CHAPTER XXVI. THE MOODS OF MOLLIE
Early the following morning Margaret Halley called upon Mollie Gretna.
Mollie's personality did not attract Margaret. The two had nothing incommon, but Margaret was well aware of the nature of the tie which hadbound Rita Irvin to this empty and decadent representative of Englisharistocracy. Mollie Gretna was entitled to append the words "TheHonorable" to her name, but not only did she refrain from doing so butshe even preferred to be known as "Gretna"--the style of one of thefamily estates.
This pseudonym she had adopted shortly after her divorce, when she hadattempted to take up a stage career. But although the experience hadproved disastrous, she had retained the nom de guerre, and during thepast four years had several times appeared at war charity garden-partiesas a classical dancer--to the great delight of the guests and greaterdisgust of her family. Her maternal uncle, head of her house, said tobe the most blase member of the British peerage and known as "the nobletortoise," was generally considered to have pronounced the final verdictupon his golden-haired niece when he declared "she is almost amusing."
Mollie received her visitor with extravagant expressions of welcome.
"My dear Miss Halley," she cried, "how perfectly sweet of you to come tosee me! of course, I can guess what you have called about. Look! Ihave every paper published this morning in London! Every one! Oh! poor,darling little Rita! What can have become of her!"
Tears glistened upon her carefully made-up lashes, and so deep did hergrief seem to be that one would never have suspected that she had spentthe greater part of the night playing bridge at a "mixed" club in DoverStreet, and from thence had proceeded to a military "breakfast-dance."
"It is indeed a ghastly tragedy," said Margaret. "It seems incrediblethat she cannot be traced."
"Absolutely incredible!" declared Mollie, opening a large box ofcigarettes. "Will you have one, dear?"
"No, thanks. By the way, they are not from Buenos Ayres, I suppose?"
Mollie, cigarette in hand, stared, round-eyed, and:
"Oh, my dear Miss Halley!" she cried, "what an idea! Such a funny thingto suggest."
Margaret smiled coolly.
"Poor Sir Lucien used to smoke cigarettes of that kind," she explained,"and I thought perhaps you smoked them, too."
Mollie shook her head and lighted the cigarette.
"He gave me one once, and it made me feel quite sick," she declared.
Margaret glanced at the speaker, and knew immediately that Mollie haddetermined to deny all knowledge of the drug coterie. Because there isno problem of psychology harder than that offered by a perverted mind,Margaret was misled in ascribing this secrecy to a desire to avoidbecoming involved in a scandal. Therefore:
"Do you quite realize, Miss Gretna," she said quietly, "that every hourwasted now in tracing Rita may mean, must mean, an hour of agony forher?"
"Oh, don't! please don't!" cried Mollie, clasping her hands. "I cannotbear to think of it."
"God knows in whose hands she is. Then there is poor Mr. Irvin. He isutterly prostrated. One shudders to contemplate his torture as the hoursand the days go by and no news comes of Rita."
"Oh, my dear! you are making me cry!" exclaimed Mollie. "If only I coulddo something to help...."
Margaret was studying her closely, and now for the first time shedetected sincere emotion in Mollie's voice--and unforced tears in hereyes. Hope was reborn.
"Perhaps you can," she continued, speaking gently. "You knew all Rita'sfriends and all Sir Lucien's. You must have met the woman called Mrs.Sin?"
"Mrs. Sin," whispered Mollie, staring in a frightened way so that thepupils of her eyes slowly enlarged. "What about Mrs. Sin?"
"Well, you see, they seem to think that through Mrs. Sin they will beable to trace Kazmah; and wherever Kazmah is one would expect to findpoor Rita."
Mollie lowered her head for a moment, then glanced quickly at thespeaker, and quickly away again.
"Please let me explain just what I mean," continued Margaret. "It seemsto be impossible to find anybody in London who will admit having knownMrs. Sin or Kazmah. They are all afraid of being involved in the case,of course. Now, if you can help, don't hesitate for that reason. Aspecial commission has been appointed by Lord Wrexborough to deal withthe case, and their agent is working quite independently of thepolice. Anything which you care to tell him will be treated as strictlyconfidential; but think what it may mean to Rita."
Mollie clasped her hands about her right knee and rocked to and fro inher chair.
"No one knows who Kazmah is," she said.
"But a number of people seem to know Mrs. Sin. I am sure you must havemet her?"
"If I say that I know her, shall I be called as a witness?"
"Certainly not. I can assure you of that."
Mollie continued to rock to and fro.
"But if I were to tell the police I should have to go to court, Isuppose?"
"I suppose so," replied Margaret. "I am afraid I am dreadfully ignorantof such matters. It might depend upon whether you spoke to a highofficial or to a subordinate one; an ordinary policeman for instance.But the Home office agent has nothing whatever to do with ScotlandYard."
Mollie stood up in order to reach an ash-tray, and:
"I really don't think I have anything to say, Miss Halley," shedeclared. "I have certainly met Mrs. Sin, but I know nothing whateverabout her, except that I believe she is a Jewess."
Margaret sighed, looking up wistfully into Mollie's face. "Are youquite sure?" she pleaded. "Oh, Miss Gretna, if you knowanything--anything--don't hide it now. It may mean so much."
"Oh, I quite understand that," cried Mollie. "My heart simply aches andaches when I think of poor, sweet little Rita. But--really I don't thinkI can be of the least tiny bit of use."
Their glances met, and Margaret read hostility in the shallow eyes.Mollie, who had been wavering, now for some reason had become confirmedin her original determination to remain silent. Margaret stood up.
"It is no good, then," she said. "We must hope that Rita will be tracedby the police. Good-bye, Miss Gretna. I am so sorry you cannot help."
"And so am I!" declared Mollie. "It is perfectly sweet of you to takesuch an interest, and I feel a positive worm. But what can I do?"
As Margaret was stepping into her little runabout car, which awaited herat the door, a theory presented itself to account for Mollie's suddenhostility. It had developed, apparently, as a result of Margaret'sreference to the Home office inquiry. Of course! Mollie would naturallybe antagonistic to a commission appointed to suppress the drug traffic.
Convinced that this was the correct explanation, Margaret drove away,reflecting bitterly that she had been guilty of a strategical errorwhich it was now too late to rectify.
In common with others, Kerry among them, who had come in contact withthat perverted intelligence, she misjudged Mollie's motives. In thefirst place, the latter had no wish to avoid publicity, and in thesecond place--although she sometimes wondered vaguely what she shoulddo when her stock of drugs became exhausted--Mollie was prompted byno particular animosity toward the Home office inquiry. She had merelyperceived a suitable opportunity to make the acquaintance of the fiercered Chief Inspector, and at the same time to secure notoriety forherself.
Ere Margaret's car had progressed a hundred yards from the door, Molliewas at the telephone.
"City 400, please," she said.
An interval elapsed, then:
"Is that the Commissioner's office, New Scotland Yard?" she asked.
A voice replied that it was.
"Could you put me through to Chief Inspector Kerry?"
"What name?" inquired the voice.
Mollie hesitated for three seconds, and then gave her family name.
"Very well, madam," said the voice respectfully. "Please hold on, and Iwill enquire if the Chief Inspector is here."
Mollie's heart was beating rapidly with pleasurable excitement, and shewas as confused as a maide
n at her first rendezvous. Then:
"Hello," said the voice.
"Yes?"
"I am sorry, madam. But Chief Inspector Kerry is off duty."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Mollie, "what a pity. Can you tell me where I couldfind him?"
"I am afraid not, madam. It is against the rules to give privateaddresses of members of any department."
"Oh, very well." She sighed again. "Thank you."
She replaced the receiver and stood biting her finger thoughtfully. Shewas making a mental inventory of her many admirers and wondering whichof them could help her. Suddenly she came to a decision on the point.Taking up the receiver:
"Victoria 8440, please," she said.
Still biting one finger she waited, until:
"Foreign office," announced a voice.
"Please put me through to Mr. Archie Boden-Shaw," she said.
Ere long that official's secretary was inquiring her name, and a momentlater:
"Is that you, Archie?" said Mollie. "Yes! Mollie speaking. No, pleaselisten, Archie! You can get to know everything at the Foreign office,and I want you to find out for me the private address of Chief InspectorKerry, who is in charge of the Bond Street murder case. Don't be silly!I've asked Scotland Yard, but they won't tell me. You can find out....It doesn't matter why I want to know.... Just ring me up and tell me.I must know in half an hour. Yes, I shall be seeing you tonight.Good-bye...."
Less than half an hour later, the obedient Archie rang up, and Mollie,all excitement, wrote the following address in a dainty scented notebookwhich she carried in her handbag.
CHIEF INSPECTOR KERRY, 67 Spenser Road, Brixton.