‘And did you happen to compare his watch with one of the clocks in the house?’ inquired the Inspector.
‘Why, whatever should I do that for?’ said Mrs Phelps. ‘I’m sure I’d no reason to doubt the Prince’s word! I just showed him into the doctor’s sitting-room, and begged him to take a chair, and it can’t have been more than ten minutes, or perhaps a quarter of an hour, before the doctor got back, though that I won’t swear to.’
‘That’s all I wanted to know,’ said the Inspector, and took his leave of her.
‘Well,’ said Sergeant Wake, when they reached the street again, ‘that certainly makes the Prince’s alibi look a bit funny.’
‘Yes, and it makes the local police-work here look a bit funny, too,’ said Hemingway. ‘Nice way to take evidence! If you ask me, the Prince hasn’t got an alibi at all – to put it no stronger! Very fishy it looks, him calling attention to the time, as registered, by his own watch! Now we’ll make a few inquiries, my lad, and see what’s what!’
Eleven
The inquiries made by Inspector Hemingway in Stilhurst village were fruitless. The only person who seemed to have seen Vicky’s sports-car draw up outside the doctor’s house had such hazy ideas of the time that Hemingway gave him up in disgust. He was about to get into the police-car again when the constable nodded towards a car which had drawn up outside the post office. ‘That’s the doctor,’ he said.
Hemingway did not follow Chester into the post office, which was also the grocery, but waited by his car until he returned to it. When he presently made himself known to Chester, the doctor showed no surprise, but merely asked in what way he could be of use.
‘Well, sir, I’m checking up on certain times,’ Hemingway explained. ‘If you can tell me when you got back to your house on Sunday afternoon, it might help me a lot.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t think I can. It was some time after five – possibly nearly half past five, for I was kept longer than I had foreseen.’
‘Thank you,’ said the Inspector, with a comical look that drew a smile from Chester.
‘I’m really very sorry. Hullo, Hugh!’
The Inspector turned, as Hugh Dering came strolling across the street. Dr Chester said: ‘You seem to have constituted yourself legal adviser up at Palings, so perhaps you’d like to be introduced to Inspector Hemingway, from Scotland Yard. This is Mr Dering, Inspector.’
The Inspector had an excellent memory, and he said at once: ‘Are you the gentleman who arrived at Palings shortly after the murder?’
‘Me,’ said Hugh cheerfully. ‘Don’t ask me if I’m sure I didn’t see a suspicious stranger, because I don’t think I can bear it! Are you on your way to Palings now? Can I give you a lift? My car’s just down the street.’
‘Well, that’s very kind of you, sir. I’ll be glad to go along with you. I’ll just have a word with my Sergeant, if you’ll wait a minute.’
Hugh nodded, and watched him walk over to the police-car. ‘I hoped this wasn’t going to happen,’ he remarked.
‘It was bound to. The gentleman from Scotland Yard seems a decent chap, however. How are they, up at Palings?’
‘I haven’t been there today. They were all right last night. I suppose you’ve heard that one of the late Fanshawe’s rifles was found in the shrubbery?’
‘Yes, I’d heard, but I don’t know that I set much store by it.’
The Inspector, having given his Sergeant certain instructions, came walking back to them, and went off down the street with Hugh to where Hugh’s car was parked.
‘Nasty case, Inspector,’ said Hugh, opening the door for him.
‘Oh, I don’t know about that, sir!’ Hemingway replied. ‘It’s got some very classy features, besides showing me a bit of real high life. Foreign princes,’ he added, as Hugh looked a trifle mystified.
Hugh laughed, and got into the car beside him. ‘I hope you’ll find him up to standard. Have you got a sense of humour?’
An intelligent eye was cocked at him. ‘Will I need one?’
‘Absolutely essential. Your predecessor suffered from a total lack of it.’
‘I can see it’s a fortunate thing I met you,’ said the Inspector. ‘I’m not like some detectives: I’m grateful for a bit of help. Matter of fact, I came with you because there’s something I shouldn’t be at all surprised if you could put me right on.’
‘What is it?’ asked Hugh, letting in his clutch.
‘How do you pronounce this Prince’s unnatural name?’
Hugh grinned appreciatively. ‘It’s a privilege to know you, Inspector. Varasashvili.’
The Inspector sighed. ‘Wonderful what foreigners can get their tongues round, isn’t it? Now, don’t you drive too fast, sir, because I’m a very nervous man. Besides, it isn’t often I get a free ride, and I’m enjoying myself.’
‘Also you want to take in the features of the countryside,’ said Hugh, slowing to a sedate pace.
‘That’s right, I do,’ replied the Inspector. ‘Décor and scenery are my specialities. Where would this road lead to, supposing we were to follow it?’
‘To Kershaw, eventually. But we turn off to the right.’
‘I remember that. How long do you reckon it takes you to drive from Palings to Stilhurst?’
‘Ten minutes, possibly a little less.’
‘You’re very helpful,’ said the Inspector. ‘Whereabouts is Oaklands Farm?’
‘Towards Kershaw. Do you want me to take you there?’
‘No, but it’s put me in mind of another thing I want to ask you. They tell me you were at that shoot on Saturday. What do you reckon were the rights of that little mix-up?’
‘Oh, lord, are you on to that?’ said Hugh. ‘I don’t believe it has the least bearing on the case. Carter was just the sort of vague ass who would stray about and get himself shot.’
‘Is that so? Well, it’s a wonder to me there aren’t more accidents at shoots. Where does that lane lead to?’
‘A farm. It’s a dead end.’
‘Oh! Not much traffic down it?’
‘None at all on a Sunday.’ Hugh cast him a flickering smile. ‘Quite safe to park a car there.’
The Inspector shook his head admiringly. ‘It’s wonderful the way you read what’s in my mind, sir.’
The gates of the Dower House came into sight upon the left-hand side of the road, and beyond them the little humpbacked bridge over the stream. The lane curved away to the right, and the Inspector inquired whether they were running beside the grounds of Palings. Hugh nodded, and presently pointed out the entrance to the garage. Fifty yards on, he turned the car in at the main gate, and drove up the neat avenue to the front door.
‘Well, here we are,’ Hugh said. He got out of the car, and was just about to ring the bell when Vicky came round the corner of the house. ‘You can prepare yourself for the first shock, Inspector,’ he said. ‘Hullo, Vicky! Gone into half-mourning?’
Vicky, who was wearing a frock of white organdie with an artless sash of black velvet ribbon with immensely long ends, replied: ‘Oh, I think white is so suitable for a young girl don’t you? I began to feel like Anna Karenina, so I changed, because it was all very exhausting.’
The Inspector had climbed out of the car, and was regarding Vicky with frank approbation. Hugh said: ‘Let me introduce Inspector Hemingway, of Scotland Yard, Miss Fanshawe.’
‘From Scotland Yard?’ repeated Vicky, turning a face of the deepest reproach towards Hugh. ‘What a viperous thing to do! Oh, I think you’re the most repellent creature I’ve ever met! In fact, not merely sub-human, but a snake and a traitor as well!’
‘One of your dramatic days, I see,’ said Hugh, quite unmoved. ‘Don’t mind the Inspector, will you? And get it out of your head that I sent for him: all I did was to give him a lift from the
village.’
‘Just when Ermyntrude’s been upset again!’ Vicky said. She looked critically at Hemingway, and suddenly bestowed an unexpectedly beguiling smile upon him. ‘Oh, I like you more than Inspector Cook! Has he told you about my being practically on the scene of the crime? Isn’t it ghoulish?’
‘He told me that you didn’t hear or see anything unusual,’ replied Hemingway diplomatically. ‘Nor yet your dog either.’ He glanced at the black ribbon which she had tied round her head to keep the feathery curls in position. ‘What I’m wondering is whether you happened to lose a hair-slide in the shrubbery at any time?’
‘No, I don’t wear them. I think they’re definitely unlovely. Do you want to see my mother?’
‘Yes, please. But are you quite sure this isn’t yours?’
Vicky looked at the hair-slide he was holding in the palm of his hand. ‘How touching! Absolutely Mother’s Good Girl, isn’t it? Not one of my acts.’
She evidently had no further interest in the slide, so the Inspector put it back in his pocket, and followed her into the house.
Ermyntrude was sitting in the drawing-room with Mary. A number of daily periodicals were piled untidily on a low table beside her, and as soon as she saw Hugh, she exclaimed: ‘Well, if you’re not the very person I was hoping would look in on us! To my mind, it’s practically libel, and if I can’t sue them there’s no justice in England. Look at that!’
Hugh took the newspaper that was being thrust at him. A most unflattering portrait of Prince Varasashvili met his eye, and nearly surprised a laugh out of him.
‘“Mrs Carter’s distinguished Russian guest”!’ quoted Ermyntrude bitterly. ‘If they’d said it was Mrs Carter’s boot-boy, it would have been more likely, except that I wouldn’t have a boot-boy that looked like a cross between an organ-grinder and a gangster! No, really, Hugh, I am put out! What’s more, Alexis particularly told them he was a Georgian, not that it makes a bit of difference to my mind, but you know how touchy foreigners are!’ She broke off, perceiving Hemingway, and demanded suspiciously: ‘Who’s that?’
‘Darling Ermyntrude, it’s an Inspector from Scotland Yard,’ said Vicky. ‘His name is Hemingway, and he’s rather a lamb, except for nourishing degrading suspicions about me.’
The Inspector was startled. ‘I never!’ he said. ‘Now, that’s not fair, miss!’
‘Hair-slides,’ said Vicky reproachfully. ‘I call that utterly degrading.’
‘Scotland Yard!’ ejaculated Ermyntrude, letting fall the second newspaper, which she had been holding out to Hugh. ‘Am I never to be left in peace? Haven’t I had enough to worry me? I wish to God Wally had never been shot!’
Inspector Hemingway at once won Hugh’s respect by his instant grasp of the situation. He responded promptly: ‘I’m sure I’m not surprised. But don’t you get thinking I’ve come to badger you, madam, because I’m a feeling man myself, and I know just how you feel. You’ve had reporters pestering you, have you? Regular body-snatchers, that’s what they are. So this is the Prince! Well, I must say I wouldn’t have thought it!’
Ermyntrude wrested the paper from his grasp. ‘It’s nothing like him! What’s all this about your suspecting my girl? I never heard of such a thing!’
‘That was just Miss Fanshawe trying to have a little game with me,’ replied the Inspector. ‘As a matter of fact, it wasn’t Miss Fanshawe I came to see. It wasn’t, strictly speaking, you either, madam, but I’m sure it’s a pleasure. Ever see that before?’ He held out the hair-slide as he spoke.
‘Nasty, cheap thing!’ said Ermyntrude, after a cursory glance at it.
‘Can I see it?’ asked Mary. ‘I sometimes wear one.’
The Inspector held it out to her. She looked at it, and shook her head. ‘No, it’s not one of mine. Who is it you wish to see, Inspector?’
‘The Prince, miss, if you please.’
‘Well, I suppose it’s no good my trying to stop you,’ said Ermyntrude. ‘The way you policemen behave, anyone would think the house belonged to you! Oh Hugh, you know all about the law! Have they got to go worrying Alexis? I can’t bear it if on top of everything else they get him all upset, which is what they very likely will do, for he’s very sensitive, and what with that photograph, and the papers getting his name wrong, and one of them calling him a Baron instead of a Prince, he’s very put-out already.’
‘I’m afraid,’ began Hugh, but broke off short, as the object of this discussion stepped in through the French window. ‘Here is the Prince, Inspector.’
The Prince’s smile faded; he threw up his hands, exclaiming: ‘Ah, not more police! It becomes too much! My poor Trudinka, you are distressed: they have been worrying you again! You should have sent for me immediately!’
‘I’m sure that’s just like you, Alexis, always so thoughtful and sweet to me!’ said Ermyntrude warmly. ‘I was going to send for you, too, because it’s you the Inspector wants to see.’
The Prince raised his brows. ‘Yes? I am at your disposal Inspector, though what more I can say I do not know. I have told all I know. I must confess I do not understand these English methods. What do you want with me?’
‘Well, I’d like a little chat with you alone, sir,’ said Hemingway.
‘I’m sure you needn’t be so anxious to keep me in the dark!’ said Ermyntrude. ‘I’d like to know who had a bigger right to know what’s going on! What’s more, I dare say I can answer your questions a lot better than the Prince can. It stands to reason!’
‘Yes, but I’m funny like that,’ returned Hemingway, quite unruffled. ‘When I ask one person a question I get muddled in my head if half a dozen other people start answering.’
‘But naturally I will go apart with you, my dear Inspector!’ said the Prince, recovering his smile. ‘Come! I am at your service!’
He bowed the Inspector out of the room, and took him across the hall to the library. As he closed the door, he said: ‘You do not wish me to repeat my evidence, that is certain. You wish to question me about the affair at the shoot on Saturday. But it is absurd! I must tell you at once that for myself I do not believe that it was anything but a foolish accident. That Mr Steel would fire with deliberation upon Mr Carter I find ridiculous. It is not possible. I cannot discuss such a piece of nonsense.’
‘That’s right, sir, and very handsomely spoken, I’m sure,’ said the Inspector. ‘I won’t ask you anything at all about it.’
‘Ah!’ said the Prince, rather taken aback. ‘You are a sensible man, I perceive. You do not set any store by the strange suspicions of poor Mr Carter. I can speak openly to you, in effect.’
‘That’s just what I hope you will do, sir. I can see we shall get along fine. All I want you to tell me is what time it was when you arrived at the doctor’s house on Sunday?’
‘But, my friend, I have told already once! It was at five minutes to five.’
‘And how did you happen to know that, sir?’
The Prince shrugged. ‘I was too early. The doctor was not in, and when I looked at the time I found it was not then five o’clock. It is very simple! The housekeeper will uphold me, for we spoke of the time together.’
‘Yes,’ said the Inspector mildly. ‘She said she remembered it distinctly, on account of your showing her your watch.’
‘Did I? It may well have been so.’
‘I wonder if I might have a look at that watch of yours, sir?’
‘But certainly!’ The Prince extended his wrist.
The Inspector glanced at his own watch. ‘Thank you, sir. Do you find it keeps good time? They tell me those fancy ones very often don’t.’
‘Excellent time. You would say that I was not at Dr Chester’s house before five? Is that it, may I ask?’
‘Oh no! I wouldn’t say that at all, sir! Not unless I was sure of my facts, that is,’ he added thoughtful
ly. ‘Still, watches do lose sometimes, and we have to be so careful in the Department, you know. So I’ve set a couple of my people on to see if they can’t find someone to corroborate your statement.’
The Prince said in rather a high-pitched voice: ‘This is to insult me! Am I then suspected of having murdered my host? It is iniquitous! It is, in fact, quite laughable, when one considers that it is not I who have the motive for killing that unfortunate! I do not pretend to know anything, but I find it strange that the poor foreigner must be suspected rather than a man who has been detested by Carter; or than Miss Cliffe, who inherits Carter’s fortune; or than – for one must be frank – Miss Fanshawe, who was on the spot, and knows well how to handle a gun!’
‘You’ve got me quite wrong, sir,’ said the Inspector. ‘I’ve got a natural mistrust of watches, that’s all. Yes, what do you want?’
This question was addressed to the butler, who had come into the room. Peake said stiffly that Sergeant Wake wished to speak to him.
‘You can send him in here,’ replied the Inspector, adding kindly to the Prince: ‘I dare say he’s found someone to corroborate your evidence, sir. He’s a very able young fellow, my Sergeant.’
Sergeant Wake, however, had not found any such person. He had found instead the son of the local publican, who had informed him that he had been out walking with his young lady on Sunday afternoon, along the road from Stilhurst to Kershaw, and had seen Miss Fanshawe’s car, with a strange gentleman at the wheel, travelling towards the village just after five o’clock.
‘It’s a lie! I denounce it!’ exclaimed the Prince, grasping the back of a chair.
‘Well, and what makes him so sure it was after five?’ inquired the Inspector.
No Wind of Blame Page 19
