“Hm!” went Wharton. “Why don’t you say ‘Hayles’ direct, instead of being mysterious? You see,” he explained to Franklin, “we followed up Hayles from the time of boarding the train at Chingford. If he left the train en route, he couldn’t have got here so soon, because the train travelled faster than anything else. The line was clear for one thing. And as he kept on the train to Liverpool Street, he could have got to St. John’s Wood at 3.30, because we’ve tested it both ways and seen the actual times done yesterday. He could have been in this house before 3.35. What did his housekeeper say exactly?”
Franklin pulled out his notebook.
“At about 4.10 she said he’d come in about ten minutes before. That might mean anything… but it gives us twenty minutes when Hayles might have been in here.”
“A job for you,” said Wharton. “We’ll have to pin her down closer than that.”
Franklin smiled. “I know it’s no affair of mine, but why go to all that trouble? If there was any killing done, Hayles couldn’t have done it.”
“Possibly not—but he might have been in partnership with the one who did.”
“I suppose you haven’t anything new about that woman—the golden haired one?”
“Not at the moment. We’re on that Lucy business now, and the woman who called here on the Tuesday night—unless that was one of Usher’s red herrings. All the same, I doubt if a woman cut that hole.”
“You found the paper?”
“In the park… thrown over from the road. Usual brown paper and seccotine.” He caught the further question in Franklin’s eye. “Nearer St. John’s Wood Station than this… in the direction of Hayles’s flat. And there isn’t a single print in the house that we can’t account for. Whoever broke in—if he did break in—had gloves on.”
“And there were no burglaries in the immediate district,” added Norris.
“Any point in arguing out what he was in the house for?”
“I don’t think so,” said Wharton emphatically. “There are too many things to be taken into account. Time enough for that when we’ve found out if France did kill himself and if Somers did commit suicide. That might be out to-night.”
“One unusual thing did strike me as I came in. You might imagine that all this business depended on the fog. Don’t you think, considering the way the house is shielded from observation, that the fog had nothing to do with it?”
“Hm! And what’s the application?”
“There isn’t any—it just struck me, that’s all. And what about the back way?”
“The fog wouldn’t make any difference to that. You could slip round to the back of the house without risk.”
“Just a second, sir, before I forget it,” broke in Norris. “We were rather taking Mr. Hayles for granted. But now I come to think it over, he couldn’t have been the one in the house!”
“Why not?”
“For this reason, sir. He daren’t have been in the house when he was heard—and that was about four o’clock—because he was the one person who knew the servants were due back then.”
Wharton’s smile was an exasperating one. “Couldn’t he have been here? He’s the very fellow who had a right to be here! If anybody had come back he could have rushed to the door and claimed to have made the discovery of the bodies!”
But Cotter still had a shrewd thrust. “Then why did he bolt?”
“Because… well, I’ll give you some reasons. He may have thought an alibi was safer. Or he may have lost his nerve. But, this is what I think. It was the voice that scared him and made him bolt. It was the unexpected voice. Franklin’s voice!”
“Just a minute, sir. Mr. Franklin just said he and Usher were talking sort of quiet. Then how did Hayles hear him?”
“That’s where I venture to differ from both of you,” said Wharton. “You both have the idea that fog deadens sound. Quite the other way about—the more water vapour in the air, the easier to hear. We can’t test it at the moment, but I’m sure I’m right. I think it was Hayles in the house. I think he heard Usher’s voice as he stood at this window. He didn’t worry about that because what he next expected to hear was probably the voice of a stranger. But the voice he did hear—Franklin’s—was quite different. He was a detective, as Hayles knew. That brought the panic. But remember there was a delay before he bolted. That was because he had some job to finish. Then as Franklin stepped into the kitchen, the job was done—or undone—and he was out of the house like a madman.”
Each was putting to himself the same question—what was the job that had to be finished? Then, “What about the Saturday night?” asked Franklin. “Alibis correct?”
“Absolutely! Usher, Somers, Hayles—everybody. Not a flaw anywhere.” He made himself a spill and lighted his pipe. “Still, that’s nothing—merely the first casting of the net.”
“And yet France had suspicions of each of the three you mentioned, or else why did he send me the specimens of their writing?”
Wharton shook his head.
“Perhaps Usher may have some idea,” went on Franklin.
Wharton shrugged his shoulders. “Usher’s was included. He was suspected… with the others.”
“Surely not! That must have been all bluff. How could he have suspected the man he put in the house?”
The General shook his head and left it at that and if Franklin had found leisure to think it out, he’d have known that far more was known about Usher than he d given the others credit for. However, the argument went on, about it and about, till finally Wharton looked at his watch.
“Quarter past four. Norris, tell that flat-footed sleuth to bring in some tea… for three.”
“Not for me!” said Franklin quickly. “I’m going out.”
“What’s the hurry? You’re not seeing Claire yet.” He laughed. “I see. Want to enjoy a free meal! And where’ll you be when you leave Claire?”
“Home probably. Want anything?”
“Hm! May do… about the inquest. Cotter’ll be in charge. We’ll simply have an adjournment for a fortnight.”
“But won’t that spill the beans? I mean, won’t everybody wonder why?”
“Let ’em!” said Wharton laconically. “We’ll fill this case so full of technicalities that they won’t know what the devil we do want.”
“My God!” said Franklin. “And they call it an inquest!”
Norris came back. “He’s bringing it, sir. Had it all ready.” And as an afterthought, “He’s a wily bird that!”
“Then he’s a lesson to us all,” said Wharton sententiously. “And mind you keep an eye on him while I’m out. If anybody asks for him—at the door or on the ’phone—say he’s out. When I ring up for him, have him here at the double. See you later, John!”
“Right-ho!” said Franklin. Then at the door he hesitated. “Oh, that reminds me. Any chance of Mr. Travers having a look round?”
Wharton glared. “Not the least… at present?”
“Right-ho!” said Franklin casually. “You’re probably right. It might have been a bit awkward.” And he drew back to let Usher pass with the tray.
CHAPTER XI
WHAT THE FOOTMAN SAW
As Hanson looked up from his desk with a ‘Good-evening, major,’ on the tip of his tongue, his expression became so startled as to be really funny.
“Sorry, Mr. Hanson!” said Wharton. “Don’t blame your clerk—it’s all my fault. I’m representing Major Forrest.”
Hanson frowned. “I don’t quite see.… Who are you exactly, sir?”
Wharton helped himself to a seat. “Superintendent Wharton—of Scotland Yard. I’ve come to see you myself because there’s a little matter which you and I, as two reasonable people, can settle in a couple of minutes. Let me come to the point. You’ve heard all about this France suicide affair. Seen it in the papers perhaps.”
“Oh, yes.”
“You have a man under the name of James Usher planted in the house on behalf of a client of yours.”
Hanson shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss that.”
“Now isn’t that too bad!” said Wharton plaintively. “And me so friendly… and coming all this way! Then you won’t say whether you have a man or not?”
“Even if we had a man—which I don’t for a moment admit—”
“You don’t admit it!” Wharton laughed. “Somebody engaged in that house mentioned to me last night that he was sure he’d seen Usher before. During a special pose we got his picture and this morning it was circulated among those likely to know. He was identified before noon to-day.”
Hanson fidgeted in his chair. “That may be so, but even then I have my duty to my client.”
“I see. You claim the privilege of a doctor or priest.” He got to his feet. “Very well, Mr. Hanson. I’m too busy a man to waste time on you. To-morrow you’ll be in a coroner’s court, and Usher with you, answering such questions as we care to put—and they’ll be uncommonly awkward ones. What about your client then?”
Hanson looked decidedly uncomfortable.
“I repeat; what is the name of your client?”
The other looked more uncomfortable still. “Really, Superintendent! I can’t divulge that. I must communicate with the client and get his sanction before—.”
“Now wait a minute! You know what I stand for, and why I came here to speak as man to man in confidence. I’m asking you to notify your client that you are abandoning the contract unconditionally and calling your man off—and without assigning reasons. That lets you out. For the last time—what is your client’s name?”
Hanson waved his hands excitedly. “I can’t do it, sir! I can’t do it!”
“Sit down, Mr. Hanson, please!” Strange to say, Wharton was perfectly satisfied with the way things were going. The last thing he wanted was a favour, with its subsequent admission of indebtedness. “I take this sheet of paper… I write on it your client’s name… I fold it and put it here, under the inkwell. Now will you tell me?”
The other fidgeted and said nothing.
“Very well then. Let me tell you some more. Last night your man Usher slipped out of the house—23, Regent View—and rang your client up—the only call all day from that box. This morning I deliberately allowed him to go to the door for the post. He did what was expected. Gave the postman a letter—for you—and a tip. That letter made a report and asked for instructions, didn’t it?”
“You opened it!”
“My dear sir! As if we should do a thing like that! Then later on, Major Forrest—nothing to do with the Yard, by the way—came here and saw Usher’s photo. And now what about that name?… Don’t feel like it?… Very well. I shall see you both to-morrow.”
Half-way to the door Hanson stopped him.
“You’ll keep it strictly confidential?”
“Perhaps.”
“Er—it was a Mr. Claire.”
Wharton came back and tossed the folded paper on the desk. “Have a look at that!” Then he leaned forward with his jaw thrust out and his voice almost a snarl. “The next time Scotland Yard takes the trouble to come here, Mr. Hanson, to make you a proposition—a civil and necessary proposition—be very careful what you do. Don’t start prating about your clients and professional privileges and all that flummery! You’ve been telling me what you ought to do. Now I’ll tell you what you’ve got to do!”
* * * * *
When Wharton returned hot-foot to No. 23, Usher also noticed a change in his attitude—a change as remarkable as that witnessed by Hanson. Summoned to the lounge, he found a man who was apparently disposed to treat him as an equal and who actually began his interrogation with a few commendatory words.
“Now, Mr. Usher, I’m not blaming you for the methods you’ve had to employ during the last twenty-four hours. As a matter of fact, I think under the circumstances you did your duty to your employers extraordinarily well. However, you have heard Mr. Hanson’s instructions over the ’phone. I now add my own.… What is it exactly you know?”
“Where shall I begin, sir?”
“Plumb at the beginning. Anything which deals with private matters outside the scope of this inquiry will be treated with the most implicit confidence.”
“Well, sir, I received my instructions from Mr. Hanson direct, not from Mr. Claire. I was to keep an eye on Mr. France and Mrs. Claire. Mr. France’s man Matterson was actually taken ill at the time—appendicitis, sir—and Mr. Claire approached our firm, and then told Mr. France he knew of a good man who’d take Matterson’s place till he was fit. Colonel Welling gave me the reference and Mr. Hayles checked it.”
Wharton nodded.
“So I reported to Mr. France and was told I should have to valet him and put in any spare time under Somers as footman. He didn’t see anything suspicious, I’m sure of that, sir; nor did Mr. Hayles until about a week ago, and then I noticed a change which I… well, I couldn’t put it into words. It was the way he looked and the way he spoke—”
“Mr. Hayles, that is?”
“Yes, sir. He was quite different from what he had been. I’m sorry I can’t be more exact, sir, but you know what I mean. It was there, sir; I’m sure of it.”
“I understand. And what had you actually learned?”
“Very little, sir—up to the Friday night. Mrs. Claire used to come round quite a lot—with Mr. Claire not very often—but usually alone or with the others.”
“Mr. Claire ever come round alone?”
“Very often, sir! He had his own key. He was round on Friday and on the Saturday morning as I—”
“Quite so!”
“Well, sir, when Mrs. Claire came round, it was generally about tea-time and she and Mr. Hayles or Mr. France’d have tea together and then perhaps they’d go out; sometimes all three of them, in the car or walking. And when they were in here, sir, they always struck me as a lot of tomboys; chipping each other and laughing, especially at Mr. Hayles. Once he was rather annoyed, Mr. Hayles was, when Mr. France said something to him while I was in the room and after I’d gone out I heard him say, ‘Damn it all! You might wait till the servants are out of the room! It makes for bad discipline,’ or words to that effect, sir.”
“What’d you think of that?”
“I thought it was silly sir. People like me aren’t supposed to exist, whether we’re in the room or not. Another thing, sir, was the difference in the way Mrs. Claire treated the two men. She always took Mr. France more seriously. If Mr. Hayles was talking, they’d often interrupt and start pulling his leg, just as if he was a youngster.”
“Any special treatment for Mr. France—you know, as a sort of national hero?”
“Never, sir. They never mentioned boxing while she was here. Mr. France was a gentleman sir. They kept all that for when she was gone; for Mr. Hayles’s upstairs room.”
“Any details about this—er—chipping and so on?”
“Well, sir, they always called each other affectionate names. She was ‘Dorothy dear’ and ‘Dorothy darling,’ and she’d call them ‘Midge dear’ or ‘Kinky darling,’ and so on, sir; not that they meant anything particular, because that’s what they always do—people like that.”
“I know. A sort of high-class gush which becomes second nature. And what was your opinion as to the relationships between Mr. France and Mrs. Claire?”
Usher hesitated. For a moment or two he appeared to be collecting his thoughts. “Well, sir, up to the Friday, I couldn’t make up my mind. First I’d report one way, then I’d report another—”
“To Mr. Claire, that is?”
“That’s right, sir. You see the trouble was to know just what was innocent-like, sort of fooling about, and what wasn’t. One thing I did know for a certainty, sir, and that was that Mr. France was a lot more serious than Mrs. Claire. If I had to put it bluntly, sir, I should say that he meant business!… And something else, sir. Mr. Hayles knew it!”
“Really! You think Mr. Hayles thought a lot of Mrs. Claire?”
“I should say he did,
sir, only in a different way. Only he used to look at the other two sometimes as if he didn’t know what to do with himself.”
“I understand. And you reported all this to Mr. Claire?”
“Yes, sir. It was my job, sir. Four or five reports in all.”
“Got any copies?”
“No, sir. We weren’t allowed to make any, except after special instructions.”
“Mr. Claire make any comment to you?”
“No, sir. When he used to come round here he used to pay no more attention to me, sir, than if I didn’t exist.”
“I see. He struck me as a person who had a proper appreciation of the awful importance of being Mr. Claire. And now… what about the Friday?”
Usher’s pause this time seemed an instinctive preparation for a grand climax. Norris looked up and Wharton shuffled in his seat and bit hard on his pipe.
“The first thing was, sir, when Mr. France and Mrs. Claire came in about five-thirty. I happened to be in the drawing-room at the time, sir, so I slipped into the lounge, knowing Somers was handy. He took Mr. France’s hat and coat and put them in the cloakroom and I heard Mrs. Claire say, ‘No! don’t trouble, Somers, thanks. I’m going at once.’ Then I went through to the cloakroom myself, sir, because I could dodge from there to the lounge or back to the drawing-room, whichever they came into.”
“And supposed you’d got trapped?”
“I shouldn’t have done, sir. I could have slipped out of the lounge window and got round to the back door.”
Norris looked up quickly and caught Wharton’s eye. “That bit about the window is very interesting!” the General remarked. “Had you often used it like that?”
“Oh yes, sir! Several times—but always by the side window; never by the one that had the marks on it.”
“Quite so!” The aptness of the reply had rather taken the General aback. “And what happened then?”
“The first thing I heard, sir, was Mrs. Claire. She said, ‘You’re sure Kinky’s out?’ and he said, ‘Of course he is. He’s got that job of work I gave him in town.’ Then she kept quiet for a bit, sir, but he must have seen something on her face because he said, ‘Now don’t you start worrying all over again, darling! Didn’t we have all that out at tea?’ and she said, ‘I know we did, but I’m so scared!’ Then she laughed, sir, that nice little laugh she has, and then he said, ‘Rubbish!’ just like that, then she laughed again and said, ‘I’m a silly little thing and you’ll just have to put up with it, Midge dear.’”
Dead Man Twice Page 12
