A Case of Duplicity in Dorset

by Clara Benson

  At any rate, Nugs had now accounted for about another ten minutes of the vital time—perhaps from twenty past to half past three. Or had he? Freddy was suddenly struck by a horrible thought as he remembered what his grandfather had said about putting a pillow over Ralph’s face.

  ‘Nugs, it wasn’t you, was it?’ he said half-fearfully. ‘You didn’t kill him, did you?’

  ‘What?’ said Nugs.

  ‘I just wondered whether you’d taken it into your head to play a joke on him and give him a playful tap on the skull then run off, but accidentally hit him harder than you intended. You would mention it, wouldn’t you, if that was what had happened? There’s no harm in confessing, you know. I mean, let’s face it, you’d have no trouble at all in convincing a jury that you’re not of sound mind, so there’s not the remotest chance they’d hang you. They probably wouldn’t even put you in gaol, in fact. They’d send you to a nice, comfortable institution with lots of pretty young nurses to look after you. I expect you’d be very happy there.’

  Nugs glared at him.

  ‘Don’t think I don’t recognize impudence when I hear it,’ he said. ‘Of course I didn’t do it. Where would be the fun in it?’

  ‘One never knows with you,’ said Freddy. ‘I just thought I’d better ask, that’s all. Very well, I suppose I’ll take your word for it.’

  ‘Kind of you,’ said Nugs, and made to depart. ‘By the way,’ he said. ‘I’d keep an eye on that young woman of yours if I were you.’

  ‘Iris?’ said Freddy without thinking.

  ‘Daphne, you ass. Goose is angling to get his hooks on her if I’m not much mistaken. I expect you haven’t been paying her enough attention. Women like attention. They’re like cats. Stroke ’em and they’ll purr, but ignore them and you’ll know about it soon enough.’

  ‘Rot. Daphne’s not a cat.’

  ‘You think not? Go in there and see her now. They’re sitting on the sofa together. He’s stroking her just where she likes it and she’s purring.’

  ‘I’ll thank you to keep your dirty remarks to yourself, you despicable old brute,’ said Freddy.

  Nugs leered, tapped his nose and sauntered off. Freddy watched him go in annoyance, but after a moment’s thought decided that it might be a good idea to return to the salon. Perhaps he had been neglecting Daphne a little.

  On Sunday morning Freddy rose late and was forced to breakfast alone, since everybody else had long finished. Afterwards he wandered into the morning-room and found Cynthia and Lavinia Philpott there, sitting facing one another, quite upright and bristling in unspoken deadlock. He beat a hasty retreat, then realized he had left his cigarettes upstairs, and so went to fetch them. As he passed Ro’s room he saw that the door was open. Inside, Ro, Mrs. Dragusha and Kitty Fitzsimmons were talking nineteen to the dozen and holding dresses up. Valentina Sangiacomo was standing silently out of the way by the dressing-table, waiting until she was wanted.

  ‘Hallo, what’s the to-do?’ said Freddy from the doorway. Kitty turned.

  ‘Hallo, Freddy,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it thrilling? I’ve managed to persuade Mrs. Dragusha to make me a frock while she’s here. It’s a huge privilege, you know, since she’s awfully busy.’

  ‘For you I will make time,’ said Mrs. Dragusha. ‘When I first saw you I said to myself, “Now, there is a woman I should like to dress.” Three, four ideas came into my mind immediately, and I am only pleased that you came to me now, because otherwise I should have had to make you wait. But now I am—how do you say—at a loose end for a day or two, until the police let us go, and I can begin.’

  As she spoke she was whisking samples of brightly-coloured silk and satin in front of her new client.

  ‘Yes, that’s what Val said,’ said Kitty. ‘She knew you’d have nothing to do, and so suggested I ask you. You’re a clever girl, Val.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ said Valentina respectfully, to Freddy’s secret amusement.

  ‘I prefer the pink to the silver,’ said Ro critically. ‘It flatters your complexion more. I wanted that shade for my birthday frock, but Mrs. Dragusha said it wouldn’t look as nice with the pearls, so I chose the blue instead. Not that it matters now,’ she added bitterly. Freddy glanced at her questioningly, and she said, ‘Oh, the cat’s out of the bag, of course. I suppose it was too much to hope for that it could have been kept a secret.’

  ‘You mustn’t let what your father said bother you,’ said Kitty. ‘He was a little grumpy, that’s all. I’m sure he doesn’t think for one second that you had anything to do with it.’

  ‘Yes he does. You didn’t hear him,’ said Ro. ‘It was as clear as anything what he thought.’

  ‘But is it quite certain they’re fake? You were wearing them last night and they looked real enough to me.’

  ‘Father wanted to keep it quiet, so he suggested I wear them and pretend nothing was wrong,’ said Ro. ‘I should much rather not have, but I didn’t want him to be even crosser with me than he already was, so I did it. But I felt sick all the while, and I was sure everybody was looking at me and whispering behind their hands about it. In the end I couldn’t stand it any more and came up to bed early.’

  ‘Nobody was whispering about it,’ said Kitty. ‘I didn’t suspect a thing. It was Lavinia Philpott who told me this morning. She’d overheard two of the maids talking about it.’

  ‘I suppose one advantage of everybody knowing is that I shall never have to wear them again,’ said Ro. She went across to the dressing-table and picked up the fake pearls with an expression of disgust. ‘I wish I’d never set eyes on the stupid things—and I don’t even know why we’re keeping these ones. They’re fit for nothing but the bin.’

  With that she dropped the pearls into a waste-paper basket that was standing next to the dressing-table, and plumped herself back onto the bed in a fit of pique.

  ‘Now, darling,’ said Kitty. She darted a significant look at Valentina, who fished them out and began picking off bits of fluff and other detritus.

  ‘Oh, well, what’s the use in keeping them?’ said Ro.

  ‘The police will want them for evidence if Cedric decides to report it,’ said Freddy.

  Ro was about to reply, but was interrupted by Mrs. Dragusha, who had been draping Kitty in silks and was not attending to the conversation.

  ‘But that is the perfect colour!’ she exclaimed, clapping her hands. ‘Look, everybody! Is she not the very picture of beauty?’

  They all looked upon Kitty Fitzsimmons, who was swathed in a shade of crimson that might have been invented especially for her, so exquisitely did it suit her. The sunlight was shining on her through the window at that moment, and the effect was breathtaking.

  ‘It’s rather nice,’ said Freddy inadequately, and Kitty burst out laughing.

  ‘Now there’s a real compliment!’ she said, and turned back to look at herself in the glass. ‘I suppose I might be allowed it. I’ve been a widow too long now for anybody other than the strictest of old ladies to complain about it, and it’s certainly a flattering colour on me. Mrs. Dragusha, I believe you are a witch!’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Mrs. Dragusha modestly. ‘But perhaps I have a little eye for colour.’

  The conversation then moved on to technicalities, and Freddy felt his presence was no longer required.

  ‘You’d better lock the necklace back in its box and put it in the safe,’ he said to Ro.

  She pouted, but swung her legs off the bed and took the pearls from Valentina, who had finished cleaning them off.

  ‘There!’ she said, locking them back in the case. ‘I’ll take them down now, and I hope I’ll never have to see them again.’

  She went off to deliver the case to her father, and Freddy went to fetch his cigarettes.

  As he came out of his room he saw what looked like a mountain of linen with a pair of black-stockinged legs sticki
ng out from under it, wobbling precariously in and out of a cupboard at the end of the corridor. The legs turned out to belong to a tiny housemaid, who was struggling to reach the top shelf.

  ‘You’ll get along much better if you do it a few at a time,’ said Freddy, stepping forward to help.

  ‘Oh, thank you, sir!’ she gasped. ‘It’s just that I can’t fit anything else on the bottom shelves, and I’ll be in trouble if I don’t put them away quickly.’

  She seemed terrified of something. Freddy suspected it was Mrs. Bates, the housekeeper.

  ‘You can’t possibly reach up there,’ he said. ‘Here, give me those last ones and get off with you.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said again, then bobbed and ran off.

  He put the sheets on the top shelf, then on second thoughts rearranged them more neatly. He had no idea whether they would meet Mrs. Bates’s exacting standards, but he suspected not. This was the same linen cupboard from which they had taken the sheets for the abortive trick on Ralph, and he sighed regretfully at the memory. It was a pity it had all gone badly, although he was really getting too old for silly jokes of that sort. He was reflecting pleasurably on similar triumphs of his earlier youth, when he noticed a pile of sheets that was not lying flat, and reached up absently to pat them down. They refused to allow it, and, puzzled, he lifted up the corner of the pile to see what the impediment was. Something hard was creating an unsightly lump and spoiling the look of things. He poked about, and his eyes widened. A little more effort brought out the object that had been hidden under the sheets. It was long and heavy, and he knew what it was even before he saw it.

  ‘Well, if that doesn’t beat all!’ he murmured to himself, regarding the sash weight in his hand. He took it out onto the landing to look more closely at it. The light was dim up here, but he thought he could distinguish one or two dark stains.

  ‘What’s that?’ said a voice at his shoulder. It was Iris. He showed her wordlessly what he had found and she gave a little gasp.

  ‘Is that—is that—’ she said, regarding it with distaste.

  ‘I rather think it is,’ he replied.

  ‘But how did it get in there?’

  ‘I should very much like to know that myself,’ said Freddy. His mind was racing as he considered the possibilities. Had the murderer run up here and hidden his weapon hurriedly in the linen cupboard immediately after killing Professor Coddington, or had he taken it to his room at first then put it here afterwards, worried that the police might find it in his possession? Either way, he had been lucky not to bump into Nugs, who must have been wandering around the house at about the same time.

  ‘Are the police here yet?’ he said.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Iris. ‘I heard the Duke muttering about it downstairs just now.’

  Freddy took a sheet and wrapped the weight carefully in it, then placed it on a shelf so as to avoid any accidental interference with it.

  ‘I need a torch,’ he said.

  ‘I have a little one with me. It’s in my room,’ she said, and ran off before he could object. She was back in a moment with the article in question. ‘What are you looking for?’

  ‘I want to see whether our murderer left any traces of himself in the linen cupboard when he came to stow his weapon here,’ he said.

  He switched on the torch and stepped back into the cupboard. It had shelves to a height of about six feet on each side, all piled with bed-linen, but the back was bare, and panelled to about halfway up the wall. He shone the torch around on the floor, which was slightly dusty, then up and along the shelves.

  ‘Anything?’ said Iris.

  ‘Not as far as I can see,’ said Freddy, directing the torch back to the floor and then to the walls. There was a piece of loose wood hanging from the edge of one of the panels, and he pushed it back into place, then started in astonishment as the whole section of wall gave way under his hand. For a shocked moment he thought he had accidentally pulled the panelling off, and winced at the thought of confessing to Bea. Then he looked more closely and realized that he had not damaged anything at all.

  ‘I say!’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s another secret passage!’

  ‘What?’ said Iris in excitement. ‘Goose never mentioned this one.’

  ‘Oh, Belsingham is full of them,’ said Freddy. ‘The Warehams had a mania for the things. I’m surprised the place hasn’t collapsed in on itself given all the excavation that must have gone on.’

  ‘Where does it go?’ said Iris.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Freddy. The door was about the same size as the one in Ro’s room. He bent and shone the torch into the hole, then ducked inside. ‘It’s just high enough to stand upright,’ he said, his voice muffled, and ducked back out. ‘What are you doing?’ he said in surprise, for Iris had stepped into the cupboard and shut the door behind her.

  ‘This is our discovery,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to share it.’

  ‘You’re not coming in.’

  ‘Yes I am.’

  ‘But you’ll get filthy.’

  ‘So will you,’ she pointed out. ‘Anyway, we didn’t get filthy the other day. And do you really think I’m going to let you leave me out of an adventure? Now, get on with it.’

  There was no use in arguing with her, especially when she was smiling at him in that way, so he gave it up.

  ‘All right, but keep behind me,’ he said.

  ‘Of course,’ she said demurely.

  He ducked inside and she followed. This passage was lower and narrower than the other one, and after about ten feet it narrowed even further. Without the torch the darkness would have been complete, and Iris clutched Freddy’s hand tightly as they went. He, meanwhile, was worried about the height of the ceiling and its possible effect on his skull if he misjudged it, and so he kept his head as low as possible.

  ‘This isn’t as much fun as the other one,’ said Iris after a minute.

  ‘It isn’t, is it?’ he agreed. ‘We can go back if you like.’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I won’t be happy until I’ve seen where it leads.’

  It was not long before they found out, for after only a little distance they emerged into another tunnel, and came to a halt in sudden recognition, for they had come out through the low doorway with the cracked wooden beam, and were standing at the end of the passage which led to Ro’s bedroom, at the top of the second fork which ended at the head of the spiral staircase.

  ‘So that’s where that other passage leads,’ said Freddy. ‘I thought Goose said it was blocked.’

  ‘He did,’ said Iris. ‘Are you sure this is the same passage?’

  ‘It looks the same to me. See that split in the lintel there?’

  ‘I think we ought to make quite certain, though. If it really is the same one then the secret door to Ro’s bedroom ought to be down here. Come on.’

  She set off. Freddy followed, and sure enough they were very soon standing by the door that led behind the tapestry and into Ro’s room.

  ‘Is it the right door?’ said Iris.

  ‘If it is, then the staircase will be just along here,’ said Freddy.

  A short investigation resulted in the conclusion that they were indeed in the same passage.

  ‘What shall we do now?’ said Iris, as they stood at the head of the spiral staircase, where the passage forked into two. ‘I vote we go down to the library and give whoever’s in there a shock.’

  ‘No, let’s go back through the cupboard,’ said Freddy. ‘I want to look at something.’

  This time they went along the right-hand fork. The torch was beginning to fail and it was becoming difficult to see, and they blundered along half-blindly for a minute or two. Then Freddy stopped.

  ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘We’re outside Ro’s room again.’

  ‘How did we do that?’ said Iris.

 
; ‘We must have missed the entrance to the other passage. It’s easily done in the dark.’

  They returned the way they had come, took the correct turning this time, and at last arrived at the hole in the wall at the back of the linen cupboard. Freddy stuck his head through for a moment, then withdrew and examined the wall of the passage. He seemed to be looking for something.

  ‘Ah!’ he said.

  ‘What is it?’ said Iris.

  ‘I want to know if it’s possible to get into the cupboard this way if the hole is closed,’ he said. ‘It looks like the mechanism that opens it from the cupboard side works from this side too. Look here, I’m going to shut the passage up, then try and open it again. You go into the cupboard and let me out if I get stuck.’

  She ducked through the hole into the cupboard, and he pushed the door shut. It clicked into place, leaving him with only the faint light from the failing torch. He groped for the catch and pulled it, and the door opened again.

  ‘Well, that’s clear enough,’ he said, as he stepped out into the linen cupboard.

  ‘What’s clear enough?’

  ‘Why, it’s clear that nothing’s clear.’

  ‘Idiot,’ she said. ‘It’s another passage, though.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Freddy. He closed the entrance and regarded it with a frown for a moment. ‘I wonder why this door opened so easily.’

  He turned to see Iris’s face gazing dimly up at him in the torchlight. She was standing very close to him, and the cupboard suddenly seemed much smaller than it had before. The torch flickered.