Hasty Death by Marion Chesney

to knock at the bank door to gain admittance. At last one of the clerks opened the door to them.
    ‘Nobody’s turned up except me,’ he said. ‘I keep the door locked because anyone could walk in and rob the bank. Charles, the doorman, hasn’t turned up and
he’s really got no excuse. He lives in the City. May I get you ladies anything? Tea?’
    ‘Maybe later,’ said Rose. ‘We’ll let you know. Thank you.’
    Once they were in their office, Rose whispered, ‘This is a perfect opportunity. I’ll go upstairs to the counting-house and start searching.’
    ‘What about the banking hall?’
    ‘The records won’t be there. In any case, everything in the banking hall will be tightly locked.’
    Daisy lit the fire and then waited impatiently. Outside, she could hear the scraping of shovels and then the swish of brooms as the street-sweepers got to work. A shaft of sunlight suddenly
shone down through the grimy window.
    Then there came a banging at the front door. Daisy stayed where she was, nervously chewing at a thumbnail.
    She heard the clerk running down the stairs. She stood up and opened the door of her office a crack. She heard the doorman complaining that he had a bad leg and it had taken him ages to struggle
through the snow and then a female voice. Mrs Danby. Oh, where was Rose?
    An hour passed. Daisy was just about to go out and up the stairs in case Rose was in trouble when the door opened and Rose slipped in.
    ‘Where have you been?’ hissed Daisy.
    Rose sank down in her chair. ‘It took me ages. But I’ve got some interesting information. Get on your coat and hat, Daisy. We’re going to Scotland Yard. I telephoned
Detective Superintendent Kerridge.’
    ‘But what about old Danby?’
    ‘We’ll just need to risk her not knowing we even turned up for work.’ They covered their typewriters and put on their coats, hats and gloves. Opening the door of their office,
they crept out. To their relief, they could hear the doorman complaining about his leg to someone in the banking hall off to the left of the main door.
    ‘Quickly,’ said Rose.

 
CHAPTER FOUR
    Curs’d be the Bank of England notes, that tempt a soul to sin.
    Sir Theodore Martin
    D etective Superintendent Kerridge found he was looking forward to meeting Lady Rose again. After he had received her telephone call, he had in turn
phoned Captain Cathcart. It pleased him to think they would all be together again, as they had been during that investigation the previous year at Telby Castle.
    Kerridge was a grey man: grey hair, grey eyebrows, heavy grey moustache. He stood at the window of his office looking out at the Thames, and while he waited, he wrapped himself in one of his
favourite dreams. In his mind he was a thinner, younger Kerridge manning the barricades at the People’s Revolution of England. ‘Down with the aristocrats!’ he yelled and his
supporters cheered. A beautiful young girl threw her arms around him and kissed him on the mouth. Kerridge blinked that part of the dream away. It was wrong to be unfaithful to his wife, even in
dreams.
    The door opened and Inspector Judd ushered Harry Cathcart in. ‘What’s this all about?’ asked Harry.
    ‘I received a telephone call from Lady Rose. She says she has vital information concerning the death of Freddy Pomfret.’
    ‘I don’t know how she could have come by any information about society at all in her present occupation.’
    ‘Which is?’
    ‘I’d better see if she wants to tell you.’
    The door opened again. ‘Lady Rose Summer and Miss Levine,’ announced Judd.
    ‘Your maid may wait outside,’ said the detective, who had met Daisy before.
    ‘Miss Levine is no longer my maid. She is my friend. She may stay.’
    ‘Where’s Becket?’ asked Daisy.
    ‘In Chelsea,’ said Harry. Daisy’s face fell.
    ‘What are you doing here?’ demanded Rose.
    ‘I was summoned by Mr Kerridge,’ said Harry, looking at Rose and thinking that a working life did not suit her.