‘Thank you; but what I’d really like, if it isn’t asking too much, is the names of your guests.’
Lydia Prideaux sat up, her blue eyes wide. ‘Why, was anything stolen, Inspector? I’ve missed nothing myself. Perhaps one of my guests——’
‘Not exactly that, Mrs. Prideaux,’ said Tripp, picking his words carefully; ‘and I’d be grateful if you can see your way to take my questions on trust. At least, meantime. Perhaps I’ll be able to explain more fully later.’
Lydia Prideaux smiled. ‘You must never reproach a woman for curiosity, Inspector. However, I’ll try to repress mine. You want a list of my guests? I’m afraid that’s going to be awfully difficult. You see, at the last moment I rang up various friends and told them to bring along anybody they liked. I didn’t even know the names of lots of the people who turned up.’
‘I see.’ Inspector Tripp fingered his short-clipped grey moustache, while Mrs. Prideaux rose to her feet, crushing out her cigarette on an ash-tray, and went over to the table at the window.
‘Here’s the list of accepted invitations,’ she said, opening a drawer and taking out several sheets of paper. ‘Now I tell you what I’ll do, Inspector. I’d like to help you. I’ll try to remember everybody I rang up. I’ll get in touch with them again, and ask them the names of the people they brought. I don’t say it’ll be absolutely complete, but it’s the best I can do.’
Tripp thanked her. ‘Somebody called here for Sir Richard Templeton just after midnight,’ he went on. ‘You remember?’
She assented with a nod.
‘It was I who called, Mrs. Prideaux.’ He paused for a moment. ‘About what time had Sir Richard arrived here?’
Lydia Prideaux’s glance was rapid, and so was the smile that followed it.
‘I think you should ask Sir Richard himself, Inspector. I was too busy with my guests to notice.’
Tripp nodded. Her admirably guarded retort was not lost upon him. ‘Anyhow, I apologize for taking him away in such a hurry—the matter was urgent.’
‘Yes, this case——’
She stopped, bit her lip and glanced round at Tripp; but he was sitting with his face quite expressionless, eyes fixed on the floor, one knee clasped between his hands.
‘Case?’ asked Tripp gently.
Mrs. Prideaux corrected herself. ‘Cases, I should have said. He seems to have had so many on hand lately. I sometimes go to the Old Bailey to hear him,’ she ran on quickly. ‘I should hate to have been some of the poor wretches I’ve seen under his cross-examination . . .’
‘Very interesting,’ murmured Tripp, and looked up with a smile. ‘Then you did know,’ he said deliberately, ‘that Sir Richard has been working on the Lord John case?’
The clear blue eyes looked startled, but only for an instant. ‘Sir Richard and I are great friends, but he never talks about his work. How could I know such a thing, Inspector?’
‘That’s precisely what I’d like you to tell me, Mrs. Prideaux.’
‘It’s true then?’ she asked innocently, and sent a gentle peal of laughter through the room. ‘There, you’ve given away one of your deadly official secrets! At least, I suppose it’s a secret?’
Inspector Tripp drew in a long breath and smoothed his greying hair. ‘Since you’ve surprised me into the admission,’ he remarked—and a curious smile was playing round the corners of his lips—‘I hope you’ll respect the confidence.’
‘Indeed I shall.’ She moved her chair a shade nearer. ‘I suppose I’ve no right to ask the question, and of course you mustn’t be indiscreet, but are the police any nearer to finding Lord John? You see, Inspector, I’ve got a reason for asking. I had a horrible feeling that Lord John himself was at my dance last night.’
Inspector Tripp studied his finger-nails. ‘Why do you think so?’
‘I suppose—I suppose you could call it intuition. Anyhow, it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. One never knows what Lord John may do next——’
She looked round as the door opened and Adrian Lister strolled into the room.
‘Sorry, Lydia,’ he said in a lazy voice. ‘I didn’t know you had a visitor.’
‘Do come in. This is Mr. Tripp—or perhaps I should say Chief Inspector Tripp of Scotland Yard.’
Lister gave the detective a casual nod and selected a cigarette from his thin platinum case. ‘Tripp. I remember the name. Let me see. You’re the fellow who’s working on the Lord John affair, aren’t you?’
‘I see you read the newspapers carefully, Mr. Lister.’
‘I don’t,’ said Lister off-handedly. ‘I heard a man mention your name at one of my clubs. Well, I don’t envy you, Mr. Tripp. It looks as if you C.I.D. fellows have met your match this time.’
‘Possibly,’ murmured the detective, unruffled.
Lister took up his position in front of the fire-place and smoothed an imaginary crease on his perfectly-cut waistcoat. His eyes had an ironic gleam. ‘Where do you expect our friend to break out next, Mr. Tripp?’
‘One never knows how near home that might be,’ replied the other quietly. ‘Perhaps in the next street—perhaps this one. It might even be a murder next time.’
Lister looked at Tripp out of half-closed eyes.
‘No doubt your friend Lord John will kill rather than be caught. I wonder if it would amuse him to add murder to his list of crimes.’
‘If it isn’t there already,’ said Tripp in a flash.
‘As you suggest. But his greatest thrill is yet to come. It’s bound to come one day, Mr. Tripp. I mean, when he stands in the dock at the Central Criminal Court, listening to you poor fools fighting among yourselves to take his life.’ Lister gave a low chuckle. ‘Has that idea no thrill for you, Inspector, or are you merely one of the hawks?’
‘One of the hawks,’ said Tripp gently. ‘You see, I’m paid for it.’
He rose to his feet and turned to Mrs. Prideaux.
‘May I thank you for your help? And the list of names, when shall I expect——’
‘I’ll try to post it to you this afternoon, Inspector.’
‘Thank you.’
Tripp clasped the cool fingers which she extended, gave a slight bow in the direction of Adrian Lister, and took his leave.
It was Lister who broke the silence after the faint boom of the front door told that the visitor had departed.
‘What did he want, Lydia?’
Mrs. Prideaux turned on him angrily. ‘Why did you keep on insulting him, Adrian. It won’t help us. He came here for a list of the people at my dance last night.’
‘Does the poor fool suspect any of them of being connected with Lord John?’ asked Adrian Lister with a sneer.
She dropped into a chair and stared at him out of eyes that were suddenly full of misgiving. ‘No! He came here for one reason only. He suspects—us!’
CHAPTER X
IN WHICH ALAN KEEPS HIS EYES OPEN
Alan Gilmour finished his coffee, lit another cigarette, and rose from the luncheon-table. Apart from breakfast, it was the first meal he had eaten in the Marquise Hotel, and he thoroughly approved of it—from the oysters he had chosen as a prelude to the ripe Stilton cheese that had so admirably rounded it off. Feeling that meantime all was well with the world, he strolled across the grill-room, went out into the foyer, and entered one of the concealed telephone-boxes in the corridor towards the left.
‘Sir Richard Templeton’s secretary, please. Yes, I’d like to speak to Miss Marlowe herself.’
Almost at once he heard Elizabeth’s answering voice on the wire.
‘Is Sir Richard in?’ he asked, without preliminaries.
‘No, I’m sorry he won’t be back until four o’clock.’
‘Thank you.’ He rang off abruptly, and strolled across the corridor into the lift. A couple of minutes later he was knocking at the door of Sir Richard Templeton’s suite.