Inspector. I have some work to finish.' His mouth moved in what was intended as a smile. 'I'm sorry you felt I deserted you yesterday. A misunderstanding, apparently.'
'I certainly assumed you'd help with the interview,' Webb said levelly. 'However, we were able to make other arrangements.'
'So I gather.'
'Oh?'
'Madame Picard phoned for an appointment. She's coming to see me in ten minutes, but I'm free until then.'
Webb had finished with him within that time. As he'd indicated the previous day, Warwick seemed to have had few dealings with Arlette. 'Thank you for your help,' Webb finished. 'And we'd better have your address, in case we need to contact you.'
'Fourteen, Lime Tree Grove.' It sounded familiar, though Webb couldn't think why. They took their leave, and as they approached the swing doors at the end of the corridor, Mme Picard came hesitantly through them.
'Good morning, madame. You're looking for Professor Warwick?'
She nodded, returning his greeting with a murmured 'Bonjour.'
The far door on the left. Shall I—?'
'No—please. I—shall manage.' She gave him a brief nod and smile and walked quickly down the length of the corridor.
'I hope he apologizes for dashing off like that,' Webb commented. 'The French are sticklers for politeness.'
Jackson had other things on his mind. 'Guv, that address the Professor gave. Doesn't Simon Marshbanks live in Lime Tree Grove?'
'My God, you're right, Ken! I knew it rang a bell. We'll giv e him a buzz when we get to May bury Street.'
'Next door?' Webb repeated over the phone. 'Your people live next door to the Professor?' He knew Marshbanks came from a wealthy family, but to find him in such elevated surroundings was a surprise. 'Do you know him?' He listened intently for a few minutes, made a number of comments, and r ang off.
‘T hat could be useful,' he t old Ledbetter and Jackson, who’d been listening to the one-sided conversation. 'Marsh bank’ s parents and the Warwicks are friends. It might help to get a personal slant on the po-faced Professor. And since we also need to follow up the info from the daily, I reckon a call is indicated. Phone through, Ken, and see when it would be convenient to pop in. But first, we'll call on the families Arlette coached. They should be home on a Saturday morning.'
CHAPTER 5
Later, Webb reflected ruefully that a bit of judicious eavesdropping at the Professor's door would have saved them a lot of trouble. For as he and Jackson returned to Maybury Street, Cecile Picard and Bernard Warwick confronted each other across a gulf of thirty years.
For some moments they stood gripping each other's hands, too emotional for words. Then Bernard spoke softly in French. 'It really is true, then. When I saw you, at the train door—'
'Yes. For a moment I thought I should faint.'
'It's unbelievable, meeting after all these years. Fate, obviously.'
Her ringers moved protestingly in his. 'Arlette rather than fate, mon cher? She gave a little shudder. 'You think she is all right, Bernard? We will find her?'
'God willing, my love.'
She didn't register the endearment. 'I'm so frightened,' she said in a low voice, 'and Gaston—'
'Ah yes, the worthy Gaston. How did you give him the slip?'
'I—beg your pardon?'
'It would have been natural, surely, for him to come here with you?' His voice sharpened. 'He doesn't know?'
She shook her head. 'No, no. I said nothing. What purpose would it serve?' She moved away from him, walking :c the window and looking down over the bustling, sunlit world of the campus. 'He is not strong, my husband. Today he suffers with migraine. Strain always affects him that way.' Her voice sank, and he moved closer to catch what she was saying. 'I heard him in the night, weeping hopelessly.'
Bernard said sharply, 'He should put a brave face on it, for your sake.'
She turned with a smile. 'I had forgotten how English you are. But yes, it is necessary to hide my fears, to avoid adding to his.'
Bernard caught her
'I certainly assumed you'd help with the interview,' Webb said levelly. 'However, we were able to make other arrangements.'
'So I gather.'
'Oh?'
'Madame Picard phoned for an appointment. She's coming to see me in ten minutes, but I'm free until then.'
Webb had finished with him within that time. As he'd indicated the previous day, Warwick seemed to have had few dealings with Arlette. 'Thank you for your help,' Webb finished. 'And we'd better have your address, in case we need to contact you.'
'Fourteen, Lime Tree Grove.' It sounded familiar, though Webb couldn't think why. They took their leave, and as they approached the swing doors at the end of the corridor, Mme Picard came hesitantly through them.
'Good morning, madame. You're looking for Professor Warwick?'
She nodded, returning his greeting with a murmured 'Bonjour.'
The far door on the left. Shall I—?'
'No—please. I—shall manage.' She gave him a brief nod and smile and walked quickly down the length of the corridor.
'I hope he apologizes for dashing off like that,' Webb commented. 'The French are sticklers for politeness.'
Jackson had other things on his mind. 'Guv, that address the Professor gave. Doesn't Simon Marshbanks live in Lime Tree Grove?'
'My God, you're right, Ken! I knew it rang a bell. We'll giv e him a buzz when we get to May bury Street.'
'Next door?' Webb repeated over the phone. 'Your people live next door to the Professor?' He knew Marshbanks came from a wealthy family, but to find him in such elevated surroundings was a surprise. 'Do you know him?' He listened intently for a few minutes, made a number of comments, and r ang off.
‘T hat could be useful,' he t old Ledbetter and Jackson, who’d been listening to the one-sided conversation. 'Marsh bank’ s parents and the Warwicks are friends. It might help to get a personal slant on the po-faced Professor. And since we also need to follow up the info from the daily, I reckon a call is indicated. Phone through, Ken, and see when it would be convenient to pop in. But first, we'll call on the families Arlette coached. They should be home on a Saturday morning.'
CHAPTER 5
Later, Webb reflected ruefully that a bit of judicious eavesdropping at the Professor's door would have saved them a lot of trouble. For as he and Jackson returned to Maybury Street, Cecile Picard and Bernard Warwick confronted each other across a gulf of thirty years.
For some moments they stood gripping each other's hands, too emotional for words. Then Bernard spoke softly in French. 'It really is true, then. When I saw you, at the train door—'
'Yes. For a moment I thought I should faint.'
'It's unbelievable, meeting after all these years. Fate, obviously.'
Her ringers moved protestingly in his. 'Arlette rather than fate, mon cher? She gave a little shudder. 'You think she is all right, Bernard? We will find her?'
'God willing, my love.'
She didn't register the endearment. 'I'm so frightened,' she said in a low voice, 'and Gaston—'
'Ah yes, the worthy Gaston. How did you give him the slip?'
'I—beg your pardon?'
'It would have been natural, surely, for him to come here with you?' His voice sharpened. 'He doesn't know?'
She shook her head. 'No, no. I said nothing. What purpose would it serve?' She moved away from him, walking :c the window and looking down over the bustling, sunlit world of the campus. 'He is not strong, my husband. Today he suffers with migraine. Strain always affects him that way.' Her voice sank, and he moved closer to catch what she was saying. 'I heard him in the night, weeping hopelessly.'
Bernard said sharply, 'He should put a brave face on it, for your sake.'
She turned with a smile. 'I had forgotten how English you are. But yes, it is necessary to hide my fears, to avoid adding to his.'
Bernard caught her
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