Free Trouble on the Thames by Victor Bridges

swinging the paper-knife in his long, powerful fingers.
    â€œBy some means or other,” continued Sutton, “possibly through the German Secret Service, you discovered that our friend Medlicot was in possession of a set of drawings which the authorities in Berlin were desperately anxious to get hold of. Acting, no doubt, on instructions from your employers, you and some of your crowd worked out a very pretty little scheme for what I believe is vulgarly called ‘putting him on the spot.’ You knew that he was a keen poker player and inclined to get a bit reckless when he’d had a few drinks, so you arranged for some faked games, in the first two or three of which he was naturally allowed to win. Then, as soon as you’d got him in the right frame of mind, you—well, you pulled your stuff. He dropped four thousand in one night, and when he had to admit that he couldn’t settle up you threatened to bring an action against him. That would have meant his being sacked from the Service. At this point, just as he was at his wits’ end a certain obliging gentleman butted in and offered to put up the money. The only condition he made was that he should be allowed to take a tracing of the drawings, which, according to his own story, he intended to pass on to the United States Government. Tempting proposal to a man in Medlicot’s position. Of course he shouldn’t have accepted—very wrong and unpatriotic of him—but still, human nature being what it is, one can’t help feeling rather sorry for the poor chap. After all”—Sutton leaned forward coolly and tipped off the end of his cigarette—“however stupid he may have been, he paid for it with his life.”
    There was a silence which lasted for several seconds.
    â€œDo you really expect me to attach the slightest importance to this rubbish?”—Craig gave a short, contemptuous laugh. “If you do, you must be off your head. Why, on your own showing, all it’s based on are the maunderings of a drunken young crook.”
    â€œI’d hardly say that. I have taken quite a lot of trouble to verify some of Medlicot’s statements, and without wishing to flatter myself I think I can claim to have been fairly successful. Just as a sample, for instance, I can give you the real name of the ‘American’ gentleman who came forward so conveniently with the cash. It’s von Manstein—Count Conrad von Manstein. He is a personal friend of Hitler, and I am rather inclined to credit him with being the head of the whole Nazi spy system in England. Seeing that he has twice been down to Otter’s Holt during the last six weeks, I take it that you’re on remarkably good terms. Indeed, I shouldn’t be altogether surprised if it was you who introduced him to Medlicot.”
    â€œYou ought to make a fortune with an imagination like yours. Why don’t you go along to Scotland Yard and ask them what they will offer you for your story?”
    â€œBecause I think I have a better market. I feel certain that when you and your friends have talked the matter over quietly you will realise the advantage of accepting my proposal.”
    Craig laughed again. “We may as well play the farce out if it affords you any satisfaction. What is this handsome offer which you are kind enough to submit to my consideration?”
    â€œI have no wish to be unreasonable. If you will give me five thousand in one-pound notes you can count upon my keeping my mouth shut. Otherwise I shall feel it my duty to report the facts to the Home Office.”
    With a contemptuous movement Craig pushed back his chair till it bumped up against the side of the desk.
    â€œYou must be an even bigger fool than I imagined. Assuming, for the moment, that there was a grain of truth in all this trash, do you suppose that anyone in their senses would put the slightest trust in a blackmailing skunk like you? What guarantee would