“Well, somehow the business grows,” Ada said. “We’ve some very good directors in all the subsidiary firms. But I’ve never heard of any trouble, Rolly. Oh, my goodness, look at the time! I must fly.”
Rollison watched her leave the house. By pressing close against the window and looking into the street, he saw her step off the pavement and into her high-powered, scarlet sports car. She looked almost childlike as she sat at the wheel; and then, zooooom! and the car roared towards the corner.
She slowed down in good time.
“And no one followed her,” said Rollison to Jolly. “That’s almost a disappointment. Get Grice on the line, will you, and ask him if he can see me in about half an hour. Tell him I’m on my way.”
“Supposing he isn’t free, sir?”
“Don’t tell me you’re slipping,” said Rollison. “Persuade him not to keep me waiting too long.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Gentle Hint
Grice not only received him but was affable; so affable that Rollison began to suspect the reason before he had been in the building for five minutes. It was a pleasant office with a view of the Thames and the Embankment. On this warm morning, the sun was bright, and everything in sight was beautiful when one looked out of the window. Inside, Grice was not exactly a beauty; but he was striking-looking, tall, brown-clad, brown hair turning grey, brown eyes as sharp as they had been in all the years Rollison had known him. The skin showed white where it was stretched tight over the bony bridge of his nose.
,. . . not really surprised you’ve taken an interest in this case,” he said, “and I couldn’t wish you more luck. It’s a brutal business. Apart from the violence, there’s the deliberate wrecking of homes. That old couple in Chelsea probably won’t recover from the shock. They’ve been married forty-one years, and among the things broken were some wedding presents. Everything they’d saved was in that house, and—phutt, they lost it in half an hour.”