English Rose (A Jules Poiret Mystery Book 13)

by Frank Howell Evans

  Ian spoke up, “She must have past us on the other side of the cars while we were behind the trees and not seeing us she has probably continued on her way.”

  The explanation seemed a plausible one.

  “Has anyone else been here?” demanded Lady Hassocks, forcing her voice to be calm. Poiret saw her hand shake on the handle of the rolling-chair, which she had not left for a second during the walk, refusing aid from the young men, the friends and even from Poiret.

  “First there came Inspector Watkins, who told me he would go and find you, Milady and right after, His Excellency, Mr. Bromley. His Excellency will return later, before he takes the train at seven o’clock for Maidstone.”

  The arms manufacturer during this time had taken Poiret’s hand and shook it affectionately, as if, in a mute way, to thank him for all the detective had done for them. Mr. Hassocks himself had confidence in Poiret and he was grateful for the freer air that he was being allowed to breathe. It seemed to him that he was emerging from prison. Nevertheless, as the walk had been fatiguing, Lady Hassocks ordered him to go and rest immediately. Colliver and Cooper took their leave. The two young men were standing at the other end of the garden, talking coldly and almost confronting one another, like wooden soldiers. Without doubt they were arranging the conditions of an encounter to settle, who should marry Kimberley for once and for all.

  The servants helped the arms manufacturer onto the patio. Mr. Hassocks demanded five minutes’ respite before he was helped upstairs to his room. Lady Hassocks had a light dinner brought at his request. While the arms manufacturer talked with Carswell, who brought him his meal, Poiret nodded to Lady Hassocks. She joined the detective in the drawing room.

  “Madame,” he said quickly, in a low voice, “you must go at once to see what has happened there.”

  He pointed to the dining room.

  “Very well.”

  It was pitiful to watch her.

  “Go, Madame, with courage.”

  “Why don’t you come with me?”

  “Because, Madame, Poiret, he has something to do elsewhere. Please to hand him the keys of the first floor.”

  “No! What for?”

  “Not to delay for a second, Madame. Please to do what Poiret, he tells to you to do. The keys, Madame!”

  He snatched them rather than took them and pointed a last time to the dining room with a gesture so commanding that she didn’t hesitate further. She entered the dining room, shaking, while he moved quickly, for a man his size, to the upper floor. He took only time enough to open the doors, look into the arms manufacturer’s room, a single glance and to return, letting a cry of joy escape him, “Tres bien!”

  How Poiret, who had not spent half a second examining the arms manufacturer’s room, was able to be certain that all was well, when it took Lady Hassocks at least a quarter of an hour of ferreting in all the corners each time she inspected her husband’s room, was a question. If Lady Hassocks had been with him during his inspection tour she would have lost all confidence and would have asked Inspector Watkins to immediately bring back his agents. Poiret at once rejoined the arms manufacturer. He lit a cigarette. Mr. Hassocks and Carswell were deep in conversation about the arms dealer’s wish to visit his factories up North. The little man didn’t disturb them. Then, soon, Lady Hassocks reappeared. Poiret noticed that she looked quite radiant. He handed back her keys and she took them mechanically. She was overjoyed and didn’t try to hide it. Her husband himself noticed it and asked her why.

  “It’s my happiness over our first walk, since we arrived here,” she explained. “And now you must go upstairs to bed, Stephen. It will do you a lot of good.”

  “I can sleep only if you sleep, Lady Hassocks.”

  “I promise you. I can do so now that we have Mr. Poiret on our side.”

  “Oui, Monsieur,” smiled Poiret, “everybody, they will sleep tonight. Since the police, they have left we can all sleep.”

  “I believe you, on my word, easily enough. They were the only ones capable of attempting to bomb me with a bouquet of flowers. I always knew that and now I’m at ease. Goodnight!”

  He shook Poiret’s hand. Lady Hassocks took his arm as was her habit and helped him to his room. Poiret stayed in the patio, watching the garden attentively. Carswell walked out of the mansion and crossed the garden, going to meet a shadowy personage, whom the little man did not recognize. Carswell informed him that Lady Hassocks was engaged in helping her husband retire. The gentleman stayed at the other end of the garden where he had found Adam and Ian talking and smoking. All three stayed there for some time in conversation, standing by a table where the family sometimes dined, when they had no guests. As they talked the minister played with a box of white cardboard tied with a pink string. At this moment Lady Hassocks, who had not been able to resist the desire to talk for a moment with Poiret and tell him how happy she was, rejoined the detective.

  “Mr. Poiret,” she said, laying her hand on his shoulder, “will you come and inspect the room?”

  She pointed in her turn to the dining room.

  “Non. You have seen it, Madame. Ca suffit.”

  “There is nothing. No one has touched the board. I’m sure of it. It’s dreadful what we have thought about it! Oh, you don’t know how relieved and happy I am. Ah, Kimberley, Kimberley, I have not loved you in vain. When I saw her leave us, Mr. Poiret, my legs sank under me. When she said, “I have forgotten something. I must hurry back,” I felt like I had no strength to move one single step. But now I am happy, because that weight at least is off my heart.”

  She left him to resume her post near the arms manufacturer.

  Poiret had made progress too. The little cavity under the floor had not been touched again, but that proved nothing for or against Kimberley. Kimberley could very well have been warned by the way Lady Hassocks watched the floor. What Lady Hassocks felt sure was a trap, lain against Kimberley, was actually lain against her. Poiret wished to make sure that Lady Hassocks didn’t detest her stepdaughter so much that she would fake the preparations for an attack under the floor as to throw certain suspicion on Kimberley. Poiret was sure about that now. Lady Hassocks was innocent. If Lady Hassocks had been a monster the occasion was too good. Kimberley’s absence, her presence for a quarter of an hour alone in the empty mansion, all would have proved irresistible for Lady Hassocks. Kimberley would have been lost then! Lady Hassocks returned sincerely happy, not having found anything incriminating.

  After the departure of Lady Hassocks, Poiret turned his attention to the garden. Neither the gentleman nor the young men were there any longer. The three men had disappeared. Poiret wished to know at once where they had gone. He went quickly to the gate, mentioned the young men and the older gentleman to Carswell and Carswell made a sign that they had left. He told Poiret that the older gentleman was the Secretary for Armaments, George Bromley. As he spoke, he pointed at the secretary’s car disappearing around a corner of the road. As to the two young men, they were nowhere to be seen on the road. He was surprised that the secretary had left without seeing Lady Hassocks or the arms manufacturer or himself for that matter. Above all he was anguished by the disappearance of the young men. He gathered from Carswell that they had left a few moments after the secretary’s departure. Poiret set himself to follow them. He traced their steps in the soft earth of the road and soon they walked on the grass. At this point the tracks through the massed ferns became very difficult to follow. He hurried along, bending close to the ground over such traces as he could see, which continually led him astray, but which conducted him finally to his destination. Voices made him raise his head and then throw himself behind a tree. Not twenty steps from him Kimberley and Ian were having an animated conversation. The young man held himself erect directly in front of her, frowning and impatient. He had his arms crossed. His entire attitude indicated arrogance, coldness and disdain for what he was hearing. Kimberley never appeared calmer. She talked to him quickly and mostly in a low voice. Poiret c
ould not hear her. Finally she stopped and Ian, after a short silence, in which he had seemed to think deeply, said, pronouncing the words syllable by syllable, as though to give them additional force, “You ask a frightful thing of me.”

  “Do it,” demanded the young woman with remarkable energy. “You understand, Ian? You have to do it.”

  Her gaze, after she had glanced penetratingly all around her and discovered nothing suspicious, rested tenderly on the young man.

  She murmured, “My Ian!”

  The young man couldn’t resist either the sweetness of her voice or the captivating charm of her glance. He took the hand she extended toward him and kissed it passionately. His eyes, fixed on Kimberley, said that he would do everything that she wished and admitted himself defeated.

  Then she said, always with that adorable gaze on him, “This evening!”

  He replied, “Yes, yes. This evening!”

  Kimberley withdrew her hand. The young man took it as a sign to leave, which he promptly obeyed. Kimberley stayed there, plunged in thought. Poiret moved carefully as to not be noticed. He quickly walked back to the mansion, leaning heavily on his walking stick.

  Lady Hassocks was waiting for his return, seated in the patio. When she saw him, she walked to him. She caught up with him in the dining room. He was standing in front of a chest of drawers, which belonged to Miss Hassocks as she used the dining room as an annex of her bedroom.

  “Is there anyone in the house, Madame?” he asked.

  “No one. Kimberley has not returned and...”

  “Your stepdaughter, she is coming in now. Please to ask her where she has been and if she has seen the young men and if they said to her that they would return this evening.”

  “Very well, Mr. Poiret.”

  “Before Mademoiselle, she arrives,” interrupted Poiret, “please to give to Poiret all her hat-pins.”

  “What!”

  “Madame, her hat-pins. Quickly!”

  Lady Hassocks ran into Kimberley’s room and returned with three enormous hat-pins with beautifully-cut stones in them.

  “These ones, they are all?”

  “They are all I could find. I know she has two others. She has one on her head or two, perhaps. I can’t find them.”

  “Please to take these ones back where you have found them,” said the consulting detective, after glancing at them.

  Lady Hassocks put them back in the bedroom, not understanding what he was doing.

  “And now, Madame, please to hand Poiret your hat-pins. Oui, Madame, your hat-pins.”

  “Oh, I have only two and here they are,” she said, drawing them from the hat she had been wearing and had thrown on the sofa, when she had come home.

  Poiret gave hers the same inspection.

  “Merci, Madame. Your stepdaughter, she is here.”

  Kimberley entered, flushed and smiling.

  “Ah, well,” she said, quite breathless, “I had to search for you. I made the entire round, clear past the boardwalk. Has the walk done papa good?”

  “Yes, he’s asleep,” replied Lady Hassocks. “Have you met Ian and Adam?”

  She appeared to hesitate a second then replied, “Yes, for an instant.”

  “Did they say whether they would return this evening?”

  “No,” she replied, slightly troubled. “Why all these questions?”

  She flushed still more.

  “Because I thought it strange,” responded Lady Hassocks, “that they went away as they did, without saying goodbye or inquiring if your father needed them. Did you see the secretary with them, Mr. Bromley?”

  “No.”

  “The secretary entered the garden for a moment and went away again without seeing us, without saying even a word to your father.”

  “Ah,” said Kimberley.

  With apparent indifference, she raised her arms and pulled out her hat-pin. Poiret watched the pin without a word. The young woman hardly seemed aware of their presence. Entirely absorbed in her own thoughts, she replaced the pin in her hat and went to hang it in the vestibule. Poiret’s eyes never left her. Kimberley crossed the drawing room and entered her bedroom by walking through her little sitting room, through which all entrance to her bedroom had to be made. The little room, though, had three doors. One opened into Kimberley’s bedroom, one into the drawing room and the third into a little hallway in a corner of the house where the stairway was by which the servants moved from the kitchens downstairs to the ground floor and the upper floor. This hallway also had a door leading directly to the drawing room. It was certainly a poor arrangement for serving the dining room, which was on the other side of the drawing room and behind the patio.

  Alone again with Poiret, Lady Hassocks noticed that he had not lost sight of the corner of the vestibule, where Kimberley had hung her hat. Beside this hat there was a hat that Carswell had brought in. The old servant had found it in some corner of the garden. A hat-pin stuck out of that hat also.

  “Who his hat is that, Madame?” asked Poiret. “Poiret, he has not seen it on the head of anyone he has seen here.”

  “It’s Kimberley’s,” replied Lady Hassocks.

  She moved toward it, but the detective held her back, went into the vestibule himself and without touching it, standing on tiptoe, as he was hardly over five feet tall, he examined the pin. He sank back on his heels and turned toward Lady Hassocks. She caught a glimpse of fleeting emotion on the face of the little man.

  “Explain it to me,” she said.

  But he gave her a glance that frightened her.

  He whispered, “Please to give the orders right away that dinner, it should be served in the patio. All through dinner it is of the most importance that the door of the sitting room of Mademoiselle Kimberley and that of the stairway hallway and that of the patio connecting to the drawing room, they remain open all of the time. As soon as you have given your orders, Madame, please to go to the room of your husband and to remain there until dinner, it is announced.”

  Poiret lit his cigar with a sort of sigh of relief and went into the garden. Anyone looking at him enjoying his cigar would have said he hadn’t smoked in a week. In fact, he even found time to play with Moggie, Lady Hassocks’s cat, which he followed behind the shrubs, up into the gazebo which, raised on piles, lifted its steep roof above the walls of the mansion, where Poiret settled down to think like a philosopher with ample leisure time.

  The dinner, where Lady Hassocks, Kimberley and Poiret were together again, was lively. The detective declared that he was more and more convinced that the mystery of the bomb in the vase was perpetrated by the police. Following that statement Kimberley and he found themselves in agreement on about everything else. The detective noticed the cynical and inappropriate calmness with which the young lady agreed with all suggestions, which accused the police or that assumed her father was no longer in any immediate danger. As he listened to Kimberley and the more he looked into her eyes the dizzier he grew. What obscurities were there in her nature!

  In spite of Poiret’s obvious impatient glance, Lady Hassocks excused herself and went up to check on her husband.

  She returned saying, “He isn’t asleep. He’s asked me to prepare his sleeping medicine. It’s too bad. He cannot get sleep without it.”

  “You, too, mama, you ought to take something to make you sleep. It will do you good after the long walk.”

  “As for Poiret,” said the exquisitely dressed man, whose head for some time had been dropping now toward one shoulder and now toward the other, “he has no need of the sleeping medicine to make him sleep. If you will permit, Mesdames, Poiret, he will go to bed at once.”

  Poiret rose awkwardly. He apologized for his excessive sleepiness.

  “Let us both accompany him to his room,” said Kimberley, “because I wish to say goodnight to papa. I’m eager for bed myself. Carswell and Nursemaid can keep watch from the cottage. It is safe now.”

  They all ascended the stairs. Poiret didn’t go to see the ar
ms manufacturer, but threw himself on his bed. Kimberley embraced her father a dozen times and went downstairs again. Lady Hassocks followed behind her, closed doors and windows, went upstairs and found Poiret seated on his bed, his arms crossed, not appearing to have any desire for sleep at all. His face was strangely pensive. It stoked the anxiety of Lady Hassocks. She touched his arm in order to make sure that he knew she was there.

  “Mr. Poiret,” she said, “what are you thinking of?”

  “Madame,” he replied at once, “please to sit down and listen to Poiret. There are things he must tell to you at once, because we have reached the dangerous moment.”

  Poiret rose lightly from the bed and facing her, but watching something beside her, said, “It is necessary that you should know that someone, they will renew the attempt on the life of your husband.”

  Lady Hassocks sprang to her feet as quickly as though she had been told there was a bomb in the seat of her chair. She made herself sit down again, however, in obedience to Poiret’s urgent look commanding absolute silence.

  “Please to calm yourself, Madame. Please to answer Poiret. You heard the tick-tack from the vase while you were in your room, is it not so?”

  “Yes, with the doors open, naturally.”

  “There were the persons, who came to say goodnight to Monsieur Hassocks. At that time there was not the noise of the tick-tack?”

  “No, no.”

  “Do you think that if there had been the tick-tack then you would still have heard it even with all the persons talking in the room?”

  “I hear everything, sir.”

  “Did you go downstairs at the same time as the others?”

  “No. I stayed near my husband until he was sound asleep.”

  “And you hear nothing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You closed the doors behind the visitors?”

  “Yes, the door to the staircase. The door of the servants’ stairway was closed already. I alone have the key and on the inside of the door opening into my husband’s room there is also a bolt which is always locked. All the other doors of the rooms were locked by me. In order to enter any of the four rooms on that floor it’s necessary now to walk past by the door of my room, which connects to the main staircase.”