Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 27, No. 2, September 24, 1927

Smith went on. “It was a clever scheme — getting Pink and me together — to talk. I suppose you were coming along to supply conversational leaders, eh? So that we should say all that we’d done.”

“That’s right,” agreed Kitty. “Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings, you know. There’s nothing like getting evidence of a man’s guilt from his own lips. It’s usually conclusive, especially when he’s sane and levelheaded like you are. It seemed to me the only way of doing it. Things were getting pressing. Pink messed things by shooting Bordington, you see.”

“And getting your pet boy pinched,” sneered Smith.

Some color showed in Kitty’s cheeks. “You’ll have seen the evening papers?” she asked.

“Oh, yes. I know he’s safe. You’re a wonder, aren’t you?”

Kitty shrugged her shoulders. “What do you intend to do?”

“Kill you.”

She leaned back. She stared at him, and saw him vaguely, wolfish, grim. His teeth were showing.

“Listen,” he said. “Directly I was phoned about Pink I knew the net was tight. I guessed that when I didn’t show up at Pink’s every policeman in Britain would be looking for me. I guessed that every port and every ship would be watched.

“They’d at last got a line on the leader of the Fellowship, and all hell would be shifted to hold him. But — they reckoned without one or two things. I’m a man who always has believed in care. I learned to fly a year or two back — when flying was become a very practicable thing. I’ve got a house in Surrey where I keep a plane, and that plane has been prepared this evening for flight. Round the corner I’ve got a fast car, and I’m riding for Surrey when I’ve finished with you.

“I guessed the police would be watching trains and boats — perhaps roads — I’ll have to chance that. But the last place they’d watch would be this little flat, eh? So I came to settle with you first.”

He was right. Kitty knew that. He had put his finger on the one weak spot. He could kill her in this flat, and only the morning would show the crime. By morning, if he won through to his plane, he would be hundreds of miles away.

He added: “Did Pink put himself in the soup?”

“He stated that he had killed Lord Bordington, if that’s what you mean,” said Kitty. “Although, for that matter, it was largely unnecessary. I had him all right. It was you I wanted to get.”

Smith laughed. “A great many folk have tried to do that — and though you’ve come nearest to them all, I doubt but that nobody will ever succeed.”

“Pink talked of Bradley and a fellow named Hunt,” lied Kitty carelessly.

Smith’s laugh broadened. “Did he? He would. At the time he regarded it as admirable that Bradley should be killed by snake-bite and that Hunt’s death should be carefully arranged to look like accident. Shows how people change. Hunt was an I.D.B., you know. Fell across us. Wouldn’t work in with us. We — removed him.”

“I know.”

Kitty got to her feet. Her action was deliberate. Smith’s finger was itching at the trigger of the big automatic. She wondered whether he would shoot her or kill her more silently.

She thought of Jim Lansdale. He was free. The stigma was removed from him. He would never know — now. He would just think that the superintendent had made other discoveries. He would try and forget her.

She felt aimless. She thought of the flat door. Why had she come in? Why hadn’t she run when she saw Smith? It was folly of that type which changes lives. Half the world’s catastrophies are due to moments of sheer madness.

And now — he would kill her.

Chapter XVII The Lost Moment

She heard him ask a question. “Who brought you into this?”

“My father. At least — he allowed me — under persuasion. I’ve helped him before. He could make no headway; so I came in.”

“Hm. You achieved a reputation, didn’t you?”

“I thought it best. It was a short cut to you.”

“Yes. Cute. Your father’s still in business then?”

“He wasn’t. He retired after the war. But they brought him back on the Fellowship job.”

“Come-backs are never successful,” said Smith. “I’ve always noticed it. Look at Pink. He’ll hang. He ought to have stayed away. Why’d you go after Bordington’s safe?”

“It was this way. I knew about Trevelyan. You know, it’s well known that you and he work together. Well, I learned about the Monte Carlo business — Trevelyan — the woman — Bordington. I didn’t know what was happening, of course; but I did know that those three were associated.

“The woman’s record was no better than Trevelyan’s, and Trevelyan was your employe. Long shots sometimes hit the mark. I thought I’d go through Bordington’s private papers. Under the arrangement by which I worked I couldn’t go straight to him; and, anyhow, if he were in a mess it would do no good.

“Curiously enough, my luck was in. He caught me, offered me the job of robbing you, and so opened the way for me to effect a partnership with you. I decided on it directly he made his offer to me.”