Free Elk 04 White Face by Edgar Wallace

and went noisily to the cells.
    Elk came back to his chief with information that had come through whilst the charge was in progress.
    “The two notes were issued on the account of Mr. Louis Landor, of Teign Court, Maida Vale. Landor is either an American or has lived in America. He’s an engineer, a fairly rich man, and drew out another three thousand pounds this morning—he’s going abroad.”
    “Bon voyage to him,” said Mason, in a cynical humour. “Going abroad, is he?”
    He gazed at the knife-sheath lying on a sheet of paper before him, and pointed with his little finger to ornate initials engraved on a small gold plate.
    “L.L.—they may stand for Leonard Lowe: on the other hand, they may stand for Louis Landor.’
    “Who’s Leonard Lowe?” asked Elk, momentarily dense.
    “There is no such person,” said the superintendent patiently. “Listen, Elk—living in Tidal Basin hasn’t sharpened your wits, has it? I’ll be moving you to the West End soon—‘C’ Division. You’ll shine amongst that batch of suckers.”
    He got up from the table and walked heavily through the charge-room to the little apartment which the police matron used as a duty-room, lay Lorna Weston; her face was pale, her lips colourless.
    “She might be dead,” said Mason.
    Dr. Marford sighed, took out his cheap American watch and looked at it.
    “So might be quite a large number of my patients,” he said listlessly. “I don’t know whether you’re interested in the phenomena of life and death, Mr. Mason—my own interest is strictly professional—but at this moment there is a lady waiting for me—”
    “Yes, yes,” interrupted Mason good-humouredly. “We forget nothing. I’ve arranged for your district nurse to phone you through to the station. We’ll have to do something with this woman.”
    He looked dubiously down at the still figure on the bed, moved slightly the blanket that covered her and felt her hand.
    “She’s a dope?” he asked.
    Dr. Marford nodded.
    “I found a hypodermic in her bag,” he said.
    “Rudd thinks she should be taken a hospital or infirmary.”
    Marford assented reluctantly. Here was the inevitable key witness, and he was loath to leave her out of his sight.
    Rudd came bustling in importantly.
    “I’ve fixed a bed at the infirmary.” he said. “Of course they told me they had no accommodation, but as soon as I mentioned my name—” He smiled jovially at Marford. “Now if it had been you dear fellow—”
    “I shouldn’t have asked. I should simply have taken the case there and they’d have had to find a bed for her.” said Marford.
    Dr. Rudd was a little ruffled.
    “Yes, yes; but that is hardly the way, is it? I mean, there are certain professional—um—courtesies to be observed. The resident surgeon is a friend of mine, as it happens—Grennett; he was with me at Guy’s.”
    He dropped Marford as being unworthy of his confidence, and addressed the superintendent.
    “I’m getting the ambulance down right away.”
    “Have you seen the man again?” asked Mason.
    “The man?” Dr. Rudd frowned. “Oh, you mean the dead man? Yes. Your Mr. Elk was there, searching him. I made one or two observations which I think may be useful to you, Superintendent. For instance, there’s a bruise on the left cheek.”
    Mason nodded.
    “Yes, he was fighting. Dr. Marford saw that.”
    Rudd was called away at that moment, and bustled out with an apology. The very apology was offensive to Mr. Mason, for it inferred that investigations were momentarily suspended until the police surgeon returned.
    The woman on the bed showed no sign of life. The doctor, at Mason’s request, exhibited two tiny punctures on the left arm.
    “Recently made,” he explained, “but there’s no evidence that she’s an addict. I can find no other punctures, for example, and the mere fact that the shot has had such an extraordinarily deadening effect upon her rather suggests that she’s a novice.”
    He lifted