The Murder at Sissingham Hall

by Clara Benson

  The inspector smiled non-committally.

  ‘I should not be doing my duty if I neglected any avenue of inquiry,’ he said but did not elaborate further.

  ‘Is there anything we can do to convince you that none of us had anything to do with it?’ asked Sylvia.

  ‘Why, yes, Miss Buckley, there is. That is why I am here. I am trying to get an idea of the movements of everybody in the house between the times of a quarter to eleven and eleven o’clock on Friday night.’

  ‘Aha! I knew it!’ said Bobs. ‘We can tell you our own movements but not those of the servants, of course.’

  ‘One of my men is speaking to them this afternoon,’ said Inspector Jameson. ‘But as for the guests—let me see, I understand that you were dancing and playing games together until a quarter to eleven. What about after that?’

  I cast my mind back and tried to think. I couldn’t remember much, apart from the quarrel between Joan and Gwen MacMurray.

  Sylvia was the first to speak.

  ‘It was rather an odd evening,’ she said, considering. ‘We were all very flat to start with, I don’t quite know why. Then Rosamund came in and livened things up. She’s always been very good at that. But after we had finished playing Consequences, things sort of deflated again. Then Joan and Gwen had a row about something or other and after that nobody felt much like staying up late. Most people went to bed soon afterwards.’

  ‘At what time did the quarrel occur?’ asked the inspector.

  ‘It was just after eleven o’clock,’ I said. ‘I remember looking at my watch afterwards and thinking how tired I was even though it was quite early.’

  ‘Very good,’ said Jameson, consulting his notebook. ‘Let me see. At a quarter to eleven you, Mr. Knox, and Lady Strickland spoke to Sir Neville through the study door. You then returned to the drawing-room.’

  I assented.

  ‘Between that time and the quarrel between Miss Havelock and Mrs. MacMurray, did any guests leave the drawing-room?’

  ‘Oh yes, several,’ said Sylvia.

  ‘Myself included,’ said Bobs. ‘In fact, I missed the quarrel to which you refer altogether. I’m rather sorry about that—it sounds as though it was jolly good fun.’

  ‘May I ask where you went?’

  ‘I certainly didn’t go and bash poor old Neville on the head, if that’s what you’re driving at,’ replied Bobs. ‘No, as a matter of fact, I went into the billiard room and practised one or two shots.’

  ‘Who else left the drawing-room?’

  ‘Let me think,’ said Sylvia. ‘Joan went out to get a book and came back. Mr. Gale went out too but didn’t come back. He said he had to finish some work or something.’

  ‘How long was Miss Havelock absent?’

  ‘Not long. Perhaps ten or fifteen minutes.’

  ‘Did anyone else leave?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Jameson made a note.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You’ve all been very helpful.’

  Before we could ask him any questions he excused himself and went off.

  ‘Damn,’ said Bobs, as we watched him depart. ‘I wanted to ask him whether they have timed the deed at less than quarter of an hour. If it took them longer then that lets us all out, of course.’

  ‘Surely it must have taken longer than that,’ said Sylvia. ‘By the way, did you notice that he didn’t once ask what the row between Joan and Gwen was about?’

  ‘Perhaps he didn’t think it was important,’ said Angela.

  ‘He strikes me as rather an intelligent fellow,’ I said. ‘Not at all like the policemen one reads about in books.’

  ‘Then we shall all have to watch our step,’ said Bobs lightly.

  ELEVEN

  In the hall I met Rosamund. She brightened when she saw me and took my hand.

  ‘I’m so glad it’s you,’ she said. ‘Come with me to the morning-room. The handsome inspector wants to speak to Mr. Pomfrey and me about Neville’s will and I’m frightened he will clap me in irons immediately and carry me off.’

  ‘I don’t think you need worry about that,’ I said, ‘but of course I’ll come with you if you like. Won’t old Pomfrey kick up a fuss, though?’

  ‘He can fuss all he likes but I simply must have a friend with me and I know I can depend on you, Charles,’ she replied.

  I felt more pleased than I could say that Rosamund still considered me such a close friend. With my heart beating hard in my chest, I smiled warmly down at her. She smiled back and led me into the morning-room, where the inspector and Mr. Pomfrey were waiting.

  Mr. Pomfrey was indeed unwilling to talk about Sir Neville’s will in my presence but Rosamund bore down every opposition and the little solicitor was reluctantly forced to accept her wishes.

  ‘Very well, what is it you wish to know, inspector?’ he asked.

  ‘I should like you to tell me how Sir Neville has disposed of his estate,’ replied Inspector Jameson.

  ‘Is it necessary for you to know that? I thought I understood that the murderer or murderers had entered the house from outside.’

  ‘We have not yet established for certain how the crime was committed,’ said the inspector cautiously. ‘The only thing we do know at present is that a crime was committed, so I am required to conduct as thorough an inquiry as possible. Motive is an important factor, although it can never be conclusive, of course. That is why I ask you about the will.’

  The solicitor raised his eyebrows in surprise, then leaned back in his chair and placed the tips of his fingers together.

  ‘I see.’ He considered for a moment. ‘The situation is a little complicated but I shall do my best to explain. Sir Neville Strickland’s will, as it stands, is fairly straightforward. There are a few minor bequests and charities, of course but there are only two main beneficiaries: Hugh MacMurray, who inherits ten thousand pounds, and Lady Strickland, who inherits the rest of Sir Neville’s money—something in the region of thirty-five thousand. She also inherits the Sissingham estate but has only a life interest in it, the marriage having been without issue.’

  ‘And who will get Sissingham when she dies?’ asked the inspector.

  ‘It reverts to Mr. MacMurray,’ replied Mr. Pomfrey.

  ‘What about Miss Havelock? Does she inherit anything?’

  ‘No. She has an inheritance of her own, which is currently held in trust for her. She will receive that when she reaches the age of twenty-five.’

  ‘That all seems simple enough,’ said Jameson, ‘and yet you said the situation was complicated. Is there something else?’

  Mr. Pomfrey coughed.

  ‘What I have just said refers to Sir Neville’s will as it stands. However, I feel I must inform you that that was not what Sir Neville himself intended.’

  The inspector paused in his writing.

  ‘Indeed?’ he said.

  The solicitor coughed again.

  ‘Yes. Sir Neville summoned me to Sissingham on Friday with regard to a new will. His wishes had changed and he wanted me to draw up a new document as soon as possible.’

  ‘And what were the terms of the new will?’

  ‘Under the new will, Lady Strickland would have received all Sir Neville’s money and Hugh MacMurray nothing.’

  ‘He would still have inherited Sissingham though?’

  ‘Yes but not until after the death of Lady Strickland.’

  ‘And Sir Neville died before the new will could be drawn up and signed. The old will stands, in other words.’

  ‘That is so,’ replied Mr. Pomfrey.

  I was astonished. So what Joan had overheard was true! Sir Neville had indeed been planning to write his cousin out of his will. That would have been a huge blow to the MacMurrays. Of course, they would have Sissingham to look forward to but Rosamund would probably live for many years yet and from all I had heard, they were desperately in need of funds now. Sir Neville’s death had occurred just in time for them, it seemed.

  ‘Were
you aware of the new will, Lady Strickland?’ asked Inspector Jameson.

  ‘No, not at all,’ said Rosamund, who indeed had looked as surprised as anyone at the news.

  ‘Have you any idea why Sir Neville might have decided to write his cousin out of his will?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. I do know that Neville disapproved rather of Hugh’s life in town—they run with a very fast set, you know and I gather that Hugh has not always behaved quite as he ought but I don’t know of any particular reason why Neville should have taken against him so.’

  The inspector addressed the solicitor once again.

  ‘To your knowledge, was Mr. MacMurray aware of the fact that he was about to be disinherited?’

  ‘Of that, I have no idea,’ said Mr. Pomfrey primly.

  I hesitated. Should I tell the inspector about the conversation Joan had overheard outside the library? I was undecided but Jameson saw my expression and took matters out of my hands.

  ‘Mr. Knox, I think perhaps you have something to tell me,’ he said gently.

  I grimaced but the damage was done. Reluctantly, I related the story that Joan had told me.

  ‘This is all hearsay, of course,’ I said. ‘You will have to ask Miss Havelock herself. Or better still, Hugh MacMurray.’

  ‘Thank you Mr. Knox, I shall,’ said Inspector Jameson. He made as if to rise but checked himself. ‘Ah yes,’ he said. ‘I almost forgot. Lady Strickland, as you know there is some doubt as to how the murderer entered and left the study on the night of your husband’s death. Rogers the butler tells me that the spare key with which he gained access to the study yesterday was certainly locked safely away in a drawer in his own room, and so can be eliminated from our inquiries. However, he says that there is a second set of keys to the house, which are kept locked in a drawer in Sir Neville’s desk. Were you aware of their existence?’

  Rosamund looked distractedly at him, as though not quite understanding the question.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied at last. ‘Yes, I believe there are. I’d forgotten about them. Is it important?’

  ‘Perhaps not. Who had the key to the desk drawer?’

  ‘Why, Neville, I suppose.’

  ‘Was there only one key?’

  ‘I really have no idea. I imagine so. Have you asked Rogers?’

  ‘Rogers says that Sir Neville kept the only key to the drawer in his pocket. He is not aware of the existence of another key.’

  ‘Well, then, I dare say he’s right,’ said Rosamund. ‘But what has all this to do with anything? If the house keys are locked in the drawer and Neville had the drawer key in his pocket, then that’s that.’ She spoke with finality.

  ‘As you say, that’s that,’ agreed Jameson. ‘A key was indeed found in Sir Neville’s pocket. I have sent for it and we shall try it in the drawer when it arrives. If the house keys are in the drawer, then they can be disregarded too.’

  He thanked us all and went out.

  I wondered what he meant by his questions. Presumably the second bunch of house keys was locked safely away, in which case it was irrelevant. It seemed to me that the inspector was making things unnecessarily complicated. I supposed, however, that he had to be as thorough as possible in his investigation.

  My mind turned to the will. It certainly looked as though Hugh MacMurray had had a strong motive for killing Sir Neville, although since he had been present in the drawing-room during the fatal quarter of an hour, I could not see how he could possibly have done it. In fact, the only people who could conceivably have done it in the time, having been out of the room during those fifteen minutes, were Bobs, Simon Gale and Joan Havelock. The idea of Bobs or Joan doing it was frankly ridiculous. I was less sure about Gale but on further reflection I could see no reason why he should have done it; after all, he had a comfortable berth here, with a kind employer. He had nothing to gain from Sir Neville’s death and everything to lose. No, the more I considered it, the more firmly convinced I became that the police were barking up the wrong tree. It must have been someone from outside.

  I left Rosamund with Mr. Pomfrey and went into the conservatory, where I found Sylvia staring absently out of the window. She turned as I entered.

  ‘There you are,’ she said. ‘I wondered where you had got to.’

  ‘Rosamund wanted me to come and hear what Mr. Pomfrey had to say about Sir Neville’s will.’ I said it as carelessly as possible but her eyes narrowed and she looked at me suspiciously.

  ‘That sounds very cosy,’ was all she said, however.

  Faced with such a seeming lack of interest, I prepared to leave the room. Sylvia relented.

  ‘Don’t leave me in suspense!’ she exclaimed. ‘What did he say?’

  I struggled briefly. I was certain that Mr. Pomfrey would be deeply discomposed at the thought of my spreading the news about Sir Neville’s intention to disinherit his cousin. On the other hand, Rosamund had not actually said that I must not tell. The temptation to indiscretion won the day and I related all that had been said in the morning-room. Sylvia listened, wide-eyed.

  ‘Gracious!’ she said. ‘If it was Hugh with Neville outside the library the other day, then that gives him a very strong motive for murder.’

  Angela entered the room as Sylvia spoke and heard the last part of the sentence.

  ‘Am I intruding?’ she asked.

  ‘No, not at all, listen to this,’ Sylvia replied eagerly, and repeated the story. I was somewhat concerned about the news spreading so fast but had to admit that if the cat had been well and truly let out of the bag then it was my own fault.

  Angela absorbed the information in silence for a moment.

  ‘That certainly looks bad for Hugh as far as motive is concerned,’ she said at last, ‘but I still don’t see how he could possibly have done it. He was in the drawing-room with the rest of us during the period in question.’

  ‘But what if the murder didn’t take place during that period?’ I said. ‘According to Inspector Jameson, it could have been committed at any time between a quarter to eleven and half-past one, if the medical evidence is to be believed.’

  ‘Yes but if it happened after eleven o’clock, then it means that it couldn’t have been done by anybody in the house—well, none of the guests, at any rate,’ said Angela. ‘We have two possibilities: one, that the murder was committed by an intruder from outside, in which case it might have taken place at any time during those three hours or so, since he must have entered through the French windows; two, that it was committed by somebody inside the house, in which case it must have taken place after a quarter to eleven, when you and Rosamund spoke to Neville, and before eleven, when Rogers locked the house up. After eleven o’clock it wouldn’t have been possible for any of us to leave the house and enter the study from outside. Unless, of course—’ she narrowed her eyes for a moment, as though considering a new idea. ‘It’s interesting what you say about that second set of keys, but since they stayed locked up in Neville’s desk drawer I suppose there’s nothing doing there.’

  ‘What about the servants?’ I said.

  ‘It’s possible but the same facts apply.’ replied Angela. ‘The house was locked up at eleven with everyone inside it, although I suppose it’s just barely possible that one of them left the house before that time and returned when the doors were unlocked the next morning. I imagine the police have occupied themselves with that inquiry, however.’

  Sylvia was frowning.

  ‘Wait!’ she said. ‘Why are we assuming that the murderer entered through the French windows? Let’s say that someone from the house did do it. Why couldn’t he have entered the study through the door? Perhaps Neville simply let him in.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Angela, considering. ‘It certainly might have happened that way but it would still have to have been between a quarter to eleven and eleven o’clock. When Neville was found, the study door had been locked from the inside, which means that the murderer would have had to leave through the French windows and come b
ack in another way, perhaps through the side door, perhaps some other way that we haven’t thought of yet.’

  ‘And it also means that the only people who could have done it are still Bobs, Joan and Simon Gale,’ said Sylvia. ‘Oh, it’s too absurd for words! It must have been an intruder from outside.’

  Angela shook her head.

  ‘I have the feeling that the police are coming to a rather different conclusion,’ she said seriously. ‘That is what I came in to tell you. A few minutes ago I spoke to Joan, who has an enviable knack for getting information out of the servants. It appears that the police have not been able to find any sign that the crime was an “outside job”, as I believe it is called. They are inclined to believe that it was committed by someone inside the house.’

  ‘Then they’re wrong,’ said Sylvia stoutly, ‘or they’ve got all their times wrong.’

  ‘I must say I agree,’ I said. ‘The fact that there is no evidence for an intruder doesn’t necessarily prove it was done by one of the household. Perhaps the intruder didn’t leave any evidence.’

  ‘It would have been difficult for him not to. It’s been very muddy since the rain on Friday,’ Angela observed.

  ‘Yes, but we have all been tramping about the grounds since then. Any tracks could easily have been erased. And if someone from inside did it, wouldn’t he have left footprints?’

  ‘I don’t think he would. Remember that the terrace runs right round the house. There would have been no need for him to get his shoes dirty at all,’ replied Angela.

  ‘Even assuming it was an inside job, I don’t see how it could have been done in those fifteen minutes,’ said Sylvia, thinking. ‘It doesn’t make sense. And the very idea of Bobs or Joan doing it is ridiculous!’

  ‘But what about Gale?’ I said. ‘He went out of the room and didn’t come back. He says he finished some work and then went to bed but do we have any evidence of that?’

  We fell silent, considering Simon Gale as a suspect.

  ‘He could have done it, I suppose,’ I said at last. ‘But what about a motive? He seems rather a nervous type but he told me he was very happy here. What reason could he have for killing Sir Neville?’