“He won’t come,” Daisy scoffed. “If he’s feeling funny about the neck, he won’t come down here. He’s never been down since that night he came down with you. Fancy, to go and do a poor girl in like that! I’d spit in his face, if I saw him.”
“Daisy, you really mustn’t assume such horrible things about a man. He’s as innocent as you or me.”
“Is he?” Daisy retorted. “I don’t think so then. You never saw how shocking white his face went when Janie asked him about Cissie.”
“But if there were any suspicion of him,” Michael pointed out, “the police would have tackled him long ago.”
“Oh, they aren’t half artful, the police aren’t,” said Daisy. “Nothing they’d like better than get waiting about and seeing if he didn’t go and murder another poor girl, so as they could have him for the two, and be all the more pleased about it.”
“That’s talking nonsense,” Michael protested. “The police don’t do that sort of thing.”
“I don’t know,” Daisy argued. “One or two poor girls more or less wouldn’t worry them. After all, that’s what we’re for—to get pinched when they’ve got nothing better to do. Of course, I know it’s part of the game, but there it is. If you steal my purse and I follow you round and tell a copper, what would he do? Why, pinch me for soliciting. No, my motto is, ‘Keep out of the way of the police.’ And if you take my advice, you’ll do the same. If this fellow didn’t do the girl in,” Daisy asked earnestly, leaning forward over the table, “why doesn’t he come down here and keep his appointment with you to-night? Don’t you worry. He knows the word has gone round, and he’s going to lie very low for a bit. I wouldn’t say the tecs aren’t watching out for him even now.”
“My dear Daisy, you’re getting absolutely fanciful,” Michael declared.
“Oh, well, good luck to fanciful,” said Daisy, draining her glass. “Here, why don’t you come home with me to-night?”
“What, and spend another three hours hiding in a cupboard?”