Detective and mystery stories; England -- Fiction; Extortion -- Fiction; Gangs -- Fiction
“She rather puzzles me,” it was Derrick Yale to whom he had addressed
his question. “And the more I think of her, the more I am puzzled. The
woman Macroy says that she has been engaged in pilfering since she has
been at the bank, but there is no proof of that. In fact, the only
person who could supply the proof is our absent friend, Brabazon. Why
didn’t you call her as a witness in the prosecution of Barnet?”
“It would be a case of Barnet’s word against hers,” said the
detective, shaking his head, “and the case against Barnet was so clear
that I didn’t want any further evidence than my own eyes.”
Yale was frowning thoughtfully.
“I wonder,” he said, half to himself.
“What do you wonder?”
“I wonder if this girl could give us a little more information about
the Crimson Circle than we have at present. I’m half inclined to
engage her.”
Parr muttered something under his breath.
“I know you think I’m mad, but really I have method in my madness.
There is nothing to steal in my office; she would be under my eye all
the time, and if she were in communication with the Circle, I should
certainly know all about it. Besides, she interests me.”
“Why did you shake hands with her?” asked Parr curiously, and the
other laughed.
“That is why she interests me. I wanted to get an impression, and the
impression I had was of some dark, sinister force in the background of
her life. That girl is not working independently. She has behind
her----”
“The Crimson Circle?” suggested Parr, and there was the suggestion of
a sneer in his tone.
“Very likely,” said the other seriously. “Anyway, I’m going to see
her.”
He called at Thalia’s flat that afternoon, and her servant showed him
into the pretty little drawing-room. A minute after Thalia came in,
and there was a smile in her fine eyes as she recognised her visitor.
“Well, Mr. Yale, have you come to give me a few words of warning?”
“Not exactly,” laughed Yale. “I’ve come to offer you a job.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Do you want an assistant,” she asked ironically, “acting on the
principle that to catch a thief you must employ a thief? Or have you
views about my reformation? Several people want to reform me,” she
said.
She sat down on the piano stool, her hands behind her, and he knew
that she was mocking him.
“Why do you steal, Miss Drummond?”
“Because it is my nature to,” she said without hesitation. “Why should
kleptomania be confined to the ruling classes?”
“Do you get any satisfaction out of it?” he demanded. “I’m not asking
out of idle curiosity, but as a student of human man and woman.”
She waved her hand round the apartment.
“I have the satisfaction of a very comfortable home,” she said. “I
have a good servant, and I am not likely to starve. All these things
are particularly satisfying to me. Now tell me about the job, Mr.
Yale. Do you want me to be a policewoman?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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