Although it would have pleased Harry Labar to tumble into the fastest
motor car he could find and engage in swift and melodramatic chase of
Larry Hughes and Penelope, he was deterred by many considerations.
Chief among them was the fact that they had a start that made pursuit
in such a manner impracticable. Then, again, the whole thing might
prove a wild goose chase. It might be just a pleasant comedy staged by
Larry for reasons of his own.
Labar forced himself to reason coldly on the matter, although there was
a tinge of apprehension in his mind so far as Penelope was concerned.
But he dare not take his own personal feelings into account. He was
surprised, but then Larry had a habit of doing the unexpected thing.
Larry would appreciate the construction that must be put upon the
episode--that Penelope's evidence was of such importance, that he was
compelled to this seemingly reckless method of ensuring her silence.
But he must realise that he could not hold her indefinitely.
Do not imagine that the detective inspector sat idle while he balanced
these things in his mind. He had to adjust the machinery to meet the
case. As soon as he was perfectly clear on the facts, he had begun to
work.
"All station" messages to the two hundred or so police stations in
London were being sent out over the private wires. To those county and
borough forces that held sway over certain strategic points on the
roads leading from the metropolis, requests were broadcast to "stop and
detain" Larry's car and its passengers. Thus thousands of men would
be on the look out for the fugitives, although Labar feared it would
be too late. Before instructions could reach the men on their patrols
the car would in all likelihood be far away. But there was more than a
chance that the route would be picked up, although Labar was too old a
hand to rely confidently even upon this.
Men were on their way to Larry's house at Hampstead, and Malone was
even then swearing out a search warrant. All this was more or less
an ordinary adaptation of the Scotland Yard organisation to meet an
emergency. Labar considered the advisability of getting on to the Yard
and obtaining permission to use the newspapers. It was a resort of
which the authorities were not too fond, for there is still a certain
suspicion of the Press at Scotland Yard. The inspector resolved that
the step might well wait till all else failed.
As his grip on the work before him tightened, a flash of inspiration
came to Labar. He nodded grimly in confirmation of his own reasoning.
There was only one way in which Larry Hughes could make certain that
Penelope could be for ever prevented from giving evidence. A married
woman, so the law runs, cannot be compelled to give evidence against
her husband.
He turned cold at the thought. Would Larry dare? Was there after all
anything he would not dare? But even so no marriage could take place
without the consent of the girl. Was she likely to succumb to Larry's
persuasions--or threats?
He stood at the door of his room and shouted a name. "Here, you! Tumble
down to Somerset House--Registrar-General's Department. I want to know
what steps have to be taken to get a special marriage licence. If any
application comes in with regard to a couple called Hughes and Noelson,
I want to know at once. Get off right away."
There was nothing more he could do for the present in regard to the
abduction. He glanced at his watch. He ought to go down to Streetly
House, but at any moment they might bring in Gold Dust Teddy, and
he wanted to be at hand to see that gentleman. He decided to wait.
Throwing himself back in his chair he put his feet on the desk and
closing his eyes indulged in the luxury of a nap.
Half-an-hour passed before he was roused by the information that Teddy
was downstairs in the charge-room awaiting his pleasure.
"Have much trouble?" he asked the officer who brought him the news.
"Not what you might call a lot, sir. Found him in his favourite pub
and jumped him before he had a chance to get ugly. He was half-lit up,
and gave Down a black eye before we got the bracelets on him. But he's
sobered up a lot now, though he's still talking big."
"Right oh. Put him in the detention-room. I'll be down to see him in a
minute."
Gold Dust Teddy greeted Labar with a sort of surly amiability some
five minutes later. There is no overt enmity between the ordinary
professional rogue and the police. He recognises that the detectives
are merely doing a job in bringing him to justice, and, though he
will do anything to keep out of their clutches, once there he accepts
matters as they are with a sort of philosophy. Now and again there is
an officer against whom he nourishes some bitter grievance, and he will
talk with venom and contempt of the "Johns" and the "bodies" among his
intimates. But face to face detective and crook meet on those terms of
intimacy that might exist between members of opposing teams.
Teddy did not look a Bill Sikes. He would have passed any normal
scrutiny as a respectable middle-class citizen. He wore a collar and
tie, and there were distinct traces of a crease in his trousers. His
cleanshaven face was hard, but not in the least forbidding, except that
the puffy eyes betrayed something of sottishness. You might set him
down as a hard case perhaps, but you would not condemn him on his looks.
"I been wanting to see you, Mr. Labar," he said aggressively. "It's a
bit tough on a bloke that's trying to run straight to have your fellers
come and rough house him without giving him a chance. Wouldn't even
tell me what it was for. It's illegal, that's what it is."
"Just wanted a little talk with you, Teddy," observed Labar quietly.
"Nothing to get excited about."
"Excited. You should tell them birds not to get excited. On my back
like a pair of ravening wolves they was. And I'm telling you, Mr.
Labar, there ain't anything against me. Not a thing. I've got a clean
sheet, I have, since I did that last lot."
"Glad to hear that, Teddy. Got enough money to retire on, have you? Or
have you got a job? Let's see. It's nine months since you came out of
stir. What have you been doing, besides drink?"
Well aware that Labar knew a great deal about him, Teddy shrugged his
shoulders. "I've had a glass now and again," he said defiantly. "Why
shouldn't I? You know how hard it is for a bloke like me, guv'nor.
Tried hard I have. What chance is there for a bloke like me?"
"Where was your last job? Have you got any references?"
"Fat hope. The wife had a bit of money by her and that's kept us going."
"Uh-huh. Getting pretty well up against it last week, weren't you? Or
did your wife have a new dividend in on Monday?"
The detective had not raised his voice, but Teddy winced as though the
question had been shouted at him. "'Struth, guv'nor, you don't think
I was in that Gertstein job, do you? I can prove where I was all that
night. I can bring witnesses."
"Sure you can?" Labar's voice was soothing, velvety. "What kind of
witnesses?" He did not doubt that the other had taken some kind of
steps to establish an alibi. "I wonder if a jury would believe 'em
against the story I might have to tell. Mind you, Teddy, I like you.
I'd hate to have to push all I know." The hint, half threat, half
promise, was delicately conveyed. "Much better for you to give me the
full strength of the yarn."
Teddy blinked. "You're bluffing," he asserted, doggedly. "I had nothing
to do with it. You can't lay anything over me."
"Bluffing, am I? Don't you believe it, son. I know all about Larry
and the others. You think that Larry will help you out of this mess.
He won't. He's on his way out of London, and he's leaving you and the
others to hold the baby. Here." His voice changed and he fixed his
eyes sternly upon the burglar. "How do you account for this?" He fished
a piece of paper from his waistcoat pocket. "This was found in your
house, and it's a message from Larry to you. 'All ready. Cut out the
booze or I'll put you in the mud. Meet to-night at----'" The inspector
mumbled something incoherently and thrust the paper in his pocket. "You
thought that you'd burnt that, Teddy, but you hadn't. You've botched
it, Teddy. Now are you going to help me or are you going to be a fool?
Make up your mind."
Teddy's face had visibly paled while he listened. His first impression
that Labar had been bluffing was right. But the inspector on his
slender materials had managed to weaken the burglar's opinion. He
was determined to break Teddy down, and since the Third Degree is
frowned upon by British law, there was only this way open to him. It
might be questioned by a pedant whether even so he was within the
narrow confines of legality. That troubled him little. The strict
interpretation of the law in the letter and the spirit would paralyse
half the activities of Scotland Yard.
There is possibly honour among thieves in a few exceptional cases. Here
and there one may find a "straight crook" who will loyally stand by
his associates, but as a general principle known to every police force
in the world, there is scarcely a thief who will not give away another
thief if pressed, either to curry favour or in the hope of some measure
of protection for himself.
This time, however, Labar realised that it might be more difficult.
Among those who knew him Larry Hughes was recognised to have a long
arm. He gave rewards lavishly, but he held stern discipline. There were
tales in the underworld, even among those who would not have recognised
Larry Hughes if they saw him, of certain, if sometimes long delayed,
vengeance on those who had talked too much. Larry never forgot, and
never failed to repay. It was an element in his own methods of ensuring
safety.
Teddy hesitated. He was in a police station and Labar was the more
immediate danger. Against that, not even Labar could hold him immune
from a long term of imprisonment if he admitted complicity in the
robbery. The most he could do would be to refrain from pressing
the case too heavily. Supposing he thus saved a year or two of his
sentence, there were still Larry and Larry's friends to be reckoned
with. He had heard of men being "framed" by Larry for crimes they
had not committed, men against whom the police had found convincing
evidence to their hands. There were others, cripples for life, who dare
not tell in what strange encounter they received their injuries. There
were still others who had dropped out of all human knowledge, with only
the possibility of a grim guess at their fate. All of these had in some
degree failed to keep faith with Larry Hughes.
"I don't know any Larry." He met the gaze of the inspector with a fixed
stare. "I ain't had no message from no one. You didn't find that paper
in my place, and if you did it don't prove anything. You won't get me
spilling anything, Mr. Labar, so you may as well save your breath. If
you're going to keep me here I want to see a mouth-piece. I know my
rights."
"We're good friends, Teddy."
"You don't blarney me any more than you can bluff me," said the other,
dourly. "I know my rights."
"That's all right then. Better be careful." Labar was as mild as ever,
and perhaps a shade more genial. "Run along now and be a good boy.
Don't get into any more mischief."
Teddy scowled uneasily and shifted to his feet twirling his soft hat in
his hands. He did not know what to make of this dismissal, but he was
more than a little suspicious. In his experience divisional detective
inspectors did not give up in this way.
"You're through?" he asked.
"Through for now. I may have to see you again, I hope. Look after
yourself."
Sufficient for the day are the troubles thereof. That was part of Gold
Dust Teddy's philosophy. He did not for an instant suppose that Labar
was as generous as he appeared to be--there was certainly something
behind this move. But the immediate fact was that he was out of a hole.
Whatever happened thereafter could be met from outside a cell.
With a cheerful salute he passed through the door which the inspector
unlocked for his benefit, and so through a few odd uniformed police
and one or two detectives at whom he leered triumphantly out of the
entrance to the station.
Labar thrust an arm through that of a frowning young detective sergeant
whose discoloured eye told Teddy's prowess and led him upstairs.
"You've helped a whole lot on this job, Down," he said. "Don't you
worry about Teddy. We'll get our hooks on him when we want. I'm using
him as bait. What I want you to do is to watch when the big fish bites."
He expounded at greater length when he was back at his desk. "This
joker's in the game up to the neck, but you can bet Larry's only
trusted him as far as he had to. How much he knows I can't say. He's
scared to death to say anything, now. But it's odds, now that we're on
to him, that he'll try to give the office to Larry either direct, or
through someone else. You've got to tail him closer than a brother.
Take Heath to help you--he doesn't know Heath. And be particularly
careful when he's stewed. He may drop something that we'd like to know.
See if you can get a line through what channels his money comes, though
Larry's likely to have seen that you don't get back to him that way. If
you do get hold of anything burn the wires in getting it to me."
Down jerked his head in comprehension. "I'll attend to it, sir. Heath
will be on the job when I have to stay under cover."
"Get to it then. I'm relying on you not to fall down."
The divisional detective inspector turned to other matters.