Mystery of Mr. Jessop by E.R. Punshon

Bobby, and on the instant stopped, and in that instant changed, so that mystery and wonder fled from her and she stood there like a little frightened child.
    â€œOh, Denis, look,” she gasped. “Oh, Denis, have you done it? Have you?”
    The young man she called Denis turned quickly, and when he saw Bobby the flush faded from his cheek, a startled look that might have been terror sprang into his eyes, he swung round again quickly and banged to the door of the flat behind him. Then, standing defiantly before it:
    â€œWhat do you want?” he demanded.
    Evidently the sight of Bobby’s uniform had startled and alarmed them both more than was to be expected from those whose consciences are perfectly clear, even though some surprise at the sight of a policeman there at that time of night was natural enough. And what, Bobby wondered, had the girl dancer meant by her sudden startled exclamation: “Oh, Denis, have you done it?” And why was he standing on guard before her door with that air of mingled hostility and fear?
    â€œI think Miss Hilda May lives here, doesn’t she?” Bobby asked.
    â€œYou can’t see her now,” the other answered. “It’s too late. Come along in the morning if you want to.”
    â€œPolice business can’t wait,” Bobby told him briefly. “Please move. I want to knock.”
    â€œNot at this time of night,” the young man repeated obstinately. “You’ve no right to worry people so late. Come back in the morning if you like.”
    â€œI’ve told you ” began Bobby, losing patience, when the other said triumphantly, as if he had just remembered a handy ace of trumps to play:
    â€œWhere’s your warrant? Have you got a warrant?”
    â€œGood Lord,” exclaimed Bobby crossly, “do you think I want a warrant to speak to people? And what business is it of yours? And does it strike you that obstructing a police officer is a serious matter? And,” added Bobby slowly, “makes him wonder what reason there is.”
    It was a shot that told. The young man looked disconcerted. The door behind him opened abruptly and the girl herself appeared.

CHAPTER 5
MODERN FLATLET
    Once more she had changed. No longer, as she stood there, did she resemble the priestess gravely serving an unknown altar, no longer had she her air of a small and frightened child. She had changed all that, and now bore herself simply as a brisk and confident young business woman of to-day. She said to Bobby:
    â€œYou wanted to see me?”
    â€œYou are Miss Hilda May, on the staff of Jessop & Jacks?” Bobby asked.
    â€œYes,” she answered. She stood back a little to allow him to enter. “You had better come in,” she said. “There’ll be complaints if we talk here.”
    â€œThank you,” Bobby said, moving forward to accept her invitation; but when the young man showed some signs of following him he said: “I shan’t keep you long, Miss May, but, as it concerns your firm, we had better be alone.”
    â€œVery well,” she answered. “You had better go home, Denis. It’s late enough.”
    â€œI’ll wait,” he answered, scowling. “How do we know this chap really is a policeman? He may be after the Fellows necklace or something.”
    Bobby swung round on him.
    â€œWhat do you know about the Fellows necklace?” he demanded.
    â€œWell, everyone knows old Jessop’s working overtime to sell it,” Denis retorted.
    â€œCome inside, please. I don’t want complaints about talking out here,” Hilda interposed – but a little, Bobby thought, as if she wanted to cut short the conversation for reasons of her own.
    Denis turned away and walked off down the corridor, and Hilda pushed the door to, Bobby having to come further inside to allow it to close. It was a tiny vestibule in which they stood now, one not more than a square yard or so in