Crooked House

‘You’ll get that from your father,’ she said.

I had told Sophia in Cairo that my father was Assistant Commissioner of Scotland Yard. He still held that office. At her words, I felt a cold weight settling down on me.

‘It’s as bad as that, then?’

‘I think so. Do you see a man sitting at a table by the door all alone—rather a nice-looking stolid ex-Army type?’

‘Yes.’

‘He was on Swinly Dean platform this evening when I got into the train.’

‘You mean he’s followed you here?’

‘Yes. I think we’re all—how does one put it?—under observation. They more or less hinted that we’d all better not leave the house. But I was determined to see you.’ Her small square chin shot out pugnaciously. ‘I got out of the bathroom window and shinned down the water-pipe.’

‘Darling!’

‘But the police are very efficient. And of course there was the telegram I sent you. Well—never mind—we’re here—together … But from now on, we’ve both got to play a lone hand.’

She paused and then added:

‘Unfortunately—there’s no doubt—about our loving each other.’

‘No doubt at all,’ I said. ‘And don’t say unfortunately. You and I have survived a world war, we’ve had plenty of near escapes from sudden death—and I don’t see why the sudden death of just one old man—how old was he, by the way?’

‘Eighty-seven.’

‘Of course. It was in the Times. If you ask me, he just died of old age, and any self-respecting GP would accept the fact.’

‘If you’d known my grandfather,’ said Sophia, ‘you’d have been surprised at his dying of anything!’

CHAPTER 3 (#u2ba1aa1d-d798-5a40-a168-52128d7fd76e)

I’d always taken a certain amount of interest in my father’s police work, but nothing had prepared me for the moment when I should come to take a direct and personal interest in it.

I had not yet seen the Old Man. He had been out when I arrived, and after a bath, a shave, and a change I had gone out to meet Sophia. When I returned to the house, however, Glover told me that he was in his study.

He was at his desk, frowning over a lot of papers. He jumped up when I came in.

‘Charles! Well, well, it’s been a long time.’

Our meeting, after five years of war, would have disappointed a Frenchman. Actually all the emotion of reunion was there all right. The Old Man and I are very fond of each other, and we understand each other pretty well.

‘I’ve got some whisky,’ he said. ‘Say when. Sorry I was out when you got here. I’m up to the ears in work. Hell of a case just unfolding.’

I leaned back in my chair and lit a cigarette.

‘Aristide Leonides?’ I asked.

His brows came down quickly over his eyes. He shot me a quick appraising glance. His voice was polite and steely.

‘Now what makes you say that, Charles?’

‘I’m right then?’

‘How did you know about this?’

‘Information received.’

The Old Man waited.

‘My information,’ I said, ‘came from the stable itself.’

‘Come on, Charles, let’s have it.’

‘You mayn’t like it,’ I said. ‘I met Sophia Leonides out in Cairo. I fell in love with her. I’m going to marry her. I met her tonight. She dined with me.’

‘Dined with you? In London? I wonder just how she managed to do that! The family was asked—oh, quite politely, to stay put.’

‘Quite so. She shinned down a pipe from the bathroom window.’

The Old Man’s lips twitched for a moment into a smile.

‘She seems,’ he said, ‘to be a young lady of some resource.’

‘But your police force is fully efficient,’ I said. ‘A nice Army type tracked her to Mario’s. I shall figure in the reports you get. Five foot eleven, brown hair, brown eyes, dark-blue pin-stripe suit, etc.’

The Old Man looked at me hard.

‘Is this—serious?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It’s serious, Dad.’

There was a moment’s silence.

‘Do you mind?’ I asked.

‘I shouldn’t have minded—a week ago. They’re a well-established family—the girl will have money—and I know you. You don’t lose your head easily. As it is—’

‘Yes, Dad?’

‘It may be all right, if—’

‘If what?’

‘If the right person did it.’

It was the second time that night I had heard that phrase. I began to be interested.