Ne'er Do Well

by Dornford Yates

  “‘That’s an engagement,’ I said.

  “‘Good man.’”

  Falcon raised his eyebrows and pushed back his hair. “I think I must go one day. I’m so desperately sorry for Selden. He’s broken up.” He sighed. “So much, then, for my visit to Curfew Place.”

  “It was very quick of you, Falcon, to see the answer to the riddle set by the waiting car.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. The moment I saw the grey Rolls, I wondered if that was the car the cyclist had seen. And then it occurred to me that surreptitiously to visit the Home was exactly what a devoted servant would do. The thing was to get Bolton to admit it.”

  “A most accomplished proceeding from first to last. As a result, Madame la Duchesse de Vairie has fallen right back.”

  “Yes. She’s still in the running, of course. And she could have had the poison. I’m not losing sight of her. If she should book for France, they’ll get on the telephone.

  “On Monday afternoon I rang up Berryman’s home. After a little while he came to the telephone.

  “‘Mr Berryman?’

  “‘Yes.’

  “‘Head sleuth, here. I’d like another talk. Will you come to me? Or shall I come to you?’

  “‘When?’

  “‘Half an hour from now.’

  “‘Where are you?’

  “‘In my room at Scotland Yard.’

  “‘I don’t care which.’

  “‘Very well, then. You come to me.’

  “He hesitated. Then –

  “‘All right.’

  “Thirty-five minutes later, they brought him up to my room.

  “He threw himself into a chair and took out a pipe.

  “‘What d’you want me for?’ he said.

  “‘I told you,’ I said, ‘I wanted another talk.’

  “‘ – well stuck, I suppose.’

  “‘You can suppose what you please. Why didn’t you tell me you knew Lord St Amant quite well?’

  “I saw his muscles contract. After an obvious struggle –

  “‘You didn’t ask me, for one thing.’

  “‘I see. And for another?’

  “‘Whether I knew him or not was nothing to do with you.’

  “‘I don’t think that’s the answer,’ I said.

  “‘What d’you mean?’

  “‘What I say. I think the true answer is that you didn’t want me to know.’

  “‘Why?’

  “‘Because, if I’d known that you knew him, you wouldn’t have dared to say that you didn’t know he was there.’

  “‘What are you getting at?’

  “‘The truth, I hope this time. In a case like this, Mr Berryman, suppressio veri makes a detective think. How did Lord St Amant know you were there?’

  “The man started violently. Then –

  “‘Who says he did?’

  “‘He told another patient he’d seen you…as he walked past your room. D’you still maintain that you didn’t know he was there?’

  “‘How should I know he was a patient? Patients don’t walk about.’

  “‘Some patients can – but prefer to lie in bed.’

  “The man went very white.

  “‘Are you…suggesting…’

  “‘I’m suggesting nothing,’ I said. ‘Are you a member of White’s?’

  “Berryman began to tremble.

  “‘Oh, my God,’ he whimpered.

  “‘One lord the less, Mr Berryman?’

  “Breathing most hard –

  “‘You can’t hold that against me,’ he panted, ‘I – I only said that in jest.’

  “‘Some people might find such a sense of humour strange. I mean, they might even think that such a brutal remark argued a brutal mind.’

  “The man went to pieces.

  “‘Oh, God, why did I say it? Oh, God, be kind. You know I never did it. I’ve never had any poison in all my life. I never knew where his room was. I never set foot on the terrace while I was there.’

  ‘Easy to say these things.’

  “‘But they’re true,’ he screamed. ‘They’re true. And – and I couldn’t do a murder… I’d – be afraid.’

  “I sat and looked at the creature, thinking of his activities down in the docks and then of St Amant walking along the Embankment, comforting down-and-outs.

  “‘Well, that’ll do for the moment. You’re going to Brighton, aren’t you?’

  “‘Oh, God, I’m being watched.’

  “Such abject fear is a very unpleasant sight.

  “‘There’s a man outside the door. He’ll show you out.’

  “Berryman got to his feet and wiped his face.

  “‘If you w – want me again,’ he stammered.

  “‘You’ll be informed.’

  “Berryman went.”

  “I can’t help feeling,” said Mansel, “that you enjoyed yourself.”

  “Thoroughly,” said Falcon. “It did me a lot of good to reduce the sweep. He’s out, of course. When he said he’d be afraid to do murder, that was the honest truth. Those words came straight from what we must call his heart. An altogether contemptible piece of work.”

  “How wanton,” I said, “Fortune can sometimes be. She pushes Berryman on you, as a card-sharper pushes a card. Inclination, opportunity, motive – he had them all. Dallas, Paterson, Selden volunteer deadly evidence. You could have had a warrant whenever you pleased.

  “Without a doubt,” said Falcon. “I don’t say that he would have gone down; but he would have been committed for trial.”

  “The pace-maker cracks,” said Mansel.

  “Exactly,” said Falcon. “I know that he never did it. I’ve got to look somewhere else.”

  “I haven’t much more to tell you, although my days were full. I suppose you’d call it routine, but it can be more than that. You must do some things yourself. You know what it is. If you’ve got to be perfectly sure that something’s been perfectly done, the only thing to do is to do it yourself.”

  “You’re telling us,” said Mansel. “And in a case like this…”

  “That is the truth. In this particular case, I have so little to go on that every scrap of information must go into the sieve.”

  Mansel drew in his breath.

  “Falcon,” he said, “I’m perfectly sure you’ll get home, but what a hell of a case.”

  “Yes,” said Falcon, “it is. It’s quite the most difficult problem I’ve ever been set. Hardly a pointer – except to Will-o’-the-Wisps. But it’s been a help to be away from the scene. Sometimes one’s focus is better, when one is not on the spot. It’s like standing back from a picture. Things seem to fall into perspective…”

  “That, I can understand. Inquest resumed on Friday?”

  “Yes. That can’t be helped. The Coroner must have his show. Proof that poison was found. I saw Sir William: he’s coming down himself. And then another adjournment.”

  Mansel smiled.

  “You’ve blessed a good many Inquests.”

  “That’s very true. But this one is not going to help. It only interferes with my job.”

  “Your brain,” said Jenny, “must get so terribly tired. I mean you never stop thinking.”

  “I know. One becomes obsessed. That’s why it helps me so much to stay with you.”

  “We don’t seem to give you much rest.”

  “That’s of choice. As I’ve said before, it helps me no end to make an informal report. But at dinner, for instance, I quite forgot the case. By the way, you were speaking of the Brevets. And when I asked who they were, you, all of you, laughed and promised to tell me one day.”

  “It’s not a short story,” I said.

  “I’d like to hear it – now.”

  “Go on, William,” said Mansel.

  “Daniel Gedge,” I said. “I expect you know his name.”

  “The infamous Auntie Emma. He took care to keep out of England: but, if half what I’ve heard is true, he had a handsome run.” He
hesitated. “I did hear it whispered that you had seen him off.”

  “William did that,” said Mansel. “He stole my show. But he couldn’t help himself, for the man was out to kill.”

  “According to my information, he often was.”

  “He was that night,” I said.

  “Well, Brevet was his confederate…and some words which Brevet used, when he was awaiting the order to put me to death, betrayed an outlook which some people share today. We speak of them as ‘The Brevets’. I put it in Red in the Morning. He told me he hated me – not for what I had done, but for what I was. ‘I am a criminal, and you are a country squire. Do you wonder that I hate you, Chandos? Do you wonder that I look forward to spilling what brains you have?’ Of course, he’d never have said it, if he’d dreamed I was going to live. And now you shall have the context.”

  Cut it short as I would, the tale took time to tell. But Falcon listened intently to every word, sometimes asking questions and smiling when I came to Mona Lelong.

  “You beat us there,” he said.

  “Only just.”

  “She was on the Harvest Moon.”

  I nodded.

  “You came in too late, Superintendent.”

  “Goalby wasn’t up to your weight. When he told me you’d changed a wheel, I nearly died. ‘But I saw the flat tire,’ he said. ‘My God,’ I said, ‘what d’you take Mr Chandos for?’”

  Mansel was shaking with laughter.

  “A nice reputation, William, we’ve got at the Yard.”

  Falcon looked at Jenny.

  “Mine is big, Mrs Chandos. But theirs is fabulous. And now please go on, Mr Chandos.”

  When I had done –

  “What a desperate business,” said Falcon. “Of course Gedge was out of the jungle – a terribly dangerous man. It was he who killed Lafère, the best policeman the French had got. Lafère had sworn to get him. Somebody told Gedge – and that was that. They gave up trying then, and Gedge used to do as he pleased. But I’d never heard of Brevet. My word, what a combination! You deserve the Legion of Honour for putting them down. But you’re right. There are plenty of Brevets knocking about today. When you’re tired of that name, you can call them ‘the wilful failures’.” He sat back and covered his eyes. “There you are, you see. You’ve done the trick. I haven’t thought of my business for nearly an hour.”

  “Good,” said Jenny. “Now that we know, we’ll have to do it again.”

  But we never did.

  The following day, Thursday, was very hot.

  On the terrace, after luncheon –

  “Falcon,” I said, “is distrait.”

  Mansel looked up.

  “I think so, too. That means he’s on to something. He told us all about Curfew, but he said very little about what he did in London, when he got back.”

  “Only the Berryman interview.”

  “And he was there for two days.”

  “Two and a half,” said Jenny. “Perhaps what was in the envelope gave him a clue.”

  “I think you’re right, my darling. He could hardly divulge its contents, even to us; and they, no doubt, commanded all he was doing in London during the next two days.”

  “I think,” said Mansel, “that, when the scent grows hot, Falcon is going to dry up. Not that he doesn’t trust us, but he no longer needs the relief of opening his heart. Instead, he requires the silence which high concentration must have.”

  “A case like this,” said I, “must impose a tremendous strain. Look at the feeling St Amant’s death has aroused. High and low are demanding his murderer’s head. And Falcon alone can produce it. No one can help him: even Rogers admits that he’s out of his depth. So far as we know, he has next to nothing to go on: and the nuns, in whose home the murder was done, are reluctant to talk. And they can’t be grilled, because they mean no wrong. Look at Sister Josephine.”

  “William,” said Mansel, “I couldn’t agree with you more. And just look at the poison – Mafra. Talk about narrowing the field. Who’s ever heard of Mafra? Even the Press hasn’t got it – I mean, what Sir William says. Virtually unknown in England. Known to the police in France. Sources of supply, undiscoverable. Poison is never easy, but arsenic gives you a chance. But Mafra – no. Of course it made us stare at Madame de Porphyry: and in view of what Selden said, she probably nursed a grudge. But how did she know that St Amant was taking tablets? Anyway Falcon seems to have written her off. Oh, no. As I said last night, it is a hell of a case. Still, Falcon’s terribly good. He makes a lot of our exploits. Compared with this, they were very showy stuff. Our art was that of the blacksmith, and I am by no means ashamed of the iron we wrought. But this is work for a goldsmith, requiring infinite patience and very high skill.”

  When Falcon returned that evening and said that, by our leave, he would have to go out after dinner and so would not talk that night, we did not know what to think: but, when he came in on Friday, looking most pale and drawn, and asked if we might have some music, when dinner was over and done, I think we all felt that a crisis of sorts was at hand.

  Beethoven, Chopin, Bach – one after another, famous orchestras rendered their deathless works; and Falcon sat there listening, with his eyes on the slow wood fire.

  As the last of the records faded, he got to his feet. Then he turned to Jenny and took her hand in both his.

  “You’re very sweet, Mrs Chandos, to bear with so trying a guest. And now, if you will forgive me, I’m going directly to bed.”

  “Sleep well,” said Jenny gently. “Bell has taken some barley-water up to your room.”

  Falcon held her hand tight. Then he released it and turned to Mansel and me.

  “Good night,” he said, smiling. “I’ve much to be thankful for.”

  As the door closed behind him –

  “Oh, dear,” said Jenny.

  I put my arm about her and held her close.

  “Cold blood, my sweet. That’s the trouble. Jonathan and I could never have done what we did in cold blood. But a policeman isn’t so lucky. And Falcon is like a racehorse – a very sensitive man.”

  “William is right,” said Mansel. “He nearly always is. And now,” he added quietly, “I think we should go to bed, too.”

  At half past two the next day I was crossing the hall, when I heard the crunch of gravel which told me a car was at hand. The front door was open, and so I stood where I was.

  Falcon.

  He spoke to his driver shortly. Then he mounted the steps and entered the house.

  The man looked pale and drawn, as he had the night before: but he was very calm.

  As the service door was opened –

  “Where’s Mrs Chandos?” he said.

  In some surprise –

  “She’s out with Bell,” I said, “She won’t be back before four.”

  “Then that’s all right.”

  “Have you lunched?” said I.

  “No, but I haven’t time. I’ve got to leave for London in half an hour.”

  “Sandwiches, Carson,” I said. “And brandy and soda at once – in the dining-room. And after that, will you pack the Superintendent’s things?”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  “I’d just like to wash,” said Falcon…

  Three minutes later he entered the dining-room.

  Mansel was sitting at the table, facing Falcon’s chair.

  As I poured a brandy and soda –

  “All over,” said Falcon. “I shall be back tomorrow and then I’ll tell you all. But if you’d like to hear it, I’ll give you the last scene now.”

  Carson’s knock fell upon the door.

  “Come in,” I said.

  Carson entered the room with sandwiches on a tray.

  “Oh, thank you, Carson,” said Falcon, taking his seat. He looked at me. “May he see that my driver has something?”

  “Of course.”

  Carson withdrew.

  “Eat and drink first,” I said. “We’re going to talk. We knew, o
f course, you were coming up to the jump: but though we’ve both thought a good deal, we haven’t said much.”

  “Silence is infectious,” said Mansel. “Oh, and by the way, I’ll make you a present of this. This time a week ago I was not at all sure that you’d ever make an arrest. No man can make bricks without straw: and you had no straw.”

  “I agree,” said I. “Looking the facts in the face, the persons who could have done it were very few. And most of them were well above suspicion. But what got me down was the poison. I couldn’t see how on earth you could bring that home. How could you prove possession of such a drug?”

  “Possession – never,” said Mansel. “But the likelihood of possession…sufficiently strong to satisfy a jury… For me, though I never said so, Sir William’s letter very near sounded a knell. It reduced us to the Duchess: and though she seemed to stand out, I had a feeling that it wasn’t as easy as that.”

  “And then,” said I, “exactly a week ago, just before you left for London, we thought you seemed rather quiet. And, since neither of us is a fool, that made us think.”

  “The trouble was,” said Mansel, “we didn’t know what to think. Unless you had held something back – and I didn’t think you had done that – we could not see what had given you cause to fall silent, just at the last.”

  Falcon drained his glass. Then he wiped his lips and laid his napkin down.

  When I offered him cigarettes, he shook his head.

  Then he glanced at his watch and began to talk.

  “At eight o’clock last night, the Mother Superior received a letter from me. This is what it said.

  Madam,

  You will receive me tomorrow precisely at ten o’clock.

  Your obedient servant,

  Richard Falcon.

  Superintendent of the CID.”

  Mansel and I sat as though turned to stone.

  Falcon proceeded quietly.

  “At two minutes to ten this morning, I entered the doors of the Home. Rogers was at my heels. In the second car, the blinds of which were drawn, were sitting two women police. They had come down from London at my request.