There was a brief silence. Lady Pemberley had become paler too. She said,
“You had better sit down.”
Moira shook her head.
“I’d rather stand. Cousin Sibylla, you won’t believe me-I suppose nobody would-but I’m not telling you about it because Gregory Porlock has been murdered. I was coming anyhow. I made up my mind that I would-after I got down there on Saturday-after he tried to blackmail me. I was coming up to tell you. You won’t believe me of course.”
“I haven’t said so. Go on, please.”
The dark blue eyes went on looking at her.
“A little while ago I was in a bad hole-money. I went down for a week-end with some people who played a bit too high for me. I had the most damnable luck. It put me in a hole.”
“Yes?”
Moira set her teeth.
“I came to see you. You remember-it was the first week in November.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to. Everything went wrong. The Lamonts were here. You were vexed.”
“I remember.”
“Mrs. Lamont had made you vexed. She’s always had a down on me.”
“She is one of my oldest friends.”
“She hates me like poison-she always has.”
“You should not exaggerate, Moira.”
“Let’s say she doesn’t love me.”
“I don’t think you have given her much reason to do so- have you? Your manner towards her is scarcely-”
“Oh, I expect I was as rude as the devil! Don’t you see, I wanted them to go, but they stayed, and stayed, and stayed. And then-” She broke off.
“And then, Moira?”
“You sent me to tell Dawson you wanted your jewel-case. You were talking about Molly Lamont’s wedding, and you said you would like her to have a brooch you had worn at your own wedding. You wanted her to have it because Cousin Robert gave it to you and he was her godfather. I brought the case down, and you showed her the brooch, and then they went away. You went on showing me things.”
“Yes, Moira?”
“There was a diamond and ruby bracelet. You began to say something about leaving it to me. Cousin Sophy Arnott was shown in, and you said, ‘Oh, take these things back to Dawson, Moira.’ And I said, ‘Well, I’ll say good-bye,’ because I knew it wasn’t any good-Cousin Sophy’s a sticker.”
She came to a standstill. It was not only difficult, it was impossible. But there were times when the impossible had to be done. This was one of them. Everything in her was stiff with effort. She went on.
“I took the things upstairs. Dawson wasn’t there. I looked at the bracelet again. You said you were going to leave it to me. I was angry-you know I’ve got a foul temper. I don’t think I’d have done it if I hadn’t been angry.”
Lady Pemberley’s face was almost as white as the lace of her cap. She said,
“Why should you have been angry?”
“Mrs. Lamont staying on like that-I knew she’d been saying things. She hates me. I thought you kept her on purpose because I wanted to speak to you.”
“But when she went you did not speak-”
“I was working up for it-and then Cousin Sophy had to come in-I felt as if everything was against me. I took the bracelet.”
There was silence for some time before Lady Pemberley said,
“What did you do with it?”
It was out now. There couldn’t be anything worse. She drew in her breath.
“I meant to pawn it. I had to have the money at once. I meant to pawn it and tell you what I’d done. And then you got ill-I couldn’t.”
“You pawned it?”
Moira shook her head.
“I tried to. I got the wind up-the man asked questions-I should have had to leave my name and address and pay interest. I funked it. I went into Crossley’s and sold it over the counter. They didn’t ask any questions. It seems they knew me, though I didn’t think of that at the time. I couldn’t get at you-you were very ill.”
She heard Lady Pemberley say,
“And you thought that if I died, the bracelet would be yours and nobody would know?”
It was true. She hadn’t any answer to make. She made none.
After a while Lady Pemberley said,
“How does Mr. Porlock come into it?”
“He saw the bracelet. He recognized it. He said it was one of a pair, and that Napoleon gave them to Josephine. He knew they belonged to you. He bought the bracelet and tried to blackmail me. He wanted me to do jackal for him-scavenge for scandals, so that he could carry on his blackmailing business. I told him there was nothing doing. That was on Saturday evening. I made up my mind then to come up to town on Monday morning and tell you. Then after dinner somebody stabbed him.”
“Do you know who did it?”
“No.” She laughed suddenly. “I should have liked to do it myself! But you needn’t be afraid-I didn’t.”
It is possible that Lady Pemberley had been afraid-it is possible that she now experienced relief. It was not in her character to admit to either. She put out a thin, ringless hand and rang the bell on her bedside table.
Dawson came in, elderly, sensible, a little prim. Lady Pemberley spoke to her at once.
“Oh, Dawson -my keys, and the large jewel-case. Miss Moira has one of the ruby and diamond bracelets, and she might just as well have the other. It is a pity to separate them. Get it out and let me have it.”
Moira said nothing at all. It had not often happened to her to find herself without words. It happened now. She stood like a stone whilst Dawson set the jewel-case down on the dressing-table-whilst she unlocked it, lifted out trays, and came over to the bed to put the other bracelet into Lady Pemberley’s waiting hand.
Dawson was a little cross because Miss Moira didn’t speak. She thought she might have said something pretty and given her ladyship a kiss, instead of standing there for all the world like Lot ’s wife. She was locking up the jewel-case again, when Lady Pemberley spoke.
“Just remind me to alter the list of my jewellery, and to let Mr. Ramsay know about taking the bracelets out of my will. It will be much pleasanter to think of Miss Moira wearing them now. Thank you, Dawson, that will be all.”
When the door had shut and they were alone again Moira lifted her eyes. She had the stolen bracelet in her hand. She took a step forward and laid it down on the purple coverlet.
“I can’t take them, Cousin Sibylla.”
Lady Pemberley said gently,
“But I want you to have them.”
Something in Moira gave way. A kind of dizzy warmth swept over her. She sat on the edge of the bed and felt the tears run scalding down.
Chapter XXVII
When Justin Leigh walked into the hall of the Grange after putting his car away it was a quarter to one. They had made very good time on the way down. If he found Moira Lane unusually silent, he preferred it that way. He had plenty to think about.
He had hardly shut the front door behind him when to his surprise Dorinda came out of the study. She clutched him and pulled him back into the room.
“I want to talk to you-I thought you were never coming. It’s quite dreadful. The police have only just gone, and Mr. Winter is washing his hands.”
Justin shut the study door.
“Darling, you’re gibbering. Who or what is Winter?”
Dorinda gazed at him with widened eyes.
“He’s Mr. Porlock’s solicitor. The Scotland Yard policeman got him down-he arrived about eleven o’clock-”
He interrupted her.
“I wasn’t really asking for a biography.”
“Justin, it’s too dreadful. They rang up and said would I come over, because he’d brought down Mr. Porlock’s will. Only of course it isn’t Mr. Porlock-it’s Uncle Glen, and he’s left everything to me.”
Justin whistled. Then he said,
“Not really!”
Dorinda nodded.
“Frightful-isn’t it?
”
Justin looked at her curiously.
“What makes you say that?”
She had turned quite pale.
“Justin, I can’t take it. He usedn’t to have any money. I’m sure he made it some wicked way.”
“Blackmail, my dear-just a little simple, innocent blackmail.”
“Oh, how-” She hesitated for a word, and came out with a childish ‘beastly!’ “I’m glad I said at once I didn’t want it.”
“You said that?”
“Yes, I did-to the policemen, and to Mr. Winter. I said I couldn’t imagine why he’d thought of leaving it to me. And Mr. Winter said-he’s a little grey man, very respectable, and industrious like an ant, only of course ants aren’t grey, but you know what I mean-he twiddled his pince-nez, and he said his client had informed him that he had no relatives, but that he would like to benefit a niece of his late wife’s-said he had lost touch with her, but he remembered her as a pleasant little girl. I suppose I ought to feel grateful, but when I think how he did his best to get me put in prison for shoplifting-well, I can’t. He did, you know. The big policeman said so.”
Justin was looking serious.
“What are you going to do?”
She said, “I don’t know. I had to wait and see you. Mr. Winter says it will make everything a lot easier if he and I prove the will-we’re executors. If I don’t, the money will just go to the Crown, and there doesn’t seem to be any point about that. He says it will be better to prove it, and then, if he’s taken money from people, I can give it back. That bit isn’t what he said-it’s what I thought of myself. And then if there was anything over I could give it to something-for children perhaps. So I thought it would be better to let him get on with the will.”
“Had he much to leave? What does it amount to?”
“He isn’t sure. He knows there’s about five thousand pounds -he doesn’t know whether there’s anything more or not. Justin-they want me to come here.”
“Why?”
“They say it would be easier. You see, I’m one of the executors. In a way, it’s my house. There’s no one here to give any orders. Mr. Winter would like me to be here because, he says, we are responsible for the house and furniture-Uncle Glen had it on a year’s lease. And the police say it would make it easier for them.”
Justin said quickly,
“These people in the house-they’re a queer crowd, and one of them’s a murderer. I don’t want you here.”
“I don’t particularly want to come, but of course I see their point.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I wouldn’t come here unless I could have Miss Silver.”
“Miss Silver?”
“I told you last night I wished she was here. If you were here, and she was here, I wouldn’t mind being here too.”
“What about Mrs. Oakley?”
“That’s the extraordinary thing. The police came up and saw her after breakfast. She made me stay in the room. She’s dreadfully unhappy and dreadfully frightened. I can’t tell you about it, but if I was here I might be able to help a little. I mean, there might be things amongst Uncle Glen’s papers-that’s what she’s afraid of. And you see, if I’m an executor I should have the right to go through them with Mr. Winter and, I suppose, the police. And of course I would do my best for her, poor thing. She hasn’t any brains, but she does love her husband and Marty, and she’s sick with fright at the idea of losing them.”
Justin looked at her straight and said,
“Did she kill Porlock?”
Dorinda’s eyes became quite round.
“Oh-she wouldn’t!”
He said, “I don’t know about that.”
Chapter XXVIII
Miss Maud Silver arrived at tea-time in the black cloth coat, the elderly fur tippet, and the black felt hat with its purple starfish in front and its niggle of purple and black ruching behind. Having partaken of what she described as a most refreshing cup of tea, she was conducted to her room, where she removed her outer garments and had a conversation with Dorinda.
“It’s very good of you to come.”
Miss Silver smiled.
“It is certainly more suitable that I should be here with you than that you should be here alone… My room is next to yours? That is nice, very nice indeed. And now, Miss Brown, tell me just what happened on Saturday night.”
When Dorinda had finished Miss Silver coughed and said, “Very clear, very succinct.” She looked at the watch she wore pinned on the left-hand side of her bodice. “And now I think I will go down. Sergeant Abbott said he would be here by five o’clock, and it is just on the hour.”
Sergeant Abbott was punctual. He rang the front door bell as they came down the stairs, greeted Miss Silver a good deal more like a nephew than a policeman, and carried her off to the study, leaving Dorinda conscious for the first time that he was not only a very personable young man but quite human.
Inside the study he was less like a policeman than ever. He put an affectionate arm round Miss Silver as he guided her to a comfortable chair, after which he took an informal seat on the arm of another.
“It’s a good thing you rang me up,” he said. “The Chief was hopping mad at first, but I’ve got him soothed. The fact is, there are just about half a dozen people up to their necks in this case- and when I say up to their necks I mean up to their necks. And any blighted one of them could have knifed Gregory Porlock- and had every reason to.”
Miss Silver said, “Dear me!” She had brought down a flowery chintz knitting-bag, the gift of her niece Ethel. She opened it now and took out a half-made infant’s vest in the pale pink wool which she had bought on the occasion of her visit to the De Luxe Stores. The four needles clicked. The vest revolved without detracting in any way from the attention with which she was regarding Frank.
He nodded.
“As you say-‘Dear me!’ it is. One might almost call it the theme-song. I take it you know more or less what happened on Saturday night?”
“Miss Brown has given me a commendably clear account.”
“Would you like to read the statements first? They won’t take you very long. The Chief let me bring them, after blowing off the customary steam.”
Miss Silver laid down her knitting and perused the typewritten sheets in a silence which he did not attempt to interrupt. When she looked up from the last word he had another sheaf to offer her.
“These are my notes of the various interviews. There’s quite a lot of information in them.”
She read these too.
“It all fits very well into the framework given me by Miss Brown.”
“Yes, she’s got a head on her shoulders, and in spite of being the late unlamented’s sole legatee she is one of the few people who isn’t a suspect. Now for the ones who are. I’ve tabulated them for you, and you’ll see how nice and simple it all is. Here we go.”
He handed her some more of his neat typing and leaned over her shoulder to read aloud, with occasional excursions in the nature of comment or explanation.
“1. Leonard Carroll. Cabaret artist. Clever, slick, thoroughly unreliable.”
Miss Silver coughed gently.
“I have met him.”
“In fact you have him taped! Well, he had a very compelling motive. Porlock was blackmailing him. Their conversation was overheard by Pearson-you know about him. He was here to try and get something on Porlock because Porlock was blackmailing a client of his firm. The Chief knows him, and says he’s all right. He was doing all the listening at doors he could, and as he said himself, a butler really has excellent opportunities. Well, Pearson heard Porlock talking to Carroll. He told him he had evidence that he had given information to the enemy when he was out at the front with a concert-party in ’forty-five. Carroll went right off the deep end-very much rattled, very abusive. You’ve had that-it’s in my notes. An hour or two later Porlock is knifed. Now if you look at this plan of the hall you can see where everyone was when Justin Leigh tu
rned on the lights. It’s his plan, and nobody disputes it. Gregory Porlock’s body was lying with the feet a couple of yards from the newel-post at the bottom of the stairs. He had gone over there from the group about the hearth, and just before the lights went out he had turned round and was coming back. That is to say, at the time he was stabbed he was facing the hearth and had his back to the staircase and the drawing-room door. If you look at the plan you will see that Carroll was on the stairs, third step from the top, and Tote was in the drawing-room doorway. Now, taking Carroll as the murderer, the theory is that on his way up to wash after impersonating the devil in his charade he left a spot of luminous paint on Porlock’s back as he passed, and subsequently turned out the hall lights from the top of the stairs. He then slid down the banisters, stabbed Porlock right in the middle of the bright spot, and got back upstairs a couple of steps at a time. It could have been done. There were no fingerprints on the dagger. He may have worn a glove, or he may have taken a moment to wipe it clean.”
Miss Silver gave her slight cough.
“What about the switch?”
“Wiped clean. And that’s one of the most damning bits of evidence against Carroll. A switch like that ought to have been a perfect smother of everybody’s fingerprints. It was as clean as a whistle. Why should anyone have wiped it? Well, there’s only one answer to that, and only one person who had a motive for doing it-the person who turned out the lights. If it was Carroll-and I don’t see that anyone else was in a position to reach that switch-then Carroll is the murderer. So much for him. Now we come to Tote. Porlock was blackmailing him over activities on the black market. One of our leading operators. He was by all accounts very angry. Now, as you will have gathered, Tote wasn’t one of the party who went out to play the charade. He stayed behind in the drawing-room with Porlock, Miss Masterman, Justin Leigh, and Dorinda Brown. What we don’t know is whether he went on staying behind after the others came out to do audience in the dark hall. He says he did. Nobody else says anything at all. Gregory Porlock was last out of the room. He was the only person who would know for certain whether Tote followed him. He could have followed him. He could have marked him with the luminous paint. Everyone in the party knew the pot was standing handy in the cloakroom. And he could have crossed the hall without being seen and lurked behind the service door until the charade was over and everyone was moving about. Then he would only have needed to open the door a very little way in order to put out the lights. Of course there’s no proof that he did anything of the sort-that switch has an absolute crisscross of fingerprints. And when Leigh turned on the lights from over by the outer door, Tote was in the open drawing-room doorway, apparently about to emerge into the hall. Look at the plan.”
Wicked Uncle Page 17
