Alias the Baron: (Writing as Anthony Morton) by John Creasey

Author:John Creasey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: House of Stratus

Chapter Thirteen

QUESTIONS

As he walked along Cheyne Walk Mannering tried to force himself to think of Gerald Collyn only, to keep the urgent questions about Lorna in the background. But they persisted. Had he been unreasonable, or was her attitude justifiable? Had he created the impression that he was heedless of Gerald’s fate? Or had she been deliberately obtuse and forced what was – for them – a quarrel?

He felt heavy-hearted as he reached King’s Road and hailed a taxi. As the Baron he stood to risk losing every friend he had, but he had believed Lorna was utterly loyal. He had sometimes tried to persuade her that their friendship was too dangerous for her, but if she had agreed to break it off he would have been aghast.

Was she trying to now?

Two differences in the course of a few days, and on her part, apparently, a conviction that he was betraying Gerald.

‘Where to, sir?’

‘James Street. In a hurry, please.’

Mannering leaned back and lit a cigarette.

If he told the police the whole story – anonymously, of course, but he did not doubt his ability to convince them – it would mean implicating both Savoyan and Chloe. Yet he felt that through them he could reach Corbertes and the syndicate. It was the police on the one hand, a lone wolf act on the other – whatever Lorna said.

What a dilemma !

And Lorna had forced it …

‘No she hasn’t,’ Mannering said sotto voce. ‘She’s merely made it more urgent. I wonder if another talk with Savoyan would do any good?’

When he reached James Street, Lord Collyn was in the lounge with Brenda. Mannering could see how desperate the girl was feeling about her brother’s disappearance. That was at least partly an uneasy conscience; if she had not entered that apparently innocent conspiracy with Gerald, this situation wouldn’t have developed.

‘Any news?’ Collyn asked abruptly, as the door closed on a servant.

‘Nothing definite,’ Mannering said.

Brenda, her big eyes troubled, moved from a chair to a window.

‘You must do something,’ she said.

‘I’m afraid it’s a matter for the police.’ Mannering saw Collyn’s dismay, and sensed the girl’s disapproval. She now stood in front of her father’s winged armchair, while Collyn stood by the window, his face lined and haggard. ‘It’s over twenty-four hours, and we’ve already taken a serious risk. As a matter of fact’—he spoke quietly enough, guessing how they would react—’I know where he was last night, and the previous night.’

‘Then you’ve found something!’ cried Collyn.

‘Where?’ demanded Brenda.

‘At a flat in Westminster.’

‘With a girl?’

‘At a girl’s flat, but kept there by force. I got there too late to catch him; they both disappeared.’ The half-truth was necessary.

‘How did you learn this?’ demanded Brenda.

‘Through Savoyan,’ answered Mannering. ‘I used a man to frighten the wits out of him. He admitted where he had taken Gerry’—again a half-truth was necessary—’I’m afraid your assumption was right in part, Collyn. Gerry allowed the woman to get an impression of the keys, but he did it without meaning harm.

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