The changeling

“I understand that ... and I’ll get round quicker on my own.” I wondered what they would say if they knew I proposed to visit The Yellow Canary the next day.

I spent the next morning with Morwenna. Justin had gone off to his office where he worked on the consignments of tin which were sent to various parts of the country and the Continent.

In the afternoon Morwenna went out, full of apologies, to fulfill an engagement.

I told her I should be perfectly all right.

It was a bright and sunny afternoon and as soon as Morwenna left, I went out, hailed a cab and asked to be taken to The Yellow Canary. The cab driver looked rather surprised at such a request coming from a respectable looking female in the middle of the afternoon. We drew up before a building in a rather narrow side street. On the wall by the door was the model of a yellow canary, so I knew I had come to the right place. I alighted and went to the door. I rang a bell. After a few moments a hatch was drawn back and a pair of eyes were looking at me.

“Yes?” asked a male voice.

“Could I speak to the manager?” I asked.

“We’re not open.”

“I know. But I want to make some enquiries.”

“You the press?”

“No. I’m a friend of Mr. Oliver Gerson.”

I fancied that made some impression. He paused. “I could tell him you called.”

“When will he be here?”

“I don’t know. Comes and goes. Wait a minute,” He opened the door and I stepped into a dark little lobby. I was confronted by a flight of stairs.

“Does Mr. Gerson know you’re coming?”

“No. But I have to get in touch with him. It’s urgent.”

He looked at me for a few seconds as though summing me up. “I’ll tell you,” he said at length. “He might be at The Green Light. Yes ... he’s likely to be there.”

“The Green Light? Where is that?”

“Just a few streets from here. All the clubs are close. It’s club area, you see. I’ll tell you how to get there. It’s simple. Turn to your right and go along to the end of this street, cross the road and you’ll see Lowry Street. The Green Light’s on the right. You can’t miss it. It’s got a green light outside.”

“Like your yellow canary.”

“That’s right. You might well find him there at this time.” I thanked him and came out into the street. He had given me clear instructions and it was not difficult to find The Green Light.

The door was open and I went in. There was a similar small dark lobby and a flight of stairs. A woman came out of a side door.

“Good afternoon,” I said.

“Good afternoon. Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Mr. Oliver Gerson. Is he here?”

“What name is it?”

“Miss Mandeville.”

“Could I ask what it’s about?”

“It’s a personal matter.”

She looked at me suspiciously. “He’s not here, I’m afraid.”

My heart sank. “Could you give me an address where I could get into touch with him?”

“Well, I couldn’t do that, but if you leave your name and address, I’ll get a message to him.”

“I’m staying with friends and I may not be in London for long. Would you tell him it is urgent.”

Then I heard a voice say: “Why, it is! What a surprise, Rebecca!”

Oliver Gerson was coming down the stairs.

“It’s all right, Emily,” he said to the girl. “This young lady is a friend of mine.”

“Oh,” I cried. “I am so pleased to have found you.”

“As pleased as I was when I gathered you were looking for me.”

“I thought you would still be in the club business.”

“Yes, when the new people took over they wanted me to stay on and look after the management. I did so ... on my own terms. But this is no place to entertain ª lady like yourself. There’s a tea place round the corner. We’ll be comfortable there and you can tell me to what I owe the pleasure of this visit.” He led me out of The Green Light and we walked to the end of the street while he told me how well I looked and as beautiful as ever-no, more so.

It was the typical Gerson charm and I did not believe a word of it; but I had to admit it was pleasant and I felt-as I always had-that he would be easy to talk to. We crossed a road and in the next street was the little shop. Tables were not too close together and they were already serving tea though the place was not very full. “Good afternoon, Mr. Gerson. A table for two?”

“Not too public a one, please, Marianna.”

“I know, sir.”

She smiled roguishly and gave me a speculative but friendly smile.

The table was in an alcove rather apart from the others.

“Ideal,” said Oliver. “Now bring us some tea and some of those superb scones of yours, please.”

She gave him an almost tender look and I thought, He may be a blackmailer and all sorts of a villain but he knows how to make people happy. Belinda ... Lucie ... and even the woman in the shop.

When tea was brought the waitress received a charming smile from him and I noticed that she served him as though it were a special pleasure to do so. “Now tell me what this is about?” he said.

“Do you know anything about Celeste Lansdon?”

A smile curved his lips. “I know that she has made quite a stir. It’s hardly a secret.

Poor Mr. Lansdon! I can’t help feeling sorry for him. He’s in a rather nasty position.

There’s no doubt about that.”