Elk 02 The Joker Read Free Page B

And of course he had placed her. He knew her as the niece of Arthur Ingle, sometime Shakespearean actor and now serving five years for an ingenious system of fraud and forgery. But then, he was unscrupulous, as Mr Harlow had said. He had a power of invention which carried him far beyond the creative line, but he was not averse to stooping on the way to the most petty deceptions. And this in spite of the fact that he had been well educated and immense sums had been spent on the development of his mind, so that lie might distinguish between right and wrong.
    ‘Fotheringay Mansions.’ He fingered his grimy chin. ‘How positively exclusive!’
    She turned on him in sudden anger. ‘I’ve accepted your escort, Mr - ’ She paused insultingly.
    ‘Carlton,’ he murmured; ‘half-brother to the hotel but no relation to the club. And this is fame! You were saying?’
    ‘I was going to say that I wished you would not talk. You have done your best to kill me this evening; you might at least let me die in peace.’
    He peered through the fog-shrouded windows. ‘There’s an old woman selling chrysanthemums near Westminster Bridge; we might stop and buy you some flowers.’ And then, quickly: ‘I’m terribly sorry, I won’t ask you any questions at all or make any comments upon your plutocratic residence.’
    ‘I don’t live there,’ she said in self-defence. ‘I go there sometimes to see the place is kept in order. It belongs to a - a - relation of mine who is abroad.’
    ‘Monte Carlo?’ he murmured. ‘And a jolly nice place too! Rien ne va plus! Faites vos jeux, monsieurs et mesdames! Personally I prefer San Remo. Blue sky, blue sea, green hills, white houses - everything like a railway poster.’ And then he went off at a tangent. ‘And talking of blueness, you were lucky not to be hit by the blue Rolls; it was going faster than me, but it has better brakes. I rammed his petrol tank in the fog, but even that didn’t make him stop.’
    Her lips curled in the darkness. ‘A criminal escaping from justice, one thinks? How terribly romantic!’
    The young man chuckled.
    ‘One thinks wrong. It was a millionaire on his way to a City banquet. And the only criminal charge I can bring home to him is that he wears large diamond studs in his shirt, which offence is more against my aesthetic taste than the laws of my country, God bless it!’
    The cab was slowing, the driver leaning sideways seeking to identify the locality.
    ‘We’re here,’ said Mr Carlton; opened the door of the taxi while it was still in motion and jumped out.
    The machine stopped before the portals of Fotheringay Mansions.
    ‘Thank you very much for bringing me home,’ said Aileen primly and politely, and added not without malice: ‘I’ve enjoyed your conversation.’
    ‘You should hear my aunt,’ said the young man. ‘Her line of talk is sheer poetry!’
    He watched her until she was swallowed in the gloom, and returned to the cab.
    ‘Scotland Yard,’ he said laconically; ‘and take a bit of a risk, O son of Nimshi.’
    The cabman took the necessary risk and arrived without hurt at the gloomy entrance of police headquarters. Jim Carlton waved a brotherly greeting to the sergeant at the desk, took the stairs two at a time, and came to his own little room. As a rule he was not particularly interested in his personal appearance, but now, glancing at the small mirror which decorated the upturned top of a washstand, he uttered a groan.
    He was busy getting the grease from his face when the melancholy face of Inspector Elk appeared in the doorway.
    ‘Going to a party?’ he asked gloomily.
    ‘No,’ said Jim through the lather; ‘I often wash.’
    Elk sniffed, seated himself on the edge of a hard chair, searched his pockets slowly and thoroughly.
    ‘It’s in the inside pocket of my jacket,’ spluttered Carlton. ‘Take one; I’ve counted ‘em.’
    Elk sighed heavily as he took out the long leather case, and, selecting a cigar, lit