'But I don't understand,' quavered Nutkin. 'You said you were making inquiries ...'
'But not into your private life, Mr Nutkin,' said Sergeant Smiley firmly. 'May I continue? Thank you. It is the view of the Metropolitan Police that men were lured to this woman's apartment either by personal contact or by contact through advertisements, and then secretly photographed and identified, with a view to subjecting them to blackmail at a later date.'
Samuel Nutkin stared up at the detective round-eyed. He was simply not used to this sort of thing.
'Blackmail,' he whispered. 'Oh, my God, that's even worse.'
'Precisely, Mr Nutkin. Now...' The detective produced a photograph from his coat pocket. 'Do you recognize this woman?'
Samuel Nutkin found himself staring at a good likeness of the woman he knew as Sally. He nodded dumbly.
'I see,' said the sergeant and put the photograph away. 'Now, sir, would you tell me in your own words how you came to make the acquaintance of this lady. I will
not need to make any notes at this stage, and anything you say will be treated as confidential unless it now or later proves to have a bearing on the case.'
Haltingly, ashamed and mortified, Samuel Nutkin related the affair from the start, the chance finding of the magazine, the reading of it in the office toilet, the three-day tussle with himself over whether to write a letter back or not, the succumbing to temptation and the writing of his letter under the name of Henry Jones. He told of the letter that came back, of noting the telephone number and destroying the letter, of making the telephone call that same lunch hour and being given an appointment for the following day at 12.30. He narrated the meeting with the woman in the basement flat, how she had persuaded him to leave his jacket in the sitting room while taking him into the bedroom, how it was the first time in his life he had ever done such a thing, and how on returning home that evening he had burned the magazine in which he had found the original advert and vowed never to behave in that way again.
'Now, sir,' said Sergeant Smiley when he had finished, 'this is very important. At any time since that afternoon have you received any phone call, or had knowledge of a phone call being made in your absence, that might have been connected with a demand for payment in blackmail as a result of these photographs being taken?'
Samuel Nutkin shook his head. 'No,' he said, 'nothing at all like that. It seems they haven't got round to me yet.'
Sergeant Smiley smiled at last, a grim smile. 'They haven't got round to you yet, sir, and they won't. After all, the police have the photographs.'
Samuel Nutkin looked up with hope in his eyes. 'Of course,' he said. 'Your investigation. They must have been detected before they could get round to me. Tell me, Sergeant, what will happen to these.. .dreadful photographs now?'
'As soon as I inform Scotland Yard that those pertaining to you personally are not connected with our inquiries, they will be burnt.'
'Oh, I'm so glad, so relieved. But tell me, of the various men against whom this couple had evidence that could substantiate blackmail, they must have tried it on someone.'
'No doubt they have,' said the sergeant, rising to leave. 'And no doubt various police officers, at the request of Scotland Yard, are interviewing the score or more of gentlemen who figure in those photographs. Doubtless these inquiries will elicit the names of all those who had already been approached for money by the time our investigation started.'
'But how would you know who had, and who hadn't?' asked Mr Nutkin. 'After all, a man might have been approached, and have paid, but might be too frightened to let on, even to the police.'
Sergeant Smiley nodded down at the insurance clerk. 'Bank statements, sir. Most men in a small way only have the one or two bank accounts. To raise a large sum, a man would have to go to his bank, or sell something of value. There's always a trace left.'
By now they had reached the front door.
'Well, I must say,' said Mr Nutkin, 'I admire the man who went to the police and exposed these scoundrels. I only hope that if they had approached me for money, as doubtless they would sooner or later, I would have had the courage to do the same. By the way, I won't have to give evidence, will I? I know it's all supposed to be anonymous, but people can find out, you know.'
'You won't have to give evidence, Mr Nutkin.'
'Then I pity the poor man who exposed them, and who will have to,' said Samuel Nutkin.
'Nobody on that list of compromised gentlemen will have to give evidence, sir.'
'But I don't understand. You have exposed them both, with the evidence. Surely you will make an arrest. Your investigations ...'
'Mr Nutkin,' said Sergeant Smiley, framed in the door, 'we are not investigating blackmail either. We are investigating murder.'
Samuel Nutkin's face was a picture. 'Murder?' he squeaked. 'You mean they have killed somebody as well?'
'Who?'
'The blackmailers.'
'No, sir, they haven't killed anybody. Some joker has killed them. The question is: who? But that's the trouble with blackmailers. They may have blackmailed hundreds by now, and eventually one of their victims traced them to their hideout. All their business was probably by telephone from public booths. No records are kept except the incriminating evidence against the present victims. The problem is: where to start?'
'Where indeed?' murmured Samuel Nutkin. 'Were they ... shot?'