Free Elk 02 The Joker by Edgar Wallace Page A
Authors: Edgar Wallace
though it was, without protest.
They were passing from the street when Jim heard his name called and, looking round, saw a headquarters man.
‘Came through just after you left, sir.’
Jim read the hastily-written phone message.
‘I’ll be back in an hour,’ he said, and followed the girl who was waiting for him in the vestibule.
When they were seated: ‘I want to ask you: was Mrs Gibbins in the flat that night your uncle’s safe was burgled?’
She considered. ‘No, she wasn’t there; at least, she oughtn’t to have been there. She came later, you remember. I opened the door to her.’
‘Oh!’ he said, and she smiled.
‘What does “Oh!” mean?’ And then quickly: ‘You don’t think she was the burglar, do you?’
‘No, I don’t think that,’ he said; his tone was very grave - she wondered why. ‘Tell me something about her; was she well educated?’
Aileen shook her head.
‘No, she was rather illiterate. I’ve had many of her notes, and they were scarcely decipherable. The spelling was - well, very original.’
‘Oh!’ he said again, and she could have boxed his ears.
‘Well, that’s that!’ he said at last. ‘I don’t think that even your uncle, with his well-known passion for humanity, will so much as shed a silent tear. She was just nothing, nobody - a wisp of straw caught up in the wind and deposited God knows where! Stale fruit under the dustman’s broom. Horrible, isn’t it? Think of it! All the theatres will soon be crowded and people will be screaming with laughter at the antics and clowning of the comedians! There will be a State ball at the Palace and tonight happy men and women will I be dancing on a hundred floors. Who cares about Mrs Gibbins?’
He was very serious, and a minute before he had been almost gay.
‘The passing of a friendless woman is a small thing.’ He rubbed his nose irritably. ‘And now it is a big thing!’ he said, raising a warning finger and looking at her. ‘Mrs Gibbins is stirring the minds of eighteen thousand London policemen, who if need be would have the support of the whole Brigade of Guards and every one of these dancers, diners and theatregoers would move with one accord and not rest day or night till they found the man who struck her down and dropped her poor, wasted body in the waters of the Regent’s Canal!’ She half rose, but he motioned her down. ‘I’ve spoilt your dinner and I’ve spoilt my own, too,’ he said.
‘Dead?’ she whispered. He nodded. ‘Murdered?’
‘Yes…I think so. They took her out of the canal a few minutes before I left the office, and there were marks to show that she’d been bludgeoned. I had the news just before I came in. What was she doing near the Edgware Road - in Regent’s Park, let us say? Give her two days to drift as far.’
The waiter came and stood at his elbow in an attitude of expectancy. The girl shook her head. ‘I can’t eat.’
‘Omelettes,’ said Jim. ‘That isn’t eating; it’s just nourishment.’
Arthur Ingle had the discomfort of a police visitation, but he knew nothing of Mrs Gibbins, knew much less indeed than his niece.
‘I have seen the woman, but I shouldn’t recognise her.’
This accorded with the information already in their possession, and the two detectives who called had a whisky-and-soda with him and departed.
The landlady of the Rents could say no more than she had said on the previous afternoon to Sub-Inspector Carlton.
Jim went down himself to see this worthy soul; and he had a particular reason, because on that morning, ‘regular as clockwork,’ came the envelope which contained Mrs Gibbins’s quarterly allowance; and that lady was rather in a fluster, because the letter had not arrived.
‘No, sir, it was never registered, that’s why I feel so awkward about it. People might think…but you can ask the postman yourself, sir.’
‘I’ve asked him,’ smiled Jim. ‘Tell me, where were those letters posted? You must have seen the
They were passing from the street when Jim heard his name called and, looking round, saw a headquarters man.
‘Came through just after you left, sir.’
Jim read the hastily-written phone message.
‘I’ll be back in an hour,’ he said, and followed the girl who was waiting for him in the vestibule.
When they were seated: ‘I want to ask you: was Mrs Gibbins in the flat that night your uncle’s safe was burgled?’
She considered. ‘No, she wasn’t there; at least, she oughtn’t to have been there. She came later, you remember. I opened the door to her.’
‘Oh!’ he said, and she smiled.
‘What does “Oh!” mean?’ And then quickly: ‘You don’t think she was the burglar, do you?’
‘No, I don’t think that,’ he said; his tone was very grave - she wondered why. ‘Tell me something about her; was she well educated?’
Aileen shook her head.
‘No, she was rather illiterate. I’ve had many of her notes, and they were scarcely decipherable. The spelling was - well, very original.’
‘Oh!’ he said again, and she could have boxed his ears.
‘Well, that’s that!’ he said at last. ‘I don’t think that even your uncle, with his well-known passion for humanity, will so much as shed a silent tear. She was just nothing, nobody - a wisp of straw caught up in the wind and deposited God knows where! Stale fruit under the dustman’s broom. Horrible, isn’t it? Think of it! All the theatres will soon be crowded and people will be screaming with laughter at the antics and clowning of the comedians! There will be a State ball at the Palace and tonight happy men and women will I be dancing on a hundred floors. Who cares about Mrs Gibbins?’
He was very serious, and a minute before he had been almost gay.
‘The passing of a friendless woman is a small thing.’ He rubbed his nose irritably. ‘And now it is a big thing!’ he said, raising a warning finger and looking at her. ‘Mrs Gibbins is stirring the minds of eighteen thousand London policemen, who if need be would have the support of the whole Brigade of Guards and every one of these dancers, diners and theatregoers would move with one accord and not rest day or night till they found the man who struck her down and dropped her poor, wasted body in the waters of the Regent’s Canal!’ She half rose, but he motioned her down. ‘I’ve spoilt your dinner and I’ve spoilt my own, too,’ he said.
‘Dead?’ she whispered. He nodded. ‘Murdered?’
‘Yes…I think so. They took her out of the canal a few minutes before I left the office, and there were marks to show that she’d been bludgeoned. I had the news just before I came in. What was she doing near the Edgware Road - in Regent’s Park, let us say? Give her two days to drift as far.’
The waiter came and stood at his elbow in an attitude of expectancy. The girl shook her head. ‘I can’t eat.’
‘Omelettes,’ said Jim. ‘That isn’t eating; it’s just nourishment.’
Arthur Ingle had the discomfort of a police visitation, but he knew nothing of Mrs Gibbins, knew much less indeed than his niece.
‘I have seen the woman, but I shouldn’t recognise her.’
This accorded with the information already in their possession, and the two detectives who called had a whisky-and-soda with him and departed.
The landlady of the Rents could say no more than she had said on the previous afternoon to Sub-Inspector Carlton.
Jim went down himself to see this worthy soul; and he had a particular reason, because on that morning, ‘regular as clockwork,’ came the envelope which contained Mrs Gibbins’s quarterly allowance; and that lady was rather in a fluster, because the letter had not arrived.
‘No, sir, it was never registered, that’s why I feel so awkward about it. People might think…but you can ask the postman yourself, sir.’
‘I’ve asked him,’ smiled Jim. ‘Tell me, where were those letters posted? You must have seen the