Thalia is Asked Out
Mr. Marl had to pass through the bank premises, and he glanced along
the two rows of desks without, however, catching a glimpse of the girl
whose face he sought. Near the end of the counter was a small
compartment, the occupant of which was shielded from observation by
opaque glass windows. The door was ajar, and he caught just a flash of
the figure and walked toward the door. A girl at a typewriter watched
him curiously.
Thalia Drummond looked up from her desk to see the big smiling face of
a man looking down at her.
“Busy, Miss Drummond?”
“Very,” she replied, but did not seem to resent his intrusion.
“Don’t get much fun here, do you?” he asked.
“Not a lot.” Her dark eyes were surveying him appraisingly.
“What about a bit of dinner one of these nights and a show to follow?”
he asked.
Her eyes took him in from his dyed hair to his painfully varnished
boots.
“You’re a wicked old man,” she said calmly, “but dinner is my
favourite meal.”
His grin broadened and the fires of conquest flickered in his faded
eyes.
“What about ‘The Moulin Gris’?” He suggested the restaurant, without
doubting her acceptance, but her lips curled scornfully.
“Why not at Hooligans Fish Parlour?” she asked. “No, it’s the
Ritz-Carlton or nothing for me.”
Mr. Marl was staggered, but pleased.
“You’re a princess,” he beamed, “and you shall have a royal feed! What
about to-night?”
She nodded.
“Meet me at my house in Marisburg Place, Bayswater Road. 7.30. You’ll
find my name on the door.”
He paused, expecting her to demur, but to his surprise, she nodded
again.
“Good-bye, darling,” said the bold Mr. Marl and kissed the tips of his
fat fingers.
“Shut the door,” said the girl and went on with her work.
She was destined again to be interrupted. This time the visitor was a
good-looking girl, whose forearms were gauntletted in shiny leather.
It was the typist who had followed Mr. Marl’s movements with such
curiosity.
Thalia leant back in her chair as the newcomer carefully closed the
door behind her and sat down.
“Well, Macroy, what’s biting you?” she asked inelegantly.
The words did not seem to harmonise with the delicate refinement of
face, and not for the first time did Milly Macroy look at the girl
wonderingly.
“Who’s the old nut?” she asked.
“An admirer,” replied Thalia calmly.
“You do attract ’em, kid,” commented Milly Macroy, with some envy, and
there was a little pause.
“Well?” asked Thalia. “You haven’t come here to discuss my amours,
have you?”
Milly smiled furtively.
“If amours is French for boys, I haven’t,” she said. “I’ve come to
have a straight talk with you, Drummond.”
“Straight talks are meat and drink to me,” said Thalia Drummond.
“Do you remember the money that went out by registered post last
Friday to the Sellinger Corporation?”
Thalia nodded.
“Well, I suppose you know that they claim that when the package
arrived it contained nothing but paper?”
“Is that so?” asked Thalia. “Mr. Brabazon has said nothing to me about
it,” and she returned the other’s scrutinising glance without
faltering.
“I packed that money in the envelope,” said Milly Macroy slowly, “and
you had it to check. There’s only you and me in this business, Miss
Drummond, and one of us pinched the money, and I’ll swear it wasn’t
me.”
“Then it must be me,” said Thalia with an innocent smile. “Really,
Macroy, that’s a fairly serious accusation to make against an innocent
female.”
The admiration in Milly’s eyes increased.
“You’re a Thorough-Bad, if ever there was one!” she said. “Now, look
here, kid, let’s put all our cards on the table. A month ago, soon
after you came to the bank, there was a hundred note missing from the
Foreign Exchange desk.”
“Well?” asked Thalia when she paused.
“Well, I happen to know that you had it and that it was changed by you
at Bilbury’s in the Strand. I can tell you the number if you want to
know.”
Thalia swung round and looked at the other under lowered brows.
“What have we here?” she asked in mock consternation. “A female
sleuth! Heavens, I am indeed undone!”
The extravagant mockery of it all took Milly aback.
“You’ve got ice in your brain!” she said. She leant forward and laid
her hand on the girl’s arm. “There may be trouble over this Sellinger
business, and you will want all the friends you can get.”
“So will you, for the matter of that,” said Thalia coolly. “You
handled the money.”
“And you took it,” said the other, in a matter-of-fact tone. “Don’t
let us have any argument about it, Drummond. If we stick together
there’ll be no trouble at all--I can swear that the envelope was
sealed in my presence and that the money was there.”
There was a dancing light of amusement in Thalia Drummond’s eyes and
she laughed silently.
“All right,” she said, with a little shrug of her shoulders. “Let it
go at that. Now, I suppose, having saved me from ruin, you’re going to
ask me a favour? I’ll set your mind at rest about the money. I took it
because I had a good home for it. I need money frequently and anyway
there have been lots of postal robberies lately. There was a long
article in the paper about it the other day. Now go ahead.”
Milly Macroy, who had not a slight acquaintance with the criminal
classes, stared at the girl in amazement.
“You’re ice all right,” she nodded, “but you’ve got to cut out this
cheap pilfering, otherwise you’re liable to spoil a real big thing and
I can’t afford to see it spoilt. If you want a share of big money
you’ve got to come in with people who are working big--do you get
that?”
“I get it,” said Thalia, “and who are your collaborators?”
Miss Macroy did not recognise the term but answered discreetly:
“There’s a gentleman I know----”
“Say ‘man’,” said Thalia. “Gentleman always reminds me of a tailor’s
ad.”
“Well, a man if you like,” said the patient Miss Macroy. “He’s a
friend of mine and he’s been watching you for a week or two, and he
thinks you’re the kind of clever girl who might make a lot of money
without trouble. I told him about the other affair and he wants to see
you.”
“Another admirer?” asked Thalia Drummond with a lift of her perfect
eyebrows, and Macroy’s face darkened.
“There’ll be none of that, you understand, Drummond,” she said
decisively. “This fellow and I are sort of--engaged.”
“Heaven forbid,” said Thalia Drummond piously, “that I should come
between two loving hearts.”
“And you needn’t be sarcastic either,” said Macroy, redder still. “I
tell you that there’s to be no lovey-dovey stuff in this. It’s real
business, you understand?”
Thalia played with her paper-knife. Presently she asked:
“Suppose I don’t want to come into your combination?”
Milly Macroy looked suspiciously at the girl.
“Come and have a bit of dinner after the bank closes,” she said.
“Nothing but invitations to dinner,” murmured Thalia and the
nimble-witted Milly Macroy jumped at the truth.
“The old boy asked you to dinner, did he?” she demanded. “Well, ain’t
that luck!” She whistled and her eyes brightened. She was about to
offer a confidence, but changed her mind. “He’s got loads of money out
of money-lending. My dear, I can see you with a diamond necklace in a
week or two!”
Thalia straightened herself and took up her pen.
“Pearls are my weakness,” she said. “All right, Macroy, I’ll see you
to-night,” and she went on working.
Milly Macroy lingered.
“Look here, you’re not going to tell this gentleman what I said about
my being engaged to him, are you?”
“There’s Brab’s bell,” said Thalia, rising and taking up her notebook
as a buzzer sounded. “No, I’m not going to discuss anything of the
kind--I hate fairy stories anyway.”
Miss Macroy looked after the retreating figure of the girl with an
expression which was not friendly.
Mr. Brabazon was sitting at his desk when the girl came in, and handed
her a sealed envelope.
“Send this by hand,” he said.
Thalia looked at the address and nodded, and then looked at Mr.
Brabazon with a new interest. Truly the Crimson Circle was recruited
from many and various classes.