telephone me this evening."

        Mr. Jellipot passed it without comment to the detective officer who whistled as he read it.

        "Mrs. Nolan!" he said. "That means the young woman's pulled it off with her. We're going to see the feathers fly in this case."

        "You may possibly be assuming somewhat beyond the fact," Mr. Jellipot replied cautiously. "Miss Manly may be doing no more than giving her the benefit of a doubt which we all have."

        Inspector Combridge was unmoved by this characteristically cautious view. "Well," he said, "that's how it looks to me." He got up to go.

CHAPTER NINE

NOLAN FOLLOWS ADVICE

MR. TILSON read a letter he did not like. It said:

"Dear Charles,
        Will you please pass the settlement deed as Bruce's lawyer wishes it to be.
        It was nice of you to telephone me, and I know you think you have to look after my interests. But I want Bruce to really be independent in money matters, so that he won't ever feel awkward about it afterwards. You know it makes no real difference to me.

Do understand.
Sincerely,
E."

        "If the man weren't such a bounder - " he muttered angrily, and then drew his long legs from under his desk and strolled into the senior partner's room. "What," he asked, "do you think of this?"

        Mr. Cole, a small, round, rubicund man, with little outward indication of his profession beyond the piercing shrewdness of twinkling eyes, took the letter and read it with one rapid glance.

        "Speaking to 'Dear Charles'," he said, "I can only ask: What did you expect to get? Speaking to a partner in the firm, I must congratulate you on having received a most satisfactory letter."

        "Oh, rot! If he weren't the worst bounder of the three - "

        "Charles, there have been times when I have wondered whether any man who proposed to marry that lady would obtain your approval."

        "What do you think of him yourself?"

        "He is not a type I admire. He is an obvious fortune-hunter. It does not follow that he is not sincerely in love with an attractive girl. . . . Do you think it particularly extraordinary that anyone should be in love with Lady Eleanor?"

        As he spoke, a clerk entered and laid some letters on the senior partner's desk. Observing that Mr. Tilson was in the room, he said: "Mr. Nolan has just called, sir. He said he wants to see you, on urgent business. He'll wait if you are engaged."

        "I wonder," Tilson exclaimed irritably, "what the devil it is now! In any case, he's got his own lawyer. He's got no business to come to me . . . Tell him he'd better see Mr. Jellipot, and he can give me a ring."

        The clerk returned with this message, and Charles Tilson answered his partner's question in a tone which gave evidence that the interruption had not improved his temper.

        "Of course I'm not such a fool as that. The trouble is that, with all the money she's got, she only hooks on to the wrong men."

        "That's because they all look at it the same way."

        "I don't know what on earth you mean."

        "I mean that if one poor man proposes to a girl simply because she's got money, and another doesn't for the same reason, there's not much to choose between them."

        "You mean there's nothing to choose between a decent man and a cad?"

        "I mean they're both putting the money before the girl."

        Charles made no answer to that. He went back to his own room where he received a further message from Nolan, who had declined to leave. He wished Mr. Tilson to know that it was with Mr. Jellipot's knowledge that he had called.

        "Well," he said, "show him in."

        If Bruce Nolan were aware of the dislike which he aroused in the solicitor's heart, it made no difference to the urbanity of his outward manner. His expression was grave and troubled, as was suitable to the occasion on which he came, but that did not diminish the charm of his usual smile as he said affably: "I was afraid you'd think I was butting in where I'd no business to be. It was natural you should. But I haven't come about the settlement. I leave that to you and Jellipot.

        "It's something more serious, though it's so absurd that I find it hard to take it in that way. But Mr. Jellipot agreed that it was something you - and, of course, Lady Eleanor - ought to know, and, when I tell you about it, you'll understand why he can't deal with it himself. In a word, a woman - one whom, as far as I know, I never met in my life - says I married her a year or two ago in another name."

        "Has it any substance of truth at all?"

        "None whatever."

        "If a strange woman molests you with such a tale, I should advise you to hand her over to the police."

        "She has not molested me personally, but I received this letter."

        Mr. Tilson read the letter. He observed in a reluctant mind the frankness of Nolan's attitude in informing him of it. He said: "It looks like a rather audacious - and clumsy - blackmailing attempt. But there is no clear assertion of marriage here. I conclude that something more has happened since you had it.

        "I appreciate your action in informing us of what is occurring, but I see no reason why Mr. Jellipot should not deal with it . . . In such a matter I should say that you could not easily be better advised."

        "The point is that the blackmailer is his own stenographer."

        Mr. Tilson was clearly astonished at this information, but his mind grasped its implications with trained rapidity. "You mean me to understand that she stands up to this assertion?"

        "So Mr. Jellipot says. I have not seen her myself. He advised me not to."

        "On what grounds?"

        "He didn't say that."

        "Is there any suggestion that she is non compos mentis?"

        "I don't know about that. I had instructed him to set the police on to it before we knew who she was. They seem to be more inclined to suspect that it is the work of a blackmailing gang."

        "Whom do you mean by they?"

        "It was Chief Inspector Combridge I saw."

        "He is a most experienced officer . . . Do I under stand that you want us to act for you in this matter?"

        "I should be very glad if you would."

        "I think I must discuss it with Mr. Jellipot before giving you a final answer. Suppose you look in tomorrow about this time? . . . And do you wish us to inform Lady Eleanor, or would you rather do it yourself?"

        "I intend to do it when I see her this evening."

        "Well, you seem to be dealing with an annoying matter in the right way. But if the woman is a stranger to you, I should say you have no reason to be greatly concerned."

        It was a verdict of approval which had additional value as coming from lips which found no pleasure in speaking Bruce Nolan's praise. When he had gone, Tilson went again to his partner's room and told him of this unexpected development.

        "So," Mr. Cole commented, with twinkling eyes, "you are to save the young lady from contracting a bigamous marriage? She ought to be grateful to you for that."

        "I wish I knew what the truth is."

        "Naturally. But there's not much doubt that we soon shall. It sounds like blackmail to me. If it is no more than that, it's a safe guess that your lovely client will be Lady Eleanor Nolan within six months from now. But if it's not - well, I should say that five minutes on the 'phone with Jellipot will give you a good idea of what the last act's likely to be."

CHAPTER TEN

A MORE DIFFICULT INTERVIEW

MR. TILSON spent a few minutes in mentally reviewing the surprising information he had received. He looked up a point of law on which he would not have liked to show hesitation to another solicitor. Then he rang up Mr. Jellipot.

        He received a concise statement of facts, given with Mr. Jellipot's usual exactness, but adding little to what he had been told previously. He said: "Perhaps I'd better come round and see you? Say in about half an hour?"

        "That is as you like. But the matter is one which I think you should handle without reference to myself."

        "You don't mean, if you know anything that might help, you won't give us a leg up?"

        "I advised Mr. Nolan to be entirely frank with you and you can be sure that my attitude will correspond."

        "Did he seem willing to come or did you have to shove him along?"

        "He agreed readily."

        "Do you know where the young woman is now?"

        "I am informed that she is staying at Jordans with Miss Patience Manly."

        "The devil she is! I suppose I'm to understand by that that Miss Manly believes her tale?"

        "That would be going too far. I was on to Miss Manly only a few minutes ago, and she told me that she has a most open mind."

        "Then I don't understand - and besides there's the letter. I should have thought that - "

        "The wording of the letter does not appear to have quite the same effects on the lay and the legal mind. But I need perhaps scarcely add that Miss Manly is not acting on my advice."

        "I should say not. I suppose it's no use asking for your own opinion?"

        "As to whether she's his wife or a blackmailer, or perhaps both? Like Miss Manly, I am cultivating an open mind."

        "I expect you've asked the secretarial bureau you had her from for any information upon their books?"

        "Combridge has. It appears - as is reasonable - that they take students with very little regard for credentials, or none at all, especially if they pay in advance. Afterwards they recommend them according to their own experience of their conduct and abilities. That may be reasonable, but you'll see the opening it gives.

        "I ought to add that what particulars she did give them coincide with her statements to me, except that she registered with them as an unmarried woman which she now says she is not. But Combridge hadn't checked them when I heard from him last."

        "It sounds to me as though Nolan will have to prosecute unless Combridge proves she's a fraud. That is, unless he breaks his engagement off."

        "With some obvious reservations, I am disposed to agree. But that will be for you - or perhaps for Lady Eleanor - to decide."

        "I suppose it hangs up the settlement for the time?"

        "That again is for your decision - or Lady Eleanor's - but I cannot say that I should regard it as an unreasonable attitude."

        "Thanks. I am asking Lady Eleanor to look in tomorrow. After that, I shall know where I am."

        Mr. Tilson hung up and summoned his secretary. He dictated a letter which he altered more than once before finally deciding the form in which he was content for it to go; but he was largely wasting his time, for Nolan saw Lady Eleanor that evening before the letter came to her hands.

        They met, as they had arranged to do, at a reception given by Lady Eleanor's aunt, and Bruce lost no time in telling her about the trouble which confronted him.

        "We won't dance," he said, "if you don't mind. Let's find a quiet corner somewhere. I've got something to tell you."

        "Yes, of course. Over there looks about right, if we can reach it before it's taken."

        She had assented readily, but with a slight contraction of her black brows. She had no premonition of what she was about to hear, but the difference between the lawyers over the proposed settlement was in her mind, and she hoped that Nolan wasn't going to refer to that again. After what she had said last night . . . Surely, he should be content to leave it to her?

        Characteristically, she spoke at once, following her own thoughts:

        "I suppose you've seen Mr. Jellipot?"

        "Yes. But it isn't that. At least, I mean - well, I'd better tell you just what's happened. I had a letter yesterday morning from a young woman whose name meant nothing to me and whom - as far as I know - I've never met in my life. She asked me to send her money and threatened that she'd tell you something - she didn't say what - if I didn't.

        "I took the letter to Mr. Jellipot, and - to cut the story short - it turns out that she's his own stenographer, who must have learnt about us from the correspondence which she'd been typing, and thought she could frighten me - blackmail is the proper word."

        "It sounds like a matter for the police. But perhaps being Mr. Jellipot's clerk - though of course he won't keep her after that."

        "I had put it in the hands of the police before we knew who she was. In fact, it was Chief Inspector Combridge who found it out. But the point is that when Mr. Jellipot talked to her, the young woman stuck to her tale and said she married me at a registry office a year or more ago."

        "Of course, it's all lies?"

        Lady Eleanor's tone was contemptuous rather than interrogatory. It sounded an incredible tale and Nolan's frankness in telling her about it had a reassuring effect.

        "Absolutely. Or she may be a bit queer in the head."

        "Does she look like that?"

        "I haven't seen her."

        "But I thought you said - "

        "Mr. Jellipot wouldn't let me."

        "Why on earth not?"

        "He didn't go into that. But he thought that, as she was in his employment, someone else had better act for me from the first. So I went to Cole and Tilson."

        Eleanor looked surprised. "I shouldn't have thought you'd have gone to them. I didn't think you got on with Mr. Tilson."

        "He doesn't like me. I know that. I suppose he thinks you're too good for me, as of course you are. But I thought he'd be the best one to handle this. . . . And you'll know that nothing's been kept back from you."

        "Aren't you taking it rather too seriously?"

        "Perhaps I am. But she says I married her in another name, which might be a question of my word against hers. I've no doubt we shall get at the truth, but I don't know how much trouble it may mean, or how long it will take . . . I feel, however absurd it is, that it's got to be cleared up properly before we can be married, and we don't want anything to delay that."

        "No. We don't want that." There was no doubt of the sincerity of her tone, or the reality of her love. Their eyes met, and it was plain that, had they been in a more solitary place, their lips would have done the same.

        She added: "It was nice of you to take it to Mr. Tilson. I should think he could see that."

        Bruce thought, if he had, he had concealed his feelings successfully, but he only said: "Well, he's got it in hand, and so have the police, so we can feel we're being looked after properly."

        "Rather." She rose as though there were nothing more to be said, and next moment they had abandoned themselves to the sensuous rhythm of the dance. But there was a shadow now on both their minds - one that obtruded again and again and must be consciously cast aside.

        Eleanor had had two suitors before, both of whom she had discarded somewhat abruptly, somewhat imperiously perhaps, but with cause enough. No one who knew the facts would be likely to question that.

        She knew that she had beauty and wit sufficient to justify the confidence that she would be loved for herself - but she knew no less that it was her fortune that they had sought.

        Now she had a lover of whom most women might be glad, were he rich or poor, and she had been resolved to transfer a substantial part of her wealth to him so absolutely that no subsequent idea of dependence might poison the ideality of their union. Mr. Tilson should have understood that and not been so grudging in what he gave. It was her money, not his! It had been her happiness that she sought to buy, and that was worth any amount of the money that seemed excessive to her.

        She was confident in the reality of the affection of one whom she loved better than she had ever thought that she loved before; confident also in her ability to hold her lover by her own charms when all questions of money were put aside. At least, she saw that the full assurance of all she sought could be reached in no other way. If he should be financially dependent upon her, how could she ever be quite sure that he was not held by that golden chain . . .? And she knew the jealousy of her own disposition well enough to be aware of how poisonous such a doubt would be . . . All that had been faced and settled, and put aside. But this was something - absurd, of course - but something of a kind of which she had never thought. If she should allow a doubt to enter her mind but she would not. She put it firmly aside . . . And it came back, and had to be put even more firmly aside again. . . . It would be disloyal - it would be hateful - to have such a doubt. To know afterwards that she had allowed it to enter her mind, after it had been exposed, as it was certain to be.

        But she was glad that Charles had it in hand. She knew that she could depend on him. She had no fear that he would fail to discover the truth and to deal with it as the occasion would require. Her real fear, as she would have seen had she been honest with herself, to a degree which few women might reach, was that, if it were found to be true, she would be exposed as one who, for a third time, had accepted a worthless lover, to the extent of being almost drawn into a bigamous marriage. It would be an intolerable shame. But she did not think of it thus, because she did not allow herself to think of the possibility that it might be true. Loyalty and love might have been sufficient to exclude the doubt, but pride was a strong ally. So the doubt sat at the door of her mind, waiting to be let in.

        There was no lack of warmth in her parting embrace that night. Rather, there was an added ardour. But neither of them alluded again to what was in both their minds.

        Bruce was not unworried as he went back to his own rooms. Innocent or guilty, that would have been an unnatural complacency. But he felt that he had managed a difficult matter as well as could have been reasonably anticipated. Or even better than that.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LADY ELEANOR TAKES

MR. TILSON was not surprised when Lady Eleanor walked into his office at about eleven o'clock next morning.

        It was precisely what he had expected to happen. She was accustomed to call upon him without the formality of an appointment, and mid-morning was her usual time. He had no doubt that she would be on the warpath now, though less certain where her line of battle would lie.

        But if doubts had made misery for her during a wakefull night, she was not going to show them to the life-long friend who might have married her - did he know it? she sometimes wondered - if, in her emphatic metaphor, he had had the pluck of a louse.

        She showed no sign of any serious emotion as she toyed with one pulled-off glove, beyond the fact that her eyes, which always sparkled, were brighter than usual, the colour of her cheeks, which she always had to tame rather than extend, a little more vividly red.

        "Bruce," she said, "told me about it last night. I'm glad he did that; and I'm glad he brought it to you. It was the straightforward thing; and it couldn't have been pleasant for him to do . . . But I don't think that it's of any importance at all . . . Not beyond that it's got to be cleared up. I'm not going to have people say I've married a bigamist, and I don't want the marriage delayed because a blackmailer's running loose . . . But I can trust you to see to that."

        "I hope you can. And I'm inclined to agree with you that it may not be a very serious matter - "

        "Then I should say that settles it."

        "That might be going too far."

        "I don't think so. You don't like Bruce. If you say there's nothing in it - "

        "I didn't quite say that. And whether I like Nolan or not has no relation to my judgement about a blackmailer's letter addressed to him."

        "Anyway, you think that's what it is?"

        "A blackmailer's letter? It speaks for itself. As a matter of fact, that proves nothing. All the people who get blackmailed are not innocent. In fact, such people rarely are."

        "You can't mean - "

        "I don't mean anything more than I say. But I've been having a talk with my partner, and I've had an idea from him to which he thinks we might have given more thought than we have. He says we may have been barking up the wrong tree because we've assumed that there are only two up which to bark.

        "He means this: We've been assuming either that Nolan married and abandoned this girl, which isn't likely, especially in the way that she tells the tale, or else that she's an almost incredibly clumsy blackmailer of the worst type. But isn't there a third possibility? May she not be honestly mistaken about the identity of the man of whom, according to her own tale, she only caught a side glimpse as she came through one door and he passed out of another?"

        "Mr. Cole thinks that? I shouldn't think he makes many mistakes."

        "He merely suggested it as a possibility."

        "But if that's how it was, she wouldn't persist in it after she'd found out her mistake."

        "I don't know that they've met since."

        "But I thought - "

        "Mr. Jellipot wouldn't bring them together. One of his legal scruples, more likely than not."

        "Then I think that ought to be done at once."

        "I'm not sure that that would be the best way to proceed. You see the letter remains. And in some ways it's no less serious if it were sent by mistake to the wrong man.

        "I propose to prosecute the young woman, so that they'll confront each other in court. If she says then that Nolan's the wrong man, it will be far better than getting a private admission the genuineness of which might be doubted subsequently, and the magistrate could then deal with it in his own way."

        "Won't it be making it all public, when it might be cleared up differently?"

        "Yes - s. I see how you feel. But there are some arguments on the other side. In the first place, it mayn't mean as much publicity as you suppose. Nolan's name may not come out at all. The magistrate would almost certainly consent to deal with the matter so that it would not be published.

        "Then you've got to consider that, if it be dropped without a decision being obtained, rumour might get about which would be increasingly hard to deal with as the years pass, and you wouldn't like that."

        "No. I shouldn't like that."

        "Beyond that, there's the point that the letter the woman wrote is an attempt at blackmail, whatever the facts may be - an attempt to extort money by threats - there's no getting away from that; and if Nolan should decline to prosecute, no one can make him, but it will have a bad sound."

        Eleanor was silent for a long moment, her fingers toying with the loose glove. Then her face changed to a sudden smile. "I know you're right," she said. "I was just shirking a fence that I didn't like."

        "I'm sure I am. I think you'd be sorry afterwards if it were dealt with in a different way. But," he added generously, "it's Nolan's decision, not mine. He's taking the right course and you've got to thank him for that."

        There was gratitude as well as the intimacy of a long friendship in the glance she gave him as she replied "It's like you to say that . . . Get it over quickly. That's all I ask."

        She rose, shook hands, and went out in a buoyant way.

        He had said no more than was true and than the occasion required. Nolan was dealing with it in the right way, as a guilty man might be unlikely to do . . . But he wished he were quite sure.

CHAPTER TWELVE

NOLAN PROCEEDS

"WE HAVE advised Nolan," Mr. Tilson said, "that a prosecution is unavoidable."

        Mr. Jellipot was not surprised. "It is what I had anticipated." he replied. "Am I to understand that your advice has been taken?"

        "Yes. We are applying for a summons this afternoon."

        "Then we should not have to wait long for the truth to come out . . . You have concluded that you have a good case?"

        "It was a blackmailing letter. I do not see how any legal ingenuity can avoid that construction. But, beyond that, the woman must almost certainly be entirely innocent, or a criminal of the worst type. It is hard to see any medium."

        "That is the great difficulty of the case. May I conclude that the police will co-operate in suppressing Nolan's name, and in publishing hers?"

        "They will try to suppress his."

        "It is the usual course. Yet it remains that it is unjust."

        "I have never looked at it in that light." Mr. Tilson's face showed a sudden gravity as he added: "I might almost conclude that you are undertaking the young woman's defence?"

        "Then you would conclude wrongly. I have not been asked to do so and I should certainly have refused such a request. I seldom take criminal business, as you know, and it is particularly improbable that I should undertake the defence of one of whose innocence I was not convinced."

        "So I have understood. May I take it that, in this instance, you have no such confidence?"

        "Yes. You may. I regard it as a very puzzling affair. What I said would apply to such prosecutions generally. Both names should be published, or both suppressed."

        "The police look at it from a different angle."

        "That is because they are less concerned with equity than with obtaining convictions . . . Or perhaps," he added, with his usual scrupulosity, "I should say, with the suppression of crime."

        Mr. Tilson did not pursue the subject further. He asked: "I suppose you don't know whether she's got anyone to act for her?"

        "I have been told that there will be no difficulty about that."

        "That means she's got someone with a full purse backing her up."

        "Then I can assure you that it is not mine."

        "I didn't suppose it was. I should say it's the gang behind her. It looks as though we may be in for a real fight."

        "But perhaps you are assuming too much."

        "I hope I am. The trouble is, in a case of this kind, that we don't know what we've got to meet till the defence opens up."

        "If your client is frank with you, you should not be greatly embarrassed by that."

        "Well, he says he knows nothing about her. If that's true, as I m supposed to believe, he can't say anything more. We can only wait to see what she will assert, and what evidence - perjured or otherwise - she can call to support it."

        "She seems to me to have been specific and frank."

        "To a point, yes. She might have said a lot more."

        "We must agree there. Sooner or later, she'll have to say a lot more or you'll get a conviction. You may have plenty of time after the committal to check any allegations that she may make."

        "Yes. I suppose we shall."

        Mr. Tilson realised that Mr. Jellipot might know more than he was disposed to say. Well, he would not try to force an unwilling confidence. He got up to go.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

COMMITTAL

ELEANOR threw down the Daily Telegraph for the third time with an impatience she could not curb.

        And yet she knew that it was unreasonable to expect the telephone ring which she was so anxious to hear It was barely noon. The hearing was to have commenced at ten-thirty.

        She had been persuaded not to attend the magistrate's court, which she had been anxious to do; and Charles had promised to telephone her the result as soon as he got back to his office. He had warned her that the hearing might be prolonged, if the accused should elect to develop her defence. He had been too considerate to add that an abrupt termination might result from Nolan's being unable to sustain his denial, with all that it would imply. He had said truly that a committal was almost certain, and that, if Miss Westerham's lawyers should advise her to reserve her defence, the proceedings might not be long.

        But it was only ten minutes later that she heard the expected sound, and then Charles's voice saying: "Go all right? Yes, of course. It was soon over, because they reserved their defence; and that meant a committal as a matter of course."

        "How soon will it be over now?"

        "The hearing will be at the Old Bailey. It may not be more than three week from now, at a sanguine guess."

        "And did she still profess to recognise Bruce?"

        "They didn't give themselves away, even on that. But I ought to tell you that Nolan gave his evidence very well; and I think he was generally believed."

        "I'm so glad. But I didn't really doubt how it would be."

        "Well, I should just put it out of your mind. It's for us lawyers to deal with now . . . When Nolan's cleared it up, you'll like to think that you didn't doubt him at all."

        She put the receiver back with the natural satisfaction that the report deserved, and yet with a vague undercurrent of hateful doubt. It was not what Charles had said. It was the faint doubt in the tone which had vexed her mind. Was he still unsure? And then she saw that she was being unjust to Bruce, and unfair to Charles. She must allow for legal caution. And there was the fact that Bruce had come through the ordeal well. And how unpleasant it must have been! He would need comfort from her, which he should not miss.

        And while she thought this, Charles Tilson had strolled into his partner's room to report the same event in a rather different way.

        "She's got Fell and Unster defending her," he said. "I don't suppose they've taken a case like it in the last half-century."

        "No. Nor longer than that . . . I suppose it means that Miss Manly has taken her up in earnest?"

        "It looks that way . . . And they've briefed Bulmer."

        Mr. Cole's eyebrows lifted, but he said nothing. There was a significance here which did not need to be put into words. He asked: "Of course she's got bail?"

        "On a surety of £500 Miss Manly came forward at once."

        There was really no more to be said. Fell and Unster were a prominent and highly respectable firm of solicitors, who had a large family practice among a law-abiding clientele. They might never have had any previous acquaintance with the criminal courts in the whole course of their century of practice. It could be safely assumed that it was on the insistence of Miss Patience Manly that they had reluctantly taken a distasteful case . . . And then they had briefed a barrister famous in criminal trials, who with equal certainty had never had a brief with their endorsement before - one who had the reputation of being unrivalled in getting the guilty out of the perils in which they stood.

        As Miss Manly might be convinced of Edith Westerham's innocence, so it appeared even more definitely that Fell and Unster had assumed her guilt. And the course which Bulmer had taken had the same complexion. Would not an innocent, indignant woman have wished to go into the witness-box at the first possible moment to tell the facts on which she relied?

        But she had preferred to reserve her defence, as she was entitled to do. And this, if she were guilty, would have the tactical advantage that the assertions which must ultimately be made, should she stand her ground, would not be subject to the probing enquiries which would be possible during the interval between committal and trial.

        "You'll have to wait," Mr. Cole remarked, "till the case comes on, to learn what she'll bring forward as evidence on her behalf, and if Nolan really knows nothing about her, there's not much you can do in the meantime . . . Except, of course, there's the witness to whatever marriage ceremony really took place, who's presumably still alive. You should be able to trace her, though it's doubtful what she may say, whether she's a truthful witness or not. How much would she remember now? And the other side may be on the same scent . . . And a good detective agency may find out enough about the girl in other ways to blast the whole case and settle the issue for you before you go into court."

        "Yes, we can do that. Lady Eleanor says we're not to spare any expense. She means to have the thing turned inside out, at whatever cost and whatever the truth may be."

        "And Nolan likes it being dealt with in that way?"

        "So he says, and with a genuine sound."

        "Probably because that's just what it is."

        "Yes. I know I find it hard to be fair to him."

        "Well, that's natural enough. But he may be a fortune-hunter who's getting not only the cash, but a girl it must be very easy to love, without having had a habit of marrying other women previously. That's mere logic, where prejudice may take you down the wrong road."

        Charles could not dispute that, and anyway he had taken the case and was bound to do all that brains or money could to demonstrate his client's innocence, in a position which could not end with a verdict of acquittal, as is the possibility of most criminal prosecutions, for must there not be guilt in the witness-box, if there should be innocence in the dock?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

DAY OF BATTLE

IT WAS 10.45 when Mr. Jellipot entered the crowded court and took a seat which Charles Tilson had kept for him, not without difficulty, on the solicitors' bench. It was not by choice but as a witness, that he was there, for it was a drama of doubtful justice, and inevitable resultant misery, which he would have preferred to avoid.

        He knew already that the enquiries which had been made concerning Edith Westerham had been without decisive results. It was her maiden name. She had certainly married someone who had given the name of Henry Lingfield at the place and on the date that she alleged. One witness of that marriage was dead, and the other could not be traced. Miss Lucille Belloes had left her address two days after the letter had been written. At the service flatlet she rented, she had said that she was going on a holiday, and had paid a week's rent in lieu of notice. At the export merchant's office where she was employed, she had simply failed to appear, leaving them to think what they would.

        It was an almost certain conclusion that this sudden disappearance was connected with the event which was now before the court. It was a natural presumption that she had gone away as the result of an approach by one or other of the protagonists in the case. How else should she have heard of it at all? But, if so, which had it been and why?

        There had been intensive efforts to trace her, in which both sides had shown real or simulated eagerness. On the one side, Mr. Jellipot's knowledge of the character of the prosecuting solicitor assured him that they had been genuine. Private detectives had been employed. The assistance of the police had been sought. Finally, a week ago, a reward of £100 had been offered for the address of the missing woman. That would have been paid from Lady Eleanor's purse.

        But all efforts had been in vain. Or would she appear with dramatic effect at the last moment, to give evidence which would be ruin to Bruce Nolan, or close prison gates on his false accuser?

        It had been discovered that after the wedding the bridal pair had gone to Ireland, stayed for two nights at a Dublin hotel (where they were not remembered I at all), and then gone on to Killarney, where they had put up at a cottage with a Mr. and Mrs. O'Leary, who remembered them - almost well enough, but not quite.

        These addresses had been given to him by Mrs. Lingfield (which seemed to be the least disputable name to use) when she had made her first explanation. After some debate of conscience, he had decided that it was his duty to pass them on to the prosecution, and it was to be observed in her favour that they had been true.

        Mr. Tilson had sent one of his own office staff to Killarney, thinking that if the O'Learys were prepared to say definitely that Bruce Nolan was not the man, it would be decisive for the prosecution; and, should there be an opposite result, it was not a conviction, it was the truth that it was essential for Lady Eleanor, whom he was subconsciously disposed to regard as his real client, to have.

        But the result had been unsatisfactory. Shown photographs of Edith, both the O'Learys had identified her with confidence. But when shown that of Nolan, Mrs. O'Leary had said at first that it was the man, but when she had understood that she might be required to swear to this in a London Court, she became vaguer. She said that, after all, she was not that sure.

        Her husband had thought it was very like, but that their visitor had had darker hair. Till he could see the man himself, he would prefer not to say more than that.

        Mr. Tilson had debated the advisability of bringing over these witnesses with his partner, with his client, with Lady Eleanor, and in his own mind, and had finally decided that it was a risk he ought not to take.

        Suppose (and they would probably support each other) they should make an error of identification?

        It was not his business to prove a negative. Let the other side call them, if they had the courage, and the advantage of cross-examination would then be his.

        Mr. Gilchrist-Walker, whom he had briefed, a sound man, and one to choose in a case in which it was of first importance that the truth should be reached, also hesitated, but finally took the same view. It was a risk which in Mr. Nolan's interest he ought not to advise.

        Apart from that, the O'Leary's could have said no more than that the young couple had stayed with them for over three weeks, seeming very happy together, but during the fourth the man had left suddenly without explanation, which the girl had subsequently attempted to give, though in a state of distress she could not entirely conceal. She had left two days later, paying the final bill.

        Enquiries at the address where she had told Mr. Jellipot she had left a baby had also confirmed her story. From there she had been traced backward to the Maternity Home where it had been born, and forward to the room she had taken in Ashfield Terrace, and her course of study at the Secretarial Training College from which she had entered Mr. Jellipot's office.

        It could be observed that her tale was confirmed in every detail, except that which it was essential for her to prove, and, as to that, what could be done but to await the evidence she would put forward? And how, if it should be false, could anyone tell what it would be likely to be?

        But, as to that, Mr. Gilchrist-Walker said that there was no cause for disquiet. He could not recall a case where a blackmailer had appeared to succeed in putting forward a lying tale. Magna est veritas - . They could rely on that. It was not his part to suggest a doubt of whether truth would be helpful to them.

        Now Mr. Jellipot looked at Bruce - Mr. X, as he had become for the following hours - sitting beside Lady Eleanor, with a gravity suitable to the occasion, but yet with a quiet confidence which it was reassuring to see.

        He saw the girl make a smiling remark, as though to show that she was not concerned with the issue, but only that her lover should have no cause to question her faith in him. He saw her hand linger for a moment in a caressing motion over the one that rested beside it. There could be no doubt of what her feelings were.

        He saw Miss Patience Manly also; she had taken a seat as near the dock as was possible, the court being arranged as it was, and he remembered that she had told him only three nights before that she was certain that she was giving shelter to a wronged and innocent girl.

        He looked next at a rather nondescript jury and wondered whether, when they should be called upon for a verdict, the case would have become clearer than it now was. Well, it was a reasonable anticipation.

        He rose mechanically with those around him as Mr. Justice Yoxall entered the court.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION

MR. JUSTICE YOXALL was a sound judge, patient, watchful, courteous to all, and with a reputation for inscrutability, so that the most observant might fail to guess where his sympathies lay, or what his judgement would be likely to be. He had a name also for leniency rather than severity in summing-up, and his sentences were seldom harsh, unless he had exceptional meanness or brutality with which to deal. But this could not be a case for mercy (unless in regard to penalty, if a conviction should be obtained): it could not be a question of giving the accused the benefit of the doubt. The truth must be sought and found, or injustice must necessarily be the result.

        Now he listened to Mr. Gilchrist-Walker's statement of his client's case, fairly, moderately, very briefly given. It was a presentation which he approved. Without appearing to do so, he studied the girl in the dock. She was pale and quiet. He did not regard her as of a criminal type. But he could recall instances of attractive, innocent-looking young women of ready mendacities, and who had been convicted, beyond shadow of doubt, of repulsive crimes. He must regard all with an open mind.

        He turned his attention to the prosecutor, who had now entered the witness-box.

        With calm assurance, "Mr. X" identified the letter which he had received. It was passed up to the judge, who read it. Now the witness went on to describe his subsequent actions, which appeared to be those of an innocent man.

        The examination continued: "Are you in fact married to the writer of that letter?"

        "No. Certainly not."

        "Look at her now. Do you know her?"

        Bruce looked at the girl in the dock. The silent watchful court saw that their eyes met. In those of the man there was blank negation. In those that met his, there was an aspect of cold contempt. (What good actresses some women are!)

        "No," he said. "I do not know her at all."

        "Are you married?"

        "No."

        "Were you ever?"

        "No. Never."

        "But you were, and are, engaged to the lady to whom allusion is made in the last sentence of the letter?"

        "Yes. I am glad to say that I am."

        "I think that is all that I need to ask."

        Mr. Gilchrist-Walker sat down, and Mr. Bulmer rose to cross-examine.

        "On the 4th of May last," he asked, "the day on which this letter was written, you called at the offices of your solicitor, Mr. Jellipot?"

        "Yes."

        "I want you to cast your mind back to the moment of leaving I believe that, on leaving the inner room, you had to pass through an outer office. Did you pause there or have occasion to observe its occupants?"

        "No. Why should I? I went straight out."

        "So I supposed. Did you observe anyone, man or woman, coming out of another door?"

        "No. I just went out, without looking round at all."

        "So that any glimpse that anyone may have caught of you, on entering that room by another door, must have been momentary?"

        Bruce hesitated a moment, being puzzled as to where this unexpected examination might lead, but he could see no trap, and gave a natural and quite truthful reply: "Yes, I should think it would."

        And then he found that there was no trap, nor were there to be any more questions at all. Mr. Bulmer sat down, as one who had learnt all that he wished to know.

        Eleanor thought: "It's all over, really. It's just what Mr. Cole suggested. They're going to say she made a mistake."

        Mr. Justice Yoxall thought much the same, though with a more critical mind.

        Mr. Truscott, Fell and Unster's managing clerk, who was there to assist counsel, felt that they had been let down, but none of them was entirely right, and Mr. Truscott was not entirely fair.

        He had had friction with Mr. Bulmer more than once during the past fortnight.

        The learned counsel thought that it was his first duty to get an acquittal. If a line of defence were proposed which he thought likely to fail in securing that, it was of little interest to him to be told that it was the truth.

        "Get that witness to the marriage," he had said, "and get her support, and we may have something we can get our teeth into. We might then have a fighting chance. I can't say that till I know what she'll be prepared to swear and what explanation she'll give for clearing out, but wc may have a chance.

        "But without her - what's the use of its being true, if it can't be proved? She'll go to Holloway just the same, and we shall have let her down . . . There's only one sensible thing to say: that she made a mistake. She hasn't seen the man since that day, and when she gets a good look at him in court she sees that she's wrong, and she has the honesty to say so at once. She may even get some sympathy if she does that. Does she wear glasses? Well, anyway, her sight's not very good. Nobody's is.

        "It's your part to prepare a decent defence, and it's mine to shove it down the jury's throats. But just to assert what you can't prove, when you've got to get over a letter that's blackmail beyond dispute, is just to make conviction certain, and the penalty about ten times more than it would otherwise be."

        Faced by the fact that the defendant would not accept this advice, and that Mr. Truscott, who had come near to sharing Miss Manly's confidence in his client's innocence, supported her view that she could not say what she did not believe, he had reluctantly accepted instructions he did not like. But he still wished to hold open the door of retreat to the last possible second. For if he could do no more than to make the judge believe that she had first written the letter in honest mistake, and then been too stubborn to admit her error, she would still have written it in good faith, and it might have weight, however limited, when the time for sentence should come.

        Beyond that, he did not see any good purpose in challenging the witness to repeat the denials that he had made. It might only increase their emphasis and the impression that would make on the jury. And what material had he on which a damaging cross-examination could have been based?

        No. It would be better to let him go. So Bruce stepped down, and Mr. Jellipot entered the box.

        The new witness, having given his evidence with clearness and brevity, including a quietly convincing word as to Miss Westerham's satisfactory conduct while in his employment, was subject to a somewhat long cross-examination, at the end of which Mr. Truscott looked better pleased.

        "You have said that Miss Westerham - as she was known to you - had been in your employment for several months before this incident occurred, and that her conduct in that confidential position had been satisfactory. Is it reasonable to conclude that you had never had reason to think that she had made use of confidential information before?"

        "Obviously not; or I should not have kept her on."

        "And there must have been previous occasions when she might have taken advantage of what she knew more or less in the same way?"

        Mr. Jellipot paused before he replied, and then answered carefully: "Yes. At least four - in different ways and degrees."

        "And if we assume the facts to be as she afterwards told you, her reaction was not unnatural?"

        "It was entirely wrong. She should have reported her suspicion to me."

        "That was not precisely what I asked. You would hardly expect a girl in that position to act with the judgment and discretion of a practising solicitor?"

        "No."

        "And when she did give you her explanation, you took it seriously? You did not act towards her as you would have done had you regarded it as a blackmailer's lie?"

        Mr. Jellipot again paused before answering. Then he said, with slow deliberation: "When she first told her tale, I had an impression of truth and sincerity."

        "Which you still have?"

        "I will not go beyond what I have said. I regard it as a most puzzling case."

        The judge looked as though he were on the point of asking a further question, and then made a slight motion of his hand, as though putting the purpose aside.

        Mr. Truscott thought correctly that the first doubt of where the truth might be had disturbed the minds of those who heard.

        Eleanor wondered whether Mr. Jellipot had intended to give support to the idea that a genuine error might have been made. But in fact he had had no thought beyond being most exactly truthful on a matter which was unsolved in his own mind.

        He returned to his place to observe a slow-ticking clock on the wall the hands of which gave the time as eleven-fifty. It had taken scarcely an hour for the prosecution to make its case.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

MRS. LINGFIELD IN WITNESS-BOX

MR. BULMER addressed his own witness in his quietest, most conversational tone.

        "You do not deny writing the letter which is the basis of the charge which has been brought against you?"

        "Oh, no. I wrote it. I meant every word."

        "Please do not go beyond answering my questions. At that time you had no doubt that it was addressed to a man whom you had married - a Mr. Lingfield?"

        "None at all."

        "Though you had only caught a glimpse of him as he had gone out through the door?"

        "I saw him quite plainly. You don't forget a man you've been married to for nearly a month."

        "If you see him plainly, that may be true. At any rate, the letter was written in that belief. Did you know that the demand you made could be construed as a legal offence?"

        "No. It seemed reasonable to me. We've got a child, though I daresay he didn't know that. Why shouldn't he do something for it?"

        "That is to say, that it seemed reasonable to you, believing him to be the father of your child, to ask him for an annual allowance, or else go to the wealthy woman he was proposing to marry and lay your position before her?"

        "Yes. I saw nothing wrong in that. I don't now."

        Mr. Bulmer made an impressive pause. He was not entirely pleased with the answers he was receiving, but he had already recognised that he was not dealing with a client who would follow with obedient feet a path which he might indicate. And the bold assertions that she was making might rouse assent in at least some of the twelve on whom her freedom must ultimately depend.

        Beyond that, might not her stubborn assumption that the prosecutor was the man she married make a stronger impression on some minds than a simple assertion would be likely to do? And as to the possibility that she might have made a mistake of recognition, had he not in his opening questions shown her the path which she might even yet have the sense to take?

        He tried once again. "So it is the case that you have not seen the man whom you recognised as your husband from the moment of that instantaneous glimpse until today?"

        "Yes, it is. But if you're trying to get me to say that I made a mistake, it's no use at all. The man who married me at the Registry Office and deserted me in Ireland is sitting behind you now, only two seats away."

        Mr. Bulmer recognised defeat.

        Let Gilchrist-Walker try what he could do. Perhaps he might find it as difficult in an opposite way.

        So she observed, without particular interest, that one counsel sat down and another rose, and that questions now came from a different mouth.

        "Now, Mrs. Lingfield," he began, in no bullying manner, for he was not of that type, but in a voice that suggested that after needless time-wasting they were coming to facts at last, "we understand that you were married at Marylebone Registry Office on June 22nd, 1927, to a gentleman whom you knew as Henry Lingfield. Where did you go after the ceremony?"

        "We went to Dublin."

        "And then?"

        "To a cottage in Killarney."

        "How long did you stay there?"

        "Between three and four weeks."

        "Then you must both have become well known to the people there?"

        "I don't see why we should."

        "Your husband was a fine-looking Englishman?"

        "You can see what he is."

        "I am asking you."

        "Yes. That was why I was such a fool."

        "The people with whom you stayed and the neighbours - is any of them here now?"

        "You should know best. I heard that you were afraid to bring them."

        "You shouldn't believe everything that you hear. It was not our business to do so. Anyway, you are not producing anyone from Killarney who could identify your husband?"

        Mr. Bulmer rose quickly. As he did so, he said in a low whisper: "You got out of that rather well." Then he said: "I must object. The witness cannot be required to disclose how she will conduct her defence."

        Mr. Gilchrist-Walker gave way. He asked: "And after you left Killarney?"

        "You mean where did I go? He had walked out on me. I went to Lynmouth."

        "You just stayed there, doing nothing?"

        "More or less. I tried to find him, of course. I just stayed there till the baby came."

        "Then your husband didn't leave you penniless?"

        "He would have done if he could. He took more than three hundred pounds."

        "And of course you informed the police?"

        "No. I didn't want any fuss about it."

        "How can you say that he left you purposely? That he didn't intend to come back? I should have thought that it would have been a most natural thing to have enlisted the help of the police."

        "Because he told me."

        "You mean you quarrelled and he told you he was        leaving you?"

        "We didn't quarrel. He said it like a joke. He said: 'I'm going out for some cigarettes. Perhaps you'll never see me again.' And then, as the time passed, I understood and looked for his suitcase, and it was gone."

        "And you never saw him again?"

        "I can see him sitting there now."

        "Mrs. Lingfield, even now, wouldn't it be better to admit you made a mistake?"

        "I haven't made any. I wouldn't tell that lie if I knew it would get me out of this, and nothing else would. Not though I were to be in prison for all my life."

        With a slight gesture of his hand, as of one who left folly to its natural fate, counsel sat down.

        Mr. Jellipot, who had watched the witness closely, admitted an inclination to credit her tale, but was not fully convinced. Her manner had become different from when she had been his trusted stenographer, different from when she had first told this improbable tale to him; almost sullen, bitter, even aggressive. Perhaps it was natural enough, if she were telling a true tale which was rejected by all who heard it.

        But he observed also that her last answers had revealed a motive, both for the marriage and the desertion, which had come out more convincingly in cross-examination than if it had been an assertion of the defence. She had been married by an unscrupulous fortune-hunter, and that - without the adjective - was an expression which could be applied to Nolan suitably enough. He looked, as the thought came, at a man who sat with an aspect of quiet ease beside a girl whose confidence in him was demonstrated by her presence there. Could anyone have heard that account of his own infamy and be as poised, as unconcerned, as Nolan was now?

        Mr. Justice Yoxall, half listening to the speeches of counsel, which were for the jury rather than him, pondered his summing-up and had much the same doubt. He observed also a feature of the case which had not been mentioned on either side: the improbability that the errant husband should have happened to come to the office of the solicitor by whom the girl had been employed, when engaged in another enterprise of the same kind. He knew that it was not incredible. Such things do occur. But it was still a weight in a doubtful scale.

        He saw clearly that, had it been merely a question of the girl's guilt or innocence, the evidence was such that it would have been his inclination, perhaps his duty, to sum up in such a way that no jury would be likely to convict. But it was less simple than that. To acquit her was to call the prosecutor a fraudulent scoundrel and a prospective bigamist, which could not be lightly done.

        Well, it was for the jury to say . . .! He commenced a summing-up of such scrupulous impartiality that even the experienced lawyers who heard him were left in doubt of where his own judgment lay. But of the legal impropriety of the letter itself he made it clear that there could be no doubt at all.

        In the jury room there must have been di