ONE of the things which added piquancy to Inspector Vandam’s life was the fact that at no time could he say with any reasonable degree of certainty where he would be or how he would be engaged an hour later. However he might plan, whatever arrangements he might make, he was for ever at the beck and call of the unexpected. His friends knew from experience that it was best to expect him when they saw him, and they were usually more surprised when he kept his appointments than when he broke them.
This attribute of his calling was exemplified when he reached headquarters on the following morning. He had arrived, his mind filled with the importance of finding out where Swayne was between eight and ten on the night of the murder. Fifteen seconds later Swayne was forgotten, and his thoughts were concentrated on a quite different side of his case. The event which produced this sudden change of outlook was nothing more nor less than the fact that he was informed that a Miss Jane Louden was impatiently awaiting the officer who was dealing with the matter of the accident to Albert Smith.
‘Show her to my room,’ Vandam said, and he looked up with eager interest as a tall, strongly-built girl entered.
She was dark, and her face was of a heavy and immobile type, though it was not without a certain coarse beauty. Her features were set in an expression of arrogance and scorn. After what he had heard of her, Vandam was at first surprised that she was not better looking. But before he was five minutes in her presence he became aware of a certain attraction which to some types of mind, he believed, might easily become irresistible. She was dressed quietly but extremely well in a dark blue coat and skirt, of which even Vandam could not but admire the cut, a small hat, silk stockings and patent shoes. She seemed as eager and excited as Vandam imagined it was her nature to be. He took her measure rapidly and bowed politely.
‘Good morning, Miss Louden,’ he said. ‘Won’t you sit down? I am Inspector Vandam, and I have been detailed to make inquiries into the death of the late Mr Albert Smith. I take it from your message you wish to see me?’
‘That’s so,’ the girl answered. She spoke quietly, but there was more than a suggestion of anxiety in her manner. ‘I felt I should come to headquarters the moment I heard of his death, but I just couldn’t lift my head at the time. I was down with ’flu, and I came just the moment I could stand. I’m not very well yet.’
‘I hope you’ll soon be all right,’ Vandam returned sympathetically. ‘In the meantime if there is anything I can do for you, I hope you will just let me know.’
‘That’s what I came for,’ she declared. ‘I can tell you in two words. It is not generally known that Mr Smith and I were engaged to be married, but that is the fact.’
Vandam did not see exactly where this was leading, but he made sounds of respectful commiseration and waited for more.
‘It was only five days ago, certainly,’ the girl went on, ‘and it wasn’t announced, but it was quite a definite engagement for all that. I wanted it kept quiet for a day or two. A girl does, you know. But I’m sorry I did now, though, of course, I couldn’t tell he would be fool enough to get run over. It puts me in an awkward position, right enough.’
Still Vandam did not see what was coming.
‘But who would question the fact of your engagement?’ he asked.
‘Nobody,’ she said grimly. ‘I’d like to see anyone trying it on. But I thought it would be only right that you people knew.’
‘Ah, quite so. Of course. No doubt,’ Vandam admitted. ‘We’ll certainly keep it in mind.’
But this evidently would not meet the case, and she proceeded to explain more definitely.
‘I suppose there’s no question I’ll be all right?’ she queried. ‘I don’t suppose he made a will—it would be just like him not to bother—but there can be no doubt of his intention.’
Illumination came over Vandam. Though a wide experience had made him tolerant of the frailties of human nature, he was unable to keep a slight feeling of disgust out of his mind as he looked at her. She could not show even a decent pretence at regret for the man who had loved her!
‘What about his relations?’ he asked, to see what she would say.
‘He hadn’t any.’ She spoke with a covetous eagerness. ‘I made quite sure of that. There is nobody but me that could have any claim at all. That is, in justice. But I was afraid that perhaps if there wasn’t an actual will in writing, that there might be some legal difficulty; that maybe I would only get a part.’
Vandam would have enjoyed telling her that she hadn’t the slightest chance of getting a farthing. But that would not be business. He must pump her well first.
‘I would hardly like to say off-hand,’ he said slowly. ‘These lawyers, you know; when once they get started …’ He shook his head to indicate the futility and meddlesomeness of the profession. ‘It would be a matter, I think, of evidence; what evidence there was of the engagement, whether there really were no relatives, and how far the engagement, if admitted, could be held to take the place of a formal will. I don’t know that I should like to say how it would go.’
‘Do you mean that?’ she cried, and there was now no doubt of the genuineness of her emotion. ‘But I tell you the stuff is mine! He said so. He said it was for me. Why, it was only on account of it that I promised to marry him. I tell you it was a bargain.’
‘Forty-five pounds of assets and a hundred of debts,’ thought Vandam. ‘What is she getting at?’ But aloud he said, ‘You speak as if the deceased gentleman had large means. I was not aware that that was so. His salary, I understand, was about £400, and of course that will die with him.’
‘Salary!’ she repeated scornfully. ‘It’s not his miserable salary I’m talking about. It’s the diamonds I want.’
Vandam automatically controlled a start of surprise, but a moment’s thought convinced him that he would gain nothing by pretending a knowledge of her meaning.
‘What diamonds are you speaking of?’ he therefore asked.
She stared at him.
‘Why—’ she burst out. Then a look of absolute horror dawning in her eyes, she sprang to her feet and screamed at him. ‘You don’t mean to say you don’t know? You don’t mean they weren’t on the body? Speak, can’t you?’
‘Sit down and control yourself,’ Vandam said sternly. ‘There was nothing of any value found on the body.’
She took no notice of his admonition, but stood glaring at him, crying with a torrent of bitter oaths that her diamonds had been stolen.
Vandam got up, seized her by the arm, and forced her into her chair.
‘Sit down there,’ he ordered harshly, ‘and don’t be more of a fool than you can help. If you talk calmly I’ll listen to you; otherwise you can get out of here and look for your diamonds yourself.’
The threat had some effect, and the girl stopped shouting.
‘Now,’ went on Vandam, ‘begin at the beginning and explain what you’re talking about. And remember you can’t do any monkeying with the police force. We’ve a quick way here of dealing with anyone that gives trouble.’
Somewhat cowed, the girl glanced at him venomously and began to speak.
‘It’s all very well for you,’ she grumbled sullenly. ‘You’ve lost nothing. It’s I that have had the loss, and you tell me to keep quiet.’
Vandam, convinced that he was on the eve of some important revelation, was awaiting her statement with keen interest, but all he said was, ‘If you don’t want our help, you needn’t wait.’
‘No,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I’ll tell you. Five days ago we were engaged. It’s true we didn’t—’
‘That’s no good,’ Vandam interrupted roughly.