‘Ah, William, there you are,’ said Angela briskly, as though their earlier conversation had never happened. ‘Bring round the Bentley, please. We are going out.’
‘Right away, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Somerset House,’ replied Angela. ‘I seem to be turning into quite a regular visitor there lately.’
Twenty minutes later they were motoring down Berkeley Street towards Piccadilly.
‘I don’t suppose you saw anyone suspicious outside the flat, did you?’ she asked William.
‘No-one, ma’am,’ he replied, ‘and I was keeping a sharp eye out. I think we’re safe for now.’
‘Good,’ said Angela. She had great faith in William’s sharp eye.
‘You had better come in with me,’ she said as they arrived at the Register Office. ‘You can help me in my search.’
By noon she had returned to the Mount Street flat and was on the telephone to Scotland Yard. Inspector Jameson was away, following an urgent lead, she was informed. Someone bearing a close resemblance to Robin Haynes had been spotted in Aberdeen and the inspector had gone after him. He was not expected back until tomorrow at the earliest. Would Mrs. Marchmont like to leave a message? Yes, Mrs. Marchmont would be delighted to leave a message. She briefly communicated what she had learned to the voice at the other end of the line, and asked that the inspector be given the information as soon as possible. The voice promised to do so, and Angela hung up, hoping that the news would reach him soon.
She rang for William.
‘Tomorrow we go down to Underwood House again,’ she told him, ‘and this is your chance to have a little adventure.’
The young man beamed.
‘I’m game,’ he said.
‘Good,’ said Angela. She coughed. ‘I ought to warn you, however, that what I am about to propose may not be entirely legal.’
William’s expression gave her to understand that, legal or illegal, it was all the same to him, but all he said was, ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Very well,’ said Angela, and began to speak. He listened carefully and nodded.
‘As I said, I only caught a glimpse of it, but I am almost certain that it forms at least part of what we are looking for,’ she finished.
‘If it’s there, I’ll find it,’ promised William.
‘There may be other things, but we don’t want to arouse suspicion so I advise you to leave them where they are.’
‘I get it,’ he said.
‘Mind, this person is very dangerous, and has already attempted to kill me twice. Be very sure, therefore, to avoid being caught. And don’t run any unnecessary risks.’
‘No fear of that,’ he replied. ‘You promised me a week’s holiday and I’d hate to miss it.’
‘Did I? So I did. What on earth was I thinking?’
William made his escape again.
The next afternoon they ran down to Underwood House. It was unseasonably warm for May and there was a closeness in the air that promised thunder. Angela wondered whether she was doing the right thing, or whether she should have left the entire matter in the hands of Inspector Jameson. But it was the 27th and the inspector was away, and she was dreadfully worried about what might happen today. Was the killer planning to strike again? If so, it was up to her to stop him if at all possible. She checked her handbag for the fourth or fifth time to make quite certain she had brought what she needed. She should not be caught unawares this time.
They drew up before the front door and Angela alighted.
‘Remember, be careful,’ she said to William.
‘I will,’ he promised.
‘I am relying on you. You may send a message to me when you have done it and I shall come out immediately.’
She was shown into the drawing-room, where she found Louisa and Stella listening politely to Susan Dennison, who was holding court, swathed in layers of gold and orange and reclining superbly on a chaise longue. Susan nodded distantly to Angela and went on talking.
‘Naturally, I take my inspiration from the latest European artists,’ she was saying. ‘One finds that English painters have no real sense of the self. It is so important to have that vital connection to one’s inner essence; to shake off the constraints of the super-ego and embrace what the Germans call the Es, that is, our deepest, basest instinct. Only then can true Art emerge. I myself bring forth my Es every morning by circling the room three times on all fours, howling like a wolf.’
‘Hallo, Angela,’ said Louisa as soon as Susan paused for breath. ‘As you can see, Ursula has not arrived yet but she will be here soon.’
‘Has there been any news of Robin?’ asked Angela, although she already knew the answer.
‘Not yet. He has disappeared into thin air, it seems,’ said Louisa.
‘Taking Mother’s money with him, I understand,’ said Susan. ‘I always thought there was something untrustworthy about him.’
‘It might be better not to say anything to Ursula about that, my dear,’ said Louisa. ‘She will be dreadfully upset. The police are doing their best to find him and bring him back, so there’s no use in making a fuss when we can’t do anything about it.’
‘I do believe she is upset,’ said Angela. ‘She came to see me the other day as she wanted me to find him. You will be kind to her, won’t you, Louisa? She may look tough on the outside but I know she does feel it dreadfully.’
‘Of course I will,’ said Louisa, ‘although she does make it rather difficult for one.’
Donald Haynes entered the room and looked immediately at Stella, who turned her head away. Angela was reminded that she had not yet had the opportunity to keep her promise and intercede on his behalf. He greeted Angela with a smile, then threw himself carelessly into a window-seat.
‘Where is everybody?’ he asked.
‘Ursula hasn’t arrived yet,’ said Louisa. ‘I don’t know where your father is, but Guy is out today and won’t be back until later.’
‘Our gatherings are getting smaller and smaller,’ he observed. ‘There used to be quite a crowd of us but our numbers are dwindling. Who will die today, I wonder?’
TWENTY-EIGHT
A brief silence followed his words.
‘Donald!’ said his mother after a second. ‘Don’t say foolish things like that, please. You forget we have company.’
Stella pressed her lips together and glared at him angrily. He looked a little ashamed.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It was meant to be a joke.’
‘Well that kind of joke isn’t funny,’ said Louisa. ‘Stella, ring the bell for tea, please.’
Donald jumped up and left the room.
‘Oh dear, we seem to have started already,’ sighed Louisa.
Angela made a valiant attempt to turn the conversation to the more neutral topic of her recent trip to France, and had some success, although she was amused to find that, within a very short time, Miss Dennison had led the talk away from that subject and back towards herself and her Art. This fascinating theme carried them all the way through tea, and Susan was just beginning to expound at length upon the technical incompetence and spiritual inferiority of the Italian Renaissance painters in comparison with herself, when Ursula arrived.
She entered the room with her usual erect bearing and economy of movement, and greeted them all frostily, nodding at Angela. There was no sign of the woman who had begged for help the other day; she was as poised and composed as ever. For a few moments, Angela was convinced that she would carry off the meeting with no mention of Robin at all, and was therefore astonished when Ursula went over to Miss Dennison and stood before her.
‘The police have informed me that my son has been engaging in various illicit activities,’ she said stiffly to Susan. ‘They also believe that he may have persuaded your mother to give him all her money to invest, but instead used it to make up his losses from speculation. Unpleasant as it is to hear such accusations levelled against my only son, I am not a woman who shies away f
rom the truth. When I was first told of the matter, I refused to believe that Robin was capable of such crimes. However, I have now had a few days in which to reflect, and have been forced to face the distasteful possibility that he may in fact be guilty.
‘Nevertheless, while he may have failed in his duties as a son and an honest man, I am his mother and shall stand by him to the end. He will need my support—especially to fight the other absurd allegation against him, which is that he killed Winifred in cold blood.’
Susan stared at her in astonishment, speechless for once. Evidently no-one had told her of this.
‘Dishonest he may be,’ went on Ursula, turning to Louisa, ‘but a murderer he is not, and I shall not stand to one side as his name is dragged through the mud for a crime he did not commit. I will fight the accusations to the last.’
‘Naturally, my dear,’ said Louisa. ‘I shouldn’t expect anything less of you.’
Ursula looked slightly disconcerted, as though she had expected a different reaction.
‘I must warn you, Louisa,’ she said. ‘I shall not remain silent and see my son hanged for murder.’
‘Well, we shall have to see what we can do to help,’ said Louisa. ‘Now, do sit down and have some tea and a scone. You are looking far too thin. Why, I’ll bet you haven’t eaten in days.’
Just then, Annie the maid came in and informed Mrs. Marchmont that her driver had an important message for her. She excused herself and went out to find William waiting for her in the hall. His broad smile told her that she was not about to be disappointed.
‘Well? What have you got for me?’ she asked in a low voice, so as not to be overheard.
‘I reckon I got the goods all right, but they weren’t where you said they’d be,’ he replied. His jacket and the knees of his trousers were dusty.
‘Tell me,’ Angela commanded.
‘Well,’ he began, ‘the first opportunity I got I slipped away quietly and went to the room you directed me to. The door was unlocked so I got in with no difficulty at all and wasted not a minute in setting to work and scouting around. I searched carefully through the things in the drawers of the little writing-table that was in there, but nothing turned up—not even so much as a tailor’s bill. Then I went into the wardrobe and rifled through the pockets of all the clothes in there, but still no luck. I looked everywhere I could think of—darn near took the room apart, as a matter of fact, but there was nothing, so I came out again, wondering whether maybe it was all in a safe somewhere, and whether I was wasting my time.
‘Then, as luck would have it, I was walking back along the landing when a little door opened just as I was passing, and a housemaid came out carrying what looked like an old vase. I wouldn’t have even noticed the door if it hadn’t been for her, as it was set back in a kind of recess. Anyhow, I stopped to pass the time of day with her and she told me, among other things, that the door led to the attic stairs. Oh, said I, so that must be where the family keep all their odds and ends that they’ve got no use for, am I right? And she said yes, the attic was full of things—old things, new things, things that had no place anywhere else and a lot more besides. Then she told me off for keeping her from her work, but with a kind of smile on her face so I knew she wasn’t all that serious, and went away.
‘Naturally, I went straight through that door and up the stairs to the attic, and I’m blowed if she wasn’t right. It was like a regular Aladdin’s cave up there. My first thought was that it would take weeks to search through it all, but then I started examining some of the things and saw that quite a few of them were marked with names. There was one thing in particular that caught my eye as being likely to hold what I was looking for. It was sitting on top of an old writing-desk and was one of those little document cases with an inlaid wooden lid—you’ve probably seen the kind of thing I mean. And what was most interesting about it was that it was monogrammed with a particular set of initials that might be familiar to you.
‘I picked the box up and tried to open it, but it was locked. I hadn’t seen a key anywhere in the bedroom so I assumed the owner of the box must carry it around at all times. For a minute or two I was stumped, but then I remembered what you said about the person being dangerous and maybe planning another murder, and I figured that if it was a question of saving somebody’s life, then in this case the end justified the means.’
He paused and looked a little sheepish.
‘What did you do?’ asked Angela in some concern.
‘I broke the lock,’ he said. ‘It was the only way,’ he went on hurriedly at the sight of Angela’s alarmed expression. ‘I couldn’t have gotten into it otherwise.’
‘Well, it can’t be helped now,’ said Angela, ‘although the owner of the box will now find out that all has been discovered. Perhaps you ought to go back up and hide it somewhere.’
‘Too late,’ said William. ‘That’s what I was getting to. I was looking through the papers in the box, my heart in my mouth, when I swear I heard a creak, followed by the sound of someone stifling a gasp, for all the world as though somebody was up there, watching me. I don’t mind telling you I almost jumped out of my skin. I leapt up and shouted, “Who’s there?”—mostly to prove to myself I wasn’t a coward, to tell the truth—but nobody replied. I wanted to run away as fast as I could, but I forced myself to stay and find out who it was. I grabbed one of the most likely-looking papers and put the box back, then went on a little hunt.
‘There was a big old armoire standing in one corner, which looked like a possible hiding-place, so I crept over on tiptoe and peered round it. I didn’t find anyone, but you’ll never guess what I did find.’
‘What?’ said Angela.
‘Why, there was a little makeshift bed, with a candle next to it, half burnt down, and the remains of some food and drink. It looked for all the world as though someone was living up there. Is it customary to put guests in the attic around these parts? I’ve heard these great families can be a little eccentric.’
‘Not as far as I know,’ said Angela. ‘What happened next?’
‘Well, by that time my nerves were getting the better of me, so I thought I would just take one more quick look around and then go. At that moment, I heard a sneeze quite close by, and—well I hate to say it, but I completely lost my head. I ran out of the door as fast as I could and shot down the stairs, and kept on running until I reached the kitchen.’
He looked so horrified at himself that Angela could not help laughing.
‘Never mind,’ she said. ‘I should have done the same myself. You have done well—although it is a little unfortunate that you had to break the box open. We have now well and truly revealed our hand.’
‘Only if the owner of the box happens to go up to the attic in the next day or two,’ said William. ‘You never know—the person in question might have better things to do for a while.’
‘Let us hope so,’ said Angela. ‘Now, let me see the paper you took from the box.’
William reached into his inside pocket and handed over a folded sheet of letter paper. ‘Is this what you were looking for?’ he asked.
Angela glanced at it.
‘Let us see,’ she said. She perused it carefully, the furrows on her brow deepening with every passing second. Finally, she looked up at William with troubled eyes.
‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Is it any good?’
‘You have done well, William,’ she said. ‘This is extremely useful. And now we must find Mr. Faulkner as soon as possible. I believe he may be in grave danger.’
TWENTY-NINE
William was just about to ask a question when the front door opened and Guy Fisher came in. Angela folded up the letter and pocketed it smoothly, then nodded to William, who retired respectfully to hover in the background.
‘Hallo, Mrs. Marchmont,’ said Guy. ‘Is everyone here? Have I missed anything thrilling? If I go into the drawing-room, shall I see Ursula and Susan grappling at each other’s throats in unseemly fashion?’
&n
bsp; ‘I do hope not,’ said Angela. ‘They were conversing quite politely when I came out.’
‘A pity,’ he said. ‘It would add a certain piquancy to the proceedings, don’t you agree?’
He went off, and Angela beckoned to William again.
‘Quick,’ she said. ‘I am going to telephone Mr. Faulkner, and I shall need you to keep a look-out in case anybody comes. Or one person in particular, at any rate.’
‘Got it,’ he said.
Angela picked up the receiver and asked to be put through to Mr. Faulkner’s office. After a short wait, an unfamiliar voice came on the line.
‘Hawley speaking,’ it said.
‘Hallo, Mr. Hawley,’ said Angela, ‘this is Mrs. Marchmont. I wonder if I might speak to Mr. Faulkner. It’s rather urgent.’
‘I am sorry, Mrs. Marchmont, but I’m afraid he is not here at present,’ said the clerk.
‘Do you know where I might find him?’
‘Well—’ said Mr. Hawley hesitantly. There was a note of worry in his voice. ‘To be frank with you, I don’t know where he is. He did not come to the office today and has left no word of his whereabouts.’
Angela’s heart sank.
‘Is it usual for him to tell you where he is going?’
‘Yes,’ said Hawley.
‘Have you tried calling him at home?’
‘Yes, I telephoned this afternoon but no-one answered. Do you think he might be ill?’
Angela made a decision.
‘Wait in the office, if you please,’ she said. ‘I shall be there in a few minutes. We must find him, and quickly. I only hope we are not too late.’ She hung up, leaving Mr. Hawley feeling anything but reassured.
‘No go?’ asked William.
‘He did not come into the office today,’ she replied. ‘Go and get the car quickly, William. There is not a moment to be lost.’
He ran off and Angela scribbled a note to Louisa. She had no intention of announcing her departure to the entire family.
The Mystery at Underwood House (An Angela Marchmont Mystery) Page 17
