‘When you put it like that –’ began the Sergeant slowly.
‘You keep quiet, and listen to me. It’s my belief Joseph meant to fasten this murder on to Stephen from the start, but just in case anything should go wrong, he first saw to it that his brother’s will shouldn’t hold water, when it came to be admitted to probate, and next that we should be provided with a few other likely suspects, to fall back on if the case against Stephen fell through. Thus we have Miss Herriard, and that limp playwright of hers, all ready to hand, not to mention Gun-running Mottisfont. And if I’m not much mistaken it was Joseph who egged Roydon on to read his play aloud on Christmas Eve, well knowing that it would drive Nathaniel to a frenzy.’
‘You’ve got nothing to go on to make you say that, sir,’ protested the Sergeant.
‘I’ve got this to go on: that he didn’t stop Roydon! I’ll bet he could have done so, if he’d wanted to. He let him read it, and the balloon went up with a bang. Nathaniel, having had one row with Mottisfont, had another with Miss Herriard, and threw in a few mean cracks at Stephen, just for good measure. In fact, kind Uncle Joseph had got his stage nicely set, and all he had to do then was to stick a knife into Nathaniel, and sit back while we made fools of ourselves.’
‘And you don’t know how he managed to stick that knife into Nathaniel!’ interjected the Sergeant.
‘No, I don’t; but for the moment I’m leaving that out of the discussion. It’s safe to say that he did it damned cleverly, because it’s got me baffled up to the present. But he chose a time when everyone else would be changing for dinner, and thus unable to produce alibis; and, further, he gave himself an alibi by carrying on a conversation with the one person who was obviously out of the running as a suspect.’
‘Might be something in that door,’ mused the Sergeant, thinking it over.
‘What door?’
‘The one between his dressing-room and the bathroom
he shared with Miss Clare. I mean, she didn’t actually see him, did she?’
‘If you’re thinking that she was listening to a gramophone, it’s a possibility, but not a very likely one. What’s more, I haven’t so far found a gramophone on the premises.’
‘Well, if he really was in his dressing-room all the time, how did he do it?’
‘Never mind how he did it. We’ll come to that presently. Just now I want you to consider his behaviour ever since the murder. He first arranges that Stephen shall be one of the three to discover Nathaniel’s body. That gave him the opportunity to tell me, when the proper time came, that Stephen didn’t turn a hair at finding his uncle dead.’
‘He told you that?’
‘Not half as crudely as that. He said his dear nephew was not one to show his feelings, which left me with the impression that Master Stephen had been pretty callous. But there! I pick up impressions a lot quicker than Joseph knows, and I’d already picked up the impression that Stephen had been rather fond of his Uncle Nathaniel, and was a good deal more upset by his death than he meant to give away. But of course there was more to getting Stephen into Nathaniel’s room than that. Stephen inspected the windows and the bathroom door, just as any man would, while Joseph pretended to be mourning over his brother’s body. That made it possible for Stephen to have had the chance to tamper with the fastenings. All Joseph had to do was to tell me that he was sure the windows were shut. When I asked him, as I was bound to, whether he’d actually seen them, he said no, but his dear nephew had, which came to the same thing. He knew it didn’t come to the same thing, anything like, but it sounded well: just what a soft old fool would say. Oh, you have to hand it to him!’
‘It makes him out to be pretty black,’ said the Sergeant, awed.
‘Well, you don’t suppose a man who sticks a knife into his brother’s back is a gilded saint, do you?’
‘But, sir, I still can’t see it altogether your way! I’d swear the one thing Joseph dreaded was that we should bring the murder home to Stephen! I mean, he went out of his way to explain that Stephen’s rough manner didn’t mean anything, and he was always sticking up for him!’
‘Of course he was! That was his rôle, and very well he played it. But did he convince you that Stephen hadn’t had anything to do with it?’
‘No, I can’t say that he did.’
‘The point is,’ said Hemingway, ‘that the excuses he made for Stephen were so weak that they made us more suspicious than ever about him, which was all according to plan. The most damaging things I found out about Stephen I found out either from his uncle, by way of artless conversation, or through his uncle, like when it came out he’d hinted to Miss Dean that Stephen was the heir. He’d even taken care to hint the same to Mottisfont, knowing Mottisfont would spill it the instant he got the wind up on his own account.’
‘There was never anything you could actually take hold of, though.’
‘No; I told you we were up against a very clever customer.’
‘Yes, but – Look here, sir, what about the will? If he was as clever as you make out, he must have known how the money would be divided up once the will was found to be no good! And he doesn’t get the lot: he only gets half.’
‘You’re developing some very large ideas, aren’t you?’ said Hemingway. ‘If you think eighty thousand pounds is a fortune to be sneezed at, I’ll bet Joseph doesn’t! Why, he’s been sponging on his brother for the last two years, which means he’s broke, or as near to it as makes no odds! Eighty thousand pounds would be as good a reason for murder to him as one hundred and sixty thousand pounds.’
‘Well, I don’t know. I’d have expected him to have got his brother to have made the will out in his favour, somehow.’
‘Don’t you ever take to crime, my lad, because it’s easy to see you wouldn’t make a do of it! If he’d come in for the whole fortune, instead of only half, it would have looked suspicious. I don’t suppose he even thought of trying for the lot. He’s far too downy a bird.’
The Sergeant appeared to consider the matter, fixing his superior with a grave, unblinking stare. After a prolonged and ruminative silence, he said: ‘I don’t deny it sounds convincing, the way you put it, sir. And you do have a knack of spotting your man.’
‘Flair,’ corrected Hemingway coldly.
‘All right, flair. And I don’t deny that I never fancied Miss Herriard, nor Mottisfont, nor that young Roydon. But what I do say, Chief, is that there isn’t a bit of real evidence against Joseph, because you don’t know how he did it, or when he found the time to do it.’
‘That,’ said Hemingway, ‘is what we are now going to discover.’
‘Well, I hope you’re right, sir; but we’ve been at it the best part of two days now, and we’re no nearer discovery, not as far as I know. Every line we had, or thought we had, broke down. The door-key hadn’t been tampered with; the ladder couldn’t have been got at; and there isn’t a secret way into the room. I’m blessed if I know how we’re ever going to make any headway.’
‘That’s right,’ said Hemingway cheerfully. ‘And all the time I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the clue to the whole mystery has been under our noses from the outset. Probably something so simple that a child could have spotted it. Life’s like that.’
‘If it’s as simple an all that it’s a wonder you haven’t spotted it,’ said the Sergeant sceptically.
‘It’s very likely too simple for me,’ Hemingway explained. ‘I was hoping you’d hit on it.’
The Sergeant ignored this. ‘If only we had some fingerprints to help us!’ he said. ‘But everything was gone over so carefully, it doesn’t seem to be any use trying that line again. I did think we might have got something from the dagger, but the hilt was as clean as a whistle. And it was plain the other dagger hadn’t been touched, nor the sheath of the one he used. Well, we saw how easily it slipped in and out of the sheath, didn’t we? I could have drawn the blade out without touching the sheath, if I’d wanted to, when I took the whole thing down. In fact, now I come to th
ink of it, I never used my left hand at all, and I’ll bet he didn’t either.’
‘Just a moment!’ said Hemingway, frowning. ‘I believe you’ve got something!’
‘Got what, sir?’
‘Your left hand. Do you remember just what you did do with it when you were up on that chair?’
‘I didn’t do anything with it, barring –’ The Sergeant stopped, and his jaw fell. ‘Good lord!’
‘When you stretched up your right hand, to take the knife down, you steadied yourself with your left hand against the wall. And that, my lad, is ten to one what kind Uncle Joseph did too, without thinking about it any more than you did! Come on, we’ve got to get hold of the finger-print boys!’
The Sergeant rose, but he had been thinking deeply, and he said: ‘Hold on a minute, sir! That’s raised a point in my mind. I had to stretch up a good bit to reach that knife. Joseph couldn’t have got near it, not on a chair.’
‘Then he didn’t use a chair,’ replied Hemingway impatiently. ‘I never met anyone like you for trying to throw a spanner in the works!’
‘What did he use, then?’
Behind Inspector Hemingway’s bright gaze his brain moved swiftly. Once more his excellent memory stood him in good stead. ‘Christmas decorations: step-ladder!’ he said. ‘Same one Nathaniel fell over on his way up to dinner. Come on!’
Sixteen
WHEN THE UNEASY HOUSE-PARTY AT LEXHAM AROSE
from the luncheon-table that afternoon, Maud, as usual, went upstairs for her rest, and Mottisfont took possession of the library by the simple expedient of stretching himself out in the easiest armchair and disposing himself to slumber. Paula dragged Roydon away to discuss the casting of Wormwood. Mrs Dean, in whom the events of the morning had induced a reflective mood, said that she must have a talk with dear Stephen, now that things were so mercifully altered, and suggested that they should go to the morningroom for a cosy little chat. Even Valerie seemed to feel that this was a trifle blatant, for she said frankly: ‘Oh, Mummy, you are the limit!’ Stephen said, with more presence of mind than courtesy, that he was going for a walk with Mathilda, at the same time directing such a menacing look at Mathilda that she meekly acquiesced in this arbitrary plan for her entertainment, and went upstairs to put on a pair of heavy shoes and a thick coat.
They left the house by the garden-room door, and traversing the gardens struck out into the small park. The melting snow had made the ground spongy under their feet; the sky was dull; and the bare tree-branches dripped moisture; but Mathilda drew a long breath, and said: ‘It’s good to get out into the fresh air again. I find the atmosphere in the house rather too oppressive for my taste. Do you think you are definitely in the clear, Stephen?’
‘Mrs Dean does,’ he replied. ‘Do you realise that that shewolf was going to tie me up to Valerie again?’
‘Of course, you’re such a defenceless creature, aren’t you?’ she retorted.
‘Against battering-rams, I am.’
‘What did you do it for?’ she asked.
‘Get engaged to Valerie? I never meant to.’
‘Little gentleman! A fairly raw deal for her, wasn’t it?’
‘I don’t flatter myself she’s broken-hearted.’
‘No,’ she conceded. ‘You treated her pretty rough, though. You’re not everybody’s money, you know, Stephen.’
‘By no means.’ He turned his head, and looked down at her. ‘Am I yours, Mathilda?’
She did not answer for a moment or two, but strode on beside him, her hands dug into the pockets of her coat. When she thought she could trust her voice, she said: ‘Is that a declaration?’
‘Don’t come the ingénue, Mathilda, my love! Of course it is!’
‘A bit sudden, isn’t it?’
‘No, it’s belated. I ought to have made it five years ago.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘I don’t know. Took you for granted, I suppose.’
‘Just a good sort,’ she remarked.
‘You are – a damned good sort. I always looked on you as a second sister.’
‘You are a fool, Stephen,’ she said crossly.
‘Yes, I knew that as soon as I saw you beside my pretty nit-wit.’
‘Came on you in a flash, no doubt.’
‘More or less. I never realised until this hellish houseparty. I don’t want to have to live without you.’
‘I suppose,’ said Mathilda, staring gloomily ahead, ‘I might have known that when you did propose you’d do it in some graceless fashion peculiarly your own. What makes you think I want Valerie’s leavings?’
‘My God, you are a vulgar wench!’ Stephen exclaimed, grinning.
‘Well?’
‘I don’t know. I shouldn’t think you would want me. But I want you.’
‘Why? To save you from further entanglements with glamorous blondes?’
‘Hell, no! Because I love you.’
‘Since when?’
‘Always, I think. Consciously, since Christmas Eve. I’ve never quarrelled with you, Mathilda, have I? Do you know, I’ve never wanted to?’
‘That must be a record.’
‘It is. I won’t ever quarrel with you, my sweet. That’s a promise.’
‘It’s irresistible.’
He stopped, and swung her round to face him, holding her by the shoulders. ‘Does that mean you’ll marry me?’
She nodded, looking up at him with a faint flush in her cheeks. ‘Somebody’s clearly got to keep you in order. It may as well be me.’
He pulled her rather roughly into his arms. ‘O God, Mathilda, do keep me in order!’ he said, in a suddenly thickened voice. ‘I need you! I need you damnably!’
She found that her own voice was unsteady. ‘I know. You are such a fool, Stephen: such a dear, impossible fool!’
‘So are you, to care a damn for me,’ he said. ‘I never thought you did. I can’t think why you do.’
She took his face between her hands, looking up at him a little mistily. ‘I like savage creatures.’
‘Bull-terriers and Stephen Herriard.’
‘That’s it. What do you see in me? I’m an ill-favoured woman, my love, and you will have to confront my ugly mug across your breakfast-table all the days of your life.’
‘You have a beautiful plainness, Mathilda. Your eyes laugh, too. Did you know?’
‘No, I didn’t know. Tell me more!’
He laughed, and, pulling her hand through his arm, held it, and strolled on with her across the spongy turf. ‘I shan’t be able to offer you this for your home.’
‘It’s all right with me. But you love it. You ought to have it.’
‘Don’t think I could keep it up as things are. It will be sold, anyway, and the proceeds split between the three of us.’
‘You couldn’t buy it in?’
He shook his head. ‘Couldn’t run it on what was left if I did. I don’t mind. I’ve got you.’
They walked on. ‘If Paula and Joe didn’t want it sold – if they were willing to forgo their share of the price, you could keep it. Nat meant you to have it. I always thought that was why he bought it.’
‘It was, originally. It’s all right, Mathilda: I shan’t mind – much. The only thing I couldn’t bear would be to see Joe here.’
‘Well, you won’t: he doesn’t like the place.’
The saturnine look came back into his face. ‘You know nothing of what Joe likes or dislikes. None of us does.’
‘He’s never made any secret of the fact that historic houses don’t appeal to him.’
‘Reason enough to assume they do. I fancy Joe would like enormously to be Lord of the Manor. But he shan’t be. Not unless he chooses to buy it. I’ll stand out for a sale – and run the bidding up, too!’
‘Why do you hate Joe so bitterly, Stephen?’ she asked quietly.
He glanced down at her, a derisive expression in his hard eyes. ‘I hate Joe for his hypocrisy.’
‘Do you think he can hel
p acting? It’s second nature, I believe.’
‘My God, Mathilda, can’t you see the truth? Are you fooled too?’ he asked incredulously.
‘I don’t like Joe,’ she confessed. ‘He means well, but he’s an ass.’
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