"And now, sir, if you please!" said the Inspector, turning to White, and opening a small notebook. "Your name?"
"I'm Harold White," replied White. "I live here, as you must know perfectly well."
The Inspector paid no attention to this impatient rider.
"And where were you at the time of the occurrence?"
"Up there on the lawn, just outside the house," said White, with a jerk of his head towards the Dower House. "Anyone with you, sir?"
"Yes, Mr. Jones here, and my daughter. We were waiting for Mr. Carter to arrive. He was coming to tea at my place."
The Inspector raised his eyes from his notebook to bestow a look on Jones. Jones seized the opportunity to ask for the return of his coat. The Inspector said: "In just a moment, sir," and directed his gaze towards White once more. "An appointment, sir?"
"Yes, I rang up this morning to ask him if he'd drop in at about five o'clock."
"I see, sir." The Inspector looked meditatively up the slope at the chairs drawn round the deserted tea-table. "Did you happen to see what took place here?"
"No, I didn't, but both my daughter and Mr. Jones were sitting in full view of the bridge, and they saw Carter fall."
"Not me," interpolated Jones. "I wasn't looking. I never thought anything till Miss White screamed, and then I couldn't believe my eyes."
"Did you hear the sound, of the shot, sir?"
"Yes, and then Miss White giving a scream."
"Did you form any impression where it came from?"
"Well, I don't know," said Jones hesitantly. "You know what it is when you hear someone shooting, and don't pay much heed. Over there, I should have said."
The Inspector watched him wave vaguely in the direction of the thickets on the Palings' side of the river, and demanded to know which way Wally had been facing when he was shot. Mr. Jones at once disclaimed all knowledge, explaining that although he had glanced towards the stream upon Janet's first calling attention to Wally's approach down the path on the opposite slope, he had not looked that way again until after the shot had sounded.
Janet, who was still clutching a crumpled handkerchief with which she from time to time dabbed at her nose, interrupted to say in a lachrymose voice that she had seen the whole thing, and that Wally had been walking across the bridge towards the Dower House.
"If that's so," said the Inspector, "we can take it the shot didn't come from where you thought it did, sir. Else the gentleman would have got the bullet in his back, which you can see for yourself he didn't. Now, miss: you say you saw the whole thing. Would you be good enough to tell me just exactly what you did see?"
"Oh, I didn't see a thing!" said Janet earnestly. "I mean, there was absolutely nothing. I saw poor Mr. Carter coming down to the bridge, and I said, "Here comes Mr. Carter," or something like that, but I don't exactly remember what; and then I said, "I'll go and make the tea," or words to that effect, because I'd been waiting till Mr. Carter arrived, you see, and left the kettle on the stove. Oh dear, and it's there still!" She added, in sharpened accents, as she recalled this circumstance: "It must all have boiled away by this time, and probably burned a hole in the kettle! Oh, I can't think how I could have been so forgetful!"
"Never mind about the kettle!" said White. "Answer the Inspector!"
"It's the new kettle!" said Janet, in very much the tone that Hugh felt convinced the Mad Hatter must have used in discussing the effect of the best butter upon his watch.
"Very unfortunate, miss, I'm sure, but hardly to be wondered at," said the Inspector. "And after you said you'd go and make the tea, what did you do?"
"Oh, I don't remember! I just got up out of my chair, and sort of stood, I think. And then my father spoke about the cigarettes. Or was that before?"
"Was Mr. White with you at the tea-table at that moment, then?"
"Yes, he was sitting in the basket-chair, talking to Mr. Jones. Then he said that about the cigarettes ."
"I beg pardon, miss, but I don't quite get this bit about the cigarettes," said the Inspector, with unimpaired patience. "You'll understand I don't want you to tell me what isn't relevant. Of course, if the cigarettes have got any sort of bearing on the case, or perhaps help you to remember just what happened, that's different."
"Oh no, they haven't anything to do with it! I mean, how could they have? It was only that my father was annoyed at my having forgotten to bring out a box, and, of course, I said I'd run and fetch them at once, only he said not to bother, and he'd get them himself, or something like that. And he got up and went over to the study window, and leaned in to get the box on his desk, and I suppose Mr. Jones was speaking to me, only I don't really remember, though if he hadn't been I should have gone in to make the tea, so I'm sure he must have been. And I was standing by the table, looking down here, not thinking a thing, except that I'd forgotten to oil the hinge of the gate - of course, it's really Mrs. Carter's gate, but she can't hear it from her house, because it's further away than ours."
"Good Lord, girl, can't you stick to the point?" exclaimed White. "Get on with it, for Heaven's sake!"
"Yes, father," Janet said submissively. "Only I'm so upset, and I don't want to keep anything back."
"That's all right, miss," said the Inspector. "You were standing looking down here. Now, where would Mr. Carter have been then?"
"Oh, he was coming across the bridge. I remember that distinctly, because he didn't bother to shut the gate after him. He never does. And then all of a sudden I heard a shot, and saw poor Mr. Carter sort of collapse. It was awful!"
"You didn't see anyone, or notice any movement in all this shrubbery?" asked the Inspector, looking round with disfavour upon his leafy surroundings.
"Oh no, nothing like that! For a moment I simply didn't realise it. I mean, I hadn't an idea of anything like that happening."
"No, miss. And did youu notice where the shot seemed to come from?"
"Not at the time, because I was too shocked to think, only now I feel sure it must have come from somewhere there," Janet said, indicating the shrubbery that stretched up to the Dower House.
The inspector did not appear to be much gratified by this somewhat dubious testimony. White cast a look of withering contempt at his daughter, and said in an exasperated tone: "You were asked what you noticed at the time, not what you feel sure of now. Sorry, Inspector: my daughter's a bit upset. Though, as a matter of fact, I believe she's right. I had a distinct impression of a shot being fired from somewhere in that direction."
The Inspector transferred his attention to him. "And you were standing just where, sir?"
"By my study window. You can't see it from here - it's behind that clump of azaleas — but I'll show you."
The Inspector turned to stare at the sombre mass of rhododendron bushes. "Those shrubs stretch as far as the road?" he asked.
"Yes, on both sides of the stream. Only it's a much bigger plantation on the Palings's side, of course. The road goes off to the right over the bridge across the stream, you know, skirting Mrs. Carter's grounds. We're only about fifty yards from the road here."
The Inspector nodded. "We'll look into that presently, sir. Now, when Miss White screamed, what did you do?"
White gave a wry grin. "As a matter of fact, I asked her what the devil was the matter. She gasped out something about Carter's being shot, and I naturally hurried up to see. Both she and Mr. Jones were gaping - staring, down here. I told them both to pull themselves together, and ran down on to the bridge."
"Just a moment, sir. I take it Mr. Carter wasn't lying the way he is now?"
"No, of course he wasn't. I raised him in my arms, to see where he was hurt, and afterwards gave him to Mr. Jones to support, while I dashed to the telephone. I suppose Mr. Jones laid him down like that."
"Yes, that's right," said Jones, edging forward a little. "And I put my coat under his head, just as you see, Inspector. And if it isn't needed any more, I'd be glad-'
"In a moment, sir," said the Inspector sev
erely. "I shall be coming to you presently. Can you describe to me, Mr. White, how you found Mr. Carter's body?"
"Well, I don't know that I can exactly. He was lying in a sort of heap, more or less across the bridge, facing towards the house - my house, I mean."
"I see, sir. And when you realised Mr. Carter had been shot, did either you, or Mr. Jones, think to look in the thicket there?"
"I don't know what Mr. Jones thought of: I certainly didn't," replied White. "All I thought of was to get a doctor as quickly as I could, in case Mr. Carter was still alive."
"Very proper, I'm sure, sir," the Inspector said, and turned towards Hugh. "And now, sir, if you'd tell me where you were at the time of Mr. Carter's death?"
"I haven't any idea," responded Hugh. "You see, I don't know when he died, or, in fact, anything about it, other than what I've been told."
"Then may I ask, sir, how you come to be here?"
"I came to discover just what had happened."
"You knew something had happened?"
"Yes, certainly I did. I had gone to call at Palings, and I ran into Miss Fanshawe on the lawn outside the drawing-room windows. She had apparently come from here, and was on her way to break the news to her mother."
"That's right," said White. "She turned up just after I'd got back here from ringing up the doctor, and the police station. We were too late to be able to head her off."
"Miss Fanshawe being the deceased's stepdaughter?" said the Inspector. "From what direction did the young lady come?"
"Down that path," replied White, pointing to the thicket across the stream. She had her dog with her."
"Indeed, sir!" said the Inspector, in an expressionless voice. "Well, I think that's all we can do here, but if you gentlemen, and you, miss, will take me up to the house, my men can get on with what they've got to do before we have the body removed. There are one or two more questions I'd like to ask you, Mr. White, and you too, Mr. Jones."
"I'm ready to answer anything," offered Jones. "But I would like to have my coat back, if it isn't wanted any longer."
The inspector said indulgently: "No, sir, I'm sure we don't want your coat. You should have spoken about it before. Give the gentleman his coat, Sergeant."
"Look here, do you want me?" asked Hugh.
Before the Inspector could answer, White said: "Yes, we do want you. You can tell the Inspector just what happened at that shooting-party yesterday."
Hugh sighed. "You're barking up the wrong tree. My evidence is nothing but hearsay, and valueless."
"Well, there's no reason why you should object to telling what you know, is there?" demanded White. "Seems to me it might have a pretty important bearing on poor Wally's murder - a darned sight more than that kid Vicky's happening to be around!" he added scathingly.
The Inspector looked penetratingly at Hugh, and said: "Yes, sir, I should be obliged if you would accompany us to the house."
Chapter Seven
The Inspector, having been shown White's study window, and having verified the fact that from it no view of the bridge could be obtained, turned his attention to Hugh, and requested him to explain White's reference to the shooting-party of the day before, Hugh replied in a voice calculated to depress excitement that he supposed White to be referring to Wally Carter's carelessness in moving from his stand. "Instead of remaining where he was posted," he said, "he apparently wandered some way along the hedgerow, with the result that he very nearly got himself shot. If you want to know any more about it, you should ask Mr. Steel, or Prince Varasashvili, who were both in a position - which I was not - to see what happened."
"Prince who, sir?" demanded the Inspector.
Hugh repeated the name, explaining the Prince's identity. It was evident that the Inspector thought the entrance into the case of a foreigner so exotically named at once invested it with immense possibilities. He said, that he would have to see the gentleman himself. He next inquired of Hugh how long he had been at Palings before encountering Vicky, and as it appeared from Hugh's answer that, at the time of the murder, he had not arrived there, he asked him some searching questions about his journey from the Manor.
Hugh had driven himself to Palings in his own car, and admitted cheerfully that he had come through the village, and past the Dower House. But when urged to try to remember whether he had seen anyone in the neighbourhood of the Dower House, he shook his head. "No, I don't think I saw anyone."
"But you're not sure, sir?"
"No, not entirely. Let us say that I didn't notice anyone. But as I was driving, and not staring about me, that isn't very surprising."
The Inspector accepted, this, and announced that he had, at the moment, no further questions to put to him.
"Then I'll go back to Palings," said Hugh.
The Inspector put his notebook into his pocket. "I shall be calling there myself, sir," he said. "I'll run you there."
It was plain that he did not want Hugh to reach Palings before himself, so Hugh made no demur, but meekly accompanied him to the police-car waiting in the drive. After conferring briefly with the Sergeant who had accompanied him, the Inspector got into the car beside Hugh, and they drove off.
The scene that awaited them at Palings was in the best traditions of the place. Ermyntrude, in a pink satin wrapper lavishly edged with ostrich feather trimming, was prostrate upon the couch in the hall, with a bottle of smelling-salts clasped in one plump hand, and a pink georgette handkerchief in the other. A glass and decanter on a low table beside her bore evidence that she had had to be revived with brandy. Vicky was not present, but Mary, looking rather white, was standing at the head of the couch, saturating a handkerchief with eau-de Cologne. She glanced up quickly as Hugh walked in through the open front-door, and greeted him with a forced smile. "Thank goodness you're back! Vicky told us is it true?"
"Yes, I'm afraid it is," Hugh replied. "Inspector Cook's here. Can he come in?"
"Police!" moaned Ermyntrude. "Oh, if my poor first husband were alive to see this day!"
The Inspector, pausing discreetly on the threshold, cast a somewhat awed look at the widow. Ermyntrude seemed to be beyond human aid, but Mary stepped forward, saying: "Yes, of course. Good afternoon, Inspector. This - this is an awful shock. I —- I hardly know what… Please come in! We're rather upset, and Mrs. Carter… But, of course, you must come in!"
"Very sorry to have to intrude on Mrs. Carter at such a moment miss," said the Inspector. "You'll understand that it's my duty to make certain inquiries."
Ermyntrude lowered the handkerchief from her eyes. "What have you done with his body?" she said tragically.
The Inspector glanced appealing towards Hugh, who took pity on his evident embarrassment, and tried to explain tactfully to Ermyntrude that Wally's body had been removed to the police mortuary.
"The mortuary!" Ermyntrude said in shuddering accents. "Oh my God!"
It was plain that the situation was fast getting out of the Inspector's control. Mary saw that it was her duty to pull herself together, and to assist the course of justice. She turned to the couch. "Dear Aunt Ermy, what does it matter what becomes of his body? Don't think about that! The Inspector wants to ask you some questions."
Ermyntrude found that her recumbent position made it impossible for her to fling wide her arms without hitting the sofa-back, so she sat up. "Have you no mercy?" she demanded of the horrified Inspector. "Haven't I borne enough without your coming here badgering and torturing me?"
"I'm sure, madam, I don't want to badger you!" expostulated the Inspector. "If you'll just '
"Ask me what you like!" said Ermyntrude, allowing her arms to fall, and bowing her golden head. "What do I care? What is there left for me to care for?" She clutched suddenly at Mary's hand, and said in far more natural tones: "Oh, Mary dear, the disgrace of it! Oh, I shall never get over it! Having the police in!"
The Inspector, who was beginning to feel like a leper, said defensively that he was sure there was no reason for her to take it that
way, though he quite understood her feelings. "What I want to know is, was-there anyone who might have had any sort of grudge against your husband, madam? Anyone who'd quarrelled with him, for instance, or '
He broke off, for the effect of this question was very alarming. Ermyntrude almost leaped to her feet, and confronted him in an attitude that would have done credit to a Duse. "Are you accusing me of having done my husband to death?" she cried.
"Aunt Ermy, of course he isn't!" exclaimed Mary. "What can you be thinking of? You must try and control yourself!"
"Am I to understand, madam, that you had quarrelled with Mr. Carter?" asked the Inspector.
"Oh God!" said Ermyntrude. "I parted from him in anger!" Once more she reverted to more ordinary accents. "Oh, Mary dear, he was a bad husband to me, but I wish I hadn't told him off, for now I shall never see him again, and we can't all be perfect, can we?"
Mary gently pressed her down on to the couch again. "It was nothing, Aunty Ermy; and I'm perfectly certain he didn't set any store by it."
"Him set store by anything?" said Ermyntrude bitterly. "Water off a duck's back!"
By this time, the Inspector was looking keenly interested. It seemed as though Ermyntrude had recovered from her histrionic fit, so he ventured to put a question to her. "Had there been any unpleasantness between you and Mr. Carter, madam?"
Mary could not resist giving Ermyntrude's hand, which she was still holding, a squeeze of warning. Unfortunately, this acted upon Ermyntrude in a most disastrous way. She reared up her head, and declared that other people could wash their dirty linen in public if they liked, but she would not. "What's past is done with!" she said. "He may have been a waster - I'm not saying he wasn't - and Heaven knows he treated me disgracefully, what with his goings-on, and encouraging that Harold White, and a lot of other things I could tell you if I wanted to; but he's dead now, and God forbid I should go taking his character away! You won't get a word out of me, and as for me telling him off; who had a better right, that's what I should like to know?"
No Wind of Blame ih-1 Page 11
