Hand in Glove
it proper, decline any further negotiations.”
    Sergeant Noakes opened his mouth, but Mr. Cartell raised a finger and he shut it again.
    “I need not add,” Mr. Cartell said crisply, “that no undertaking of any kind whatever was given by Mr. Period or by myself. Permission was not asked, and would certainly have been declined, for the use of our names. It might be as well, might it not, if I were to telephone Copper at once and suggest that he rids himself of Leiss and the other car, which he left, I understand, to be repaired at the garage. I shall then insist that Miss Ralston, who I imagine is there, returns at once…What’s the
matter
, Noakes?”
    “The matter,” Sergeant Noakes said warmly, “is this, sir. George Copper can’t be told not to make the sale and Miss Ralston can’t be brought back to be warned.”
    “My dear Noakes, why not?”
    “Because George Copper has been fool enough to let young Leiss get away with it. And he
has
got away with it. With the sports car, sir, and the young lady inside it. And where they’ve gone, sir, is, to use the expression, nobody’s business.”
    Who can form an objective view of events with which, however lightly, he has been personally involved? Not Nicola. When, after the climax, she tried to sort out her impressions of these events she found that in every detail they were coloured by her own preferences and sympathies.
    At the moment, for instance, she was concerned to notice that, while Mr. Period had suffered a shrewd blow to his passionate snobbery, Mr. Cartell’s reaction was more disingenuous and resourceful. And while Mr. Period was fretful, Mr. Cartell, she thought, was nipped with bitter anger.
    He made a complicated noise in his throat and then said sharply: “They must be traced, of course. Has Copper actually transacted the sale? Change of ownership and so on?”
    “He’s accepted Mr. Leiss’s car, which is a souped-up old bag of a job, George reckons, in part payment. He’s let Mr. Leiss try out the Scorpion on the understanding that, if he likes it, the deal’s on.”
    “Then they will return to the garage?”
    “They
ought
to,” Sergeant Noakes said with some emphasis. “The point is, sir,
will
they? Likely enough, he’ll drive straight back to London. He may sell the car before he’s paid for it and trust to his connection here to get him out of the red if things become awkward. He’s played that caper before, and he may play it again.”
    Mr. Cartell said: “May I, P.P.?” and reached for the telephone.
    “If it’s all the same with you, gentlemen, I think I’ll make the call,” Sergeant Noakes said unexpectedly.
    Mr. Cartell said: “As you wish,” and moved away from the desk.
    Mr. Period began feeling, in an agitated way, in his pockets. He said fretfully: “What have I done with my cigarettes?”
    Nicola said: “I think the case was left in the dining-room. I’ll fetch it.”
    As she hurried out she heard the telephone ring.
    The dining-room table was cleared and the window opened. The cigarette case was nowhere to be seen. She was about to go in search of Alfred, when he came in. He had not seen the case, he said. Nicola remembered very clearly that, as she stood back at the door for Miss Cartell, she had noticed it on the window sill, and she said as much to Alfred.
    A shutter came down over Alfred’s face.
    “It wasn’t there when I cleared, Miss.”
    Nicola said: “Oh well! I expect, after all, Mr. Period—” And then remembered that Mr. Period had left the dining-room to answer the telephone and had certainly not collected the cigarette case when he briefly returned.
    Alfred said: “The window was on the latch, as it is now, when I cleared, Miss. I’d left it shut, as usual.”
    Nicola looked at it. It was a casement window and was hooked open to the extent of some eight inches. Beyond it were the rose garden, the side gate and the excavations in the lane. As she stared out of it a shovelful of earth was

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