“You will visit her again tomorrow?”
“In the afternoon, if there are no complications. Fortunately, this Leeper woman has had hospital training.”
“She’ll be out to your dope for the rest of the night?”
“And well into the day. Must keep her quiet. What about that coffee?”
“I need three cups.”
They passed inside and Bony relocked the door. Janet Answerth was seated. Mrs Leeper stood by the wagon and poured. Blaze offered the sandwiches.
With a coffee cup in one hand and a sandwich in the other, Bony stood close to the golden banisters to admire the sheen of the exquisitely carved wood. He heard Blaze offer the sandwiches to Dr Lofty, then froze because he heard movement at the top of the stairs. There was a soft padding of feet.
The doctor was complimenting Janet Answerth on the coffee. The soft padding was now on the stairs. The hall light cast the edge of its shadow midway up, and from the shadow into the light came a slippered foot. The companion foot followed, and then a pyjama-clad leg. Bony stood back. He didn’t see, but felt Mawson beside him.
Down the stairs slowly came Morris Answerth. His eyes winked in the light. On his face was a smile. He waved to them all, and then particularly to Bony, and at the bottom of the stairs he said:
“I’m out again.”
Chapter Fifteen
The Lamp and the Rope
THEREWASNOTHINGsinister in the voice, no wild emotion on the bearded face, no cunning triumph blazing in the dark eyes. He had but stated a fact, the importance of which was burned from his mind by the suspended lamp swung low above the foot of the stairs. The people to whom he had waved were forgotten. He stood with his hand pressed against his side, head back, gazing at the lamp.
“What a beauty!” he exclaimed.
Janet Answerth slipped past Bony and took his arm in her two hands. Her voice was gentle, her words urgent. Submerged in voice and words was steel.
“Morris! You oughtn’t to have come down in pyjamas and dressing-gown. Can’t you see we have guests? This will never do. Come along at once. Back to your rooms, please.”
She pushed him almost off balance before he was aware of her. He saw Mrs Leeper stepping forward, and he frowned. Janet shook her head, and Mrs Leeper stopped.
“Come, Morris, at once, please.”
Her arm imprisoned his against her side. She whispered something they could not hear, and he said:
“You will, Janet? Oh, thank you.”
Together they went up the stairs, and it seemed that the shadows came down to take them into their darkness. Nothing was said. Dr Lofty frowned into his coffee cup. Mawson stood rigidly, regarding Bony, waiting. Blaze struck a match and lit his pipe, and Mrs Leeper sat down. Presently Janet came down the stairs.
“I don’t understand it, Inspector,” she said. “I am certain I snapped the padlock to his door-bolt and put the key on the nail.”
“When was that?” he questioned, and, regarding him with wide eyes, she replied:
“Shortly after ten o’clock this evening. I’d been up with his supper tray and made sure he was comfy in bed for the night. I remember quite clearly bringing out his tray and the lamp and placing both on the passage floor so that I could bolt his door. Then I hung the key on the nail, and took up the tray and the lamp and came downstairs.”
“Where is the key now?”
“On its nail.”
“Where was it when you took Morris up?”
“In the padlock. Someone… I don’t know. I’m positive I locked his door.”
“Then we must be doubly sure there is no stranger in the house. Please go to your sister and remain by her bedside. Mrs Leeper, be good enough to remain seated until we return. If you, Doctor, would mount guard at the front door… Withdraw the key and keep it in your pocket. Shout if a stranger appears. Mawson, come with me. Blaze, bring that hurricane lamp and follow me.”
Arrived at the head of the staircase, Bony asked Blaze if the two wing passages joined at the rear of the house, and Blaze said that the left passage ended at a bedroom door. The right passage ended at the top of the back stairs, at the bottom of which was the door which he had locked and passed the key to Mawson.
With the exception of the rooms occupied by Morris Answerth, they searched the top floor, and returning to the ground floor searched there, even to the two cellars. They found nothing of interest save the several rooms which had not been occupied for… in Mawson’s opinion… a hundred years. Bony then called on Mrs Leeper to conduct him to the room occupied by Mary Answerth.
Again passing up the stairs, Bony was taken to the left wing and to the first room on the left. There was no light other than that cast by his torch. He went in first, and the torch beam swept the room for the second time that night, stopping to reveal the ordinary oil-lamp on the bedside table.
“Please light that lamp, Mrs Leeper. Matches?”
The lamp banished the silhouettes, created shadows to hide behind the furniture. The heavy four-poster with its canopy of heavy material was congruent with a massive wardrobe and an equally massive tallboy. The dressing-table could have come from the boudoir of an empress. Upon it, a modern brass petrol-lamp was an affront.
The bed had been slept in. The clothes were thrown back as though the sleeper had left it without haste. On a chair was feminine underwear, a pair of men’s tweed trousers, and by the chair was a pair of men’s golf shoes.
The window was open. It was of the leaded, diamond-pattern casement type. A ratchet catch kept the window open, and into the room entered cold air to tease languidly the heavy curtains.
Leaning out over the sill, Bony directed his torch beam downward, and within the circle the dewy grass glistened as though covered with diamonds. The light circle moved left to stop at the wide step bordering the porch. Outward from the step moved the light, to follow the tracks on the diamond-littered ground made by the police party from boat to front door. Then back it came to the ground beneath the window where the glistening dew was unmarked.
No one had stood immediately below the window, to arouse Mary Answerth and then to persuade her to go down, but Bony had to accept the possibility that the man could have been standing below the step of the porch, when his tracks would have been blotted out by those of the police party.
“Do you believe it?” Mrs Leeper asked as he was refastening the window.
“Believe what?”
“The yarn about a man throwing stones or something against the window and asking her to go down?”
“I have as yet no reason to disbelieve Miss Mary,” he objected. “Have you?”
“I disbelieve her on principle,” declared Mrs Leeper. “Believe nothing these people tell you… nothing. She said she went down to see a man about stolen cattle. Didn’t she say that?”
“She did.”
“Why come here to talk about stolen cattle in the middle of the night? What’s the matter with the day-time? They won’t have visitors here, but they’re not that hostile that they’d shoot a rare one on sight.”
“H’m! How often does the rare visitor call?”
“About once every third blue moon. Mr Harston mostly, and now and then Bert Blaze or the old man who comes across to do the chores.”
“Are Blaze and the old man regarded as visitors?”
“Why not? They come that seldom. But I didn’t mean that they come into the house by the front door. The lawyers came twice this year, and they came in by the front door. And five or six weeks ago that butcher came to see Miss Janet.”
“You refer to Edward Carlow?”
“The same,” replied Mrs Leeper.“Came to get Miss Janet to fill in his income tax forms, so she said. The parson came about twelve months ago… the Methodist parson. They took him in and gave him afternoon tea, the pair of them, and after he had gone back in the boat they ordered Blaze to return, and they dressed him down for bringing the parson over without their orders. Told him he was never to bring anyone
to the house unless told to.”
“And you don’t believe Miss Mary was attacked outside the house?”
“No, I don’t. She must have let him in. She let him in because she knew him, and she told the tale because she’s made up her mind to deal with him herself. I think it was Morris. Miss Janet forgot to bolt his door, remember. The last thing Miss Mary would admit is that Morris tried to strangle her.”
“There may be something in what you say,” Bony conceded, and noted the gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.
They returned to the hall, and Bony instructed Blaze to sit by the front door. He drew Dr Lofty aside.
“I want you to accompany me on a visit to Morris as I’d like to have your professional opinion. We’ll take Mawson in case additional physical weight is needed. Agreed?”
“Yes, of course… you’re welcome to my opinion… with reservations.”
Mawson was asked to bring the petrol-lamp from Mary’s bedroom, and when arrived at the padlocked door Bony knocked. At once, Morris Answerth said, his voice coming from under the door:
“Do you want to come in?”
“Yes. Have you a light in there?”
“Janet always takes the light back when she goes off to bed. But I can see.” They heard soft laughter. “I play games in the dark when Janet has gone to bed. She’s not out there with you, I know that. There are three of you. Yes, you may come in.”
The padlock was removed from the bolt. They entered, Bony holding aloft the lamp. Morris was seen with his back to the table and, as Bony advanced, he blinked at the fierce light, his face white, his hair and beard black by contrast. As Bony passed him to set the lamp on the table beside the toy railway, Morris turned to watch the light and the brass reflecting it. He was so interested in the lamp that Bony and the doctor, and Mawson who remained just inside the door he had closed, were seemingly forgotten.
“Good light, eh?” Lofty said, cheerfully.
“I…” Morris stood back, rubbing his hands as though controlled by ecstatic wonder. “Is it yours? Will you give it to me?”
“Have to ask Miss Mary first,” Bony told him. “Anyway, would you like Doctor Lofty to tell you how it works?”
“Oh, I would.” Morris maintained concentration on the lamp. Bony felt himself completely ignored, and was delighted. He nodded encouragingly to Lofty, and the doctor began a lecture with the incidence of petroleum. Quietly, Bony went to work aided by his torch.
The room off this large one was the young man’s bedroom. It was clean and neat. The three-quarter bed had been occupied, and Bony tried to estimate the period since Morris had left it. By touch, he decided that the bed had not been occupied for several hours.
There was but one window to this room, and no other door save that leading to a small bathroom and lavatory. The walls were calcimined blue, and there were pictures cut from books, framed but minus glass. The one window opened to the end of the house, and this received careful attention.
Like those in the larger room, it was of the casement type, with small diamond panes. It opened as far as the outside steel lattice permitted, a bare eight inches, and Bony proceeded to test the lattice. It was firmly fixed to the outside of the wall, and by touch he found one of the studs having a squared head to take the spanner to screw it in.
He was able to move the stud with finger and thumb. He took it out. As easily, he removed other studs so that he was able to push the lattice away from the window and further open the window wide enough for a man to pass out. As easily, he replaced the studs and closed the window. He spent five minutes searching the bedroom and the bathroom for a rope, and found nothing which would enable Morris Answerth to reach the ground and return.
Shoes in the wardrobe were dry. The linoleum-covered floor under the window was dry. The clothes in the wardrobe were clean and unscarred. There were five Eton jackets of several sizes, and several pairs of hard-wearing grey trousers. The chest of drawers contained nothing of interest, save that the bottom drawer was crammed with toys. There was nothing under the bath, and the floorboards were as firm as cement.
Standing again beside Morris when Dr Lofty’s lecture was withering for the want of inspirational rain, Bony rolled a cigarette and dropped his matches. He knelt to retrieve them, and lightly touched Morris’s slippers, to find them dry. Then at last he was rewarded.
Beneath the table ribbons of cloth had been tacked to form a web, and this web supported firmly against the table-top a rope of plaited blanket, a pair of trousers and a pair of canvas shoes. There were other oddments which Bony at once found of no interest. The old canvas tennis shoes were distinctly damp. For a moment he was held by memory of Morris Answerth supporting the table on head and hands when rising from a kneeling position, and he blamed himself for not having noted the hiding-place when the table must have been higher than the level of his eyes. He heard Morris say with startlingly simple conviction:
“I want the lamp.”
“By the way, Morris,” Bony said, rising like Phoenix.“Show Dr Lofty how you throw a lasso. I’ve been telling him how wonderful you are with it.”
“Then will you give me the lamp? It’s a beautiful lamp, and I want to keep it. I’ve never been allowed to keep a lamp, and I’m tired of playing in the dark all the time.”
“We’ll have to ask Miss Janet about it,” Bony told him.
“When I tell Janet that you gave me the lamp, she will let me keep it. I’m sure she will.”
“But the lamp belongs to Miss Mary, Morris. She mightn’t like it if we left it with you. Whatever would she say if we told her what we had done with her lamp?”
“Mary won’t ever know.” Morris Answerth stiffened. The scowl of frustration gave place to a smile. The smile vanished. He moved so quickly that neither man could offer a counter. With his left hand, he swept up the hissing lamp and held it high. He was Ajax… if Ajax had red hair and a red beard and blue eyes which shone with rage. “If you come to take the lamp, I’ll strike you with it.”
Slowly and sadly shaking his head, Bony held out his hands.
“We’ll do something about it later on, Morris. You must always trust your friends. Please let me have the lamp.”
The anger faded. The lips trembled. The eyes filled with tears. Bony accepted the lamp and placed it back on the table.
Chapter Sixteen
Morris Mustn’t Tell
“WEHAVEN’TSAIDyou cannot have the lamp,” Bony pointed out. “Be a good fellow now, and talk about other things like you did when I came to see you last time. The lamp belongs to Miss Mary, not to us. We cannot give you what doesn’t belong to us, can we?”
“No, you cannot do that. I am very sorry for behaving so badly. Will you overlook it this time?”
“Of course. Now do show Dr Lofty how you can throw a lasso. We’ll speak to Miss Mary about the lamp for you.”
Morris pinched his lower lip, alternately regarding his visitors. His expression registered doubt.
“You could leave it with me, though, as Mary will be ill for a long time. Didn’t you hear she has been strangled?”
“Yes. How did you come to hear about that?”
“A little dicky-bird told me. He tells me lots of things.” Gone was the frankness of the boy of ten, the naivete of the simple youth. The blue eyes were masked by craftiness, and their silence was what Morris looked for, for silence meant to him breathless curiosity.
“Wouldn’t you like to know who tried to kill Mary?”
“Perhaps we do know,” Bony said.
“Oh! Who?”
“You tell.”
Morris chuckled and shook his head. He looked again at the lamp, and Bony hoped his attention would not be recaptured by the bright light. He rubbed his hands together, turned back to his visitors and again laughed.
“Then perhaps you would like to know who killed Mother?”
“What I am sure about, Morris, is that Doctor Lofty would like to watch you throwing your lasso.”
�
��Would he?”
“I certainly would,” said the doctor. “Who did kill your mother?”
“I won’t tell.”
Morris’s laughter this time was prolonged.
“Oh, never mind who killed your mother,” Bony exclaimed, impatiently. “It’s the lasso we want to see. Come on, Morris! We want to see you in action, and we can’t stay all night.”
“I don’t know what I’ve done with the lasso.”
“That is a pity. Especially after I told Dr Lofty about it. Well, I suppose we had better be going, Morris. It’s long after your bed-time.”
“Yes, it must be, Bony. I’m sorry about the lasso. I am very angry with myself for forgetting to remember what I did with it. I found the magnet. I’d left it on the mantel over there. I made another line with string, but the string isn’t heavy enough to use for a lasso.”
“What you really want is some light rope, Morris,” Bony told him. “Would you like me to bring some when I come again?”
“Thank you, Bony,” said Morris, abruptly grave. “That would do very well.”
“The magnet, you say, you found on the mantelshelf?”
“Yes. I must have left it there.” Morris went over to the fireplace and with a finger indicated the exact position. Bony accompanied him.
“D’you everhave a fire?”
“Oh no! I hate fires. Once a fire burned. It came from a match in a box Janet brought. I told her she had left it, and she told me to fire one of the matches and it burned me. I don’t like fire.”
“But lamps are fire, and you like lamps, don’t you?”
“Yes. But lamps don’t burn if you know all about them. Janet says I know nothing about them, and that’s why she won’t let me have one.”
Bony again examined the mark on the wood made by the incessant blows of the lasso about the cloisonne vase. Then, sinking to his knees, he looked at the empty grate and up the chimney. He fancied he saw a hanging spider’s web, and he brought out his torch and turned the beam upward. At about the level of the mantel, two iron bars crossed the inside of the chimney, previously used to suspend hooks to support iron kettles over the fire. The spider’s web was a strand of red flex, for on the bars rested a rolled length of it. He pulled it down, shook it out over the floor. There was neither soot nor dust upon it. It was very much reduced in length.
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