Mission To Siena

Chapter III

VENETIAN RED

The big, beefy figure of Inspector Horrocks came into Guido's study where Don had been sitting for the past half-hour, a cigarette burning heedlessly between his fingers.

"Now, sir," Horrocks said, closing the door, "perhaps we can take this a bit further."

"Yes," Don said, woodenly. He was still badly shaken by Guido's death and he would have preferred to have been left alone.

"It would help if you went over the whole story again, sir," Horrocks said, coming over to the fire, and lowering his bulk into a chair opposite the one Don was sitting in.

"Yes, of course," Don said. He went on to give the Inspector a detailed account of how he had met Julia, of the threatening letter and how he had come down to act as Guido's bodyguard. "I just didn't take the thing seriously," he went on, staring into the fire. "I feel responsible for his death. It wasn't until I found the telephone had been tampered with that I thought it possible we might be in for trouble. Even then it didn't occur to me it would happen so quickly. I thought Guido would be safe with Dixon and me to guard him. I left my chauffeur outside to watch the house."

"Where's he jot to, then?" Horrocks asked.

"I don't know. I've been out to look for him, but there's no sign of him. I'm hoping he saw the killer and is after him."

Horrocks grunted.

"Is that likely?"

"I think it is. I'm anxious to get home, Inspector, in case he is trying to contact me."

"I won't keep you much longer, sir," Horrocks said. "I'd like to clear up one or two points. You didn't see the killer yourself?"

"No. I left Dixon with Mr Ferenci and I went upstairs to search the house. Then the lights went out and I heard Julia-Mrs Ferenci - scream. I belted down the stairs and rushed into the lounge. It was pitch dark in there. I had told Dixon I'd call out as I came in, but I forgot to do so. He took me for an intruder and closed with me. We had quite a scrap, and I had to knock him silly before I could get free of him. By thetime I had found a flashlight, the killer had gone. I found Mr Ferenci lying before the open window. Mrs Ferenci had fainted. Then two patrolmen came in. You know the rest of it."

Horrocks nodded.

"The killer somehow fused the lights, then opened the window. Mr Ferenci either felt the draught or else heard the window open. He went to the window. The killer was ready for him. As Mr Ferenci pulled back the curtains, the killer threw the knife."

"How was it your men arrived like that? Did they hear Mrs Ferenci's screams?"

"It was the messenger boy. When he left here, a man came out of the darkness and struck at him with a club. The boy was too quick for him and bolted. The man went after him, but the boy got away. The attack was so quick, the boy didn't get much of a chance to see the man. All he can tell us is that he is tall and slimly built. As soon as the boy got clear, he dialled 999. One of our cars picked him up and brought him here. They arrived just too late." Don rubbed his forehead.

"Have you got anything from Dixon? Did he see anything?" Horrocks shook his head.

"I'm going to talk to him now. He's still groggy from the punch you gave him."

Don moved irritably.

"It was entirely my fault," he said angrily. "I told him I would call out when I returned. Naturally he went for me: he was like a wild cat."

A constable came in.

"Beg pardon, sir. There's a lady asking for Mr Micklem." "That'll be my secretary. I asked one of your men to telephone her. I want her to take care of Mrs Ferenci," Don said, getting to his feet.

"All right, sir. While you talk to her, I'll see how Dixon is getting on," Horrocks said.

Don found Marian in the hall.

"This is a frightful business," he said, going to her. "Poor Guido's been murdered. Julia's in a bad way. The maid's with her now, but

I don't think she's much use. Will you take charge, Marian? If she's as bad as I think she is, you'd better get the doctor.

The maid will tell you whom to get. I'll leave you to handle it."

"Yes, of course," Marian said. "Where is she?"

No questions; no flap. Don never ceased to wonder at Marian's unruffled calm. No situation ever seemed, to throw her out of her stride. He knew he couldn't leave Julia in better hands.

"The door facing the head of the stairs."

Marian nodded and ran up the stairs while Don went into the library where Dixon was lying on the settee with Horrocks standing over him.

"I'm sorry about this, Dixon," Don said, going over to him. "It was entirely my fault. You put up a good show."

"Oh no, sir, I didn't," Dixon said, sitting up. "I got proper wind up. I should have known it was you. The fight going out.."

"Well, never mind," Don said. He looked at Horrocks. "Go ahead, Inspector. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Will you tell me what happened from the time Mr Micklem left the room?" Horrocks asked, sitting by Dixon.

"Well, sir, I stood guard by the door. Mr Ferenci sat on the settee with Mrs Ferenci. All of a sudden the lights went out.

I heard Mr Ferenci jump to his feet. He said something about the window being open. Mrs Ferenci began to scream. I heard Mr Ferenci pull back the curtains. It was raining outside and dark, and I couldn't see a thing. I just stood like a fool staring into the darkness. Then the door burst open. Mr Micklem had told me he would call out when he came in. I did remember that. I thought he was an intruder and I went for him. Then I ran into a punch that knocked me out."

"So you didn't see what happened to Mr Ferenci?" Horrocks asked, an exasperated note in his voice.

"No, sir, I didn't."

Don lifted his shoulders. They were getting nowhere, he told himself He thought again of Harry.

"Has the telephone been fixed yet?" he asked.

"Not yet," HoiTocks said. "We can't find where the line has been cut."

"Then I'll get back to my place. If my chauffeur has had any luck he'll be trying to contact me. If I hear anything I'll let you know."

"I'd be glad if you would, sir."

Nodding to Dixon, Don went into the hall and up the stairs. He knocked on Julia's door. Marian came to the door.

"The doctor's coming," she told Don. "She's still unconscious."

"Stick with her , will you? I'm going home. There's a chance Harry spotted the killer and he may be trying to get me."

"I'll stay with her."

Leaving her, Don hurried to where he had left the Bentley and drove fast to Upper Brook Mews. As he pulled up the front door opened and Cherry appeared. Don leaned out of the car window.

"Any news from Harry?" he asked as Cherry came majestically towards him.

"He telephoned about half an hour ago, sir," Cherry said, coming to rest by the side of the car. "He wishes you to go to Athens Street which he tells me is the second turning on the left off Old Compton Street. He said the matter was urgent."

"Thanks," Don said and making a U-turn he sent the Bentley shooting down the dark, deserted mews.

Athens Street turned out to be a narrow cul-de-sac , dimly lit by one street lamp.

Keeping in the shadows, Don walked quickly down the wet pavement until he was within a few yards of the high brick wall that cut the cul-de-sac off from Dean Street.

He spotted Harry standing in the dark shadows of an archway and he moved into the darkness and joined him.

"Phew! I'm glad to see you, sir," Harry said feelingly. "I've been trying to get you for the past hour. I kept popping over to the phone box, but I couldn't get Mr Ferenci's number."

"What's going on here?" Don asked.

"I spotted a bloke coming from Mr Ferenci's house and I followed him. He's holed up in that house across the way."

Don moved to the entrance of the archway.

"Which house?"

"The one by the wall, sir."

Don studied the three-storeyed building. It was in darkness. He could see there were two windows to each floor and the front door was set back in an archway similar to the one in which he was sheltering.

"Any other way out, Harry?"

"No, sir. I checked that."

"So he's still in there?"

"He's in there all right. About five minutes ago a woman came along and went in. She was wearing a white mackintosh and slacks. It was too dark to see what she looked like."

"What's he like, Harry?"

"Tall and thin, dark, hooked nose, flashily dressed."

The District Messenger had said his attacker had been tall and thin. This sounded like the man all right.

"When did you first spot him, Harry?"

"About a quarter of an hour after the messenger boy had left the house. He came from the back of the house, crossed the garden, vaulted over the wall and bolted down the street to an old Buick that was parked under the trees. I went after him and managed to get in the boot. He drove fast, and it wasn't much of a joy ride for me. He parked the car in a bomb site in Old Compton Street and came here. I had a lot of trouble following him. He seemed jumpy, and kept checking to see if anyone was following him, but he didn't spot me. I'm sure of that. He let himself into the house with a key, and that's the last I've seen of him. The woman knocked when she arrived and he let her in."

"Good show, Harry. I'm going over there to have a look around.

You stay here and keep your eyes open. If I run into trouble, you know what to do. This fellow's dangerous. He killed Ferenci, so don't be fussy the way you handle him if you have to handle him."

"You mean Mr Ferenci's dead?" Harry asked, shocked.

"Yes. I'll tell you about it later. Just keep your ears and eyes open."

"Wouldn't it be better if I went instead of you, sir?" Harry said, trying to sound casual. "No point in dirtying up your suit climbing in and out of windows."

"Do what you're told," Don said curtly. "Watch out. If he makes a bolt for it, stop him."

"Right-ho, sir," Harry said. "The easiest way in is through that window by the wall. The door's got a bolt on it. I've tried it. I'll give you a leg up. Get up on the roof and it'll be a piece of cake2 to get in through the window."

They moved over to the wall. Harry locked his fingers and Micklem put his foot in the cradle thus formed. With a slight heave, he was within reach of the top of the wall. He caught hold of it, and another heave from Harry swung him onto the wall.

Harry waved to him and went back to the shelter of the archway.

Crouching, Don walked up the sloping roof. Just above him was an unlighted window. He peered through the glass into the darkness beyond and could just make out a dim, empty room. The window catch was back. He took out his pocket knife and gently levered up the window. Then he swung himself into the room, lowered the window and crossed to the door.

For a moment or so he stood listening, his ear pressed against the panel of the door, then hearing nothing, he turned the handle and pulled the door open.

He looked into a passage, dimly lit by a light coming from the hall. He moved out of the room, closing the door after him. Then he walked silently to the head of the staircase and again paused to listen.

From the room below he heard a man say, "It was easy. He came to the window and I nailed him."

Moving like a shadow, Don started down the stairs.

"Then he's dead?" a woman's voice said.

Don pricked up his ears at her accent: it was unmistakably Italian. He reached the foot of the stairs. The dim light that lit the hall was coming through a half-open door at the far end of the passage.

"Of course he's dead," Shapiro said. "Now look, let's have the money. I want to get the hell out of here."

"But can you prove to me that he is dead?" Lorelli asked.

Shapiro stared at her.

"What do you mean? If you don't believe me, go out there and take a look at him."

"Don't talk like a fool. When I have seen the morning papers, I'll pay you and not before."

Don edged forward so he could peer into the room. There were only a few sticks of furniture in the room: two chairs, a broken-down settee with some of the springs exposed and a tea chest on which stood a lighted candle stuck into a bottle.

Across the two windows were nailed two grey, dirty blankets.

He took all this in with one swift glance. His attention then centred on the two people in the room.

The man sat astride one of the chairs. He was tall and thin: his dark, cruel face had a wolfish look. He was staring with angry intent eyes at the girl who leaned against the wall, the flickering light of the candle falling directly on her.

She was above average height and around twenty-five or six, She was beautiful in a cold, hard way; her face was pale and her full-lipped mouth in contrast looked startlingly red, but it was her thick wavy hair that attracted his attention.

The colour was Venetian red, a colour that's rarely seen these days in Italy.

A cigarette hung from her glistening lips. Her arms were folded across her breasts. Under the open white mackintosh she wore a white sweater and black slacks.

"You're not kidding, are you?" Shapiro asked, glaring at her.

"I have been instructed to pay you when the job's done," Lorelli said. "I'll know by the papers tomorrow morning if it has been done or not."

"I want the money now," Shapiro snarled. "I've got to have it. Look, I've a boat waiting for me. I need the money to complete the purchase. I can be in France by tomorrow morning if I buy the boat tonight."

"You heard what I said," Lorelli said coldly. Her hands slid into the pockets of her mackintosh. "I'm not going to argue with you."

Shapiro licked his dry lips.

"Now, look, baby, don't let's quarrel. How about coming with me? I'm starting a new racket when I've got the boat. I could use a smart kid like you."

"Could you?" Lorelli said, her eyes hard. "But I couldn't use a fool like you."

Shapiro grinned at her.

"Come off it. Let's be pals. Call me Ed. You and I could get places, working together. Let's have the dough' and come with me, Lorelli. What about it?"

"You'll have the money tomorrow morning and not before," Lorelli said sharply. "I'll bring it here at eight o'clock."

"That's what you think," Shapiro snarled, getting to his feet and kicking the chair out of his way. "We're going back to your place and we're going to collect that dough right now. I have ways of taming a twist like you."

She leaned against the wall, her green eyes watchful, her face expressionsless.

"Have you?" she said, "and I have ways of taming a rat like you." Her hand slid out of her mackintosh pocket. The .25 automatic she held pointed at Shapiro's face. "Get out of my way!"

Shapiro suddenly became deflated. He stepped hastily back.

Don didn't wait to hear any more. He went up the stairs, silently and fast, let himself through the window, closed it and within seconds had joined Harry in the archway.

"The woman's coming out in a moment," he said. "I'm going after her. Stay here and watch the house. I don't think our bird will move, but if he does, don't lose him."

"Okay; sir," Hairy said.

As he spoke the door of the house opened and the girl came out. She closed the door, then set off along the pavement towards the lights of Old Compton Street.

Keeping in the shadows and moving silently, Don went after her.

A half an hour later, Don was in a telephone box in Shepherd Market, speaking to Inspector Horrocks.

"This is Micklem," he was saying. "My chauffeur did spot our man leaving "the house. He followed him to 25, Athens Street. There's a woman connected with this as well. She's at Market Mews. I'm watching her place and Mason's watching the other house."

"Well, I'll be hanged," Horrocks said. "Good work, sir. I'll have patrol cars sent to you both right away, and I'll be with you myself in ten minutes."

"Fine," Don said, and hung up.

He left the telephone box and returned to where he could watch the flat above a grocer's shop into which the redheaded girl had disappeared.

She hadn't been easy to follow. She had taken a taxi from Shaftesbury Avenue, and Don had been lucky enough to pick up another taxi before hers disappeared into Piccadilly. Leaving the taxi at Half Moon Street, the girl had walked along the park side of Piccadilly up Park Lane, looking back continually. Don had somehow managed to hang on to her without being seen, and he had finally spotted her entering the flat above the grocer's shop, using the side entrance. A moment or so later a light had come up in the upper window. He had waited for twenty minutes or so, and when the light had gone out, he had first checked there was no back exit to the flat, then had hurried to the telephone box that was only a few yards from the grocer's shop.

He had scarcely got back to the wantage ground where he could watch the flat when out of the darkness came two police officers.

"Mr Micklem?" one of them asked.

"You've been quick," Don said. "She's in that flat up there."

"Okay, sir," the policeman said. "Inspector Horrocks is on his way. He asked us to stick around. Here, Bill, go into Hertford Street and make sure there's no back way to this place."

The other policeman nodded and went away.

Don lit a cigarette. He felt a little tired. The shock of Guido's death had been a stiff one and now the reaction was beginning to set in.

He and the policeman watched the darkened window for the next ten minutes. Then the big figure of Inspector Horrock's followed by three plain-clothes men' came out of the darkness.

"Well, sir," Horrocks said, "this is a bit of luck. What's been happening?"

Briefly Don told him how Harry had seen the thin man leave Ferenci's house and had followed him to Athens Street.

"The woman joined him about two or three minutes before I arrived," he went on. "I broke in. This fellow - he calls himself Ed and the woman Lorelli - was demanding his money for killing Ferenci." He repeated "the exact conversation he had overheard. "She's paying him at eight o'clock tomorrow."

"I doubt it," Horrocks said. "That's nice work, Mr Micklem. I've sent Hurst and Maddox over to Athens Street. They won't make a move without my say-so. Now let's see what she has to say for herself."

He crossed over to the shabby front door that led to the girl's flat.

"Stand by," he said to his men and lifting the knocker, he rapped loudly.

No one answered.

He hammered on the door several times, then stepped back.

"Okay," he said, "see if you can open the door."

Two burly plain-clothes men came forward. Two shoulders crashed against the door, and under the third assault the door burst open. The detectives darted up the steep narrow stairs.

Horrocks and Don followed them.

"Unless she is a fresh air fiend, it looks as if she's skipped," Don said, pointing to the open skylight at the head of the stairs.

One of the detectives came out of the upper room.

"No one here, sir," he said.

Horrocks growled under his breath.

"Send out the alarm," he said. "I want that woman. Mr Micklem will give you a description of her."

The detectives jotted down Don's description, then ran downstairs to the telephone box.

"She must have spotted you," Horrocks said angrily. "Here you," he went on to the other detective, "get Hurst on the car radio and tell him the girl's gone. Tell him to watch out: she may try to warn Ed."

He and Don went into the flat that consisted of a bedroom, a kitchen and a bathroom.

Horrocks took a quick look round.

"We won't find much here," he said. "I'll have it checked for prints. Let's get over to Athens Street."

Leaving the two constables to guard the flat, Horrocks, Don and the three detectives got into the police car and raced down Piccadilly to Old Crompton Street. They found two policemen guarding the entrance to Athens Street. They stiffened to attention when they saw Horrocks.

"Hurst about?" he asked.

"He's down the alley, sir."

Horrocks entered the cul-de-sac, followed by Don. They found Harry still at his post, and in the company of Sergeant Hurst and Detective Constable Maddox.

"Our man still in there?" Horrocks asked.

"I think so, sir," Hurst said. "We haven't seen or heard anything from the house, but there's no other way out except this way."

"Let's get him," Horrocks said. "Watch your step, Hurst. He's dangerous. What is the door like?"

Hurst shook his head.

"Two bolts and a lock. It'd be easier to jump him through that window," and he pointed to the window Don had used to get into the house.

"Okay, you two, go and get him," Horrocks said.

Don joined Harry in the archway. He itched to go into action himself, but he knew Horrocks wouldn'f stand for it.

They watched Maddox give Hurst a leg up on to the top of the wall. Hurst began to walk up the tiles as Maddox scrambled up after him.

Watching the dark window, Don suddenly spotted a movement behind the glass.

"Look out!" he called sharply. "He's seen you!" Hurst was by now half-way up the roof There was no cover. He too had seen the movement. His hand whipped to his pocket for his truncheon. There came a flash and the bang of gun fire. The glass of the window smashed.

Hurst dropped his truncheon, slumped forward and rolled down the roof, nearly taking Maddox with him.

Maddox grabbed at him and managed to check his descent as Don and Harry rushed forward.

"Leave him to us," Don shouted.

Gun fire crashed again. A bullet smashed a tile within inches of Maddox, who let go of Hurst and swung himself with desperate haste off the wall. Hurst slid limply off the roof. Don and Harry grabbed him and lowered him to the ground.

Harry's hand went to Hurst's neck. His finger found the artery.

"He's had it," he said in a shocked voice.

Horrocks joined them under the shelter of the wall. He paused only long enough to make sure there was nothing he could do for Hurst, then moving with surprising quickness for a man of his bulk, he ran back down the cul-de-sac.

Maddox joined Don and Harry in the archway where they had carried Hurst's body. Maddox was breathing heavily and his face was white and set.

"Shall we have a crack at getting in, sir?" Harry asked Don in a low tone, but Maddox heard him".

"You'll stay right here," Maddox growled. "You two keep out of this. This is police business."

Don said hopefully, "I could get that door open, sergeant..."

"You heard what I said, sir. You two keep out of it." There was a long pause, then Horrocks came back. "We'll have him in a few minutes," he said grimly. "He'll be sorry he started this." He turned to Don. "You've done more than your share in this, Mr Micklem. I'll be glad now if you'll go home."

Don stared at him.

"You're not serious, are you? Hang it, if it hadn't been for Harry and me..."

"I know that, sir," Horrocks said curtly, "but there may be more shooting, and I'm not carrying the can if you happen to stop a bullet. I'll let you know how it works out, but right now, you're going home."

Don saw the sense in this, and although he was reluctant to leave, he lifted his shoulders in a resigned shrug.

"Okay, Inspector; good luck and don't let him get away."

"He won't get away," Horrocks said. "Г let you know how it works out."

"Come on, Harry, let's get out of here."

Leaving the shelter of the archway, Harry and he walked down the cul-de-sac into Old Crompton Street.

"That's a bit of a washout," Don said as they made their way to where he had left the Bentley. "I would like to have seen him caught."

"How's Mrs Ferenci?" Harry asked.

"She's pretty bad. Miss Rigby is looking after her."

As he paused to unlock the Bentley, two cars, packed with men, swept past.

"That's the end of Ed," Don said. "Let's get moving. As soon as the shooting starts, every street around here will be blocked."

It took them only a few minutes to reach Upper Brook Mews. During the drive, Don quickly sketched in what had happened at Ferenci's house.

"Looks like an organized gang, doesn't it, sir?" Harry said. Don pulled up outside No. 25a.

"That's what it looks like." He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was twenty minutes past one. "Okay, Hany, put her away and go to bed. We may be busy tomorrow."

He unlocked the front door and walked into the lounge. Some chicken sandwiches with a bottle of whisky, ice water and glasses stood on the table by the fire.

He poured himself a stiff drink and sat down. He sat for ten minutes or so, staring into the fire, thinking of Julia. It was hard to believe that Guido was dead. The whole nightmare thing was impossible to believe.

The sound of the telephone bell startled him. He picked up the receiver.

"Is that you, Mr Micklem?" Horrocks's voice boomed over the line. "Bad news: he got away."

"Got away!" Don exclaimed, starting to his feet.

"Yes. We broke in and found a tunnel in the cellar. It led to a builder's dump in Dean Street. He must have sneaked out that way."

"For the love of mike!'" Don exploded. "That's not very bright, is it? So now both of them have got away."

"They won't get far," Horrocks said. "Every port, airport and station is being watched. We've got a good description of them. They won't get far."

"Like to bet on that?" Don said and slammed down the receiver.

A girl came across the hall of Polsen's hotel, hesitant and unsure of herself. Dale jerked himself out of a doze, looked at his watch and saw the time was fourteen minutes past four a.m. He got to his feet and leaning on the counter of the desk stared ill-temp eredly at the girl as she came up to,him.

Good grief! he thought. Where in the world has she come from?

The girl was dark and stupid-looking. She had buck teeth and she wore horn-rimmed spectacles. She had on a red and green tartan cloth coat that was slightly too large for her and her lank black hair was caught up in a pale blue silk scarf.

"If you want a room, it'll cost you a couple of pounds," Dale said, "and I want it in advance."

"Yes, I want a room," the girl said, opening her purse. "I lost the last train home."

"If you haven't any luggage, the charge is three pounds. That's the rule of the hotel," Dale said. "Take it or leave it." At that moment Grantor came in and up to the desk. "Gimme my key," he said curtly. The girl looked at him.

"Excuse me," she said, "he's charging me three pounds for a room because I haven't any luggage. Is that right?"

"Look, ugly," Dale snarled, "you heard what I said. Get out and stay out if you don't want to pay."

"Give her a room," Crantor said, picking up his key. "The charge is a pound." He looked at the girl. "Give him a pound."

Dale took a key off the rack and slid it across the counter. His thin, rat-like face was expressionless.

"Room 24," he said and took the pound note the girl gave him. "I'm on the same floor," Crantor said, looking at the girl out of the corner of his eye. She was drab and dull, but he was used to the ugly ones. "I'll show you the way."

The girl followed him obediently up the stairs. When they had rounded the bend and were out of sight of the desk, she said, "Have you heard from Shapiro?"

Crantor started, turned swiftly to stare at her. It was only when she slipped out the buck teeth that he recognized her.

"Lorelli! Well, I'll be damned!"

"I asked if you had heard from Shapiro?" "I've heard from him," Crantor said. He paused outside his door, pushed in the key, unlocked the door and opened it. "You'd better come in."

She followed him into the room and went over to the mirror above the fireplace. He shut the door and turned the key.

"The police nearly nabbed him," he said, taking off his damp overcoat and dropping it on the chair. "He's in a hell of a state.

Something must have gone wrong. He slipped up somewhere, but he wouldn't say where."

"The fool was followed," Lorelli said. "The police nearly caught me." She took a packet of cigarettes from her purse, lit one and blew smoke towards Crantor. "When I left Athens Street I was followed by a tall, powerfully built man. He wasn't a policeman. I'm sure of that. I couldn't shake him off. I went back to the room I had rented in Market Mews. I saw him go to a call box. I changed into this rig-out and got away over the roofs. The police came a few minutes later.

Have you any idea who he could be?"

Crantor shook his head.

"Shapiro killed a cop. He's yelling for his money. It's going to be tricky getting him out of the country."

Lorelli came over to the table and sat down.

"Where is he?"

"He has holed up in his girl's flat. Maybe you remember her: Gina Pasero? Didn't she do a job for the old man in Rome some years ago?"

Lorelli nodded.

"I remember her. She's unreliable. I didn't know she was Shapiro's girl."

"What do you mean — unreliable?" Crantor asked sharply.

"If the police connect her with Shapiro, she'll talk. Has Shapiro told her anything about you?"

Crantor stiffened.

"I don't know. He might have."

Lorelli opened her purse and took out a slip of pink paper. She pushed it across the table.

"I left my bag at Euston station," she said. "There are two things in it that will interest you. One of them is a thousand pounds in five-pound notes. I was instructed to give that sum to the man who killed Ferenci... a man, you understand, not any particular man."

Crantor stared at her. "What's the other thing then?"

"A replica of the knife you gave Shapiro."

Crantor took the slip of paper, folded it carefully and put it in his wallet.

"The police have a description of Shapiro," Lorelli went on. "He can't get away. When he is caught, he will tell them about you."

"Yes," Crantor said.

"I don't think Shapiro is much use to us," Lorelli went on, looking at Crantor. "Do you?"

"Not now," Crantor said and picked up his overcoat. He put it on. "You'd better get some sleep. Your room is across the way."

"I'll wait here until you come back," Lorelli said. "We shall have to do something about Gina Pasero too. It won't take the police long to connect her with Shapiro. Do you know where she lives?"

"No, but I will find out," Crantor said, moving to the door. He paused with his hand on the door knob. "What shall I do with the money?"

Lorelli shrugged her shoulders.

"It belongs to Shapiro," she.said.

Crantor's mutilated face lit up with a wolfish smile.

"Perhaps I'll persuade him to leave it to me in his will," he said and went out, closing the door behind him.