The Sign on the Roof

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 224, 21 September 1935, Page 10 (Supplement)

The Sign on the Roof

Peter cheyneyJ

AUTHOR OF THE "DEATH CHAIR," "THE GOLD KIMONA,' "DEADLY FRESCO," ETC.

CHAPTER VII. Sunday, November 12, Morning, 10.30. Bitterly, seated on tlie top of the bus which was taking him towards Oxford Street, pondered on tho interview whieli lay before him, the interview with Bardella. After leaving Herbert the night before he had wandered about, trying hard to find somo point from which he might form a working basis of thought. Obviously, Herbert's story had completely altered the complexion of things; but, really, it only complicated tilings more. If anything it made matters rather worse for Diane. Twenty minutes later he knocked at tlio door of Bardella's flat. She 'opened the door herself, receiving him with that vivacious and welcoming smile which she reserved for most members of the male sex. "Fancy seeing you, Michael," she .said. "You were tlio last person I expected. I thought you didn't like me." "Really," said Bitterly. "Why, Bardella ?" "Oh, I don't know," she said, "except that you've always been rather standoffish, haven't you? You haven't exactly thrown yourself at me, have you? Bitterly grinned. "Maybe not," he said. "But, then, Bardella, I have never had an opportunity, have I?" He sat down in the chair which she indicated while she took her seat at the very new and rather ornate little writing desk which stood in the corner of the over-furnished sitting room, by the window.

"To what am I indebted for the honour of this visit, Michael?" asked Bardella. "Don't tell me it's my sex appeal." "Oh, I don't know," ho replied airily. "That might have a lot to do with it. But, in point of fact, Bardella, I wanted to talk to you about something that is rather serious."

She made a grimace. "I don't like serious things," sho said. "I hope it isn't going to be too awful. What is it? Hais Diane been saying catty things about me? Has she been telling you that I've vamped Herbert or something? I wouldn't be surprised." Ho laughed. "I don't think she says catty thing 3 about anybody, Bardella," ho said. "No, it's not that. I wanted to talk to you about this dead man—this man who wa-j found with a broken back behind the hoarding at Derham Crescent. You've read about it, of course?"

She nodded, surprised. "Yes, of course," she said. She leaned forward with a dramatic gesture. "Listen, Michael," she said. "For heaven's sake, don't tell me that you suspect me of the murder. I couldn't hurt a fly!" Bitterly, tired of Bardella already, came down to hard facts.

"Listen here, Bardella," he said. "Have you ever seen or spoken to this man?" She shook her head.

"I have not, Michael," she said. "But why all these questions? What's all the trouble about? Whatever can it have to do with me?"

"Nothing at all, my dear," said Michael. "But, you know, I'm a news editor and my business is trying to find out things; very often a little tiny overheard remark, the flimsiest clue may be important. So you've never spoken to this man. Have you seen him ?" Bardella shook her head once more. "No, I have not," she said shortly. * Bitterly nodded. "I see," he said. He leaned forward. "But you've heard him, haven't you, Bardella?" he said. "You've heard him talk?" She stiffened. "Look here, Michael," she said. "I don't like all these questions, I think it's rather rude. I am surprised at you, coming here and " Bitterly interrupted. "Don't get so excited, Bardella," he said. "Why don't you tell the truth ? Do you mean to tell me that you did not hear this man's voice whilst you were packing your things, just before you left the Vallery flat last Monday? Of course you did, and why are you disguising the fact?" "I'm not disguising anything," replied Bardella angrily. "I don't stick my nose into everybody's business. I've got my own affairs to think about. Why should I have heard liim ?" "You must have heard him," said Bitterly doggedly. "You can hear anything in that flat, especially if a voice is raised, and his was —very much so. Just what did you hear? Take a tip from me, Bardella, and tell the truth. It's easiest in the long run." "I didn't hear anything; I told you that before," she said at last. "All I heard was the door slamming when Lariat went out." Bitterly grinned sarcastically. "So you clidn't hear anything, eh ? But you know his name's Lariat. What a little liar you are, Bardella! Shall I tell you just what you did? When you heard Diane's and this man's voices raised in that quarrel you stopped your packing and, if I know anything of you, you opened your bedroom door, stepped quietly across the hall and listened at the keyhole. Isn't that what you did?" She flushed. She said nothing. "And then, in good time, if I know you, you would return to your bedroom and from the window you would inspect this very angry caller as he left the entrance downstairs." Bardella's face was still flushed with anger. "What I heard, what I didn't hear, or what I saw is my own business, Mr. Bitterly," she said. "And I'll thank you to mind yours. It's Ivery nice of you to go snooping about the place trying to find out anything you .can for your old newspaper, but I am not answering any questions, at least, not until I'm asked by somebody who has authority to ask. Then," she added, with a malicious little smile, "I might have something very interesting to say." Bitterly understood. He realised that Bardella had overheard the quarrel between Lariat and Diane —she had overheard him threatening Diane. She thought that, possibly, the.police might be interested in that quarrel. Bitterly thought at. little soft soap might help. He got up and walked over to where she sat at the writing desk. "Look here, Bardella," he said. "You and I don't want to quarrel—it's foolish. After all, I only asked you a few civil questions, you know."

She mado no reply, but took a cigarotto from a box on the table and lit it. Bitterly noticed that her fingers wore trembling, probably with anger, ho thought. Then something else caught his eye. Pushed against the corner of the desk was a very new chcque book. Tlio counterfoil of the one cheque written was right in front of his eyos. The date on tho counterfoil was the Monday before and the cheque had been mado payable to "self or bearer" and was for £100. Ridiculously enough, there flashed into his mind the fact that Lariat had got some money from somewhere on that day. Quite a lot of money. Bitterly mado up his mind to take a chance.

''Look hero, Bardella," lie said. "Honest people don't mind answering questions, do they? I know perfectly well that I'vo been rather annoying you by asking a lot of stupid questions, but there is something I'd like to ask you. It's a rather personal thing and I hope you won't mind." Ho stood above her, smiling at her. Bardella reacted and smiled back. "Oh, I don't really mind, Michael," she said, "if it's going to help you at all. What do you want to ask?" Bitterly pointed to the counterfoil. "This is a silly question," ho said, "But it looks as if you drew £100 in notes last Monday, Bardella. Would you mind telling me what for?" Her faco went as white as chalk — then sho flushed. Then she got up. "You mind your own business," she said, "and get out of here; I'm not standing for any more of your insolence. Get out, do you hear?" Bitterly grinned. "So that's how it is, Bardella, is it?" he said. "You just don't , want to say what you got that money for." Ho picked nj» his hat. "Might I make a suggestion?" lie said airily. "Might I suggest that you gave some of it to Mr. Vincent Lariat?" Bardella was* as white as death. "You get out of here," she hissed, almost speechless with rage, "and don't you come here again!" "All right," said Bitterly, "I won't. But you haven't answered my question, Bardella, and you liaiven't denied the suggestion that you gave some of that money to Lariat." "I wouldn't even bother to answer your question," said Bardella. "I've told you to get out—now get out. And mind your own business!" Bitterly went. He was not displeased with the interview. Walking along Oxford Street in the sunshine, he realised that, after his suggestion that sho had given some of the money to Lariat, any ordinary woman—unless sliej had something to hide —would have explained for what actual purpose the cheque had been drawn. It certainly looked as if Bardella had got something to hide. Ho allowed his mind to wander for a moment. Supposing, for the sake of argument, that Bardella had overheard most of the conversation between Lariat and Diane. Bitterly knew that Bardella j disliked Diane. She was jealous of her good looks, her figure, everything, as one | woman can be jealous of another. Supposing, for the Sake of argument, that Bardella, powerful for once, by reason ot her newly obtained wealth, had quietly gono after Lariat and bought the whole story fro,ii him in order that she might halve something up her sleeve. Was this too improbable? The idea intrigued Bitterly. He turned it over in his mind as he stopped to light a cigarette. Looking up after his first puff he saw that he was standing outside a bank. That gave him an idea. CHAPTER VTH. Sunday Morning, November 12, 12 o'Clock. Walking slowly up Oxford Street, he turned over the idea in his head, wondering whether it would be possible to carry it out; wondering whether his bank manager—an old friend —would bo decent enough to stretch a point and do what Bitterly wanted him to. Ho made up his mind to telephone him after lunch. Just past Bond Street ho went into Maisou Lyons for some coffee. He dicl | not really need the coffee, but wanted to j think and lie was glad to bo able to find | a quiet table in the corner on the ground j floor.

Briefly, as he "sat smoking a cigarette and sipping the coffee which had been brought to him, Bitterly summarised the complete circumstances from the beginning. He intended to think from two separate angles. First of all, a complete summary of facts, a summary which would take into consideration any incongruities of evidence, and, secondly) after having made the summary in his mind, he intended to let his mind wander at will in search of a possible solution or solutions.

First, of all, the summary of fact. It was quite obvious from Jacquot's investigations that Vincent Lariat had worked his passage over from Ceylon. On Saturday, November 4, he received £8 wages, all of which, with the exception of 5/, he gambled away recklessly. Now, it is hardly the habit of a man, arriving in a strange country, to gamble away his only capital unless ho believes ho can get some money «• a job. Lariat was not concerned at tho moment with getting a job because he had said that lie knew where he could get plenty more, •money.

> Late on Saturday he had arrived at Blooey Stevens' doss house in Seven Dials. Over the week-end he had asked, on more than one occasion, where Derham Crescent was. He had tried to borrow the fare there.

On Monday morning (Bitterly remembered that this was Diane's story and, at the moment', must not be believed in its entirety, just in case sho were concealing some salient fact) lie had gone to Derham Crescent and had endeavoured to get money from Diane. They had quarrelled and, eventually, on Diane informing him that she would call the police, he had left, vowing vengcance.

There was not the slightest doubt that Bardella had overheard the quarrel; had listened to it. This was proved by the fact that sho knew Lariat's name.

Apparently, 011 leaving the flat, Lariat had gone round to Herbert's offices, and, without mentioning the faot that he had visited the flat, had given Herbert until 7.30 that ' evening to find some money. There was an interesting point about

At seven that evening Herbert meets Lariat as arranged, but Lariat's whole attitude lias changed. He wants to be friendly with Herbert; lie buys Herbert drinks. He flashes £10 notes so that it is quite obvious that, between'noon and 7.30 on Monday evening Lariat had got some money from somewhere.

After this, apparently, he disappears, So far as Bitterly knew he had not seen Herbert again and ho had not seen Diane (this was a surmise—he might have seen either or both of these people in the meantime), but it was known that he was, during this time, living in tho room at Bone Street which he had taken on tho Monday evening, apparently, before he had met Herbert.

On Thursday night, November 0, the night that Bitterly had met Diane at tho Bluo Light Club and when she had told him her story, Lariat had written a letter, a letter so important, from his viewpoint, that it was worth while disturbing his landlady in order to borrow a sheet of notepaper and an envelope. It was also so important that it had to bo posted immediately, although there was no collection until 7 o'clock tho next morning.

It was, therefore, quite obvious that, for some reason or other, it was necessary for that letter to be delivered to tho recipient as early as possible on Friday. ' Tho next night, Friday, November 10, or in the early hours of Saturday morning, Lariat goes to Derham Crescent, and at 5 o'clock on Saturday morning Police Constable Mullins discovered his body on the bricks. Briefly, these were tho facts as Bitterly knew them, and, having assimilated those in their order, ho began to extract such interesting points of incongruities as struck him. He took out his notebook and a pencil and made a note of them. They were as follow: (1) (a) Why was it necessary for the letter that Lariat had written to be delivered early on Friday? (b) Was this letter anything to do with his proposed visit to Dorham Crescent tho following night? (c) If so, was tho letter to Diane and was Lariat's visit a result of something ho had heard from her?

(2) Was it not a strange coincidence that on this crucial night, at tho time of Lariat's death, Diano was alone in the flat?

(3) AVith referenco to (2), was it possible that the difference between Herbert's story of the quarrefr with Diane, his reason for this quarrel being that the cat had drunk all tho milk, as against Diane's reason that he had drunk tho milk, was due to the fact that there had been some arrangement between Herbert and Diane that he should go out that evening and leave the flat because Diane needed it for a possible interview with Lariat?

(4) Was it possible that there was, in connection with Lariat's death, some concerted action between Herbert and Diane, both of whom had reason to fear tho dead man ?

Now Bitterly allowed his mind to run on another angle, the Bardella angle. Ho knew that Bardella was as mean as sho could be, yet, according to the counterfoil on the cheque book, she had drawn, the previous Monday, what was for her an immense sum from the bank—£loo.

It seemed possible that Bardella, having overheard Lariat's threats, and possibly tho story of his hold over Herbert, during the quarrel in tho flat, might have, in a moment of generosity, more especially if sho were at all keen on Herbert, advanced him the sum of £100 in order to buy Lariat off, in which case, of course, Herbert's story of the Monday evening meeting with Lariat was lies. Yet, Bitterly had to admit that it had seemed to him that Herbert was speaking the truth; after all, lie concluded with a grin, even Herbert's capacity for lying had its limitations.

The thing to do was to endeavour to ascertain what tho actual position was as between Herbert and Bardella. Possibly they had been having some sort of affaire. You never knew with a woman like Bardella just what sha would oi' would not do, and Herbert would bo game for anything of that sort.

Bitterly could not get out of his mind the peculiar attitude of Bardella when he had asked her to tell him what the cheque for £100 was for. He was positively certain that if sho had nothing to hide she would have told him wl*it she had drawn the money for, especially after lie had suggested that she had given it, or some of it, to Lariat. More and more it was borne upon Bitterly that he had to find out just' what had become of this £100.

In tiio meantime he intended to go on with the interviews. As a newspaper man he appreciated interviews, tie had talked to Diane and Herbert and Bardella and ho had learned a certain amount of actual facts. Very well, then, further interviews with Charles, and, if necessary. Charles' mother Mrs. Vallcry, might bring even more clues to light.

There was no doubt in his mind that if the old woman knew from Charles— as Bitterly thought sho did—of the old trouble in Ceylon and also knew that the villain of tho piece. Lariat, was the dead man found in the vicinity of • the Hit, she would very quickly bring her amazing and cynical curiosity to boar on tho matter and would probably create a situation which was the last thing desirable at the moment.

Sho would have a weapon which she could use against Diane; nothing could stop her talking to anyone who would give more sympathy to her beloved son.

But, predominant in Bitterly's mind was tho fact that Bardella had been disinclined to tell him for what purpose she had drawn tho £100 from the bank on the Monday before, and here he hoped that he could bring his idea to a successful conclusion.

The bank that Bardella used was a branch of Bitterly's own bank, the Amalgamated Counties Trust, and Bitterly hoped that, by bringing all his nersuasive powers to work, he could, somehow, through his own bank manager, find out the numbers of the bank notes which Bardella had received in exchange for her cheque, that is, supposing she had drawn the money in banknotes. And,, once lie had the numbers of these bank notes. Bitterly knew exactly what ho intended to do. He wouid have something solid—something tangible to work from. Bank notes invariably go back to banks and, however troublesome the process might be. Bitterly had made up his mind that he was going to find out where Bardella's £100 had gono. (To be continued daily.)