by Clara Benson
‘Is that so, sir?’ said Trubshaw. Freddy noted the hesitation before the word ‘sir.’
‘Just a little friendly warning,’ he continued. ‘Some of my fellow press-men wouldn’t have mentioned it at all, and then you’d have had the pleasure of seeing your own fatuous words in print the very next day, haunting you for the rest of your life—not that I suppose you say anything fatuous as a rule, but anybody can have an off-day.’
‘Quite,’ said Trubshaw dryly.
‘I shouldn’t have said anything myself at one time—in my earliest days, when I was naught but a boy, wide-eyed and wet behind the ears. But one or two mishaps soon taught me the proper practice.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said the inspector. ‘In that case, I’d be obliged if you’d keep things to yourself for the present—or at least, just report the main facts of the case. It’s all bound to get into the papers sooner or later, but we don’t want to give too much away at the moment.’
‘Oh, not at all,’ said Freddy. ‘In any case, I expect old Cedric won’t be too pleased to have the place over-run with reporters, which will happen once the news gets out. He only puts up with me on sufferance, but to have the whole boiling of them descending upon Belsingham will send him quite over the edge, I imagine.’
‘Now then,’ said Trubshaw, ‘I have already spoken to Lord Holme, who has told me his version of events. I gather from him that you, he, and Lord Lucian Wareham were up late last night—er—’ he looked at his notebook again ‘—playing a joke on Mr. Uttridge.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Freddy. ‘It all seems in rather bad taste now, given what happened, but I assure you that nothing disrespectful was intended by it—except to old Ralph, of course. But as it happens, I do believe we might have done you a good turn, since we appear to have given most of the house an alibi.’
‘Oh?’ said Trubshaw with sudden interest.
‘Yes,’ said Freddy, and explained his deductions.
‘Hmm,’ said the inspector thoughtfully. ‘That is certainly very helpful. From what we know so far it seems that Professor Coddington was killed just as he came out of the secret passage and into the library, but if your story is correct, then at that same time you, Lord Holme, Lord Lucian, Lady Rose, the Duke, Mr. Uttridge, Miss Bagshawe, Miss Garthwaite, Mrs. Fitzsimmons, Mrs. Dragusha, Mrs. Philpott, Mr. Wray and Dr. Bachmann were all on the landing outside her ladyship’s room.’
‘Yes,’ said Freddy, as the inspector made a note. ‘You’ll have noticed that the only people who are let out are the Duchess and my mother. Of course, I naturally incline to the view that nobody in my family had anything to do with it, but in any case neither of them, as far as I am aware, had any connection to the professor or any desire to do him harm.’
‘What about these pearls?’ said Trubshaw. ‘I understand they had gone missing, and you found them clutched in Professor Coddington’s hand.’
‘That’s quite right. I told Goose—Lord Holme, that is—not to touch them, but he was determined to put them away safely, and I can’t say I blame him. They’re worth a fabulous sum, you know, and oughtn’t to be left lying around. But that was the only thing we disturbed, I promise you,’ he said, forgetting for a minute that he had also searched the professor’s pockets. ‘Goose went off to put the pearls away and I stayed with the professor until the Duke came down and called the police.’
‘Did you see anybody while you were there?’
Freddy shook his head.
‘Not a soul. I don’t mind telling you I got into rather a funk for a minute or two, though, thinking that the murderer might be lurking somewhere in the library, so I picked up a handy weapon to protect myself with should it prove necessary.’
‘The sash weight,’ said Inspector Trubshaw. ‘Yes, we found it on a table. Did you take only one?’
‘Ah, you spotted that, did you? Yes, just the one.’
‘We found two others on the window-sill. According to her Grace, there ought to be four.’
‘It seems obvious enough what the fourth one was used for,’ said Freddy. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve found any sign of it?’
‘Not so far,’ said Trubshaw.
‘Pity,’ said Freddy. ‘This is a big house and it would be an easy enough thing to hide. That’s if it is in the house at all. I take it there’s no possibility that the murderer took himself off across the fields?’
‘Not that we can see,’ said the inspector cautiously. ‘None of the doors was found open this morning.’
‘An inside job, perhaps? Might one of the servants have passed a key to the murderer to let himself in and out with?’
‘We are pursuing inquiries of that nature among the servants,’ said Trubshaw.
‘Of course, the real sticking point is the pearls,’ said Freddy. ‘Under any other circumstances it would look as though he’d been killed for them, but since they weren’t taken that can’t be the motive. I take it you’ve realized that Professor Coddington only took the pearls to have a closer look at them?’
‘His Grace was of that opinion, yes,’ conceded the inspector. ‘It seems a strange way of going about things.’
‘Yes, but Coddington was like that. Awfully full of his own self-importance, you see. I think he was on some kind of crusade to expose wrongdoing wherever he detected it, and he had a particular bee in his bonnet about aristocratic families misbehaving. Naturally, in a family such as this one, which has a history going back centuries, there are bound to be all sorts of dirty secrets tucked away in drawers and behind the panelling, but it seemed he’d fastened upon the Belsingham pearls. He kept on talking about how many people had been killed for them.’
‘Killed?’ said the inspector, startled.
‘Oh, it was a long time ago, back in India,’ said Freddy cheerfully. ‘One of my ancestors slaughtered a thousand people and did a spirited breast-stroke through a lake of blood with a dagger between his teeth in order to steal the pearls, or something of the sort. All pretty ghastly, but not exactly something one can blame old Cedric for. But it seemed the professor disagreed, to judge by the number of times he mentioned it.’
‘I see,’ said Inspector Trubshaw. He looked as though he did not know quite what to make of Freddy.
‘To be perfectly frank, he was a bit of a blister,’ went on Freddy. ‘You know—the sort of guest who turns up to a party and makes everybody feel uncomfortable. I had an aunt like that, once. We’d all be skipping merrily around in a country dance, and she’d stand at the side watching, then take advantage of a pause in the conversation to inform us airily that we were dancing on the site of an ancient plague-pit and mass burial ground, and that the spirits of the dead had woken up and were dancing with us, invisible to the eye. It tended to put a damper on things. Still, Professor Coddington was unknown to nearly all of us before he came, and irritating as he was I’m sure most people would have preferred to avoid him rather than kill him outright.’
‘Well somebody killed him,’ said Trubshaw. ‘And we must find out who.’
‘I say,’ said Freddy. ‘I’ve done a little of this sort of thing in London—detecting, I mean. I dare say you remember the Dorothy Dacres case—I was in on that from the start, helping Scotland Yard, and they were good enough to acknowledge that I gave them some invaluable assistance. They’re quite used to my buzzing around them these days, so what about it? If the Metropolitan Police think I’m not a completely useless degenerate, then perhaps I can be of help to you too. I could ask people questions, and find out things, and generally snoop around. People might tell me things they wouldn’t tell you, for example. Not that the Duke is harbouring a house full of criminals, or anything like that, but people are often very wary of the police and prefer to give them a wide berth if possible. I’m sure you’ve found that yourself at times.’
Inspector Trubshaw stiffened and regarded Freddy with an expression that was less
than friendly.
‘Kind of you, sir,’ he said, ‘but I’d be obliged if you’d leave that sort of thing to us. I expect Scotland Yard know what they’re doing—’ (here he looked Freddy up and down, and his gaze said as clearly as anything that he believed Scotland Yard had taken leave of their senses) ‘—but down here in these parts we’re not in the habit of allowing enthusiastic amateurs to join in our investigations. If you have any evidence for us, I’ll be more than happy to hear it, but if you’ll take my advice, you’ll leave the investigating to the police.’
‘Oh, certainly,’ said Freddy. ‘That’s put me in my place,’ he said to himself five minutes later, as he came out of the study. ‘Pity. Trubshaw seemed friendly enough to start with, but I suppose my face didn’t inspire him with confidence. Hardly surprising,’ he continued, as he caught sight of his reflection in the glass of a picture. ‘Half a gallon of single malt and an all-nighter chasing after an escaped murderer don’t exactly do much for the complexion. Still, I don’t see why I shouldn’t do what I can to find this fellow. Good stories have been a little thin on the ground lately, and this promises to be a particularly juicy one—always assuming one of my relations didn’t do it. But who did kill him? It’s a facer, all right. One doesn’t like to think a member of one’s family might be capable of such a thing, but somebody must have done it, if he really didn’t fall over and kill himself.’
He stopped in the hall and stared absently at the grandfather clock, as he tried to picture the sight that had greeted him last night when he stepped out into the library. The door to the secret passage had been open, and the professor had been sprawled on the floor, parallel with the bookshelves, three or four feet to the left of the passage door as they came out. Freddy screwed up his eyes and tried to remember how Coddington had been lying. His right arm had been outstretched, his hand clutching the pearls, but what about his left arm? Freddy thought he remembered it had been bent under him, as though the professor had put out a hand to save himself when he fell. But there was something wrong with the picture, something missing, Freddy was sure of it. Then he realized what it was, and raised his eyebrows.
‘Now, that’s dashed odd,’ he said to himself. ‘Why didn’t he have a torch with him? I don’t go in for night-time robbery much myself, but I should have thought a torch would be an essential piece of equipment for marauding about in secret passages. What on earth was he thinking?’
Cedric wandered into the hall, looking lost.
‘Hallo, Freddy,’ he said glumly. ‘They’ve thrown me out of my study. Now where am I to go? The police are in the way and the servants are confused, and I can’t even sit down in an armchair without someone telling me they were just about to beat the cushions and making me get up again.’
‘The guests are mostly in the small salon,’ hinted Freddy.
‘Then I shall avoid the small salon at all costs,’ said Cedric. ‘As a matter of fact, I’d be quite happy if all my guests would go home now and never talk to me again. I’ve already spent half the morning agreeing politely that yes, this is a terrible business, and no, I don’t know anything and I don’t suppose the police would let me say anything if I did, and please not to worry, because I’m fairly sure we’re all reasonably safe in our beds. But even then I don’t know if that’s true. For all I know Mrs. Dragusha and Dr. Bachmann are here in disguise, and are really a pair of homicidal maniacs sworn to wipe out the entire Wareham family and everybody who knows them.’
Freddy coughed suddenly, and Cedric turned round to see the dressmaker herself approaching them.
‘Ah, hallo, Mrs. Dragusha,’ he said hastily. ‘I hope you haven’t been too disturbed by this whole business. Terribly upsetting, what?’
‘Please, your Grace, I have been looking for you all morning, for I must speak to you,’ said Mrs. Dragusha. She was rubbing her hands together nervously, and there were deep lines between her brows.
‘Certainly,’ said the Duke politely. ‘Is it about the murder? Shouldn’t you prefer to talk to the police? They know more about it than I do.’
‘No!’ she exclaimed. ‘Not the police. It is much better that we keep this private, between ourselves. You will understand why when I tell you all.’
Here she threw a look at Freddy which said as clearly as anything could that she wanted him to go away. Cedric in turn threw a look at Freddy which said clearly that he had better not leave. Freddy stayed.
‘Very well, then, what is it?’ said Cedric, then added, ‘I’d take you into the study, but I’m afraid the police have thrown me out.’
Mrs. Dragusha saw that she had no alternative but to speak here and now or hold her peace.
‘It is about the pearls,’ she said. ‘Everyone is saying that the professor took them. Is that true?’
‘Yes, he did,’ said the Duke.
‘Did you get them back?’
‘Fortunately, yes,’ said Cedric. ‘They’re firmly under lock and key now, and quite safe.’
‘Have the police asked to see them?’
‘Only to look at them quickly and see that all was in order,’ replied Cedric, glancing at Freddy in surprise.
‘That is good—or at least, it ought to be,’ said Mrs. Dragusha. ‘One does not wish to cause a scandal, and I am nothing but grateful to her Grace and her ladyship. They have been very good clients, and have been kind to me and brought me much business. Please understand that I tell you this as a warning, that you might act, and not out of any malice or wish to advantage myself.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Cedric.
Mrs. Dragusha’s distressed expression became more pronounced.
‘This is all my fault!’ she said. ‘In the usual way of things I am very discreet, and I do not know why it should have been different yesterday, but I am afraid that without thinking I let it slip to Professor Coddington that I believed the pearls were not real. He was most interested in what I had to say, and I believe he may have decided to take the necklace in order to examine it and see whether what I had said was true. It is most unlike me to be so unguarded, and I fear the professor has paid the price for it—although you may be sure that I was very far from thinking that he would do such a thing.’
‘You—what?’ said Cedric, astounded. ‘You told him the pearls weren’t real? Why?’
A look of embarrassment passed across the dressmaker’s face, and she turned her eyes away from the Duke.
‘I am not certain—perhaps I am wrong,’ she said. ‘But it first came to me two days ago, when we were doing the final fitting for her ladyship’s dress and she took out the pearls to try on. There was something about them that caught my attention. My brother, you see, is an expert in such things. He has a business, importing precious stones. It was he who sold the famous Freiburg diamond to the Earl of Ashfield, and had it set for the Countess, and it was he, too, who helped me in my business when I first came to this country. He introduced me to the Countess, who was pleased with my work and was kind enough to speak of me favourably to other ladies. My brother deals in all kinds of stones, but his great passion is rare pearls, and he has taught me a little about them over the years—although I am far from having the same knowledge of them that he has. But I know enough to have an inkling of the difference between real and false, and when I saw the Belsingham pearls there was something that did not sit quite right with me, and I had the strongest feeling that I was not looking at the real ones. As Professor Coddington himself said, I know that some families prefer to keep their valuables locked away for safety, and display only copies in public—’ Here she paused and glanced at the Duke ‘—but I see from your face that that is not the case here.’
‘Certainly not,’ said Cedric. ‘Good Lord! You can’t mean to say the Belsingham pearls aren’t real?’
‘I cannot be sure,’ said Mrs. Dragusha. ‘I have only a suspicion.’
‘But that’s impossible! Th
ey’ve been kept in the safe for ten years at least, since Aunt Ernestine gave them up and told us to keep them for Ro. How could they be false?’
‘Have they been taken out or re-set at all?’ suggested Freddy.
‘Why, yes, Bea and Ro took them to Keble’s last year to have a new clasp put on, as the old one was broken. You’re not suggesting the exchange took place then?’
‘Might they have been left lying around accidentally?’ said Mrs. Dragusha. ‘I do not believe for a second that the Duchess would have mislaid them, but young ladies can be careless sometimes—’
She left the suggestion hanging delicately in the air. Freddy and Cedric looked at one another.
‘You have to admit Ro has been known to lose things,’ said Freddy.
‘But it isn’t a question of losing things,’ said the Duke, who seemed as though he were about to begin spluttering indignantly at any moment. ‘If those pearls are fake then it would have to have been a deliberate exchange. Mrs. Dragusha, are you suggesting that my daughter sold the pearls and is passing off a copy as real?’
‘No! Not at all!’ exclaimed Mrs. Dragusha in alarm. She wrung her hands. ‘That was far from my thoughts, please believe me, your Grace. I thought only that somebody might have taken advantage of her good nature. There are people who hover about young women and pretend friendship, when really they want only to deceive, and it is known that some of her ladyship’s acquaintances are not of the highest quality. Do not blame her—I could tell you other similar stories in which insinuating people have stolen valuable objects from ladies—yes, and gentlemen too—of the aristocracy. I have seen it with my own eyes in other great houses, although naturally one must pretend to be unaware of what has happened. There is always someone who will take advantage of a kind heart. But I never should have spoken had it not been for the fact of what I accidentally said to Professor Coddington. Now he is dead and it is all my fault, and it seemed to me that to prevent more trouble I ought to warn you in advance of the possibility that the pearls might not be real, just in case the police decided to look at them more closely. I do not suppose you wish to have the truth made public if the pearls are false. That is why I tell you this now.’
