Chapter XV: Bobby's Theory

Michael slid off the table and took two strides in the direction of the door, but Jerry checked him with a warning hand, and said steadily: 'Come in.'

Slowly the door opened and Bobby Manvers's chubby, smiling face appeared. With a shout of laughter, Michael dropped into a chair.

'What's the joke?' asked Bobby, in some surprise.

'Nothing, Bobby,' Jerry assured him. 'We weren't expecting to see you, that's all.'

'By the look on Michael's face you were expecting a s-summons at least,' said Bobby. 'Anyway, how are you, Jerry? Feel as if I hadn't seen you for years.'

'It seems ages,' agreed Jerry. 'That's because so much happens these days. What have you been up to, Bobby? Found any clues?'

'N-not many,' admitted Bobby, 'but I still----Well, I know you won't believe me, Jerry, but I still think it was murder.'

'As a matter of fact,' said Jerry, mechanically twisting a candlestick on her mantelpiece, 'I'm not sure I don't agree with you.'

'Good Lord! Why, what's happened?'

For answer she took from the loose-leaf book the pages she had just read to Michael, and handed them to Bobby, who sat down on the table to read them, his round young face very grave. Jerry offered Michael a cigarette, and lit one herself. There was silence in the little room, until at last Bobby laid the papers down on the table.

'That proves it,' he said slowly. 'Jerry, what do you feel about this business?'

'I feel that it is our duty to see that this enterprising unknown gets his envelope back, and that the man Robertson be apprehended, tried, sentenced, and well and truly hanged,' said Jerry, with a flippancy that did not hide the stark purpose underlying her tone.

Bobby nodded. 'We've still got some time in hand, as far as the envelope is concerned,' he said. 'Let's see, to-day's the sixth, isn't it? But we've got to set about getting this chap Robertson. Look here, Jerry, will you tell me exactly what happened that Sunday morning, when you found your father?'

Jerry told him, with no more words than were necessary. She told him how she had waked suddenly; had gone down and found her father dead; had rung up the doctor, and failed to get through.

'And then what did you do?' asked Bobby.

'Went out to the front door. I wanted some fresh air.'

'Was anyone in sight?'

'Yes. A motorist, changing a tyre.'

'Did he see you?'

'Yes.' Jerry hesitated, and then continued coolly: 'I spoke to him, and told him what had happened. He was very helpful. I didn't know what to do, so he came in, and got hold of a doctor for me, and saw to everything. Then I went back to bed, and left him and the doctor in charge.'

Bobby was silent for a moment.

'What was his name?' he asked suddenly.

'I don't know,' said Jerry. 'He didn't tell me his surname; just said he was called "Nick."'

'Didn't that strike you as being rather odd?'

'Oh, my dear Bobby!' Jerry's tone was impatient. 'So many impossible things had already happened that morning that nothing seemed odd any longer. What are you driving at?'

'Well, has it never occurred to you that he might have been the murderer?'

Jerry stared, and then smiled.

'No, Bobby, it hasn't. And it doesn't strike me as probable, even now.'

'Well, you must admit that it's all rather strange. To start with, according to medical authority, the professor had been dead less than half an hour when you found him. I wouldn't mind betting that it was the sound of his fall that woke you. Now, the murderer came for that letter and he didn't search for it. One of two reasons prevented him. Either your father told him that it was in the bank, or else he heard you coming downstairs. Imagine that he heard you, and cleared out. Which would have been his easiest exit? He didn't go by the window, we know. It was still bolted when Lucy went in there. She told me so.'

'The front door,' said Jerry. 'He'd have had to pass the foot of the stairs to go out by the back.'

'Well, suppose he went out by the front door. Wouldn't this motorist chap have seen him? You can't change a wheel in less than five minutes, you know.'

'Yes, I suppose so,' said Jerry slowly.

'And if he did see him, as it seems he must, isn't it a little odd that he didn't say so?'

'But look here, Bobby, this man was about thirty, fair and clean-shaven. William's description of Mr. Robertson doesn't fit.'

'That might easily be a disguise, which he removed before you came out. And then, if he was innocent, why didn't he turn up to give evidence at the inquest? He was the first person, bar you, in the house. Why didn't the doctor fellow call him as a witness?'

'There might be half a hundred reasons for that,' said Jerry. 'He might have been out of England. For the rest of your theory, the murderer may have never left the house till afterwards; or he may equally well have gone before the motorist arrived; I don't know how long I was in the study. I hate to crab your theory, but it doesn't sound frightfully conclusive to me. I admit that it might have been the motorist, but it might just as easily not have been. None of his actions were suspicious, unless you count the fact that he didn't tell me his surname, and a good many men have concealed that in their time, I expect.'

Bobby shook his head, unconvinced, and even Michael looked grave. Jerry laughed, conscious of rising irritation.

'The thing to decide, at the moment, is whether or not we are to hand these papers of William's to Scotland Yard. I'm against it, myself. If William's pal had wanted his story to go to the police, he'd have said so. The envelope isn't addressed to the Yard, remember. If we give them William's papers, they'll want the envelope, too. Suppose we advertise for the man? We might try a notice in "The Times," headed "The Jameson," and see what happens.'

'Far too dangerous,' said Bobby decidedly. 'This man Robertson is no fool. You bet he'll be on the lookout. And he knows you're alone, now.'

'Still clinging to the idea of the murderous motorist?' said Jerry. 'You're barking up the wrong tree, Bobby.'

'My dear child, I'm sure the fellow was frightfully sympathetic and all that, but you mustn't let it upset your judgment. You can't take people by their face values in a show like this. After all, that's what your father did with Robertson. And to put an advertisement in the paper at this stage would be insanity. I won't have you running into danger like that.'

Jerry raised her eyebrows, and her voice was dangerously silky as she answered.

'I haven't yet decided what I'll do, Bobby, darling, but when I do, I'll let you know. In the mean time, I would rather you refrained from taking any steps without referring to me.'

There was a second's silence.

'I know it's n-none of my business,' said Bobby, 'but for God's sake, don't get yourself into a hole, Jerry. We're all reasonably fond of you, and I've got a horrid feeling that you don't realise how dangerous this affair may be.'

'I do, and I only wish I had someone to advise me,' said Jerry, with deliberate intent to wound. 'Some man with a certain amount of experience, who knew what he was talking about. I'm tired of jumping to conclusions.'

Bobby bit his lip and looked unhappily at the floor.

'Why not ask old Toby Ward what he thinks about it?' suggested Michael. 'He's a lawyer, and at the same time he manages to be human.'

'I don't think I know him,' said Jerry frostily.

Michael restrained a smile, and his eyes narrowed.

'I should very much like you to meet him,' he said.

Their eyes met and clashed. Then Jerry bubbled with laughter.

'All right, Michael,' she said. 'Will you drive me down there to-morrow?'

'I will.'

Jerry glanced at Bobby, and relented.

'Can we take Bobby, too?' she asked. 'Will you come, Robert? Do!'

Bobby's face cleared, and he rose to his feet.

'Thanks awfully, I'd love to,' he said. 'I s-say, it's past two, and I'm starving. Can't you both come and have lunch with me?'

'I think I should like to very much,' said Jerry. 'I must be back by half-past three, though, because I'm going out to tea.' She caught Michael's eye and smiled. 'If you will wait two minutes while I get my hat on----' The sentence unfinished, she ran off.

Michael offered Bobby a cigarette in silent sympathy.

'One has got to be damned careful with that child,' said Bobby. 'I was a fool.'

Michael nodded.

'All the same, Mike, it _d-does_ look a bit suspicious. That motorist bloke, and all.'

'I know,' said Michael. 'Not sure I don't agree with you. But there's no point in my saying so too. She's having tea with me this afternoon. Here she comes.'

'I'm ready,' announced Jerry blithely. 'Lead me to lunch, Bobby. Exit three care-free people, screaming for food.'

Michael and Bobby exchanged a swift glance, in which amusement, despair, and resignation were evenly blended.