by John Rhode
‘How do you know that he was in his dressing-room?’ Hanslet asked.
Hardisen chuckled. ‘You might have guessed that. Had a look in the cloak-room? Opposite the study? Can see you haven’t. There’s no washbasin there. Ought to be. Often told Nahum that. Now you’ve got it.’
‘You mean that if Mr Bryant wanted to wash his hands, he would go up to his uncle’s dressing-room?’
‘That’s it. Nahum always asked men up there. Women were different. Betty saw to them. They’ve got their own department.’
Hanslet frowned, and then turned suddenly to Hardisen. ‘Look here!’ he exclaimed. ‘You’ve got it into your head that Mr Bryant knows more about this than he’s seen fit to say. Is that just because you dislike him?’
‘I don’t like him. Told you that long ago. Wouldn’t trust him a yard. Not as far as that. That’s nothing to do with it. He keeps cropping up.’
‘Yes, he keeps cropping up. But he had no earthly motive for desiring his uncle’s death, that I can see.’
‘Your job to find out. What do you know of Philip? Or his motives? Precious little. I know less. But there’s something there. Take my word for that.’
Hanslet was inclined to agree. He arranged with Hardisen that the latter should stay in London for a day or two, or until he had time to cable to Micah Pershore and receive a reply. Then they parted. The superintendent lunched off bread and cheese and a pint of beer, and then proceeded to Byfleet, only a few miles distant.
He inquired for High Elms, and found it to be a fair-sized modern house, in the Willett tradition. He was told that Mrs Sulgrave had come home that morning, and would see him. He was shown into the drawing-room, and Irene Sulgrave appeared.
She was a pretty, vivacious-looking woman, apparently a little older than Betty Rissington, and answered Hanslet’s questions without any hesitation. She confirmed Betty’s story of the visit to Paris, and the reasons for it having been kept secret. Neither her husband nor Mr Pershore approved of those particular friends of hers. Prejudice, of course. But there was no reason for making trouble if it could be avoided, was there?
Irene Sulgrave also confirmed Betty’s account of their doings on Saturday evening. And it seemed almost certain that nobody could have taken out her car without her knowledge. She had locked the garage door, and brought the key into the house with her. There was no sign of the garage door having been forced.
She had not given Mr Pershore a ticket for the Motor Show, and she was quite positive that her husband had not done so. ‘As a matter of fact, George and I were talking about Mr Pershore when he was here for the day on Sunday,’ she explained. ‘George suggested running over there for tea, as we often do. But, you see, Betty had told me that Philip Bryant would be there.’
‘Was that any reason why you should not go to Firlands, Mrs Sulgrave?’ Hanslet asked.
‘No reason at all. But when I told George he would be there, he gave up the idea. It isn’t that he minds Philip. But there was always the risk of Ellen being there.’
‘Ellen?’ repeated Hanslet. ‘Who is she?’
‘Philip Bryant’s wife. Haven’t you met her? I don’t want to be catty, but she’s the most difficult person in the world to get on with. And she dislikes us as much as we dislike her.’
‘I’m surprised at her doing that,’ said Hanslet courteously.
Irene Sulgrave smiled. ‘That’s nice of you,’ she replied. ‘I don’t know what’s bitten the woman, but she can hardly speak civilly either to George or to me. And she’s very little better with Betty. She’s jealous of us, I think. She didn’t like Mr Pershore to pay attention to anybody but Philip.’
‘Do you know the provisions of Mr Pershore’s will, Mrs Sulgrave?’
‘No. How should I? I didn’t know that he was dead until Betty told me last night, and insisted on leaving for home at once. I rang up George just now, but he was too busy on the stand to tell me anything. So I’ve really heard nothing. I do hope that Betty inherits his money, and not Philip?’
‘Miss Rissington inherits the bulk of the estate. But there is another provision of considerable interest to you, Mrs Sulgrave. You are aware that Mr Pershore held a mortgage upon this house?’
‘Yes, I know, and I’ve been rather worried about what would happen. It was like this. We were in rather low water a few years ago. To tell the truth, we’d had a little flutter, and things went wrong. Betty got out of me what the trouble was, and she must have told her uncle, and asked him to do something about it. He and George’s father were great friends, you know.’
‘So I have been told,’ Hanslet replied.
‘Well, Mr Pershore sent for George, and asked him right out how much he wanted to put him on his feet again. George told him that five thousand pounds would do it, and Mr Pershore said that he would tell Philip Bryant to prepare a mortgage on this house for that amount. And he was awfully good about it. He wouldn’t accept any interest on it for the first two years, until George’s affairs were quite straight again. And I’m sure I don’t know how George will find the money to pay back the mortgage, now Mr Pershore is dead.’
‘He won’t have to, Mrs Sulgrave. Mr Pershore’s will provides that the mortgage shall be cancelled, without repayment.’
The superintendent was watching Mrs Sulgrave very closely. There was no mistaking her genuine relief at hearing this. ‘Oh, how perfectly sweet of him!’ she exclaimed. ‘I only wish we had known, and could have thanked him before he died!’
After this, Hanslet had no further questions to ask. Whatever her power of deception might be, he felt convinced that she had had no hand in the attempts upon Mr Pershore’s life. He accepted her invitation to a cup of tea, then left High Elms and took a train to Surbiton.
CHAPTER X
The superintendent’s visit to Mr Chantley was the outcome of Dr Priestley’s suggestion that he should learn all he could of Mr Pershore’s past history. He had very little hope of learning anything fresh, but at least he might have the advantage of a different point of view.
He found that Mr Chantley had just returned from his office, and was willing to see him. The man and his surroundings looked exceedingly prosperous. There was an air of good taste about the place which contrasted with the ostentation of Firlands. Mr Chantley, though evidently of a reserved temperament, was quite willing to discuss his relations with Mr Pershore.
‘I met him first in the way of business,’ he said. ‘I had some dealings with the firm in which he was a sleeping partner, and happened to meet him in the office. That was about five years ago, soon after he bought that appalling house at Weybridge. He asked me out to lunch, and an acquaintanceship sprang up. My wife and I went to Weybridge, and he and Miss Rissington came here. In fact, we used to see quite a lot of one another.’
‘You became acquainted with Mr Pershore’s friends and relations, I suppose?’
‘I did,’ Chantley replied. He was on the point of adding something to this bald reply, but thought better of it.
Hanslet smiled. He knew the value of unguarded remarks. ‘I’d very much like to hear what you were going to say, Mr Chantley,’ he said.
‘Well, I was going to add, and a rum lot they are. I think I saw you at the funeral yesterday. You may have noticed that the people whom one would most expect to see there were conspicuous by their absence.’
‘I noticed that. Miss Rissington, for instance. She was abroad, and had not heard of her uncle’s death.’
‘Abroad, was she? Did Pershore know of that, I wonder?’
‘He did not. Miss Rissington appears to be a lady of independent ideas.’
‘Yes, if you like to put it that way. I never could make that girl out. When Pershore was about, butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. As soon as his back was turned she was quite the modern product, with no thought for anybody but herself. My wife began by getting very fond of her, but she received very little encouragement. And yet she was only too ready to give Betty Rissington a good time. Far better
than she ever enjoyed in that stuffy place Firlands. However, she seemed to prefer her own rather doubtful friends. That old fellow from Wells, for instance.’
‘Mr Hardisen? He had quarrelled with Mr Pershore, I believe?’
‘Oh, I don’t blame him for that. Pershore was a very difficult man to get on with, unless one was prepared to surrender one’s opinions to his. That was the secret of Betty Rissington’s success with him. She never contradicted him to his face.’
‘She succeeded in becoming the principal beneficiary under his will,’ Hanslet remarked.
‘Ah! I thought it would turn out that way. The Bryants won’t be best pleased. There was a good deal of competition between the cousins. But Bryant was handicapped by not being on the spot. He had a very painstaking ally in his wife, though. But you didn’t come here to listen to gossip, Superintendent.’
‘To be quite frank, that’s just what I did come for, Mr Chantley. No doubt you have read the evidence which was given at the inquest. Had you been a member of the jury, would you have been satisfied that Mr Pershore’s death was due to natural causes?’
‘I do not think that any layman is qualified to decide upon medical evidence alone,’ replied Chantley. ‘Especially when that evidence is bewildering, as it certainly was in this case.’
‘Well, the police are not satisfied, and I am endeavouring to obtain further information. I cannot do so without an intimate knowledge of Mr Pershore’s friends and acquaintances. Listening to what you call gossip is one of my means of gaining this knowledge.’
Mr Chantley’s stern expression relaxed in a momentary smile. ‘In the hope of thrashing a grain of fact from the chaff of tittle-tattle, I suppose,’ he replied. ‘I’m not given to gossip, but if I can help you I’m prepared to break my rule. What do you want me to tell you?’
‘You mentioned the competition between the cousins,’ said Hanslet tentatively.
‘Oh, that! My wife and I used to get a lot of amusement out of it. On the one side Betty Rissington, and her friend Mrs Sulgrave, of whom Pershore was very fond, by the way. On the other, Bryant and his wife.
‘Both sides did their utmost to insinuate themselves. But Bryant wouldn’t have stood a chance if it hadn’t been for his wife. Bryant always struck me as quite a decent fellow at heart. But he hasn’t got a very accommodating manner, and he couldn’t always agree with his uncle with the servility which Pershore expected. Mrs Bryant saw this, and set to work to tackle the problem in her own inimitable way.’
Seeing that Chantley paused, the superintendent ventured to urge him on. ‘What methods did Mrs Bryant adopt?’ he asked.
‘Well, I hate discussing these things, especially now that Pershore is dead. But you’re a policeman, and our conversation is privileged. Not to put too fine a point upon it, Pershore, like most bachelors of his age, enjoyed the society of good-looking women. Betty Rissington knew what she was about when she asked Irene Sulgrave to her house so often. Mind you, I’m not for a moment suggesting any impropriety. I merely say that he liked to have good-looking women about him. He made no secret of the fact. And he liked them to be safely married. They weren’t so likely to set traps for him.
‘Now Mrs Bryant is distinctly good-looking and can be extremely charming when she pleases. She set herself the task of ousting Irene Sulgrave, and taking her place in Pershore’s affections. I know for a fact, since Pershore told me, that she often came to see him without her husband. And he sometimes took her out to a tête-á-tête lunch in London. What was the harm? After all, she was his niece-in-law, so to speak.
‘If she had been left to herself, her scheme might have succeeded. But she wasn’t left to herself. Not by any means. Betty Rissington watched her like a hawk. If she got wind that she was coming to Firlands, she sent for Irene Sulgrave at once. As a counter-irritant, I suppose. And the two of them were positively rude to the unfortunate Mrs Bryant. I’ve heard them myself, and so has my wife.’
This was interesting, for Hanslet had not hitherto considered Mrs Bryant as a factor in the drama. And it all fitted in with the scraps of information he had already gleaned. ‘What is your own personal opinion of Mrs Bryant?’ he asked.
‘I consider that she is an able and determined woman, with more sense in her head than the other side have between them. I won’t say that she has a naturally pleasant nature, but she can be very nice when she wants to be. We have seen nothing of her lately, for the simple reason that she has avoided us. Pershore didn’t like his friends to associate with people of whom he disapproved.’
‘Surely Mr Pershore cannot have disapproved of you and Mrs Chantley?’
‘He could disapprove of anybody who was not prepared to agree with him implicitly upon every point. Don’t run away with the idea that I’m trying to paint an unfavourable portrait of him. I’m not. Pershore was a man of many excellent qualities. He made a considerable fortune, entirely by his own efforts. In business matters he was keen, but scrupulously honest. If he said a thing, he meant it, and he never went back upon his word. He could be extremely generous, and he had no real vices. But he had that one fault, an utter intolerance of other people’s opinions. If they did not agree with his own, they were contemptible, if not definitely pernicious. And if anybody maintained their own opinions in the face of his displeasure, he never forgave them. He would do his utmost to get his knife into them, or, if that was impossible, he treated them as non-existent.’
‘Would it be impertinent of me to ask what terminated the friendship between you and Mr Pershore?’ Hanslet asked.
‘Not in the least. I ventured to disagree with him, that was all. And the subject of our disagreement was his housekeeper, Mrs Markle.’
The superintendent remembered Mrs Markle’s reluctance to discuss the Chantleys. But he said nothing, preferring to await a fuller explanation.
‘Mrs Markle’s position in the house was a very curious one,’ Chantley continued. ‘She had all the disadvantages of a menial position without any of the advantages. She was treated like a mere servant, and yet the whole responsibility of the household was hers. On the top of all that, whenever Pershore had a fit of ill-temper, Mrs Markle was always selected to serve as a target.
‘I don’t think that Pershore deliberately meant to be cruel. But there’s no denying that he treated Mrs Markle disgracefully. It was an open secret that they had been brought up together. That fellow Hardisen took care that everybody should know that. He knew them both as children, I believe. And he always made a point of calling Mrs Markle Nancy, which infuriated Pershore, though he couldn’t very well object.
‘I have never really understood why Pershore treated Mrs Markle as an inferior being. He knew he was safe enough in doing so. She would never have left him, however he treated her. She was devoted to him, in the sense that a dog is devoted to his master, and Pershore was quite well aware of this. He took advantage of it, in fact. I suppose it pleased him to see the contrast between Mrs Markle’s lowly condition and his own prosperity. “Look what I’ve risen from by my own ability!” You see what I mean?’
‘Yes, I see,’ replied Hanslet. ‘You know perhaps that Mr Pershore provided for Mrs Markle in his will?’
‘I didn’t know it, but I guessed he had done so. She has earned every penny of it, I can assure you of that. It used to make me writhe to hear the way he spoke to her. And once, a few months ago, I couldn’t stand it any longer, and told him what I thought. He replied that he had a perfect right to treat his housekeeper as he pleased. Whereupon I said that no man, however prosperous he might be, had the right to behave like a cad. The result was—well, shall we say a coolness between us. And I’m bound to admit that neither of us took any steps to bridge the gulf.’
‘Do you think that Mrs Markle resented the way that Mr Pershore treated her?’
Chantley glanced sharply at the superintendent. ‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘No doubt you’ve talked to her. She has always struck me as a woman who kept a tight rein upon her emoti
ons. She never seemed to resent Pershore being rude to her. On the other hand, she never showed any pleasure if he spoke to her pleasantly. I don’t fancy that either you or I are capable of discovering what Mrs Markle really feels or thinks. She talks a lot, certainly, but her conversation is all on the surface.’
This was interesting, but the superintendent was at the moment more concerned with the Bryants than with Mrs Markle. ‘I understand that the coolness between you and Mr Pershore extended to his nephew and niece, Mr Chantley?’ he said.
‘To Miss Rissington, certainly. Not so much to Bryant, though I have never seen a lot of him at any time. But we’re very good friends when we do happen to meet. As recently as last Monday, for instance.’
‘You saw Mr Bryant last Monday?’ said Hanslet in some surprise. ‘The day of Mr Pershore’s death?’
‘Yes. Didn’t he tell you? I ran into him at the Motor Show. It was about half-past two, or thereabouts. We exchanged a few words, and then separated. I didn’t see him again until we met at the funeral yesterday.’
‘Was Mrs Bryant with him?’
‘No, he was alone. He seemed surprised, almost annoyed, at seeing me there. Just as surprised as I was to hear that Pershore had been there. He and I had at least one thing in common, a lack of interest in motor cars. I have never owned one, and I don’t suppose I ever shall. If I have to make a journey by car, I hire. I find it’s cheaper and far less trouble.’
‘I have not yet discovered the reason for Mr Pershore’s visit to Olympia,’ said Hanslet.
‘Haven’t you? Well, perhaps it was the same as mine. Half the people who go to the Derby never see the racing, and half the people who go to the Motor Show don’t look at the cars. I certainly didn’t. But I’m gregarious by nature. I like a crowd. I like to do what other people are doing. It’s a confession of weakness, I dare say.’
‘You didn’t happen to see Mr Pershore there, I suppose?’
