frankly, I thought he had been drinking…. He
boasted and told the most extraordinary
stories which I’m sure couldn’t possibly have
been true. For most of the time I’ve been here
he was always very close about his
27
affairs—not giving anything away, you know.
But lately he’s been quite different,
expansive, and positively—well—flinging
money about. Most unlike his usual manner.
Why, when the office boy had to go to his
grandmother’s funeral, Mr. Fortescue called
him in and gave him a five pound note and
told him to put it on the second favourite and
then roared with laughter. He wasn’t—well,
he just wasn’t like himself. That’s all I can
say.”
“As though, perhaps, he had something on
his mind?”
“Not in the usual meaning of the term. It
was as though he were looking forward to
something pleasurable—exciting——”
“Possibly a big deal that he was going to
pull off?”
Miss Griffith agreed with more conviction.
“Yes—yes, that’s much more what I mean.
As though everyday things didn’t matter any
more. He was excited. And some very oddlooking
people came to see him on business.
People who’d never been here before. It
worried Mr. Percival dreadfully.”
“Oh it worried him, did it?”
“Yes. Mr. Percival’s always been very
28
much in his father’s confidence, you see. His
father relied on him. But lately——”
“Lately they weren’t getting along so
well.”
“Well, Mr. Fortescue was doing a lot of
things that Mr. Percival thought unwise. Mr.
Percival is always very careful and prudent.
But suddenly his father didn’t listen to him
any more and Mr. Percival was very upset.”
“And they had a real row about it all?”
Inspector Neele was still probing.
“I don’t know about a row. . . . Of course, I
realise now Mr. Fortescue can’t have been
himself—shouting like that.”
“Shouted, did he? What did he say?”
“He came right out in the typists’
room——”
“So that you all heard?”
“Well-yes.”
“And he called Percival names—abused
him—swore at him . . .? What did he say
Percival had done?”
“It was more that he hadn’t done anything…
he called him a miserable pettifogging little
clerk. He said he had no large outlook, no
conception of doing business in a big way. He
said ‘I shall get Lance home again. He’s
worth ten of you—and he’s married well.
29
Lance has got guts even if he did risk a
criminal prosecution once—-‘ Oh dear, I
oughtn’t to have said that!” Miss Griffith,
carried away as others before her had been
under Inspector Neele’s expert handling, was
suddenly overcome with confusion.
“Don’t worry,” said Inspector Neele comfortingly.
“What’s past is past.”
“Oh yes, it was a long time ago. Mr. Lance
was just young and high spirited and didn’t
really realise what he was doing.”
Inspector Neele had heard that view before
and didn’t agree with it. But he passed on to
fresh questions.
“Tell me a little more about the staff here.”
Miss Griffith, hurrying to get away from
her indiscretion, poured out information
about the various personalities in the firm.
Inspector Neele thanked her and then said he
would like to see Miss Grosvenor again.
Detective-Constable Waite sharpened his
pencil. He remarked wistfully that this was a
Ritzy joint. His glance wandered appreciatively
over the huge chairs, the big desk and
the indirect lighting.
“All these people have got Ritzy names,
too,” he said. “Grosvenor–that’s something
30
to do with a Duke. And Fortescue—that’s a
classy name, too.”
Inspector Neele smiled.
“His father’s name wasn’t Fortescue.
Fontescu—and he came from somewhere in
Central Europe. I suppose this man thought
Fortescue sounded better.”
Detective-Constable Waite looked at his
superior officer with awe.
“So you know all about him?”
“I just looked up a few things before
coming along on the call.”
“Not got a record, had he?”
“Oh no. Mr. Fortescue was much too
clever for that. He’s had certain connections
with the Black Market and put through one
or two deals that are questionable to say the
least of it, but they’ve always been just within
the law.”
“I see,” said Waite. “Not a nice man.”
“A twister,” said Neele. “But we’ve got
nothing on him. The Inland Revenue have