She looked into his sympathetic eyes. ‘Yes,’ she said eagerly. ‘I’ve never done such a thing in my life before. I’m not in the habit of dining with strangers. It was indiscreet of me, but I thought there was no harm in it.’
‘Youthful high spirits,’ murmured Tripp, leaning back in his chair, his eyes half-closed. ‘He came into your office—the room next door?’
‘Yes.’
‘And Sir Richard was out at the time?’
‘He’d just gone. It was five o’clock.’
There was a pause, and then the detective’s voice snapped out like a pistol shot:
‘Did the man come into this room, Miss Marlowe?’
His grey eyes had opened wide, and they were as hard as flint.
‘Certainly not to my knowledge,’ said Elizabeth.
Inspector Tripp rose to his feet.
‘That is all I propose to ask you at present, Miss Marlowe. Many thanks.’ He opened the door for her to pass through into her own room, and then looked across at the barrister.
‘What do you make of it, Tripp? Who is this fellow Gilmour?’
‘That,’ said the detective, ‘is what I now intend to find out. May I use your telephone? I want to get the number of his room.’
As he sat with the receiver to his ear, Tripp looked at the faded photograph on the desk. It had lain there throughout the interview with Elizabeth Marlowe, and a puzzled expression came into his eyes as he recalled how her glance had so often strayed back to it. What queer fascination had this photograph for Sir Richard Templeton’s secretary?
CHAPTER VIII
ALAN MAKES A FRIEND
‘Mr. Alan Gilmour?’ asked Chief Inspector Tripp when the bedroom door was opened in answer to his knock.
‘Yes, I’m Gilmour! What can I do for you, sir?’
Inspector Tripp ran his eye over the young man in the dark-blue dressing-gown.
His figure was tall and lean, his face bronzed; his smile was pleasant, revealing strong white teeth; and there was something square and rugged about the cut of his jaw. This was scarcely the type of man that Tripp had expected to see, but nevertheless he decided to go carefully.
‘Here is my card,’ he said. ‘May I have a few minutes’ talk with you, Mr. Gilmour?’
The young man gave a whistle. ‘Scotland Yard? Sounds bad!’ He smiled. ‘Won’t you come in?’
He waved his hand across the bedroom to the arm-chairs beside the open window. ‘Let’s sit down over there. Cigarette—or baccy? I’ve just finished breakfast, you’ll notice.’ He pointed to the tray containing the demolished remains of the meal. ‘But it’s my first morning back in London, and I’ve got nothing particular to do except enjoy myself.’ He lit the pipe he had been filling from a large pouch, then dropped into an arm-chair, and looked expectantly across at the detective.
‘I believe you took a Miss Marlowe out to dinner last night?’ queried Tripp abruptly.
‘Correct first go,’ nodded Alan, ramming the tobacco more tightly into his pipe and re-lighting it.
‘You had never met her before?’
‘Wrong,’ said Alan Gilmour. ‘I’d met her twice—yesterday afternoon. But hold on, Mr.’—he glanced at the detective’s card on the small table in front of him—‘Mr. Tripp. Before we go any further, what’s the idea?’
The detective gave a slight shrug.
‘A perfectly simple one. Something rather unusual happened in this hotel last night, Mr. Gilmour, and it is my duty to make inquiries.’
‘Unusual? You mean a burglary——’
‘Yes, a burglary. It took place in the room immediately below—one of those occupied by Sir Richard Templeton. Any one who entered Sir Richard’s suite yesterday must naturally be under a certain suspicion—particularly if he’s a stranger. I suggest it would save time if you let me have some details about yourself.’
‘That’s easy enough,’ said Alan Gilmour with a laugh, ‘for there isn’t much to tell.’
When he had finished his brief recital the detective gave a friendly nod.
‘I’m satisfied. As a matter of routine I must of course telephone the P. & O. Company, also your bank, to check your statements. You won’t object to that? Thank you. Both offices should be open by now. May I put through the calls straight away?’ He pointed to the telephone instrument on the small table beside the bed.
Gilmour smoked at the window until the detective laid down the receiver and came over to him with a smile.
‘If it hadn’t happened that you took Miss Marlowe out to dinner last night, believe me you’d never have had to submit to this indignity, Mr. Gilmour!’
Inspector Tripp lay back in his chair and looked across at the young man’s eager blue eyes. He was a shrewd and rapid reader of character, and he now confessed to himself that he had taken to Alan Gilmour at first sight. Their brief talk had merely confirmed his first impression. Here, he knew very well, was a man he could trust, and a sudden idea struck him.
‘If you’re willing, Mr. Gilmour,’ he said slowly, ‘I think you might be of very considerable help to me.’
‘In what way?’
‘How long do you intend to stop at this hotel?’
‘A week or so. Until I get fed up with it. My plans are quite indefinite.’
‘Would you be inclined to stay on even longer than that, if you found it intensely interesting?’
‘I think so. Why not? But what’s the notion?’
‘I’m inclined, Mr. Gilmour, to take you—just a little way—into my confidence. . . . Thanks, I have matches.’ He lit his pipe and looked thoughtfully across the breakfast-tray at the young man in the opposite arm-chair. ‘Ever heard of anybody called Lord John?’
‘Considering one can’t open a newspaper without——’
‘Right,’ said Tripp shortly. ‘He’s living in this hotel.’
Gilmour gave a low whistle. ‘He is, by gad? It looks as if I’d chosen a lively spot!’
‘You have. It may possibly become livelier yet in the next few days.’
He paused, and, as a floor-valet entered with freshly-pressed clothes over his arm, he quickly removed from the table the card which bore his name and rank.
‘Did you notice that man?’ said Tripp, after the door had been shut. ‘He won’t be here to-night. He doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve already fixed up with the manager for him to have a week’s holiday on full wages. One of my own men is taking his place. There’s another going on to the floor below. I may arrange several other changes with the manager, but one has to go very, very delicately.’
Alan’s eyebrows went up. ‘You seem to be tackling this job thoroughly, Mr. Tripp.’ During the last fifteen minutes he had been developing a genuine respect for this slightly built man with greying hair and shy manner; he liked the glance of his quiet eyes and the unassuming smile. ‘You said I might be of a little help to you, Mr. Tripp?’
‘I said considerable help,’ corrected the other. ‘Pardon my being personal for a moment. If I may say so, I think you’re an easy mixer: you get on well with people. That’s how you can help me in the first place, Mr. Gilmour. Mix with the people in the public rooms of this hotel, and keep your eyes open. I’m not asking you to spy upon your fellow-guests. Far from it!’ He took the pipe from his mouth, and sat forward, elbows on knees. ‘I’m asking you to help me rout out, from among them, the man who’s a danger to the whole community—a thief and a murderer!’ He paused. ‘If you object to the commission, say so?’
‘Object?’ Gilmour gave a short laugh. ‘Of course I don’t! I take it as a compliment, Mr. Tripp. I’m not a particularly observant sort of bloke, but I’ll do what you ask if it’ll help you. Will you be popping in and out yourself?’