by Clara Benson
Claude stared.
‘Do you mean to say the plans have been stolen?’
‘It looks very like it,’ said Buchanan.
‘Unless he wasn’t carrying them in the first place,’ said Henry.
‘Oh, but he must have been,’ said Lord Strathmerrick. ‘He wouldn’t have come here without them, surely?’
‘No,’ said Buchanan. ‘I think we ought to work on the assumption that he had them with him and that he was killed for them.’
No-one seemed inclined to raise any serious objections to this.
‘But who killed him?’ said Claude. ‘Has anybody called the police?’
‘We have no telephone at present,’ said the Earl.
‘Of course. Yes, I had forgotten. Then have you sent someone to the village? We must act as soon as possible or he may get clean away.’
The situation was explained to him and he subsided for the moment, although not without one or two injured remarks on the fact that nobody had called him earlier.
‘Now, Gabe,’ said Aubrey Nash. ‘You are the nearest thing we have to a witness to this whole thing. Why don’t you tell us what happened?’
Gabe told them what he could remember about the game of Sardines—which was not a great deal—then looked at the floor miserably and confessed that he had fallen asleep in the cupboard and had therefore seen nothing.
Claude gave an astounded exclamation.
‘Just a minute,’ he said. ‘Do you really mean to say that six of you were hiding in that cupboard last night when this fellow came in?’
Gabe admitted that this was the case.
‘And none of you saw a thing?’
‘No. At least I don’t think so. I certainly didn’t. As I said, I fell asleep.’
‘I see,’ said Claude.
‘Well, that can’t be helped,’ said Sandy Buchanan. ‘And so you woke up and left the room with the others, before Mrs. Marchmont and Mr. Pilkington-Soames discovered the body, is that right?’
‘Not exactly, sir,’ said Gabe, looking even more uncomfortable. ‘As a matter of fact there was no-one in the room except Mrs. Marchmont when I woke up. At first I didn’t know where I was, and then when I realized I was still in the cupboard my first thought was to get to bed, so I said goodnight and went out.’
Buchanan and the Earl exchanged glances.
‘What was Mrs. Marchmont doing when you spoke to her?’ said the Earl.
Gabe hesitated, then swallowed. He was fast realizing that he had made rather a mess of things.
‘She seemed to be searching inside the chest,’ he admitted at last. ‘She jumped and gave a little squeal when she saw me.’ They were all looking at him now, and he went red.
‘Didn’t you ask her what she was doing?’ said Lord Strathmerrick.
Gabe shook his head.
‘Did you see her take anything?’ said Buchanan.
‘No,’ said Gabe, ‘but in all honesty, I wasn’t exactly seeing clearly.’
‘Hmm, that’s evident enough,’ said the Ambassador dryly.
The Earl turned to Henry Jameson.
‘Well, we’ve no proof of anything,’ he said, ‘but it all looks highly suspicious. At the very least we need to keep a close eye on Mrs. Marchmont and see that she doesn’t try to get away. We must get those plans back. It would cause untold damage if they were to fall into the hands of the enemy.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Gabe wretchedly. ‘I swear I had no idea what was going on. I guess I messed up.’
‘Well, there’s no use in worrying about that now,’ said Sandy Buchanan. ‘The main thing is to find those documents before whoever took them makes his—or her—escape.’
TWELVE
Angela woke up earlier than she had expected on New Year’s day. She lay with her eyes closed for a few minutes, hoping to drift back to sleep, but the events of the night before would insist on crowding into her mind, driving away her dreams, and soon she was wide awake.
‘Well, there’s no use in lounging in bed all morning,’ she said to herself. ‘There’s bound to be all kinds of fuss today and people running around in confusion and whispering in corners. Presumably they’ll all be glowering suspiciously at me too, once Gabe has told them that I was looking through the professor’s pockets—as I’ve no doubt he will. Very well, I shall put on my brightest lipstick and give them something worth glowering at. I only hope my eyes are not too red this morning.’
Ten minutes later she entered the breakfast-room, looking as fresh and cheerful as she could manage under the circumstances. Henry Jameson was there, toying unenthusiastically with the remains of some devilled kidneys.
‘You look very tired,’ she said. ‘Have you been up all night?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ he replied.
She helped herself to some toast.
‘I suppose one oughtn’t to ask what has happened since we last spoke?’ she said slyly after a pause.
‘Very little,’ he replied, ‘since we appear to be entirely cut off from the village at present.’
She glanced at him inquiringly and he explained about the fallen tree.
‘Then you haven’t been able to call the police?’ she said.
‘Not yet. We shall put some of the men on to clearing the path later.’
‘Later?’ she said in surprise, then understood. ‘Ah, of course.’ Naturally they would want to hush last night’s events up and keep the police out of things for as long as possible.
Henry glanced at her uncomfortably. He finished his breakfast quickly and excused himself.
‘You’ll find my room quite neat and tidy,’ Angela could not resist saying sweetly as he went out, and she had the satisfaction of seeing his mouth twitch in a half-smile.
She sat alone for a while, gazing out of the window at the white landscape, until Aubrey came in.
‘Are you all breakfasting in turns?’ said Angela.
‘No, I came to find you,’ he said. He sat down in a chair next to her and leaned forward confidentially. ‘You’d better be careful,’ he said in a low voice. ‘You’re under suspicion.’
‘Yes, I thought I might be,’ she replied. ‘In fact, I should be astonished if I weren’t.’
‘Gabe says that when he woke up—or came to, shall we say—he saw you bending over into the chest as though you were searching for something. What were you doing?’
‘Why, searching the professor’s pockets, of course,’ said Angela imperturbably.
Aubrey sat back.
‘But why?’ he said.
‘Why do you think?’ she said. ‘I was curious. It was a fatal combination of too much whisky and an incorrigibly inquisitive nature. Wouldn’t you have done the same? Wouldn’t anyone have done the same?’
‘Did you find anything?’ he said.
‘Not a thing,’ she replied. ‘Well, apart from the usual odds and ends—handkerchiefs, loose change and the like. But I didn’t take anything, I swear.’
‘Are you sure that’s all you were doing?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I also looked at the soles of his boots and the backs of his hands. I wanted to know if he was the man the boys and I were tracking through the snow yesterday afternoon.’
He shook his head.
‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Henry Jameson was right. He said you would make the connection. Was it the same man?’
‘No. I don’t know who we were following, but it certainly wasn’t the professor,’ she said. ‘Might it have been the killer, do you think?’
‘It’s possible,’ said Aubrey, ‘but if it was we’re going to have a hell of a job finding him. For one thing, his footprints will have been completely covered up in this latest fall of snow. And in any case—’ he broke off.
‘You’re going to tell me they suspect an inside job, aren’t you?’ said Angela. He did not reply, and she went on, ‘At least I can produce witnesses to say I didn’t murder him. As to whether or not I was in league with someone else—well, that’s a little m
ore difficult to prove.’
‘I told them you’re completely innocent, naturally,’ said Aubrey.
‘Did you? I’m not sure you ought to have done,’ she replied.
‘Why not?’
‘Well, how can you be so certain I am innocent?’ she said.
‘Don’t be absurd.’
‘I’m not being absurd. We haven’t seen each other for years. Who knows what I might have got up to in that time? Why, I might have fallen into all sorts of bad company. I might have come under the irresistible influence of a fascinating criminal. Someone might be blackmailing me into carrying out nefarious deeds. How do you know I haven’t become a dope-fiend who will do anything, including conniving at murder, for her next shot?’
‘Well, have you?’
‘Of course not. But I can’t prove it, so you really ought to assume the worst—especially in cases such as this.’
‘Why are you so determined that I should suspect you?’
‘Because, strange to say, I care about you enough not to want you to compromise your position,’ she said. ‘Think about it, Aubrey: you’re the Ambassador—the highest representative of the American Government in this country. You can’t afford to let your judgment become clouded. Even now you’ve already told me more than you ought to have. It was just your bad luck that it happened to be me who found the professor’s body, but there was no need to show me that you were quite so interested in him. You’ve as good as told me that you’re worried about something he was carrying in his pockets. I already suspected that something hush-hush was going on here, but now you’ve given me one more piece to add to the puzzle. How do you think your superiors will feel about it if it turns out that I am involved in all these goings-on?’
‘You’re not involved, and I was only trying to put you on your guard,’ said Aubrey. ‘As things stand, you’re in a difficult position.’
‘Thank you, but there was no need. I can take care of myself,’ she said. ‘And it is you who ought to look out for your position, not I.’
He took her hand in both of his.
‘I know you’re not guilty of anything,’ he said.
‘And so do I,’ she said with a smile. She withdrew her hand gently. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not afraid. Now, you had better get back to work. I dare say you have a lot to do.’
‘Don’t try to run away, or anything silly like that,’ he said, only half-jokingly.
‘I won’t,’ she promised. ‘I couldn’t even if I wanted to. We’re completely cut off, don’t you remember?’
He smiled and went out, and Angela was left to her own reflections, which were less than satisfactory. Naturally, she had nothing to hide, but she was uncomfortable at the thought that half the guests at Fives Castle now suspected her of who knew what. It was fortunate that only a few people were aware of the professor’s death at present, but how long would that last?
There was a strange atmosphere in the castle that morning—an odd combination of listlessness and tension, idleness and activity. Nothing seemed quite as it ought to. As the morning went on, the other inhabitants of the castle drifted downstairs one by one in varying states of health and cheerfulness. It was Sunday, but word had come to say that snow had got in through the old chapel roof and spoilt the prayer-books and the cushions, so it had been decided not to hold a service that day—and of course, there was no question of being able to get to the church in the village, so they were left to sit about the house until somebody had the presence of mind to organize some entertainment. Gertie looked particularly white-faced after the revelry of the night before, and forgot herself so far as to sit in the drawing-room for an hour, staring at the wall and smoking one cigarette after another, quite heedless of her mother’s presence and disapproval. Priss looked sulky, as usual, and replied in monosyllables to Selma Nash’s conversational overtures, while Clemmie was assumed to be in the library, buried in a book. Eleanor Buchanan had lost what little animation she had gained, and stood staring out of the window, toying with the gold locket she always wore around her neck, and even Miss Foster, who had gone to bed relatively early, seemed unable to make any progress with her work: she soon gave up any attempt at correcting her latest chapter and took to wandering about the place, hugging a sheaf of papers and occasionally applying her glasses to her nose in order to study the pages and rearrange them to her greater satisfaction.
Some time after eleven, Freddy finally rolled in, yawning. He dropped into a chair and sat in silence. After a few moments Angela noticed that he was trying to attract her attention. She was not in the mood to speak to him and so shook her head slightly. Eventually, spurred into a direct attack, he said:
‘I say, Mrs. M, weren’t you going to give me back that book I lent you? I believe you said you had it upstairs. I shouldn’t ask, only I rather promised to give it to Bradley later.’
Since Gabe Bradley was not in the room he was on safe ground. Angela resisted the urge to roll her eyes and said she would fetch it. He followed her out into the entrance-hall, then opened a likely-looking door, which led into a small sitting-room that looked as though it were not in frequent use.
‘Let’s go in here,’ he said. ‘Too many people around in the hall for discretion. Now, then, tell me what you’ve found out.’
‘You don’t think they’d tell me anything, do you?’
‘No, but I expected you to be up at dawn, looking for finger-prints and cigarette-ends, measuring bloodstains and what-not. Do you mean to say you weren’t?’
‘I believe I left my magnifying-glass and tape-measure at home,’ said Angela. ‘Very remiss of me.’
‘You shall have to do better next time, Watson,’ he said.
‘I doubt they’ll let us anywhere near the billiard-room from now on, anyway,’ said Angela, ‘since they suspect us of having had a hand in the business—or me, at any rate.’
‘What? Really? Why? And how do you know?’
‘Aubrey told me, but it was no more than I had deduced myself.’
‘But what do they suspect us of, exactly? Not the murder, surely? Why, there were four other people in the cupboard besides us. They know we didn’t do it.’
‘No, not the murder itself, but when you went to fetch help last night Gabe Bradley woke up and caught me—er—searching the professor’s pockets.’
‘A hardened pickpocket, by George!’ said Freddy in some amusement. ‘Rifling through the belongings of a dead man. You never told me about that.’
‘I didn’t tell you because I didn’t find anything,’ she said.
‘But what were you looking for?’
‘I don’t know. But everyone seemed so on edge waiting for him to arrive that I thought perhaps he was bringing something important with him.’
‘And given your finely-honed detective instinct you naturally wanted to find out what it was.’
‘Naturally.’
‘But Gabe saw you and thought the worst.’
‘Exactly,’ said Angela. ‘Now they think I—and probably also you, since you were there at the time—were sent here to intercept the professor and steal this secret thing, whatever it was.’
‘But they know we didn’t kill him.’
‘As a matter of fact, they don’t. All we can really demonstrate is that we didn’t dispose of his body. We don’t know exactly when or where he died, and I certainly don’t have an alibi for the whole of last night, do you? One of us might have killed him and left an accomplice to hide the body.’
‘It all sounds rather complicated and far too much like work to me.’
‘Perhaps so, but I’m just telling you what the others will think. Look at it from their point of view: all the other guests are pretty much above suspicion, but we are practically strangers here—and they can’t find out anything about us either, because we’re snowed in and the telephone is cut off.’
‘That’s true. Will they lock us in our rooms, do you think?’
‘I doubt it, but I expect they’re searching th
em as we speak.’
‘Really?’ said Freddy interestedly. ‘I wish you’d told me before. I could have arranged to leave something suspicious there for them to find—an odd glove, say, or a spent cartridge.’
‘I shouldn’t joke about it if I were you,’ she said. ‘They appear to be deadly serious. And, after all, a man has died.’
‘True,’ he said. ‘That is rather unfortunate for him. I wonder what he was bringing. Are you absolutely sure you didn’t find anything in his pockets?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘But what were you looking for?’
‘I’ve no idea. Lord Strathmerrick and Henry knew what it was, though. Don’t you remember? They searched Klausen’s pockets too. That means it must have been something small if they expected to find it on him.’
‘Documents, perhaps?’ suggested Freddy.
‘That would be my guess,’ said Angela. ‘Some important thesis or piece of research.’
‘Or a new invention of some sort. An industrial machine or a weapon.’
‘I wonder if Clemmie would know,’ said Angela. ‘I may speak to her later.’
‘Good idea,’ said Freddy. He gave a sudden malicious grin. ‘But Angela, if you’re under suspicion, why is Aubrey telling you so? Have you got him in thrall to your charms? Is he going to cast Selma aside and beg you to run off with him?’
‘Good gracious, I hope not,’ said Angela, in some alarm at the idea.
‘But you were engaged to him once, weren’t you?’
‘Yes, but it was a long time ago,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t a serious thing.’
‘Does he know that?’
‘Let us hope so,’ she said dryly.
Freddy looked at her intently.
‘One day, Angela, I am going to get you well and truly drunk and then you shall tell me all about yourself down to the very last detail.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ said Angela. ‘And anyway, even if I did I’m quite sure I’d bore you to sleep. Underneath this exotic and fascinating exterior lies a very dull woman, I’m afraid.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Freddy. ‘Why, I’ll bet you’ve done all kinds of exciting things in your time. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if you’d left a trail of bloodied enemies and distraught lovers scattered in your wake.’
