“Yes, Aunt,” said Rollison meekly, hearing the telephone click as she rang off.
He put the receiver down slowly, aware of Lucifer Stride watching him, of Jolly going back to the kitchen, of Mrs Abbott having a second cup of coffee. His aunt’s voice seemed to echo in his ears; she was right, too. The two women would need all the money they could get. And this pointed to a strange, almost bewildering fact. Madam Melinska and Mona Lister had lured thousands to the Court; they were front page news. These were the days in which a well-known astrologer could make a very good income indeed from a column in almost any newspaper or magazine.
Why, then, were these two so poor?
He moved across to Mrs Abbott, who now gave the impression that she was on the defensive; Rollison could not make up his mind whether to bully or to humour her and decided on humouring, at least for the time being.
“Did your husband see Madam Melinska very often?”
“Often enough.”
“Was she a popular seer?”
“Too popular, if you ask me.”
“Did she earn much money?”
“Earn? She’s never earned a penny. But she’s swindled thousands out of the poor devils she’s taken in. Don’t believe this story about her being poor—she’s got a fortune salted away somewhere. You be careful of that woman, Mr Rollison—she’s a snare and a delusion. Any man who falls under her spell will find himself penniless when he wakes up to what she really is.”
There was venom but also an apparent ring of truth in the words. Rollison moved back— and as he did so, the front door bell rang once again. This time, Lucifer Stride moved towards it, but Rollison went ahead, while Jolly’s footsteps were audible as he approached from another passage. So, all three men stood together looking up at the periscope mirror.
There, on the doorstep, were three women.
One was Olivia Cordman of The Day one was Mona Lister; the third was Madam Melinska.
Lucifer made a faint whistling sound and looked at Rollison, eyebrows raised. Jolly pursed his lips. Before any of them moved the bell rang yet again. Olivia Cordman, small and red-haired and impatient, seldom waited long for anybody.
Rollison said: “I’m going back into the living-room. Make sure that Madam Melinska comes in ahead of the others.”
“Very good, sir,” said Jolly.
For a few seconds Lucifer Stride appeared to be undecided as to whether he should stay in the hall or follow Rollison. Then, as Rollison strode forward, he asked:
“May I join you?”
“Yes,” said Rollison briskly. He hurried back to the living-room, followed by Lucifer. “Go over by the far window—you can see them both from there.”
Lucifer obeyed, moving very soft-footedly, and Rollison stood with his back to the fireplace so that he too could see both Mrs Abbott and the doorway; he recalled the venom in her voice and the way she had tossed the ammonia ball at him. All she could throw this time was the cup and saucer; uneasily, he wished he had taken them away from her but it was too late now, for Jolly was saying:
“Good afternoon, madam.”
“Is Mr Rollison in?” asked Olivia Cordman.
“Yes, madam, if you will please step this way—”
Jolly manoeuvred so that Madam Melinska came forward first. Rollison tried to glimpse the faces of both women, but he was most anxious to see Mrs Abbott’s. So far, she had no idea who was coming in.
Then Madam Melinska appeared.
Rollison saw her stop short; heard Mrs Abbott exclaim and saw her spring to her feet. For a moment he was afraid that he had done the wrong thing, that she would attack the other woman; but all she did was to stand by the chair.
Madam Melinska glanced towards her, her face expressionless. Then she saw Rollison, and the smile she gave him was gentle and quite delightful.
“I am very glad to meet you, Mr Rollison.”
Olivia Cordman, obviously puzzled, followed her. She looked at Mrs Abbott, started to speak, and then thought better of it, obviously thinking it wise to await events.
Then Mona Lister appeared.
Rollison realized on the instant that Mona Lister both knew and feared Mrs Abbott. He saw her expression of astonishment, the way she stood stock still, hands raised as if ready to fend off an attack. Olivia Cordman’s eyes sparked with interest. Lucifer took two long strides forward.
Then Mona cried: “Don’t let her touch me! Keep her away? She cowered back against an astonished Jolly.
Mrs Abbott actually raised the cup, as if to throw it, but Rollison stepped forward swiftly and knocked her arm aside. The cup fell on to the carpet but did not break.
“Take that girl out of here,” hissed Mrs Abbott. “Take her away or I’ll choke the life out of her.”
She took a step forward, as if to prove that she meant exactly what she said.
CHAPTER FIVE
Protection
Rollison watched with bated breath, keenly aware of the reactions around him: Olivia Cordman’s fascinated interest, the calmness of Madam Melinska, the anger of Mrs Abbott, the fear of Mona Lister.
Of her fear, there was no doubt at all.
“I tell you—” hissed Mrs Abbott between clenched teeth. She looked about to launch herself forward.
Mona screamed.
Lucifer Stride moved very quickly, stepping between the woman and the girl. He thrust his left arm towards Mrs Abbott, pushing her back into her chair, then put his right arm protectively round Mona’s shoulders.
“Mr Rollison,” he declared, in that affected drawl, “I would have you know that that woman is dangerous.”
“If it comes to that, so am I,” said Rollison. “If you manhandle anyone else in my flat, I’ll run you out by the seat of your pants.” He moved forward to Mrs Abbott, and looked down at her. “What’s this? A hate campaign?”
She sat back in the chair, face suffused, eyes glittering.
“Let’s have it,” demanded Rollison. “You wanted to kill me because I befriended Madam Melinska. What’s Mona Lister done to make you want to choke the life out of her?”
The woman glared at the girl, but said nothing.
“Listen to me!” ordered Rollison. “You threw ammonia into my face, you can get a long prison sentence for that kind of crime. Do you want me to charge you?” When she still didn’t answer but stared up at him defiantly, Rollison snapped his fingers at Jolly. “Jolly, telephone Scotland Yard, tell Mr Grice I’ve changed my mind about making a charge against the woman Abbott. I want—”
Mrs Abbott gasped: “No! No, please— please don’t!”
Rollison spun round on her.
“Why do you hate Mona Lister?” When there was still no answer, he raised his voice: “Jolly!”
“Mr Rollison,” interrupted Madam Melinska, “I think I can tell you. And it is quite understandable.”
Rollison said gruffly: “Oh, is it?”
“And I believe you will think so, also,” said Madam Melinska. “Mona is Mrs Abbott’s niece. They have been like mother and daughter for many years. After a conflict of loyalty Mona came to me, deserting her aunt. Can you be surprised at Mrs Abbott’s bitterness?”
The soft, modulated voice held all of them in a kind of thrall: especially Olivia Cordman.
When the older woman stopped, heads turned towards Mrs Abbott, and it seemed to Rollison that now they felt much as he, sorrow, not anger, for the woman who had lost first a husband then a niece who was like a daughter, to this gentle creature.
Rollison asked gently: “Is that the truth, Mrs Abbott?”
Mrs Abbott nodded; and there were tears in her eyes, tears, which seemed to create a relaxed silence until Lucifer Stride let Mona go, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat as he did so. Mona stood for a moment without speaking. Then she said gruffly:
“She drove me into leaving her.”
“Mona, my child—” began Madam Melinska.
“It’s no use trying to stop me—and it’s no use keeping on defending everybody,” Mona went on with unexpected spirit. “She made life absolutely unbearable both for me and for Uncle Harry. She—she’s so possessive, she thinks she owns everybody. And if they do any little thing she doesn’t like she gets into these terrible rages—terrible rages. They frighten me—they even frightened Uncle Harry. Oh, I’m sorry, Aunt Hester—” Mona turned towards her aunt— “I don’t want to hurt you, I really don’t—but you do know it’s true.”
She passed a shaking hand over her forehead, and Rollison could see that she too was close to tears.
“And that was why you went to live with Madam Melinska?” he asked gently.
The girl looked at him without speaking, and Madam Melinska answered for her.
“Mr Rollison, it may help you to know that Mona has a remarkable natural gift of second sight, or clairvoyance. It was this gift which brought us together. Mrs Abbott is still a sceptic where foreknowledge of the future is concerned. But—” Madam Melinska’s mildly amused smile appeared again— “aren’t most people? Aren’t you?”
Rollison felt as if he were at the wrong end of a rapier which pinned him against the wall.
“Yes,” he admitted.
“Most Virgoans are,” declared Madam Melinska.
“Most Virgo—oh.” Rollison had been born late in August and knew his sign of the Zodiac, but this had always been a matter for fun rather than serious consideration. He had a momentary flash of thought: How had she known his birth date? Then he told himself that she had only to glance at a Who’s Who to discover it.
“As a matter of personal interest,” put in Lucifer quietly, “what is my sign?”
Madam Melinska looked at him very directly. “You are a Gemini, probably born on the cusp. You have the fixity of purpose of all Taureans and the love of movement of Gemini people. I imagine you were born later than your mother had expected.”
Rollison, startled by the preciseness of the answer, was astonished by the effect on Lucifer Stride, who now stared open-mouthed at Madam Melinska.
“Is that true?” cried Olivia Cordman.
Rollison hung on the answer, but allowed himself to see how the others reacted. Mona still battled with tears, Mrs Abbott thrust her chin out in a kind of defiance, but her gaze was fixed on Stride.
“How the hell do you do it?” he muttered. “How can you know?”
“It’s another of her tricks,” put in Mrs Abbott. “Don’t let her fool you—she looks up the information first and then pretends the stars told her. It’s all rubbish.”
“But were you born late?” asked Olivia Cordman.
Lucifer Stride had regained his composure. “I really have no idea,” he said shortly. Obviously he was not going to favour one side or the other. “And it’s time I went—past time.” He nodded to Rollison and moved towards the door. Rollison followed him into the hall and they stood by the front door for a moment, Stride tight-lipped, obviously worried.
“So she was right,” Rollison said.
“When I was a kid I got tired of being told how long my mother had to wait for me. It’s— it’s uncanny. And Mona told me—” Stride caught his breath. “There can’t be anything in it, can there? No one can see into the future or into the past?”
“I shall need a lot of convincing,” Rollison said reassuringly.
Stride nodded, opened the door and marched out. Rollison watched him walk down the stairs, his jauntiness gradually returning, but he did not look round from the first half-landing.
As Rollison closed the door, Jolly appeared.
“Did you hear that?” Rollison asked him.
“Yes, sir.”
“Is it nonsense?”
“I would prefer to suspend judgment,” Jolly said handsomely. “Do you intend to ask Miss Cordman to stay for lunch?”
“No, I’ll get rid of her,” Rollison said. “I—”
A scream cut across his words making the two men spin round. There was a flurry of footsteps in the living-room, what sounded like a struggle, and confused shouting:
“Let me go . . . let me go!”
“Hold her!”
“Stop him!”
Rollison had a vision of Mrs Abbot attacking Mona, but as he burst into the living-room he saw Olivia Cordman holding the struggling girl, Mrs Abbot gaping, Madam Melinska standing by the window and looking down into the street.
“. . . Stop him!” cried Mona, as Rollison appeared. “Don’t let him go, they’re lying in wait for him! They’ll kill him!”
She pulled herself free, darted past Rollison and rushed to the door. Rollison hesitated for a split second before turning and rushing after her. He reached the door first, opened it, and bellowed:
“Stride! Come back!”
Only the echo of his own voice answered him, hollow and unrewarding. Just behind, the girl was sobbing:
“They’ll kill him, I know they will!”
Rollison raced down the stairs, alarmed in spite of himself. Reaching the passage, he saw the street door was closed—Lucifer Stride had not lost a second. Rollison sprang towards the door and swung it open—and three things happened almost simultaneously.
A car engine roared with sudden, menacing harshness.
Lucifer Stride, halfway across the street, hesitated and stood with his hands raised, as if mesmerised, as the car raced towards him.
There were two sharp raps as something smashed on the bonnet and against the windscreen.
Rollison, bounding across the pavement, saw the car swerve, saw a white cloud rising from it. He did not stop moving but grabbed Lucifer and pulled him back to safety. He saw Mona, ashen-faced, staring at Lucifer. Two or three people along the street were standing and gasping as the car narrowly missed a lamp-post, and came to an abrupt halt—then both doors swung open and two men scrambled out and began dabbing frantically at the windscreen. Rollison, springing in pursuit, had sufficient time to notice they were both tall, both dark-haired, before he kicked against a raised paving stone and went sprawling. He managed to protect his face with his arm but jolted himself badly, and lay for a few seconds, hearing the harsh revving of the car engine and knowing that the men had got away.
He picked himself up, cautiously. Lucifer Stride was leaning against the railings, much as Mrs Abbott had leaned against them an hour or so earlier; the girl was standing beside him. Then two women and an old man came hurrying up, and Jolly appeared at the street door.
Rollison brushed some dust off his jacket.
“Call the police, Jolly?”
“They are on their way, sir.”
“Didn’t get the number of that car, did you?” Rollison asked. “Or recognise either of the men?”
