Till Death Do Us Part
( Dr. Gideon Fell - 15 )
John Dickson Carr
Six months after she arrived in Six Ashes, half the men were in love with beautiful Lesley Grant--and one of them was going to marry her--until Sir Harvey Gilman, London murder expert told him: "That lovely young girl is forty-one years old. She poisoned two husbands and one lover. And no one knows how." A few hours later Sir Harvey was dead--poisoned--in a sealed room.
Till Death Do Us Part
JOHN DICKSON CARR
CHAPTER I
THINKING the matter over afterwards, Dick Markham might have seen omens or portents in the summer thunderstorm, in the fortune-teller's tent, in the shooting-range, in half a dozen other things at that bazaar.
But the fact remains that he hardly even noticed the weather. He was much too happy.
Ahead, as he and Lesley turned in at the open gates with their stone pillars topped by the heraldic design of griffin and ash-tree, stretched the grounds of Ashe Hall. The smooth lawns were gaudy with booths and striped tents. For a background they had oak-trees, and the long, low, red-brick line of the Halt
It was a scene which, four or five years later, would come back to Dick Markham with a nostalgia like anguish. A lush, green, burning England; an England of white flannels and lazy afternoons; an England which, please God, we shall never lose for any nonsense about a better world. There it lay in opulence, a year or so before the beginning of Hitler's war, though 'opulent' was hardly a word that could be applied to the estate of George Converse, last Baron Ashe. Yet Dick Markham, a tall young man with rather too much imagination, hardly looked at it,
Lesley said,' We're horribly late, you know,' in the breathless, half-laughing voice of a girl who does not really care.
Both of them had been walking rather fast. Both of them now stopped short.
A gust of wind, cool against that hot afternoon, raked with sudden violence across the lawns. It caught at Lesley's hat, a picture-hat with a transparent floppy brim, and made her put up her hands quickly to it The sky had grown as dark as twilight, with smoky slow-moving clouds.
' Look here!' Dick said. ‘ What time is it ?'
‘It must be past three, anyway.'
He nodded ahead, where the shadow of the storm gave everything a nightmarish and unreal quality like sunlight through smoked glass. Nothing stirred on the lawns. Tents and booths, touched to uneasy life by the wind, seemed deserted. 'But... where is everybody ?'
'They're probably at the cricket match, Dick. We'd better hurry. Lady Ashe and Mrs Price will be furious.'
' Does that matter ?'
' No,' smiled Lesley.' Of course not.'
He looked at her - laughing and breathless, with her hands at the brim of her hat. He saw the desperate seriousness of her eyes, despite the smiling mouth. All her thoughts and emotions seemed concentrated in those eyes, brown eyes, telling him what she had told him last night.
He saw the unconscious grace of the raised arms, the white frock moulded against her body by that whipping wind. She was so infernally, disturbingly attractive that even the quiver of her mouth, the turn of her eyes, were recorded in his brain as though he saw her in a thousand different pictures.
It had never occurred to Dick Markham - outwardly at least a stickler for the conventions - that at the entrance’ to Lord Ashe's sedate park, on the afternoon of a starched garden-party, with Lady Ashe's phantom eye upon them, he would put his arms round Lesley Grant and kiss her without particularly caring who might be looking on.
But this is what happened, with the wind sweeping across the park and the sky darkening still more. Their conversation (let nobody mock at it) was a trifle chaotic.
'Do you love me?'
'You know I do. Do you love me?'
Ever since last night these same words had been repeated, over and over, with no sense of repetition. On the contrary, it seemed each time a new discovery: an increasing dazzle to the wits at the realization. Dick Markham, with some vague recollection of their whereabouts, at length disengaged his arms and swore at the universe.
'I suppose,' he said, 'we've got to go to this damned cricket match?'
Lesley hesitated. The intense concentration of emotion faded out of her eyes, and she glanced at the sky.
'It's going to pour with rain in a minute,' she answered. ' I doubt if there'll be a cricket match. And...'
'And what?'
' I wanted to see the fortune-teller,' said Lesley.
Dick could not have said why he threw back his head and roared with laughter. It was partly her naive air, her utter seriousness; and partly that he would have roared at anything as a groping expression of how he felt.
' Mrs Price says he's awfully good,' the girl assured him quickly. 'That's why I've been so curious. She says he can tell you absolutely everything about yourself.'
' But you know that already, don't you ?'
' Couldn't we see the fortune-teller ?'
A faint stir of thunder muttered from the east Taking Lesley's arm firmly, he led her at a rapid pace up the gravel drive towards the clutter of stalls on the lawn. No effort had been made to arrange the booths in regular or even in systematic order. From the coconut-shy to the so-called 'pond' where you fished for bottles, the proprietor of each exhibit had placed it according to his or her artistic taste. And there could be no mistaking the fortune-teller's tent
It stood apart from the others, nearer to Ashe Hall. In shape the tent was like an overgrown telephone-box, though flaring out at the bottom and peaked at the top. Its dingy canvas had vertical stripes of white and red. Over the tent-flap hung a neat sign which read,
'THE GREAT SWAMI,
PALMIST AND
CRYSTAL-GAZER:
SEES ALL,
KNOWS ALL',
together with a big cardboard chart of a human hand pierced by explanatory arrows.
The sky had now grown so dark that Dick could discern a light inside the fortune-teller's lair, which must have been hot to suffocation all afternoon. A heavier gust of wind ran among the tents, thrumming and rattling at canvas, and making the tents sway up like half-inflated balloons. The sign of the human hand was agitated, grotesquely as though it were beckoning to them or waving them away. And a voice said: 'Hoy!'.
Major Horace Price, behind the 'counter' of the minature shooting-gallery, had made a trumpet of his hands and was addressing them in a parade-ground voice. Most of the other stalls were deserted, their proprietors having; evidently gone off to the cricket match. Major Price doughtily remained. Catching their attention, he ducked under the counter and hurried towards them.
' I imagine - he's heard ?' asked Lesley.
'I expect everybody's heard’ said Dick, conscious at once of acute embarrassment and bursting pride. 'You don't mind?'
' Mind!' cried Lesley.' Mind?'
' My dear chap!' said the major, clutching his tweed cap more firmly to his head and skidding a little on the smooth grass.' My dear girl! I've been looking everywhere for you all afternoon’ So has my wife! Is this true ?'
Dick tried to look casual, though he could manage to look no more casual than a wind-whipped tent. ‘ ‘ Is what true, major?'
'This marriage!' emphasized Major Price, in almost a tone of agony. He pointed at them. 'Are you going to get married?'
'Yes. It's true enough.'
'My dear chap!'said the major.
He lowered his voice to a solemnity more suited to a funeral than to a wedding. Major Price had, on great occasions, a sentimentality which could be acutely embarrassing. He reached out and wrung the hand of each in turn.
'I'm delighted!' he declared, with an honest sympathy which war
med Dick Markham's heart. 'It couldn't be more suitable! Couldn't! I think so, and so does my wife When's it to be?'
' We haven't quite decided yet,' said Dick.' Sorry to be sc late for the garden-party. But we were...'
'Occupied!' said the major. 'Occupied! I know! Say nothing more about it!'
Though not strictly entitled to be called major, since he had never been a Regular Army man and only gained this rank in the last war, the term so suited Horace Price that he was addressed by no other.
Actually he was a solicitor, and a shrewd one. The village of Six Ashes, to say nothing of half the countryside round, came to snarl itself in litigations at his office in the High Street. But his bearing, his thick-set figure, his cropped sandy moustache, speckled round-jowled face and light blue eye, no less than a knowledge exhaustive and sometimes exhausting about all things military or sporting, made him Major Price even to magistrates.
He stood beaming on them now, teetering back and forth on his heels, and rubbing his hands together.
'We must celebrate this, you know,' he announced. 'Everybody'll want to congratulate you. My wife, and Lady Ashe, and Mrs Middlesworth, and everybody! In the meantime...'
'In the meantime,' suggested Lesley, 'hadn't we better get to shelter?’
Major Price blinked at her.
·Shelter?'
A discarded paper bag, blown on that vast wind, sailed past overhead. The oak-trees round Ashe Hall were distorted, and the flapping of loose canvas now resembled a hurricane of cracking flags.
'The storm's going to break,' said Dick. 'I hope these tents are pegged down securely. They'll be all over the next county if they're not'
'Oh, they'll be all right,' the major assured him. 'And the storm doesn't matter now. This show's nearly over.'
' Has business been good at your stall ?'
'Business,' said the major, 'has been excellent.' Impressed enthusiasm lightened his pale-blue eyes. 'Some of these people, you know, turned out to be devilish good shots. Cynthia Drew, for instance -'
Major Price stopped abruptly. His colour came up abruptly too, as though he had made a diplomatic error. Dick hoped with a sort of weary anger that they weren't going to start throwing Cynthia Drew in his teeth again.
'Lesley,' he said loudly, 'is very anxious to see this famous fortune-teller. That is, if he's still at his post. And, if you'll excuse us, I think we'd better hurry along.'
' Oh, no, you don't!' said the major with decision.
'Don't what?'
Major Price reached out and took Lesley firmly by the wrist.
'See the fortune-teller, by all means. He's still there. But first of all,' grinned the major, 'you're going to patronize my show.'
' Guns ?' cried Lesley.
'Absolutely!' said the major.
' No! Please! I'd rather not!'
Dick turned round. The urgency of Lesley's voice surprised him. But Major Price, with a massive and smothering benevolence, paid no attention.
As a drop of rain stung Dick's forehead, the major impelled both of them towards the miniature shooting-range. This was a narrow shed with wooden walls and a canvas roof, backed by a black-painted sheet of steel. Half a dozen small cardboard targets, run on pulleys so that they could be drawn back to the counter after you fired, were suspended against this back wall.
Ducking under the counter, Major Price touched a switch. A small electric light, on an ingenious arrangement of dry-cell batteries, glowed out over each target. On the counter lay a large collection of light rifles, chiefly .22's, which the major had been borrowing all over Six Ashes.
'You're first, young lady!' he said, and pointed sternly to a well-filled money bowl on the table. 'Six shots for half a crown. I know it's an outrageous price, but this is a charity do. Try it!'
' Honestly,' said Lesley,' I'd rather not!'
'Nonsense!' said the major, picking up a small rifle and running his hand lovingly along the top.' Now here's a neat little model: Winchester 61 hammerless. Very suitable for polishing off your husband after marriage.' He chuckled uproariously.' Try it!'
Dick, who had put half a crown into the money bowl and was turning to urge her as well, stopped short.
Lesley Grant's eyes were shining with an expression he could not quite read: except that there was pleading in it, and fear too. She had removed her picture hat; her rich brown hair, worn in a long bob that curled outwards at the shoulders, was a little more ruffled by the wind. She had never been prettier than at that moment of intensity. She looked about eighteen years old, in contrast to the twenty-eight she admitted.
' I know it's silly,' she said breathlessly. Her slim fingers crushed the .picture hat. 'But I'm frightened of guns. Anything to do with death, or the thought of death...!'
Major Price's sandy eyebrows went up.
'Damme, young woman,' he expostulated, 'we're not really asking you to kill anybody. Just take the rifle and blaze away at one of those targets. Try it!'
' Look here,' said Dick,' if she'd rather not do it...'
Evidently with the idea of being a sport, Lesley fastened her teeth in her lower lip and took the rifle from Major Price. First she tried holding it at arm's length, and saw that this would not do. She looked round, hesitating; then she put her cheek to the stock and fired blindly.
The lash of the rifle-shot, less a report than a spitting noise, was drowned out by thunder. No bullet-pock appeared on the target. And the thunder seemed to complete Lesley's demoralization. She put down the rifle quietly enough on the counter. But Dick saw with sudden consternation that her body was trembling, and that she was almost crying.
' I'm sorry,' she said.' I can't do it.'
'Of all the clumsy oxen in the world,' snapped Dick Markham, ‘I must be the worst, I didn't realize...'
He touched her shoulders. The sense of her nearness was so strong and disturbing that he would have put his arms round her again if it had not been for the presence of Major Price. Lesley was now trying to laugh, and nearly succeeding.
'It's quite all right,' she assured him with sincerity. 'I know I oughtn't to be so foolish. It's just that -!' She made a fierce gesture, finding no words. - Then she took up her picture hat from the counter. 'Couldn't we go and see the fortune-teller now!'
' Of course. I'll go with you.'
'He won't admit more than one at a time,' said Lesley. 'They never will. You stay here and finish the round. But - you won't go away?'
'My going away,' Dick said grimly, 'is just about the unlikeliest thing you can think of.'
They looked at each other for a moment before she left him. How badly Dick Markham had got it may be deduced from the fact that, though she was merely going to a tent some dozen yards away, it had all the effect of a separation. For upsetting Lesley in this matter of the rifle, he now stood and swore at himself with such comprehensiveness that even Major Price, listening in guilty silence, seemed disturbed.
The major cleared his throat
' Women 1' he said, shaking his head with gloomy profundity.
'Yes. But, hang it all, I ought to have known better!'
'Women!' repeated the major. He handed the rifle to Dick, who took it automatically. Then he spoke rather enviously. 'You're a lucky young fellow, my lad.'
' My God, don't I know it?'
'That girl,' observed the major, 'is a kind of witch. She comes here six months ago. She turns the heads of half the males in this vicinity. Money, too. And -' Here he hesitated. 'I say!'
‘Yes, Major Price?'
' Have you seen Cynthia Drew to-day ?'
Dick glanced at him sharply. The major, who would not meet his eye, was looking very bard at the line of rifles on the counter.
'Look here,' said Dick. 'There never has been anything between Cynthia and me. I want you to understand that.'
'I know it, my dear fellow!' said the other hastily, though with every appearance of casualness. 'I'm perfectly sure of it! All the same, in a way, the women...'
'
What women?'
'My wife. Lady Ashe. Mrs Middlesworth. Mrs Earnshaw.'
Again Dick glanced at his companion's elaborate unconcern. Major Price was leaning one elbow on the counter, a thick-set silhouette against the little lights over the targets. Again wind whooped among the tents, scattering dust and lifting canvas; but neither of them noticed it
'A minute ago,' Dick pointed out, 'you were saying they wanted to congratulate us. You intimated they were practically roaring round the country in search of us, just to pour out congratulations.'
'Exactly, my dear chap! That's quite true!'
‘Well?'
'But they do feel — mind, I only wanted to warn you! - they do feel, in a way, that poor old Cynthia,..' '"Poor old Cynthia?'" 'In away. Yes.'
Motioning Major Price to one side, Dick raised the rifle to his shoulder and fired. The lash of the shot was like a comment, while he noted in an absent-minded way that he had scored a hit on the middle target a little off bull's-eye. Both he and the major spoke in that guarded, conspiratorial tone which men employ to discuss dangerous domestic matters.
But he was conscious of tugging forces, the closing net of the spoken word, moving behind this tiny life at Six Ashes.
'For over two years,’ he said bitterly, 'this whole village has been trying to get Cynthia and me together, whether we like it or not'
' I understand, my dear chap. I quite understand!' Dick fired again.
'There's nothing to it, I tell you! I've never paid any attentions, any serious attentions, to Cynthia. And Cynthia knows that, She can't have misinterpreted it, whatever the others have done.'
' My dear chap,' said the major, regarding him shrewdly, 'you can never pay any attentions to a gal without her wondering whether that might not be behind it. Not that I don't understand your point of view, mind 1'
Dick fired again.
'And, as for getting married just to please the community, I don't see that. I'm in love with Lesley. I've been in love with her ever since she came here. That's all there is to it Though what she can possibly see in me...!'
Major Price chuckled.
'Oh well!', he said deprecatingly, looking Dick up and down, and dismissing this with a wave of his hand. 'After all, you're our local celebrity.'
Till Death Do Us Part dgf-15 Page 1
