Tommy felt a thrill of excitement. Something in Hawke’s voice suggested that there was a development of which he knew nothing

Ashort, thin-faced man came from the flat and looked coldly at the actor. Hawke and Tommy drew back a little, while Barber said: “What the devil are you doing here, Penson?” “The same as you, I expect – trying to find Alice,” snapped the man named Penson. “What have you done with her?”

“What have I done? What have you done with her, you mean! ”

“I’ve a good mind to break your fool neck for that,” rapped Penson. “By the fates, all you think about is keeping the centre of the stage yourself. You know only too well she’ll act you into a corner and you’ve staged this disappearance to prevent it.”

It looked as if Barber would lose what was left of his self-control. He took a lunge forward, with his fist clenched, and but for Hawke’s restraining grip would have struck the other man. Hawke spoke at the same time as he moved.

“Easy, Mr Barber! Talking like this won’t help us.” “Who the deuce are you?” demanded Penson. “My name’s Dixon Hawke,” returned the criminologist quietly, “and Mr Barber has called me in to try to find Miss Drayton.”

“That’s a fine story,” Penson sneered. “He might have done that to pull the wool over my eyes – and other people’s – but if you want to know where she is, make him talk.”

“Supposing we discuss this in the flat and not in the passage?” asked Hawke. “There’s nothing to discuss–”

“Oh, yes, there is,” said Hawke sharply. “You’ve made a serious and obviously considered accusation against my client. I want it explained at once.”

Antagonistic

Penson’s eyes narrowed. Tommy thought he would try to get away, but he did not, and the party went into the flat, which was being looked after by a middleaged servant.

Penson, it appeared, was Alice Drayton’s business manager. It soon grew clear that if she failed to appear, he would lose his commission on her salary – and that possibility was frightening him. He sobered down a little, although it was apparent that he and the actor were bitterly antagonistic.

Hawke questioned the servant, but she was unable to give him any information. That finished, he sent Tommy Burke to the taxi-rank outside the Wells Theatre, where the new show was to appear. Tommy inquired of the drivers there who had driven Miss Drayton on the previous afternoon. The driver, a man named Gloster, was out with a fare, but might be back at any time.

Tommy, who was well-known, spent half an hour in the cab-men’s shelter until the door opened and Gloster appeared. He was a big, middle-aged man, friendly of countenance and very quick with his tongue. He heard Tommy out, and then rubbed his chin.

“Well, me young cock-o-lorum, I took the lady, that’s a fact. Pretty piece, I ses to meself, me having an eye for a nice pair o’ ankles, that’s a fact.

“‘My flat,’ she says, as if I knew where she lived, which is also a fact, young feller-me-lad!

“Then on the way she taps on the glass. ‘Drive me to Waterloo Station instead,’ she ses, an’ blow me, that’s what I did. Off she went, and gave me a shilling tip, so there you are.”

Tommy telephoned the gist of Gloster’s statement to Hawke, who by then had reached the Dover Street flat again. Hawke said: “Go over to Waterloo, old son. Make inquiries among the porters and others regularly on the station.

“I can tell you that Miss Drayton wore a grey costume and a scarlet hat, with scarlet gloves.

“Add that she’s exceptionally pretty and you might get some results. When you’ve finished, return here.”

Checked up

“Right-ho, guv’nor,” Tommy rang off, thanked the cabbies for their assistance and tipped Gloster a shilling. Then he had an idea and said to the cabby: “Can you take me to the place where you put Miss Drayton down at the station?”

“Why sure I can, me old son-of-a-gun,” declared Gloster. “Hop in the old chariot, and l’ll drive you there in state.”

He treated the rest of the cabbies to a blatant wink, and then started off with his fare. He put Tommy down at the main line entrance and then started back to his rank.

Tommy made several inquiries without any result. Then he found an old, thin-faced porter, Ben by name.

Ben, according to his fellow-porters, never forgot a face, and he had been at the cab-arrival platform all the previous afternoon, except when he was carrying someone’s luggage.

Tommy had already checked up the time Miss Drayton arrived – it had been just after five o’clock.

Ben looked at him suspiciously, but grew communicative when he was tipped.

“I was ’ere from ar’past four to a quarter past five, sir, never ’ad a job. All the time I was ’ere. An’ I don’t remember seein’ your young lady.”

Tommy pressed the elderly porter further with questions, but Ben was adamant, and others supported him in saying that he would have remembered the lady in question had she arrived.

Puzzled, Tommy telephoned Dixon Hawke and the criminologist said: “So Gloster the cabman says she was taken there and Ben the porter says she didn’t arrive. One or the other is probably lying, old son.”

“If one of them is, it’s Gloster,” said Tommy decisively. “He’s one of those hail-fellow-well-met kind and I don’t trust him. But why on earth should he lie?”

“We’ll find that out,” said Hawke quietly. “There’s a change of orders, my lad. Go to Barber’s flat – it’s in Chelsea. Number 31, Dring Court. Have you got that?”

Tommy felt a thrill of excitement. Something in Hawke’s voice suggested that there was a development of which he knew nothing. “Right-ho, guv’nor! Will we find her there?” Hawke chuckled. “You’re too optimistic! Get there and wait for me.”

Urgent

Tommy took another taxi. There was no time to be lost, for Hawke’s manner made it clear that the matter was urgent. In any case it was nearly five past five.

In less than an hour they had to find the actress, or the first-night would be a failure.

Was that wholly true?

In his scurrying from one place to another, Tommy had not been able to give much thought to the other issues – the enmity between Barber and Benson.

Had one man or the other lied? Had the accusations which had come so freely from each of them any foundation in fact?

Barber might well want to take the centre of the stage, and it would not be the first time a criminal had asked Hawke for help, thus planning to escape suspicion.

More tomorrow.