Ne'er Do Well

by Dornford Yates

  “As I left her room, a sudden, sharp suspicion leapt into my brain. For all I knew, she had never questioned the girl. I could hardly wait to see Sister Geneviève. And yet I knew I must wait. If she liked to come to me, well and good. If not, then I could approach her on my return.

  “I walked out of the house, proposing to prove the meadows for a quarter of an hour. As I went, I surveyed the position. I wanted to be quite sure that my values were sound. You see, a sudden idea will sometimes blind the brain. It’s so attractive – dazzling you don’t see some glaring flaw that will knock it right out. But so far as it went, I could find no fault in this. And so I applied my touchstone. Had the Mother Superior any connection with France?

  “At once a true flashlight flared. Of course you’ve already seen it. I tell you, I felt ashamed. I’d let the fact go by me without a thought. St Geneviève, of course. I think she’s my guardian angel, in human shape. ‘He used to speak French with her. I don’t know what he said, but one day she laughed outright.’

  “Now that was of great importance. It meant two things. First, that she could speak French extremely well. Many people can speak a language that is not their own. But those who can jest in that language are very few. Secondly, it meant that St Amant knew that she was a mistress of French.

  “I didn’t tell you, but I went to see Dallas at once.

  “‘Good morning, Superintendent. You don’t come to see me for nothing. What can I do?’

  “I sat down and crossed my legs.

  “‘You can cast your memory back.’

  “‘Oh, dear. I’ll do my best.’

  “‘Except for the sisters, you were the only person to talk with St Amant here.’

  “‘Paterson.’

  “‘True. I’m not counting him. St Amant talked to you as a fellow patient, you see.’

  “‘So he did.’

  “‘He spoke of France. You asked him to come and see you next time he passed that way.’

  “‘Not France – Paris. I’m being precise.’

  “‘Quite right. I want you to be. Had you any mutual friends? In Paris, I mean.’

  “‘He mentioned the Vicomte de la Lattrie, with whom, he said, he had stayed. He has a big stable and an attractive wife. I mean, very gentle and charming. They are among – not my friends, but my acquaintances. He and I have nothing in common. I like the Vicomtesse very much. I said as much to St Amant, and he agreed with me. ‘She’s too good for him,’ he said. Between you and me, that’s putting it very low.’

  “‘Anybody else?’

  “Dallas thought for a moment. Then he shook his head.

  “‘That’s not to say that we hadn’t. The probability is that we had. But nobody else was named. For instance, he almost certainly knew the Marquis and Marquise de Ste. Hermine. He is a power at Longchamp. And they are delightful people. The Marquise had an English mother. I can’t venture to claim them as friends, but I have dined at their house and they’ve lunched with me.’

  “‘Why did he mention de la Lattrie?’

  “‘I told him where I lived. An apartment in the Rue de Berri. And he said at once, ‘You’re a neighbour of the de la Lattries.’ I’ve stayed with them.’

  “‘I quite understand. Well, thank you very much.’

  “He pointed to the paper beside him.

  “‘Dracona attends an Inquest. Have they made a mistake? Or was it really she?

  “‘It was indeed.’

  “‘Was she summoned?’

  “‘No.’

  “‘Did you suggest it?’

  “‘Oh, no.’

  “‘Well I’m – Almost you persuaded me to employ a cliché. Let us say that I am greatly surprised.’

  “‘Why d’you say that, Mr Dallas?’

  “‘Well, even I should prefer not to grace a Coroner’s Court. As for Dracona… The steps to Dracona’s throne are extremely steep. (You’ve taken them at a bound, but you are a superman.) They’re very hard to climb, and I had supposed they were equally hard to descend. I shouldn’t have said she very often tried. I mean, I had the impression that she was far too exalted – in her conceit – to be so much as aware of the sordid side of life. Yet of her own free will she submitted herself to the greedy stares of the vulgar, the gaping mouths of the morbid, the horrid circumstance which belongs to the Coroner’s Court.’

  “I laughed and got to my feet.

  “‘I confess it surprised me,’ I said. ‘To tell you the truth, I think it did her infinite credit.’

  “Dallas raised his eyebrows.

  “‘Oh, yes. You must hand it to her – “whose blood is very snowbroth”. It was a most handsome gesture.’

  “As I left his room, I wasn’t so sure that it was. It might have been made to impress me – as it most certainly did.

  “When I got to the Yard that Saturday afternoon, I called for reports from France on the ladies that Dallas had named. The French system is very useful. As, of course, you know, everyone has a dossier – everyone living in France. That dossier belongs to the police and is seen by no one else. If Dallas leaves Paris for Dinard, his dossier follows him there. And if, for instance, he was in the Baccarat Room, when a loser left the table to take his life, the fact would appear in his dossier – the fact that he was there when the fatal losses were incurred. And every movement is entered. I hadn’t much hope that I should learn anything of value, but I had to find out how it was that St Amant knew that he could converse in French with the Mother Superior.

  “That night, after dinner at home, I reviewed the startling impressions which I had that day received. They looked less startling then. Still, they were certainly striking. To be perfectly honest, they didn’t amount to much. They had done no more than bring the woman into the running. If she was indeed the – culprit, I had still a long way to go. I began to look for a motive… But I didn’t get very far, and I had a feeling that I should do better to wait.” Falcon paused there and looked round. “In my particular job, I always think speculation a great mistake. It’s very tempting sometimes; but it wastes a lot of time and it can be dangerous. After all, I had something to go on…something which I had smelted in the traditional way… not something thrust ready-made into my hands.

  “I told you of my visit to Curfew and how on Monday morning I drove to the Yard. They had nothing for me from France, but that was natural enough. Requests which are made on a Saturday afternoon seldom receive attention for thirty-six hours. Still, I wanted to see the papers and other things.

  “Mafra had the Press beat. One paper alleged that it came from the Belgian Congo. Another that it was Burmese – and used on the tips of arrows in 1824. A third declared that Mithridates took it, when all other poisons had failed to take his life.

  “I saw the AC of course. I had said nothing on Saturday, because, before I spoke, I had wanted time to think. But now it was right he should know the line I was on.

  “When I told him, he covered his face.

  “Then he said –

  “Go straight ahead. No fear or favour, Falcon. Straight ahead. If you prove to be right, the scandal will be too awful. That can’t be helped. The country demands vengeance, and the country is right.’ He pointed to a pile of letters. ‘They come in by every post.’

  “He picked one out of the pile and gave it to me.

  The Lord High Commissioner of Police,

  Scotland Yard,

  LONDON.

  My lord,

  I’m only a poor old woman, but his dear lordship used to buy his race-card from me. Course I no he had one, but hed always pretend he hadnt sos not to let me down. Why, Nellie, hed say, its good to see you agane. And ed always take is hat orf. Take is hat orf to me. And now some bloody murderers took is lovely life. Say youll get him, sir. Tell an old woman the crule beast ll be hung. It’s all I want to live for. To no hes dead.

  Yours respectful

  Old Nellie.

  “I handed the letter back and looked him full in the eyes.


  “‘If I am right, and a scandal could be avoided…’

  “‘Falcon,’ he said, ‘you’ve got to be very careful. I know what you mean, of course. But listen to me. If they think you let her do it, they’ll want your blood.’

  “‘I should never do that, sir,’ I said. ‘I was too well groomed.’

  “‘I leave it to you,’ he said. ‘You’ve never failed us yet.’

  “I thought that was very handsome.

  “Then he said that a VIP desired to see me in person at five o’clock.

  “‘Oh, dear,’ I said.

  “‘I know it’s the devil,’ he said. ‘But we can’t refuse.’

  “‘I hope you’ll be present, sir.’

  “‘We shall go together,’ he said. ‘But remember he isn’t a policeman. Don’t open your mouth.’

  “‘I quite understand.’

  “After that we arranged a code to be used on the telephone. Amongst other things, if I said that I wanted two copies of a map of Wiltshire, it really meant that I wanted two women police.

  “I left him then and rang up Harford Almack. He did the operation on Lord St Amant’s jaw. He was out of Town, but his secretary fixed an appointment for nine o’clock the next day.

  “Well, you know I saw Berryman. Soon after he’d crawled out, the reports from Paris came in.

  “As I had feared, these told me nothing of value. Both ladies were well-known figures and entertained a good deal. Both were resident in Paris and both had homes in the country to which they sometimes repaired. Madame de la Lattrie had spent the war at their place not far from Nimes. Madame de Ste. Hermine had taken her children to the States and had only returned in 1945.

  “That evening I went to Whitehall. The Press had got it, of course – there’s security for you. I counted seven cameras, when I got out of the car. The AC was furious. Just before we took our leave, he fairly let out.

  “‘I think you should know, sir,’ he said, ‘that no one in Scotland Yard had the faintest idea that we were coming here. And we went round by Drury Lane, instead of driving direct. Yet the pavement was crammed with reporters when we arrived.’

  “‘Good God,’ says the VIP.

  “‘It means there’s a leakage somewhere. Somebody in this office has been or will be paid for informing the Press that Superintendent Falcon would be here at five o’clock. Forgive me for telling you, sir, but I’m only doing my job.’

  “A lord-in-waiting was present, so I rather fancy there’ll be the devil to pay. But the VIP behaved like a gentleman.

  “‘Of course it was your duty,’ he said. ‘And it is my duty now to apologize. And I’ll tell you this, Sir George – somebody’s going to be fired, and I don’t care who it is.’

  “The interview itself was nothing. He hardly asked a question. He simply told me that I was to go all lengths. ‘If you want to question some man, and he’s in Indo-China, we’ll get him back. But I am counting on you to deliver the goods. From what I know of you, I believe you will.’

  “The AC asked me to dine with him at his Club, but I said that, if he would excuse me, I’d rather spend the evening alone. So I went back and bathed and changed and had dinner served in my flat. Then I told my fellow, Mole – I’m doing my best to make him like Carson and Bell – to take any calls that came and to say I was out, except to Sir George, Rogers and you. Even the Yard could wait till I chose to go to bed.

  “And then I put up my feet, took out the envelope which I had found in the wall-safe, laid it beside me on the sofa and began to think.

  “From the moment that Berryman had so offensively – in my eyes – declared who Sister Helena was, it had always been in my mind that, if he had recognized her, St Amant certainly had. And I had always felt that, behind this recognition there might be lying something which I should be glad to know. But, except in the last resort, I felt that I must not explore such highly sensitive ground. I didn’t even dare to set inquiries afoot, as, of course, I could have done: for romance has a strong appeal and an even stronger scent. However careful you are, it always seems to find its way into the Press.

  “I’d looked them both up in Burke. St Amant was slightly more than three years older than Lady Rosemary Vernon. In 1939 he was twenty and she was seventeen.

  “I’d already examined his wrist-watch. Inside the cover of this was engraved the one word Jo. This had been copied from writing, as such inscriptions very often are.

  “Then I slit the envelope open.

  “I did so heavily. The pitiful dead are so helpless. And I was flouting the very earnest desire of a man that was dead. I hoped that he would forgive me.

  “It contained two documents, both of which confirmed what I had come to suspect. Both were love-letters and both were from Rosemary Vernon, written at different times. The first was written in the summer of 1939. It showed that they were secretly engaged, and that they were to declare their engagement as soon as she was eighteen. That would have been in September 1940. The second was written in 1942. It was the most anguished document that I have ever read. She’d got it smuggled out of some convent. ‘It’s wicked of me to write, but I’ve got to let you know… When they said you were dead, life stopped… I thought, by doing this, I’d be nearer you…’”

  There was a long silence.

  I stole a glance at Jenny. She was sitting still as death. But her lovely head was high and, though she looked very grave, she showed no sign of grief. That she had known what was coming was clear to me.

  Falcon continued slowly.

  “The handwriting was that of the wrist-watch.

  “It seemed that I had uncovered another facet of this dark and terrible jewel.

  “Two nights before, I had refused to let myself look for a motive. It would have been speculation. But now it was not. I do not believe that two beings so deeply in love, whom Fate had so brutally sundered and then so brutally thrown together again, could have helped responding to each other’s bitter cry. I mean, it’s unthinkable. Very well. If this was so much as suspected by the Mother Superior, I was sure that, to crush the relation, she would have gone all lengths.

  “I am quite prepared to admit that that might not have done for a jury; but it was ample for me. I knew the woman’s outlook. To her, the way of Nature was the way of sin. A bleak, forbidding, heartless interpretation of life. The flesh was made to be mortified. Love was nothing but lust – an emotion, the bare thought of which was a mortal sin. And once the vows had been taken, a soul was saved. Her flock were the children of Heaven. ‘But whoso shall offend one of these little ones…’

  “Somehow she had discovered that that was what St Amant had done – a monstrous perversion of the gentle teaching of Christ. And so she had dared to assume the office of executioner.

  “I had to pull myself up. As is so often the way, I was going too fast.

  “I now had a first-class motive: but I still had a long way to go. First, I had to be sure that, beneath the frightful strain of such a tragic reunion, St Amant had broken down. Secondly, that the woman had reason to believe this was so. Thirdly, of her possession of Mafra.

  “I’ll deal with that at once.

  “To prove possession might well be beyond my power. But I must be able to show that she might very well have possessed that terrible drug. And that was going to be one hell of a fence to leap. My only hope was some close connection with France. A French physician, perhaps. But that was no good. No physician would ever admit that he had supplied Mafra to anyone.

  “I gave up thinking about it, and went to bed. Fate seemed to have taken charge and was guiding my steps. And so I would leave it to her.

  “On Tuesday morning I drove to Wimpole Street.

  “I took to Almack at once – a nice, sympathetic man. He was greatly upset, as was natural enough. He’d fallen for St Amant at once. The perfect patient, he called him.

  “‘Tell me,’ I said, ‘who chose that nursing home?’

  “‘I did,’ he said, ‘for m
y sins. For two or three years I’ve sent my patients there. Of course it’s very expensive: and then again they won’t take everyone. But it seemed the very place for a man like that. When I mentioned its name – we call it Ne’er-do-well – he said, Oh, I’ve heard of that. Somebody told me her aunt was the Mother Superior. Now who on earth can it have been? I have an idea she was French. I said at once that the Mother Superior was English, as were they all. That’s funny, he said. I’m sure she was French, because I remember her laughing about the name. She said it was impossible to pronounce, impossible to spell, and that, if you contrived to do either, you found you were being rude. Rather good that, you know.’

  “‘He didn’t say who it was?’

  “‘No. He couldn’t remember.’

  “‘Never mind. Of course you know Paterson.’

  “‘Oh, very well. I should think he’s been very helpful. A first-rate man.’

  “‘He has been very helpful,’ I said.

  “‘It’s an excellent job, and of course he’s very well found and very well paid; but not everyone would stick it. I mean he has to conform. The Mother Superior rules with a rod of iron.’

  “‘I’d gathered that.’

  “After a little more talk, I thanked him and said goodbye.

  “I confess that I was excited – a thing which no detective should ever be. I had really got something now. You’ll remember Dallas’ words – ‘The Marquise had an English mother.’ I had no doubt that it was the Marquise de Ste. Hermine who was the woman’s niece.

  “When I got back to the Yard, I examined again the report which the French had sent. ‘French by birth… Born in Paris in 1902… Married in 1921… Three children… Remarks – of good report.’

  “Then I drafted a further request. I asked for details of her movements since 1935. Also for full particulars of her mother: maiden and married names, movements since 1935 etc. I marked this VERY URGENT.

  “Then came one of those trying periods of waiting. I saw the AC of course, and I put through a call to Rogers – really for something to do. All quiet at Ne’er-do-well. I didn’t dare leave the Yard, in case the report came in.