Help From The Baron (24 page)

Bristow smoothed down his hair.

“Well, you know what they did,” he went on. “You know, or guess, that they were afraid that if Francesca knew about Joy, she might have told Simon. That’s why they kidnapped him.

“But you don’t know why Lisle went back to his office, and - ”

“Whoa back,” interrupted Mannering. “We don’t know a lot of things. Why did Lisle give Francesca that cross, in the first place?”

“He thought it was safe enough,” Bristow declared. “I can’t answer for his reasoning or his frame of mind. Sentiment on Francesca’s twenty-first might have had something to do with it. There are some things I can tell you- - ”

“About what happened on the Festival Hall Terrace, I hope,” Mannering said dryly.

“Oh, yes. There was an unknown third party present,” Bristow told him, with almost ponderous deliberation. “By name . . .”

“Abe Prinny,” murmured Mannering.

Bristow looked almost sour.

“So you did know.”

“I guessed.”

“You probably knew all the time,” agreed Bristow. “Prinny had been offered the jewels by Lisle. They were too big for him, but he looked for a market. Then he discovered the kind of trouble Lisle was in. So he also followed Lisle to Waterloo, and when Scoby had the jewels, Prinny crept up in the dark, and snatched them.

“He wasn’t recognised, but he was suspected. Scoby went to see him next day. Prinny said Lisle had left the cross with him, as evidence that he - Lisle - had the collection. Scoby wasn’t satisfied. Prinny, as you know, was terrified by then. Next we had a squeal from someone who owed Prinny a grudge, and who heard him and Lisle talking. You know what happened. Prinny tried to save himself by naming you, John; you’d been there, and Scoby’d brought you in, too. After we let Prinny go, Scoby’s men saw him, he confessed he’d taken the jewels, and - again to save himself - said he’d given them to you.

“That was what Scoby was ready to believe, but it didn’t save Prinny.”

There was a short silence before Bristow went on: “Well, that’s that.”

“Now for Lisle.”

“Lisle didn’t know what had happened after he’d been knocked out at the Terrace. He came round and rang his flat. A man answered. He guessed it was a policeman, and daren’t go there. He’d nowhere to go, so he went to his office. He had to sooner or later, because his passport was there, and money he needed badly. He’d arranged to see Prinny there, too, but Prinny didn’t turn up.

“Instead, Scoby’s men were waiting. Because Lisle could name Joy, he was killed.”

Mannering shifted his position, and Bristow paused almost expectantly.

“Who told you he was dead?” Mannering asked. “You had a squeal, didn’t you?”

“One of the odd things that happen, John,” Bristow said. “It was Prinny’s wife. She went to keep the appointment instead of Prinny, saw Scoby’s men leave, and heard them talking. So she rang the Yard.”

Mannering said: “I see, Bill,” very quietly.

“I just don’t understand about the letter,” Lorna said. “Francesca was worried because her father was missing, and . . .”

“It arrived during the party. Cissie the maid gave it to her just as she was leaving to go to Waterloo. She didn’t dream it was from Lisle, who hadn’t mentioned it. She had plenty to worry about, and put it in her pocket. It was actually found in the coat pocket taken out of the Thames by the river patrol that night. The other things were handed over, but the letter was dropped and accidentally tucked aside. It was found tonight, when the sergeant in charge used the boat-hook for the first time since Monday. The letter was typewritten and quite legible, and it tells the whole story.”

Mannering didn’t even say: “Trade secret?”

“You’d better have another drink,” Lorna said to Bristow.

It had been a glorious spring; so glorious that the pessimists were already worrying about the bad summer which was sure to follow. And much had happened. Francesca was herself again, and yet not herself, being remote and withdrawn. Simon was her constant companion, but obviously did not know how he stood with her.

Susan Pengelly remained her usual self. Lorna frequently said she wanted to paint the girl, but couldn’t bring herself to ask her to sit.

It was just before dark one evening when Francesca called on the Mannerings, and after a few hesitant minutes told them that she was going to France.

“My father was born there,” she said, “my mother was French, and I feel that I’d like to live there for a while. There is a little money and some property, all mine now. I shall go very soon and only one thing worries me.”

“What’s that?” Mannering asked.

She looked so very beautiful; and remotely sad.

“Simon is the worry,” she said. “I don’t want to hurt him, but I am not in love. I shall never be able to marry him. I’ve told him what I’m going to do, and he talks wildly about coming and living in France near me. Can you - can you think of a way to stop him?”

Mannering and Lorna were very quiet, before Lorna said “Have you told Simon you can’t even think of marriage?”

“Not - not in so many words.”

“He’ll only believe it from you,” Lorna said, “shall I telephone him, and ask him to come here?”

Francesca said: “Will you, please? It will help so much to have you near.”

Francesca and Simon were in the drawing-room, alone, for a long time. Mannering wasn’t quite sure how long.

He was glad that it was at least twenty minutes, for that gave Susan Pengelly time to arrive. Mannering had telephoned her, suggested that she should come, and warned her that when Simon left he would probably be in an execrable mood. She was outside, sitting in Simon’s Triumph.

“I can take it,” she had said. Mannering remembered her pause and her little laugh as she had gone on: “We can’t all have your wife’s matrimonial judgment.”

“And that reminds me,” Mannering had said, “my wife won’t be happy until she’s painted you. She’s wanted to ever since . . .”

“Granted, if she’ll take a risk afterwards, and let you sit for me,” Susan had said. “You’ll make a lovely devil.”

Published or to be published by

House of Stratus

Dates given are those of first publication

These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

Published by House of Stratus

‘Department ‘Z’’ (28 titles)

‘Dr. Palfrey Novels’ (34 titles)

‘Inspector West’ (43 titles)

‘Sexton Blake’ (5 titles)

‘The Baron’ (47 titles) (writing as Anthony Morton)

‘The Toff’ (59 titles)

along with:

The Masters of Bow Street This epic novel embraces the story of the Bow Street Runners and the Marine Police, forerunners of the modern police force, who were founded by novelist Henry Fielding in 1748. They were the earliest detective force operating from the courts to enforce the decisions of magistrates. John Creasey’s account also gives a fascinating insight into family life of the time and the struggle between crime and justice, and ends with the establishment of the Metropolitan Police after the passing of Peel’s Act in 1829.

Gideon’s Day Gideon’s day is a busy one. He balances family commitments with solving a series of seemingly unrelated crimes from which a plot nonetheless evolves and a mystery is solved. One of the most senior officers within Scotland Yard, George Gideon’s crime solving abilities are in the finest traditions of London’s world famous police headquarters. His analytical brain and sense of fairness is respected by colleagues and villains alike.

Meet the Baron John Mannering ( The Baron ) makes his first appearance in this volume. Lord Fauntley cannot help showing off both his daughter and the security under which his precious jewels are kept. Mannering finds himself attracted to both .... Money is tight and so he plans a burglary, but this fails and unexpected consequnces result. The relationship with Lorna Fauntley flourishes, and a series of high profile thefts and adventures ensure Mannering’s future, so he believes, until Lorna equates him with The Baron . One of the many further twists in this award winning novel occurs when the police appear to seek Mannering’s help, only to have everything turned upside down as the plot develops . . .