The Fingerprint

Chapter XXXIV

FOR AT LEAST ONCE in his life Sid Turner would have endorsed a police officer’s opinion. His luck had been terrible. With every foreseeable detail thought out, every adverse contingency provided against, the one thing which could upset his careful pla

Then they cleared again. She had known things about him before and she hadn’t split. Besides it was all to her own advantage to keep a still tongue. Whatever she thought, she’d be too frightened of getting drawn in herself not to keep quiet about it.

He had reached this comforting point, when his landlady Mrs. Jenkins called up the stair, “Phone call for you, Sid Turner,” and he went down to take it. The telephone was in her front room, and he shut the door before lifting the receiver. It might be Aggie Marsh. There had been something said about his going round for a spot of supper tonight. Well, he didn’t mind if he did.

It wasn’t Aggie. It was Bertha Cummins.

“Is that you, Sid? I want to see you at once… No-no -it’s not on my account, it’s on yours. Things have been happening at the office. There’s been an Inspector from Scotland Yard-”

“Shut up!” He couldn’t get it out fast enough. The leaky tongues women had! She was trying to say something again, but the rasp in his voice stopped her. “I didn’t get what you said just now-the line’s bad. I’ll be at the corner of West Street in say twenty minutes. We can do a flick.” He hung up and went to meet her.

Bertha Cummins came out of the call-box where she had been ringing up. There are hundreds just like her in any big city-neat, nondescript-the efficient secretary, clerk, manageress. She was thin without being slender, well-featured without making any effect. She had one of those smooth colourless skins which are an excellent foundation for make-up, but she had never done more for it than wash it in soap and water and dust it with powder if the day was warm. She wore neither lipstick nor nail polish. Her clothes were as drab as herself. She was forty-four years old and no man who wasn’t an elderly relation had kissed her until a month ago, when she had dropped her umbrella coming out of the office and Sid Turner had picked it up.

She had let him pick her up too. Even now she couldn’t think how she had come to do it. He had been most respectful in his ma

He was waiting for her at the corner of West Street. She could see the black look on his face before she came up to him. He didn’t raise his voice, but it had a cutting tone in it.

“Don’t you ever say things like that on the phone again, or I’m done with you!”

“Things?”

“You heard! And we’re not talking here-there are too many people about. We’ll get on the next bus separately and get off at the fourth stop from here. We’re not to look as if we’re together.”

They finished up at the back of a very nearly empty tearoom. When the waitress had brought them tea and cakes they had as much privacy as it was possible to achieve.

She had taken only one strong comforting sip, when he said,

“Now what’s all this about a police Inspector?”

She set down her cup again because her hand was shaking too much to hold it.

“He came in after we got back from lunch. He saw Mr. Maudsley, and as soon as he had gone Mr. Maudsley sent for me. He was dreadfully angry and upset. He said there had been a leakage of information from his office and he meant to find out who was responsible. I don’t know what I felt like.”

Sid Turner made it clear that he took no interest in her feelings.

“Tell me what he said.”

“It’s that girl-” When it came to naming Mirrie Field she couldn’t keep her voice from trembling. “You oughtn’t to have rung her up. You ought to have kept right away from her until the will was proved-I could have told you that.”

He said in a low dangerous tone,

“When I want you to teach me my business I’ll let you know. What about the girl?”

“Someone listened in when you were talking to her. They’ve got one of those party lines. I suppose you didn’t know about that, but they have. Anyone can just lift a receiver and listen in on the others. Someone did when you were talking to Mirrie Field. She was telling you about the will having been signed, and you said you had a friend at court so you knew already. When the police asked her what you meant by a friend at court she said it was someone in Mr. Maudsley’s office. Oh, how could you tell her about me! I’ve never done anything like it before, and I wouldn’t have done it for anyone else in the world. You wanted to know, and I told you, but I never thought you would give me away.”

He said,

“Stop nattering! Does Maudsley suspect you?”

“Oh, no. That is what is so dreadful-he trusts me. And he thinks it’s Je

He laughed.

“Then what’s all the fuss about? You’re in the clear, and Je

He looked at her and thought what a stupid woman she was. One good thing, he wouldn’t have to keep up with her after this. He liked a girl to be warm and willing. He could make love to pretty well anything if it was in the way of business, but this thin, anxious woman with her scruples and the marks like bruises under her dark eyes, well, it would certainly be a relief to be rid of her.

She was watching him. She hadn’t been twenty-five years in a lawyer’s office for nothing. She was very much afraid.

“Sid, don’t you realize what this means? I’m not thinking about myself or about Je