by Charles Todd
Why indeed, unless he had seen her earlier when he’d shot at Mrs. Travis through the window? And he was afraid she was coming to the house now to tell someone she had been a witness.
“Would you remember his voice? From the dream?” I asked. “And recognize it if you heard it again?”
“Yes. Of course. I always remember what happens in my dreams,” she answered simply, as if that was what everyone did.
But how was I to take this to the police? Miss Fredericks dreamed she heard her attacker . . .
Inspector Howe would laugh at me. And only intensify his efforts to find Captain Travis.
I said to Simon, “I refuse to believe it’s the Captain. The only other officer is Lieutenant Bonham. He claims he came rushing down the stairs when he heard the shot. But he could have come down and gone quietly outside, fired the shot and then raced back. There was time—Mr. Ellis went to Mrs. Travis’s aid first. He didn’t immediately go to the door. But why should the Lieutenant shoot her?”
Simon answered grimly, “Captain Travis has told both of us that he believed the man who shot him would kill again. And I’m not sure the man isn’t Bonham.”
“He knew James,” I said slowly. “Do you think the problem began there? And both the Captain and Mrs. Travis have been his targets. It couldn’t have been Mr. Ellis. He was with her.”
Lucy Fredericks, bewildered, was staring at us.
“What does Mr. Ellis have to do with this shooting?” Sister Potter demanded.
I worded what I had to say next very carefully. “I have wondered, you know. He’s dragged his feet so long over this inheritance. What if he’s hiding an—well, an irregularity in the Travis accounts?”
I might as well have suggested that Mr. Ellis was another Dr. Crippen, and had buried seven wives in his cellar.
She was appalled, shaking her head vehemently. “That’s impossible. I can’t believe he would do such a thing. I knew his father, a fine man, above reproach. It’s true I don’t care for the son, but I can’t believe he would betray a trust.”
I could see we were worrying Lucy Fredericks. I smiled at her. “You were wise to wait and tell me. Let me see what I can do.”
“But what should I tell the Inspector when he comes?”
“It was a dream—” Sister Potter began, but I cut her off.
“Best to say nothing about the dream. For the moment.”
Lucy leaned back against her pillows. “My dreams are never wrong,” she told me in a small voice. “But no one wants to believe it.”
“I do,” I said reassuringly. “And so does the Sergeant-Major. But rest now. And try not to worry.”
Sister Potter followed us out of the room. “You aren’t really going to pursue this wretched business, are you? About the dream?”
I said, keeping my voice low, “The best thing we can do is to prove it wrong.”
Satisfied, she nodded. “Poor girl. She’s been through a terrible experience. I shouldn’t wonder if her dreams are confused.”
She went back inside, and I followed Simon out to the motorcar. As he was turning the crank, he said, “Sister Potter is plainspoken and plain thinking. Dreams are beyond her ken.”
I saw Mrs. Caldwell coming out of the south porch of the church, and I said, “Let’s hurry and catch her up.”
But she had no news for us. I thought she hadn’t slept any more than we had, and her concern for Captain Travis isolated her from her husband. It was a double burden of caring.
“How is Lucy? Does she know who attacked her?”
“She didn’t actually see him.”
“Poor child.” With a nod, she walked on to the church gate and up the lane to the Vicarage.
Still watching Vera Caldwell, I said, “Perhaps we ought to go back to The Hall.”
Mrs. Travis seemed a little feverish to me. Her face was slightly flushed, her eyes bright, and she was wearing a heavy shawl in a room that was as warm as a summer’s day. There was a very pretty China tea service on the small table beside the chaise longue, but the cup at her elbow was still full.
I’d left Simon in the drawing room, and I said brightly, “Good morning,” as I came in and took her hand. It was too warm. “How are you feeling?”
“Have they caught that madman?” she asked anxiously. “No one will tell me. And Dr. Harrison hasn’t come.”
“He’s got surgery hours this morning. And there’s another patient. Lucy Fredericks was attacked last night, after you were shot. She was beaten and left where she lay. It was quite by accident that she was discovered.”
She put her good arm across her eyes. “Dear God. Will this never end?”
“Her father is threatening to kill whoever it was.”
“I can’t blame him. He’s always had a short temper, but he was the best there was with horses. He could do anything with them. Is she going to live? Please tell me the truth.”
“Yes, I expect she will. There’s always the possibility of—”
She put up a hand. “I don’t want to know.”
“She thinks she remembers her attacker.”
“It’s Alan Travis. There’s no one else who could do such a terrible thing.”
“She hasn’t told the police anything yet. I think she’s afraid to speak up.”
“Then you can tell Inspector Howe that I expect him to find the wretched man and put him away where he can’t harm anyone else.”
I held my tongue. It occurred to me that she’d always been the one to command, the one to set the tone of the village, the one who knew what was best. And now she’d discovered that she was vulnerable, like anyone else. It was a shocking experience. Was it the time to give her another shock?
“The police are still searching the village. What I can’t imagine is why Mr. Ellis pleaded the Captain’s case and persuaded the police in Bury to set him free last evening. He even drove the Captain back to The George, then left him there alone while he came here to call on you. It was unconscionable.” I shook my head in a pretense of dismay.
She stared at me. “That can’t be true.”
“I’m afraid it is,” I told her. “We were having an early dinner in Bury with my father, Colonel Crawford. As we left, we ran into the Inspector. He told my father he couldn’t understand why Mr. Ellis had been so certain that the evidence against Captain Travis in the death of Mr. Spencer was circumstantial. But I expect Mr. Ellis felt he was duty bound to represent the Captain, since he’s a Travis and heir to your son’s estate.”
“He is not,” she said vehemently, showing more spirit now. “He is not the heir. And Mr. Ellis is well aware of my views on that subject. I will not have it. Send someone to Bury. I want to speak to him. He cannot serve two masters in this affair.”
“Someone in the village asked me—well, I shouldn’t be repeating gossip,” I said, as if I’d overstepped my bounds.
“What did they ask you?” she demanded suspiciously.
“I—this is only gossip, you understand.” I looked away, as if I were answering her against my better judgment. “Someone asked if—well, if Mr. Ellis had something to hide. If he’d been delaying contacting the Captain for reasons of his own, because he feared an accounting of your son’s estate.”
“Vera Caldwell. That’s who it was. That misguided woman acts as if James was her son and not mine.” She was very angry now, the flush deepening in her face.
“It seems that Mr. Spencer—the man who was killed in Dr. Harrison’s surgery—was looking into Mr. Ellis’s handling of the Travis estate. I’m told there was an entry in his diary questioning Mr. Ellis’s dealings. He was with the Florian Agency, people you’ve used yourself. There’s a suggestion making the rounds that he was killed to prevent him from telling anyone what he’d discovered.”
“I don’t believe you.” She was confused and angry, no longer feeling helpless. “Ring for my maid, if you please. I wish to dress. And send for Mr. Ellis at once.” She was trying to sit up and I leaned forward to help he
r. “No, I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to Bury myself.”
“Is that such a good idea?” I asked. “Before the doctor has looked in on you?”
“He apparently thinks Lucy Fredericks is more important than I am.” She stopped, and I thought for a moment that she had heard herself and realized how selfish that must sound. But she went on, frowning. “I can’t ask Fredericks to drive me. He won’t want to leave his daughter. The Sergeant-Major has his motorcar here, I believe? Yes? Then tell him I will be downstairs presently.”
I was beginning to regret my decision to bring up Mr. Ellis. She didn’t look well in spite of her burst of energy just now. I persuaded her to let me see to her arm before she rang for her maid. And I didn’t like the look of the wound, either. The edges were angry, and there was an unhealthy redness spreading out from it. I cleaned it, added some of the salve that Dr. Harrison had left with her, and then put on a fresh dressing.
Her maid came and brought out a dark blue walking dress. I left to find Simon.
He was in the drive in front of the house, speaking to Fredericks. When I stepped out the door, Fredericks turned to me. “She won’t tell me what happened. All I know is what Doctor had to say. But if I lay my hands on that man Travis, he’ll wish he’d never set eyes on my daughter.” He hadn’t raised his voice, but I felt chilled by the power behind his words.
Before I could answer the chauffeur, the door opened and the Lieutenant stood on the threshold. “I thought I heard voices,” he said. “Is there any news?” And to me, he asked, “How is Mrs. Travis this morning? I asked the staff, and I was told she was keeping to her room.”
“She has business in Bury,” I said, as if she were just going in to settle an account with her milliner. “I was afraid she wasn’t up to it. But she insists.”
His face lit with interest. “I’ll go with you, shall I? I haven’t been to Bury. I understand it has a famous ruin.”
Simon answered for me. “I’m afraid there won’t be room in the motorcar. We’re taking Fredericks here to the surgery to visit his daughter.”
“How is she?” the Lieutenant asked, looking from her father to me.
“Very badly bruised,” I told him. “The doctor is keeping her for observation. Fredericks here is anxious to see her.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Lieutenant Bonham glanced up at the sky. The morning’s sun had vanished behind clouds, and it looked as if there might be rain before the day was out. “I’ll be waiting for her to come back. Will you tell Mrs. Travis that? She was going to show me some photographs last night, but of course that didn’t happen.” He was covering it well, but I thought he was annoyed by Simon’s refusal to accommodate him. With a nod to Fredericks, he turned and went back inside.
“I don’t like that man,” Fredericks said, looking at the closed door. “The housekeeper caught him in the late Master’s bedroom last night. She said it was forward of him, with Mrs. Travis being tended for a gunshot wound.” He turned to Simon. “If you meant what you said, I’ll take it kindly if you’d drop me at the surgery.”
Speaking quickly, I said, “Your daughter still hasn’t identified her attacker. Before you do anything rash, speak to her.”
“The police haven’t found him so far,” Simon added. “Something could have happened to him as well.”
I had begun to worry about that myself.
Fredericks looked at us. “I’ll take that warning to heart, Sister. But if you’re proven wrong, I’ll do what I think best.”
“And wind up in gaol yourself,” I told him. “That won’t help your daughter. And if you’re wrong, and it wasn’t the Captain after all, who will protect her from the right person, until she can identify him?”
Mrs. Travis came through the house door before he could answer. She was smartly dressed, with a very becoming hat that was the same shade of blue as her clothing. Not quite mourning, but she looked every inch the owner of The Hall, except for the scarf that had been used as a sling for her arm. She greeted Fredericks and asked after Lucy.
Simon told her that we were taking Fredericks in to see his daughter before going on to Bury. I didn’t think she quite approved, but there was little she could say without appearing to be heartless.
We dropped Fredericks at the door of the surgery, then went on our way. Mrs. Travis was seated beside Simon, but she was staring straight ahead. Marshaling what she intended to say to Mr. Ellis?
We reached the town just as the sun gave up its struggle against the encroaching clouds and disappeared. Without it, the day’s chill increased, and I was grateful when we found a place to leave the motorcar close by the firm’s door.
I was surprised when she asked us to accompany her. As witnesses? Or to be abashed by our lies. Mr. Ellis greeted us warily. He must have seen something in Mrs. Travis’s expression that warned him. As he ushered us into his private office, he gave me a speculative look. And then he was solicitously inquiring about her wound, and making the right noises of sympathy and consternation.
I thought for a moment that Mrs. Travis had lost her nerve, because here in the inner office, she must have thought it was impossible for an Ellis to be guilty of anything. And then, as I watched, she squared her shoulders and said abruptly, “I should like an accounting of my son’s estate, if you please. I wish to bring in someone from London to represent me. I’m no longer convinced that you have my interests at heart.”
Whatever Mr. Ellis was expecting, it wasn’t this. He stared at her, his mouth open in astonishment. Collecting himself, he managed a smile. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Of course I’ll do anything you ask of me. May I know the name of the firm in London?”
But there was no firm. “They will be in touch,” she said after a moment. He hadn’t put up any defense, and this confused her. “Why did you persuade Inspector Howe to free Captain Travis? And why did you bring him back to Sinclair? You knew very well that I wanted nothing more to do with him. And then this—” She indicated her sling. “I hold you entirely responsible for what happened to me.”
“I didn’t think you would care to have the problems over your son’s will become public knowledge. My hope was that we could send the Captain back to Wiltshire, where he would cause no more trouble for anyone.”
He was clever, I could see that, able to find a suitable answer to each objection she brought up.
“But he wasn’t returned to Wiltshire,” she told him. “You drove away and left him on his own. That was unforgivable.”
“I was told the staff at The George would see to it that he was watched until Sister Crawford returned. I had no idea it would be quite so late before she came back to the inn, or that the staff would be so busy at dinner.”
“That’s a pathetic excuse,” she said, some of her anger coming back. But I thought that all this turmoil and exertion were taking their toll. This man was going to win after all, because she was not as well as she had believed she was.
He saw it too. “You aren’t looking yourself. Let me ask my clerk to bring us some tea. You’ll feel better, I think.”
“I don’t wish to have any tea,” she said curtly.
“Nevertheless, I think it will do you good.” He rose and came around the desk. “You prefer a Ceylon tea, I believe. We always have it on hand for you.”
His concern for her welfare brought a frown. But he left the room, and Mrs. Travis turned to me. “He doesn’t behave like a man who has something to hide. I’m beginning to wonder if you knew what you were talking about.”
“He’s kept his secrets for a long time. He won’t give them up quickly,” Simon replied. “You’re doing the right thing.”
His answer seemed to lift her spirits. She was accustomed to men looking after her welfare: the solicitor, the doctor, her husband, her son. Simon’s encouragement was more effective than mine.
“We’ll see,” she responded. “I feel a draft coming from somewhere. I wish he would hurry.”
But the room was quite warm. I got up a
nd said, “Shall I take your pulse while we’re waiting?”
She gave me her hand, and it was dry, hot.
Turning to Simon, I said, “Could you see what’s keeping him?”
He knew what I was asking.
Rising, he went out of the room.
“I told him I didn’t wish to have any tea,” she said querulously.
Simon didn’t come back straightaway, and I was beginning to think we’d been tricked. I was right. When he returned, his face was grim. “Ellis was called away on an emergency. So his clerk tells me.”
“How impossibly rude,” Mrs. Travis said, standing up. But Simon had gone to the shelf behind Mr. Ellis’s desk, and he took down a solicitor’s box and said, “I believe this is yours, Mrs. Travis. And this one as well. It might be best if you took both home with you and read through them.”
“How clever of you,” she applauded, unaware that Simon knew precisely where both files could be found.
He carried them for her, and we walked out of the room, down the passage, and met the Ellis clerk in Reception. He stammered an apology, then saw what Simon was carrying. He stared at Simon, then at the boxes. I thought, Oh dear, he’s recognized Simon from last night.
Mercifully he hadn’t.
“Here, you can’t take that away with you.”
Simon was taller, younger, and stronger. He said only, “Mrs. Travis requested it. I shouldn’t try to stop me, if I were you.” And the clerk backed away, still protesting.
We got out of there and to the motorcar as quickly as we could. Mrs. Travis was saying, “I feel rather ill.”
As we left Bury, she said faintly, “Where do you think he’s actually gone?”
“London,” I told her. “Or Dover.” I was thinking about Switzerland.
“I trusted him,” she said, and fell silent for the rest of the journey.
We took her directly to Dr. Harrison’s surgery as soon as we reached the village.
He came at once, glancing at me and then putting a hand to her forehead.
