‘I knew he’d go to the Grange. I only had to wait about in the bushes near the path. I was just behind him there when he retreated after rather clumsily falling off a tree. I let the hubbub die down and then got him neatly on the back of the neck with a sandbag. All I had to do was to carry him out to where my car was waiting, shove him in the dickey and drive him here. I was at home again before morning.’ ‘And Moira?’ demanded Bobby. ‘Did you entice her away somehow?’ Roger chuckled. The question seemed to amuse him.
‘Forgery is a very useful art, my dear Jones,’ he said.
‘You swine,’ said Bobby.
Frankie intervened. She was still full of curiosity, and their prisoner seemed in an obliging mood.
‘Why did you pretend to be Dr Nicholson?’ she asked.
‘Why did I, now?’ Roger seemed to be asking the question of himself. ‘Partly, I think, the fun of seeing whether I could spoof you both. You were so very sure that poor old Nicholson was in it up to the neck.’ He laughed and Frankie blushed. ‘Just because he cross-questioned you a bit about the details of your accident – in his pompous way. It was an irritating fad of his accuracy in details.’ ‘And really,’ said Frankie slowly, ‘he was quite innocent?’ ‘As a child unborn,’ said Roger. ‘But he did me a good turn.
He drew my attention to that accident of yours. That and another incident made me realize that you mightn’t be quite the innocent young thing you seemed to be. And then I was standing by you when you telephoned one morning and heard your chauffeur’s voice say “Frankie”. I’ve got pretty good hearing. I suggested coming up to town with you and you agreed – but you were very relieved when I changed my mind.
After that -‘ He stopped and, as far as he was able, shrugged his bound shoulders. ‘It was rather fun seeing you all get worked up about Nicholson. He’s a harmless old ass, but he does look exactly like a scientific super-criminal on the films. I thought I might as well keep the deception up. After all, you never know.
The best-laid plans go wrong, as my present predicament shows.’ ‘There’s one thing you must tell me,’ said Frankie. ‘I’ve been driven nearly mad with curiosity. Who is Evans?’ ‘Oh!’ said Bassington-ffrench. ‘So you don’t know that?’ He laughed – and laughed again.
‘That’s rather amusing,’ he said. ‘It shows what a fool one can be.’ ‘Meaning us?’ asked Frankie.
‘No,’ said Roger. ‘In this case, meaning me. Do you know, if you don’t know who Evans is, I don’t think I shall tell you.
I’ll keep that to myself as my own little secret.’ The position was a curious one. They had turned the tables on Bassington-ffrench and yet, in some peculiar way, he had robbed them of their triumph. Lying on the floor, bound and a prisoner, it was he who dominated the situation.
‘And what are your plans now, may I ask?’ he inquired.
Nobody had as yet evolved any plans. Bobby rather doubtfully murmured something about police.
‘Much the best thing to do,’ said Roger cheerfully. ‘Ring them up and hand me over to them. The charge will be abduction, I suppose. I can’t very well deny that.’ He looked at Frankie. ‘I shall plead a guilty passion.’ Frankie reddened.
‘What about murder?’ she asked.
‘My dear, you haven’t any evidence. Positively none. Think it over and you’ll see you haven’t.
‘Badger,’ said Bobby, ‘you’d better stay here and keep an eye on him. I’ll go down and ring the police.’ ‘You’d better be careful,’ said Frankie. ‘We don’t know how many of them there may be in the house.’ ‘No one but me,’ said Roger. ‘I was carrying this through single-handed.’ ‘I’m not prepared to take your word for that,’ said Bobby gruffly.
He bent over and tested the knots.
‘He’s all right,’ he said. ‘Safe as houses. We’d better all go down together. We can lock the door.’ ‘Terribly distrustful, aren’t you, my dear chap,’ said Roger.