‘He did come over here last night. It’s the final thing we know about him. He said he brought his kinsman a small farewell present.’
‘We must presume his present was just the nasty truth about his kinsman’s precious brother Rupert. No vengeance and nemesis from those Résistance days long ago. Just brother Rupert being utterly diabolical.’
‘Would that upset Martyn, do you think, or be a kind of relief to him?’
‘Upset him, I think. Do you know? That morning, when I was up on the roof with him and with de Voisin, there was a moment in which I thought his belief in his own interpretation of these episodes – call it the Croix de Lorraine interpretation – faltered. And his confidence faltered with it. Looking back, I can almost see him as clinging to a fantasy – but feeling, in the depth of his mind, that it was his own kindred who were after him.’
‘How utterly ghastly! But if some revelation of de Voisin’s upset him last night, he was composed enough when Giles took me in to be introduced to him. I had a sense of his feeling he was in command of something.’
‘Well, the main point is that de Voisin had ceased to have the slightest occasion to return later and kill him. It’s one elimination, and that’s something.’
‘What about this chap you and the Chief Constable were interviewing when I drove up with Virginia – the younger surviving brother, isn’t he, Ambrose?’
‘The violent Ambrose. I don’t think Ambrose was in on Rupert’s plot. Rupert’s plot belongs to the region – come to think of it – of slow poisonings. Not Ambrose Ashmore’s style. And I think Ambrose has told a good deal of truth about himself. He came storming over to the Chase last night, hard upon reading of Martyn’s engagement. He says he found his brother alive, had a flaming row, left his brother alive – and relieved his baffled feelings, so to speak, against your friend Finn’s jaw. There is a certain logical reason why his story ought to be true. But I find myself not believing it – not believing the whole of it – all the same.’
‘You believe he may really have killed his brother in a passion?’
‘That doesn’t follow. But I want to avoid that girl in the park. Let’s simply walk round the house.’ Appleby came to a halt. ‘By Jove, no! First of all, we’ll go in again – unobtrusively.’
‘You mean, avoiding the eye of Tommy Pride’s men?’
‘Why not? They might want to be helpful, and only succeed in being puzzled. I’ve had an idea.’
‘Oh, I say!’ Bobby produced Finn’s exclamation with cheerful irreverence. ‘It’s a bit of a thrill, you know. I’ve never had a close-up view of Sir John in action before.’
‘Don’t be a young idiot. What about this door? It’s open, all right. Crazy place, the Chase. What we want is the cellarage. This way.’
‘Whatever do you want that for?’
‘To make ghostly noises from, and startle Colonel Thomas Pride upstairs. Mind these steps; they’re tricky. I’ve been down here before.’ Appleby located and flicked on a light-switch.
‘Good Lord!’ Bobby said.
‘Exactly. This is the Newcastle to which your hopeful companion Giles Ashmore brought his coal in the form of a dozen of claret. The stuff isn’t upstairs, so my guess is that Uncle Martyn brought it straight down here and dumped it in a bin. I’d just like to check on it.’
‘Here’s claret,’ Bobby said, and started puffing dust from a bottle. ‘Holy smoke! Château Margaux ’47.’
‘I had Lafite ’49.’ Appleby chuckled. ‘And here’s what we’re looking for. The whole dozen, just standing on end.’
‘I can’t see that tells you anything.’ Bobby turned round. ‘Is the champagne there too?’
‘Champagne?’
‘It seems Giles went the whole hog, and had half a dozen bottles of champagne shoved in the bottom of the box. It made it uncommonly heavy.’
‘There isn’t much champagne down here.’ Appleby poked around for a couple of minutes. ‘Louis Roederer Cristal Brut. I think it improbable that our young friend bought that in Linger – or anywhere else. We’ll go upstairs again. In fact, back into the open air. I need a breath of it.’
20
Finn was mooning around an untidy yard at the back of the house. He halted as the two Applebys came up to him.
‘Ancient sort of place,’ he said. ‘Did you know there was an old well?’
‘A well?’ Bobby said. ‘When I took a jump from the terrace last night I had a sudden notion I had fallen into the darkness of a well. But of course I hadn’t. Where’s the real one?’
‘Over here.’ Finn led the way to a corner of the yard. ‘I’ve just taken off its wooden lid. There’s nothing to fasten it down. Dangerous, in a way. Tumble down that, and you wouldn’t come up again.’
They peered down the well. They dropped a stone, and there was a faint plop.
‘Some water still,’ Bobby said. ‘Good place to get rid of something. Say, half a dozen of champagne.’
‘What’s that?’ Finn was startled.
‘Your friend Giles’ claret’s in the house, but his champagne has vanished. Martyn Ashmore must have so disliked the sight of it that he brought it out and pitched it down this well. The last act of his life.’
‘What macabre rubbish!’ Finn was indignant. ‘Convenient for dumping something, all the same. Shall we insist that Colonel Pride sends down one of his coppers? I don’t mind giving a hand to lower the rope.’
‘Embers,’ Appleby said suddenly. ‘Ashes.’
The two young men stared at him.
‘The fire is the key, you know. A brisk log fire in Ashmore’s room. Bobby, you saw it from the hall? And you both saw it through the window?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘We’ve been timing Ashmore’s death on the assumption that the fire had gone out before it happened – simply because he was lying in the ashes, without so much as his hair being singed. A couple of hours at least after you had a last glimpse of him. Only, as I said before, there’s been something devilishly wrong with our way of looking at the thing. Oh cursed spite, in fact. Finn, you follow me?’
‘I can’t say I do, sir.’ Finn looked excessively blank.
‘It was Hamlet’s feeling that the time was out of joint. Our time has been out of joint. That’s all.’ Appleby paused. ‘For suppose somebody simply raked out the fire – shoved the whole flaming mass into a big bucket, and really did chuck it down this well? He’d only have to rake dead ash and a charred stump or two from the back of that big fireplace–’
‘The chap who took the swipe at me!’ Finn said. ‘And then the pot shot this morning. The swipe was one thing. But the pot shot was quite another. He wouldn’t feel I needed murdering if he’d merely encountered me after he’d had a row with his brother.’
‘There is much force in that,’ Appleby said. ‘I can’t believe that Ambrose Ashmore hasn’t been feeling in an uncommonly hazardous situation. Still, it isn’t necessary to suppose he killed his brother. He may merely have found him dead. Not only dead, but apparently bludgeoned. Wiping away fingerprints, socking an intrusive young man, taking a gun to the same young man – doubly intrusive – next day: these things would flow reasonably enough from the sense of being in so tight a spot. There was his reputation as a thoroughly violent character, for one thing.’
‘But,’ Bobby said slowly, ‘if Ambrose did no more than walk into the Chase in a temper and find his brother dead, who does that leave us with?’
‘The remaining inhabitants of the British Isles, more or less.’ Appleby had turned away from the well, and was making once more for the front of the house. ‘Plus Monsieur Jules de Voisin. And plus, if you like, vengeful members of the Maquis. That option’s still open.’
‘For practical purposes, surely, we’re left with anybody who had a motive for killing the old man – and who hasn’t an alibi.’ Bobby paused until they had rounded an angle of the house. ‘What about the brother who is due to inherit this place – Rupert?’
�
�Perhaps his dentist will provide him with an alibi,’ Appleby said. ‘I’ve known it happen.’
‘His son Giles?’
‘Oh, I say!’ Finn had halted in his tracks. ‘We’ve been running Giles, sir. Bobby and I, that is. Giles couldn’t take an effective bash at anybody.’
‘He could have got back into the house, Finn.’ Appleby too had halted, and he was looking at Finn with gravity. ‘When you all three scattered because of Ibell–’
‘Ibell, sir? But he was an unrehearsed effect. Giles couldn’t have reckoned on him.’
‘I rather question that. Ibell had his regular round.’
‘At least I don’t believe that Giles could have had time to manage that mucky fire-dousing business. I think Giles is out. But what about the girl?’
‘The girl,’ Bobby repeated quickly. ‘What girl?’
‘The girl wandering round the park now.’ Finn pointed into distance. ‘The girl – Giles’ sister – who seems to have insisted on revisiting the scene of the crime. Bobby, you brought her over, didn’t you?’
‘Certainly I did. And what the hell are you talking about?’ Bobby Appleby was looking at his friend Finn as if he had suddenly become his blackest enemy. ‘What sort of motive does she have?’
‘All Ashmores, male or female, had some sort of motive for eliminating nasty old Martyn.’ Finn spoke without confidence. ‘But keep your shirt on. Only an idle thought. Count me out, old man, on the detective stakes.’
‘What about yourself, for that matter?’ Bobby had squared up to Finn positively dangerously. ‘Left slinking around the Chase, weren’t you, last night? And wildly wounded in your bleeding vanity because old Martyn Ashmore had stolen the girl who’d already been stolen from you by that silly sod Giles?’
‘My dear lads,’ Appleby murmured, ‘please do remember that something quite serious is going on. Bobby, will you pipe down? And, Finn, the same to you.’
‘Sorry,’ Finn said. ‘I’ll go and cool off.’ He made towards Bobby an entirely amiable gesture which consisted in clenching a fist and brandishing it in air. ‘Be seeing you, sir.’ And he marched off.
‘Really, Bobby!’ Appleby glanced ruefully at his son. ‘I respect you immensely as a young man bowled over by a beautiful girl. Good luck to you.’
‘You said they’re an awful crowd – the Ashmores. You wouldn’t want to see me mixed up with them?’
‘The Ravens were, at the least, extremely eccentric. I plunged straight in.’ Appleby paused – then, seeing Bobby flush, he hurried on. ‘Let’s stick to the point. I really want your help in another character. Come round to the front of the house.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I said something rash to Miss Ashmore about half an hour. There isn’t a great deal of it left.’
‘In your character as a novelist,’ Appleby said seriously. They were standing on the terrace, and in front of them was the window of the room in which Martyn Ashmore had died. ‘The same sort of novelist, more or less, as Alain Robbe-Grillet.’
‘Go on,’ Bobby said. He had a quick instinct for moments at which he wasn’t being made fun of.
‘Do you know, I was reading aloud to your mother from that chap the other evening? And I can remember at least a fragment of it. Since its width is the same for the central portion as for the sides, the line of shadow cast by the column extends precisely to the corner of the house.’
‘Do you mean’ – Bobby was staring at the window – ‘that there is some specific significance in that quotation?’
‘Not in the least. What interests me is the discipline, the bent of mind. Get the tangible and visible universe right, and everything else will shine through. That seems to me the notion. It demands the cultivation of a habit, I take it, of seeing what is really there – the whole of what is really there?’
‘Naturally.’
‘Then – look.’ Appleby was pointing at the window. ‘Of course, the curtains were nearly drawn, and that makes a difference. But here you are, out in the darkness with these two worthies beside you, and you are looking in. What do you see?’
There was a long silence. Bobby was not, in fact, looking – or not with his organs of bodily sight. His eyes were shut.
‘Clearly an exercise,’ he said, ‘in visual recall. Like Kim’s Game. You remember at children’s parties? A tray covered with small objects. You’re allowed to look at it for thirty seconds–’ He broke off. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but I can’t see anything out of the way. Only I ought to. I can remember that.’
‘It must be something very unimpressive, Bobby. Something that not many people would notice at all.’
‘And so it is!’ Bobby had swung round, and his eyes were now very wide open indeed. ‘A most tenuous appearance, one might say.’
‘A mere thread of a clue?’
‘Almost that.’
‘Ariadne’s thread, Bobby. It leads to the heart of the labyrinth – and probably to the bottom of that well.’
‘Isn’t it rather a long shot?’
‘Worth one of Tommy’s men getting himself a bit mucky. Let’s–’ Appleby swung round, following Bobby’s gaze. ‘Ah!’ he said. ‘Another of the bad pennies has turned up.’
The bad penny was Rupert Ashmore. He had emerged from the house – where it was to be presumed he had already seen the Chief Constable – and was hurrying in Appleby’s direction now.
‘My dear Sir John, this a very terrible thing!’ Rupert had the air of condoling with Appleby on some intimate loss. ‘I am deeply grieved – deeply grieved, indeed. It is a great shock. I have only just got back from town, having had to hurry to my dentist in some pain late yesterday. He has put the matter right, you will be glad to know. But why should I speak of such a trifle? That my poor brother should be so suddenly taken! A seizure, it seems. I have been told that they are often instantly fatal to persons of disordered mind. But we must never speak of poor Martyn’s affliction again. It is too painful. He was a remarkable man. When I take over the Chase, I shall have a small memorial erected in the park.’
‘Before you do that, Mr Ashmore, I have some hope that you will be clapped into jail.’
‘My dear sir!’ Rupert’s features expressed the largest astonishment. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses?’
‘Either I, or your unfortunate brother, very nearly took leave of his brains the other morning, as a consequence of your antics up on that roof. I have every hope that intensive investigation will connect you with several similar exploits. And now your brother has actually met a violent end. Your position is unenviable, Mr Ashmore.’
‘Where is my daughter Virginia? I demand to see her. She has been carried off – and doubtless constrained to make damaging state-ments of a wholly baseless sort. By threats and bullying. I insist that she be released.’
‘Your daughter is entirely her own mistress, sir. And she is walking somewhere in the park.’
‘Where’s Finn?’ Bobby asked suddenly. ‘Finn seems to have wandered off too.’
21
‘Good Lord!’ Finn said, fifteen minutes later. He had strolled into the stable-yard of Ashmore Chase and come upon the group of men round the well. ‘Surely nobody is taking that ploy seriously?’ He watched the head and shoulders of a constable disappear into darkness. ‘Is that sort of champagne really worth it?’
‘You may find it’s a pretty odd sort of champagne.’ Bobby Appleby had swung round. ‘Where on earth have you been? And where is Virginia?’
‘I borrowed your car. The key was in the ignition. I hope you don’t mind?’
‘I’ve put up with worse than that from you, I suppose.’ Bobby sounded resigned. ‘But what did you want the car for, anyway?’
‘I ran Virginia to that AA telephone on the main road. She wanted to make a call.’
‘You had been talking to Miss Ashmore?’ It was Appleby who had turned round now. With a brisk inclination of the head, he drew the two young men aside. ‘You followed her into the park as soon as you left us?’
/> ‘Well, yes. I’d got a glimpse of her, you know, and she seemed rather attractive.’ Finn offered this explanation with an appearance of entire artlessness. ‘And, of course, I thought it might be a time for a chap to rally round. Her family not showing up in too good a light, and so forth.’
‘And did she respond to being rallied round?’
‘Not too well at first, sir. But I chatted her up.’
‘Did you, indeed? May I ask what you judged to be a suitable topic of conversation?’
‘Well, just all this.’ Finn made a gesture. ‘It would have been silly – it would have been quite artificial, wouldn’t it? – to talk about anything else. So I had a go – from a sympathetic viewpoint. Told her the latest, and so on.’
‘Just what do you mean by the latest?’
‘Well, sir, things like your saying that the fire was the key.’
‘Was it at that point that Miss Ashmore said she wanted to make a telephone call?’
‘I don’t quite remember.’ Finn produced his artless look again. Then he caught sight of Appleby’s expression, and it vanished.
‘Finn, I think you knew very well what you were doing?’
Finn hesitated only for a second.
‘Yes, sir. I think she knew where she could contact her brother on the telephone – or leave a message for him.’
‘It’s your belief that the truth – or an outline of it – had just flashed on her? That she can have known nothing whatever about it until that very moment?’
‘That’s how it felt. Anything really grim and dark about her brother, I mean. In fact, I’m certain of it. She had tumbled to something that I hadn’t tumbled to, and it was a terrific shock. She did say something queer – something about Giles having been interested in fires. Anyway, I knew what she was doing.’
Death at the Chase Page 16
