A Hundred Thousand Dragons

by Dolores Gordon-Smith

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Ashley, when he and Jack were alone. ‘It seems odd that Craig should go off the deep end just because this Madison bloke is German. He’s not even German, not if he’s from New York.’

  Jack hesitated. ‘Craig had a filthy temper. He might act exactly as Vaughan described.’

  ‘How well did you know him?’ asked Ashley curiously.

  ‘Hardly at all. Just enough to know about his temper.’

  ‘I see,’ said Ashley dubiously. ‘Maybe you’ll tell me more later?’ There was a question in his words but Jack didn’t respond. ‘Ah well,’ said Ashley, after a pause. ‘It could be Durant Craig that Constable Marsh saw in the car.’

  ‘It could be anyone,’ said Jack. ‘There’s definitely some dirty work at the crossroads. That car didn’t crash, I’ll swear to it. Vaughan didn’t take the bait about the noise before the fire, did he?

  ‘No, he didn’t. He didn’t like the question, though. One thing I must do is get hold of this Mr Madison, to see if his account matches up with Vaughan’s.’

  ‘I want to know about this mysterious couple,’ said Jack. ‘After all, they were here and in the Hammer Valley. That alone tells us we haven’t heard the full story.’ He broke off as Oxley came into the room.

  ‘Mr Ashley? Mr Vaughan said you wanted to see me, sir.’

  FIVE

  Ashley smiled at the burly man in front of him. ‘Come in, Mr Oxley.’ Jack saw Oxley’s shoulders relax. Ashley, with instinctive courtesy, had given Oxley the dignity of Mr. It was the sort of practical psychology that made Ashley an excellent interviewer. ‘I don’t want to keep you any longer than I have too, but I’d be grateful for your help.’ Ashley indicated an armchair. ‘Shall we sit down?’ he asked, taking a seat. ‘I’m sure Mr Vaughan won’t mind.’

  ‘Just as you like, Mr Ashley,’ said Oxley, dubiously. He sat gingerly on the edge of the chair. ‘What was it you wanted to ask me, sir?’

  ‘It’s about yesterday afternoon. You know Mr Vaughan’s car was stolen?’ Oxley nodded. ‘Major Haldean and myself are looking into it and I thought you might be able to cast some light on it all. Because, Mr Oxley, I don’t mind telling you that it all seems very odd to me.’

  ‘It was extremely odd, sir,’ said Oxley, leaning forward. ‘Mr Craig was a rough-spoken man but he was certainly a gentleman and why he should take it into his head to run off with the master’s car is more than I can say. At first Mr Vaughan didn’t know what to do, but he telephoned the police in the end, which was only right. I mean, gentleman or no gentleman, Mr Craig shouldn’t have taken the car, even as a practical joke.’

  ‘It wasn’t a joke, particularly,’ said Ashley. He glanced at Jack. ‘We’d better tell Mr Oxley what Mr Vaughan thinks the reason was.’

  Jack cleared his throat, taking up Ashley’s obvious invitation to join in. ‘Mr Vaughan told us there was some bad feeling between his guests yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘There was, sir,’ put in Oxley. ‘I’ve never know anything like it in this house.’

  ‘Apparently Mr Craig felt so aggrieved that he borrowed the car, if I can put it like that, without asking.’

  ‘That makes more sense,’ said Oxley, ‘but it was a silly thing to do and inconsiderate, too.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Ashley, ‘Theft is a serious accusation and we need to get the facts straight. So, I thought it would help if we could get some idea of what this argument was about. I know you wouldn’t comment on Mr Vaughan’s visitors in the usual way, but in this case we really want to hear your opinions. Who was the first guest to arrive?’

  ‘That would be Mr Madison, sir. Mr Vaughan sent Brough to meet the 1.46 from London. It’s about quarter of an hour’s drive from the station, sir, and it was about two o’clock when Mr Madison arrived.’

  ‘Can you describe Mr Madison?’ asked Ashley. ‘How old would you say he was?’

  Oxley frowned. ‘He’d be about forty or so, sir, perhaps a bit less. He was well dressed in a dark grey suit with a dark overcoat and soft grey hat.’ Jack stirred but said nothing. ‘He looked very smart, sir, but I wouldn’t say his clothes were as good a quality as we’re used to. His clothes weren’t cut in the English way.’ Oxley coughed deprecatingly. ‘I’ve seen Americans at the pictures, of course, but I’ve never met an American gentleman in the flesh, as you might say.’

  ‘What did he look like?’ asked Ashley. ‘Tall, short?’

  Oxley sucked his cheeks in. ‘I’d say he was about six foot or thereabouts and slim with grey hair. He had very blue eyes, that I do remember, and a scar on his cheek.’

  ‘Was he pleasant?’ asked Jack. ‘Americans often are, in my experience.’

  Oxley shook his head vigorously. ‘No, he wasn’t, sir. I didn’t care for him at all, though it’s not my place to say so. He had a way with him that chilled me through and through. He was hard as flint and as sharp. When he arrived, the master told Brough not to put the car away as he had to fetch Mr Craig from the station. Mr Madison was very put out. ‘Craig?’ he said. ‘Who is Craig?’ I could tell Mr Madison wasn’t best pleased but the arguments really started when Mr Craig arrived.’ He grinned. ‘Without a word of a lie, I wondered if Brough had brought the wrong man. He looked like a great garden gnome, with a huge beard that stuck out every which way, a barrel of a chest and big bristling eyebrows. I tell you, sir, when I first saw him, I wanted to laugh.’ Oxley’s face clouded over. ‘Not after he’d spoken to me, though. He marched into the house as if he owned the place, flung his hat and coat at me as if I was dirt and said, ‘Here, you! Take these!’’

  ‘What were his clothes like?’ asked Jack. ‘Was he smartly dressed?’

  Oxley nodded. ‘His clothes were very good quality, sir, but very well-worn. His hat was made by Lock, but old, as I say. It was a deerstalker.’

  Jack exchanged a look with Ashley. ‘What, a sort of Sherlock Holmes affair?’

  ‘Yes, sir. A lot of older gentlemen prefer them for travelling. It didn’t really become him, although perhaps I shouldn’t say as much. Anyway, I showed him in here, and that’s when the fireworks started.’ Oxley coughed and looked suddenly ill-at-ease.

  ‘I don’t suppose you happened to hear what was said after you’d shown Mr Craig into the room?’ asked Jack. At a guess, Oxley didn’t want it to be known he’d listened at the door. ‘I mean,’ he added, throwing the butler a lifeline, ‘if Mr Craig had a carrying voice, you couldn’t help but overhear, could you?’

  Oxley looked at him gratefully. ‘That’s it exactly, sir.’ He pulled at his ear. ‘Having said that, sir, it didn’t seem to make any sense. Mr Vaughan said something about the journey and they all talked for a bit, then Mr Craig gave a kind of roar, like a wild beast, and yelled out, ‘I’ll have nothing to do with any damned Hun and especially you, you filthy Kraut.’

  ‘Good Lord,’ said Ashley. ‘That’s a bit extreme.’

  ‘I know, sir,’ agreed Oxley, ‘it was. I couldn’t understand it. Mr Madison wasn’t a Kraut.’

  ‘He was of German origin, apparently,’ said Jack.

  ‘Perhaps that explains it, sir, but it did seem strange. I served tea at four o’clock. They weren’t shouting, but that’s about as much as you can say. You could have cut the air with a knife. Mr Vaughan looked as if he’d had a real turn. Mr Madison was stood by the shelves, and as for Mr Craig, he was sat bolt upright in the armchair, his back to the room, sulking. No one said much and I left the tea things. Oh yes, and Mr Vaughan asked me what Brough was doing. He’d told him to repoint the garden wall that morning, and he wanted to know how it was coming on.’

  ‘And how was it coming on?’ asked Jack. ‘Repointing is a messy sort of business.’

  ‘All right, sir, although it’s a long job.’

  ‘When did you next see Mr Vaughan?’ asked Ashley, slightly impatient with Jack’s interest in the garden wall.

  ‘I went to clear up at half four or thereabouts, but things hadn’t improved. Mr Craig was s
till sulking in the armchair.’

  ‘Had they all had tea?’ asked Jack.

  Oxley frowned, remembering. ‘Yes, sir. There were definitely three dirty cups and saucers on the tray, and three dirty plates as well, from the sandwiches and cake.’

  Ashley looked sharply at Jack, but he said nothing.

  ‘Did you hear any more arguments?’ asked Ashley after a pause.

  ‘I did, sir. As I took the tea tray out, they started again but I didn’t catch what was said. Then it was time for our tea. We didn’t hear anything more until the bell rang about half five.’ He looked at them apologetically. ‘I suppose I should have answered it, but I was enjoying my tea, and I’d taken my boots off, so I sent Doris, the girl, to see what the master wanted.’

  ‘Could we speak to Doris?’ asked Ashley.

  ‘She’s in the kitchen garden, sir. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind stepping round, gentlemen,’ said Oxley doubtfully. ‘I wouldn’t usually ask but I don’t want Doris Tiverton sitting down in the master’s study. She has enough ideas as it is, without me encouraging her.’

  ‘Let’s go and talk to her, then,’ said Ashley, rising to his feet.

  Oxley led them through the French windows and around to the back of the house. As he opened the door in the white wall, they could hear a bustle of noise from the kitchen across the yard. A walled kitchen garden, the vegetables in neat rows, stretched down to the woods behind the house. A young girl, holding a basket of rhubarb, was walking up the path.

  ‘Doris!’ called Oxley. ‘Here’s some gentlemen who want to ask you a few questions about yesterday. This is Major Haldean and Mr Ashley, and he’s our Robert’s Mr Ashley, so mind your manners.’

  Doris, a pretty, fair-haired girl of about sixteen, came forward eagerly. ‘Are you from the police?’ She turned to Oxley. ‘I was right, wasn’t I? I said there’d be trouble with that American gangster and that strange man. I knew it as soon as I cast eyes on them. I said as much, didn’t I, Mr Oxley?’

  Oxley was obviously shaping up to tell the girl off when Jack stepped in. ‘Excuse me, Miss Tiverton. Did you say gangster?’

  She tossed her head back. ‘I knew he was a gangster even if he didn’t have no tommy gun. Eyes like ice, he had. They went right through you. I’ve seen gangsters at the pictures and he was American. We talked about nothing else all afternoon, and then the master’s car got pinched and I’m sure I wasn’t surprised, only I’d have thought it would’ve been the gangster who pinched it, not the other one.’

  Ashley, who had also seen Oxley’s disapproval, interposed a question. ‘You answered the study bell, didn’t you, Miss?’

  ‘That’s right. We were having our tea, and Mr Oxley had his slippers on, so I said I’d go, because to tell you the truth, sir, although I’d had a peep out and seen both of them as they arrived, I wanted to have a closer look, I’d heard that much about them. I was on my way to the study when I heard the front door give an almighty slam, as if someone had stormed out, and when I got into the study, there’s the master and the gangster –’

  ‘Mr Madison,’ put in Oxley, unable to restrain himself.

  ‘Mr Madison, then,’ she said with another toss of her head. ‘Although you said a few things about him yesterday, Mr Oxley, you know you did. I couldn’t see the other man, and I wasn’t sorry in a way, because he was scary, for all we laughed. I asked the master, I said, ‘Has the gentleman gone?’ and he said he had. The master had rung the bell for him to be shown out, but he’d gone without waiting. Visitor’s coats and things are in the hall, so I don’t suppose we have to show guests out, but we always do. He must have been in a terrible rage. Anyway, the master said he wanted a light supper at half seven, which is early for him. That’s because he was going to this party, and we knew about that anyway.’

  ‘And how did your master and Mr Madison seem?’

  ‘They were fine, sir,’ she said, with a touch of disappointment. ‘They seemed very friendly.’

  ‘I can vouch for that,’ said Oxley. ‘Mr Vaughan rang for me later in the evening to say Mr Madison was going. I saw him to the door, sir, and helped him on with his things, and Mr Vaughan came outside with us, while we waited for Brough to bring the car round.’

  Ashley nodded. ‘That’s useful to know. Can we see the chauffeur?’

  ‘He’s in the kitchen,’ said Oxley. ‘I’ll ask him to come outside.’ He leaned his head inside the kitchen door and called for Brough. The chauffeur, a moustached man of about thirty with a worried expression, came down the steps into the yard.

  ‘I’ve been expecting the police,’ he said. ‘I thought that bloke was a rum ’un.’

  Ashley took him through the day, verifying the times of the trains. ‘Do you want to ask anything?’ he asked, turning to Jack.

  ‘Was there much fuel in the tank, Mr Brough?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I’d filled her up that morning.’

  ‘And was there a rug of any sort in the car?’

  ‘Yes, there was, sir. A big green travelling rug.’

  Jack looked at Ashley with raised eyebrows. ‘That could have been handy.’

  ‘It sounds as if it was,’ said Ashley dryly. ‘What time did you get the car out to take Mr Madison to the station?’

  ‘It was ten to seven or so,’ said Brough. ‘Only the car was gone.’

  ‘Hold on a minute, Mr Brough,’ said Jack. ‘I just want to get this straight. You put the car away in the garage after picking up Mr Craig from the station at three o’clock, yes? Did you go into the garage during the afternoon?’

  Brough shook his head. ‘No, sir. You see, I do all the general handyman work.’ He gestured to the wall that surrounded the kitchen garden. ‘The master asked me to repoint the wall yesterday so I was busy all afternoon. When I came to get the car, I couldn’t believe it’d gone. I opened the garage and I didn’t know what to think. I must have stood there for a few minutes, scratching my head, like, and then I thought there was nothing else for it, I’d better tell the master what had happened.’

  ‘I wondered what on earth was wrong, Sam,’ put in Oxley. ‘We were standing at the front door, me, the master and Mr Madison, when you appeared. You looked bewildered.’

  ‘That’s a fact,’ said Brough. ‘You could have knocked me down with a feather. Anyway, the master couldn’t believe it either, and came to see for himself. Mr Madison walked round to the garage with us. He suggested Mr Craig had gone off with the car. I could see the master didn’t like the idea, then Mr Madison said he didn’t mean Mr Craig had actually stolen the car, only taken it to get his own back.’ Brough broke off and looked apologetically at Ashley. ‘I didn’t really follow what they were talking about, sir, so I might have got that wrong.’

  ‘No, that agrees with what Mr Vaughan told us,’ said Ashley.

  ‘Well, the master told me to drive Mr Madison to the station in the two-seater, but Mr Madison said he’d walk as he’d been cooped up all day and wanted to stretch his legs.’

  ‘Would he have time to get to the station?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Yes, sir. If he started off there and then, he’d be all right.’

  ‘I felt sorry for the master,’ said Oxley. ‘He didn’t know what to do, but eventually he said there was nothing for it, and he’d have to tell the police. He telephoned them about eight o’clock or so, but didn’t say anything about Mr Craig. They wanted to send someone round, but the master said no, as he was going to a party.’

  ‘I drove him there in the two-seater, sir,’ said Brough. ‘The party was at Hammerholt, about sixteen miles away.’

  ‘We know,’ said Ashley. ‘If you drove Mr Vaughan there last night, Brough, you’ll know there was a fire in the valley.’

  ‘I do indeed, sir. It made us very late home, but it couldn’t be helped. A car caught fire, didn’t it?’

  ‘I’m afraid,’ said Ashley, ‘we think that car was Mr Vaughan’s Rolls-Royce. And,’ he added, looking at Brough’s stunned expression, ‘I’d like you to com
e over to Hammerholt to see if you can identify it.’

  Brough drove to the Hammer Valley in the two-seater so he could return home under his own steam. This arrangement suited Jack very well as, with Ashley beside him in the Spyker, they could talk freely.

  ‘So,’ said Ashley, ‘we’re supposed to believe that Craig stormed out of the house, took Vaughan’s Rolls and . . .’ He frowned. ‘Do you believe Craig could have taken the car, Haldean?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ agreed Jack. ‘Very easily. He was a high-handed sort of beggar.’

  ‘The man PC Marsh saw driving the car sounds like Craig. I think Craig’s our victim.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Jack. ‘Although the hat we found in the Hammer Valley was grey. It wasn’t Craig but Madison who had a grey hat.’

  Ashley whistled. ‘This gets more complicated by the minute,’ he complained. ‘It has to be Craig in the Rolls. How on earth could it be anyone else? It can’t have been Madison. He was there when Brough reported the car was stolen. The hat might have nothing to do with it. After all, there were enough people in the Hammer Valley last night to have dropped a hundred hats. Incidentally,’ he said, looking at Jack, ‘I wish you’d tell me what you know about Craig.’

  ‘I came across him in the war,’ said Jack tightly. ‘We . . . we didn’t see eye to eye. That’s all.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s all?’

  Jack took a deep breath. ‘Ashley, all I really know is that he had a foul temper. That, and he was the top-notch great-granddaddy expert of experts on Arabia and the Arabs, the “Don’t question me, boy, I was doing this when you were wet behind the ears” type.’

  Ashley looked at Jack’s rigid profile and gave up. ‘I wish I knew who this couple in the car were,’ he said, after a fairly loaded silence. ‘No one knew a thing about them, did they?’

  Jack relaxed. ‘No, and,’ he added with a grin, ‘I bet Doris Tiverton would have had something to say if she thought Vaughan was entertaining mystery women.’

  ‘Yes, she was a good witness, wasn’t she? It’s thanks to her that we know when Craig left.’ Ashley flipped open his notebook, checking the times. ‘That was at half five.’