'Don't know what you're thinking,' said Laura, as they halted, half-way up, to take breath and look back at the misty view, 'but whoever got poor Hubert down this way had his work cut out.'
'There are two ways in which it could most easily be done,' said Dame Beatrice. 'Either the corpse was not a corpse when the descent was made, but was killed on the sea-shore itself and then pushed on to the Ledge, or else it was brought round by boat. This was a known spot for smugglers, and it was perfectly possible, so I read, to get a boat up to the Ledge in calm weather to land contraband cargo. I think the first theory is the more likely one, but that is for the police to decide.'
'What, then, is our next move?'
'I think it might be interesting to take tea with Romilly and give him an account of our excursion. His last question to me was whether I thought that Hubert could possibly have been mistaken for Romilly himself. I would say that it seems to me extremely unlikely. As to theorising about the means of bringing the body to the Ledge, I am sure I am right. Even if it had been transported as far as the farm by car, it is clear that it would have had to be manhandled from the farm onwards. This could scarcely have been done by daylight, or by one person, and I cannot see that it would be possible after dark, especially at this time of year and on such a rough and slippery path.'
'Besides, there are those over-and-under barriers, put up, I suppose, by the farm people, to stop the passage of cars over their land. I don't suppose there were any barriers at all when the smugglers were operating, but even they must have had their work cut out, even if they parked the contraband at the farm, as I suppose they did. Up to the farmhouse it must be the best part of a mile from the Ledge, and some of it is horribly rough and steep, and going down is as bad as coming up.'
'Oh, yes, I think we must rule out the possibility that the corpse was carried by the way we have come. The police will have come to the same conclusion. Even if more than one person was involved, the operation would be so hazardous that I cannot think anybody would conceive of it.'
'Of course, we don't know yet-and I suppose we shan't, until we hear the medical evidence at the inquest-the cause of the death, do we?'
They found Romilly and Judith in the same state of alarm and despondency as that in which Dame Beatrice had left them. Romilly, however, cheered up at the sight of them, and Judith rang for tea with an alacrity which suggested that she also welcomed their visit.
'So you have been occupying yourself on my behalf,' said Romilly, when the tea-things had been cleared away. 'I had so much hoped you would. It is extremely good of you, Beatrice. The police have not troubled us again, but, as I think I told you yesterday, they want to question everybody who was staying here. I'm afraid my little jokes have had a most unfortunate aftermath. What do you propose to do now? Dare I hope that you and this charming young lady, your secretary, will stay here for a few days and see us through our ordeal? I am sure we have not seen the last of the police, and I should welcome your advice and support.'
CHAPTER SEVEN
SWORD DANCE-KIRKBY MALZEARD
'Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry,
Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn
But one to dance with.'
The Taming of the Shrew.
(1)
'My first duty, as I see it,' said Dame Beatrice, 'is to return home to be with Rosamund. If, as you say, the police wish to question everyone who was staying at Galliard Hall at the time (so far as this is known) of Hubert's death, then my place is with the child.'
'But you'll come back?' urged Romilly. 'I need you here. I am not accustomed to have dealings with the police.'
'I hope to come back, in due course. Meanwhile, there is always your lawyer if you need advice. I assume you have already made contact with him.'
'Well, no, but I suppose I had better do so. The police seem to think it odd that Judith and I should have chanced upon the spot where the body was lying. I was compelled to protect myself by explaining what had taken us there.'
'I see that Rosamund undoubtedly will need me to safeguard her interests when the police call at my house.'
'I wish you were staying here, at least for today and tomorrow. I quite anticipated that you would be on hand when the police pay us their next visit. It may even be this afternoon. If not, it is certain to be tomorrow. Could you not stay to dinner and spend the night here? It will be no trouble to Judith to provide a bed for Mrs Gavin.'
'She can have Tancred's room,' said Judith at once. 'The maids have put it to rights.'
'It is very kind of you, but I feel we must get back to Rosamund. I take it that you have given the police my address.'
'We had no choice. We had to account for the whereabouts of all of you. I could be certain of where you and Trilby would be, and equally so in the case of Humphrey and Binnie, but I could give no exact address for Tancred, for, beyond mentioning that he was staying in Shaftesbury, he added no details, and the address to which I wrote when I invited him was a London one. However, they have their way of tracking people down.'
Amabel came out to the car when the visitors had taken their leave. She said, when the window was let down, 'Please, Dame Beatrice, mum, could I speak to you? It's the police, mum. Voilert and Oi, us don't fancy stoppen in a place where the police keeps comen.'
'No, mum,' said Violet, who had followed her out.
'Keep coming? Why, how many times have they called?'
'Twoice a'ready, and comen again tonoight or tomorrow, so Mester warned us. Fritten us, they do.'
'There is no need for you to feel frightened. You certainly cannot leave in the middle of their enquiries. They might think that you had something to hide. In any case, I am quite sure they wouldn't allow you to go.'
'But us don't know nothen about what happened to the poor gentleman, mum, and what us don't know us can't say, can us now?'
'Do you think Amabel was telling the whole truth?' asked Laura, as the car approached the great gates.
'I am convinced she was not. I saw, as you did, her sister's tug on her apron. There is something they both know, and it is the knowledge which frightens them, not the police as such.'
'You didn't try to get it out of them, I noticed.'
'At such an early stage I doubt whether it would have been worth the effort. Besides, I do not think they would have answered a direct question. There are other means to the same end.'
'Have you any idea what it is they know?'
'I have as many theories as there were guests, servants and residents at Galliard Hall last week. The most likely one, so far as I can see at present (which, I may add, is almost no distance at all), is something to do with the non-appearance of Hubert and Willoughby at Galliard Hall at the time for which they were invited.'
'But that might be fearfully important!'
'It might. Time will show. Meanwhile, I shall be very glad indeed to get back to Rosamund.'
They were met at the front door by Celestine, who was quivering with righteous wrath.
'Figure to yourself, madame, the police have come here!'
'Oh, yes? I will see them as soon as I have removed my outdoor things.'
'But they are no longer here, madame. I sent them away. "Never," I said, "do I admit intruders when madame and Madame Gavin are both out of the house. How do I ascertain," I asked them, "that you are not thieves and assassins?" They show me little cards. I pouf at their little cards. "Forgeries," I say. "If not, madame will know, when she comes in. I have heard," I say, "of warrants to search. Have you such warrants?" They say there will be no search, but only a few little questions to the jeune fille madame brings home with her. "There is also a little baby in the house," I tell them. "Shall I have a little baby wake up parmi le bruit de pas, le bruit de pas, comme les chevaux de charrette, made by your big, ugly boots? Non," I say, "but certainly not, messieurs."'
'You'll get us all arrested one of these days,' said Laura.
'You did rightly, Celestine,' said Dame Beatrice. 'The jeune fille I brought with me is in a highly nervous state and in no condition to stand up to police questioning when I am not here.'
'There has been, as usual, an assassination, then,' said Celestine, in a resigned tone, 'and madame will once more be toiling to assist the police to arrest a monster.'
Laura followed Dame Beatrice into the library where they had left Rosamund on their departure for Galliard Hall. The girl was reading, but put down the book as they entered and rose to her feet. Her anxious eyes questioned them. Dame Beatrice said:
'Tancred is quite well, so far as we know. Have you ever met Hubert Lestrange, a clergyman? He was to have joined the houseparty, but did not turn up. We now know why.'
'He is dead?' asked Rosamund.
'Yes. By what means we do not know yet, but the police have had to be told.'
'He was killed, then.'
'The police seem to think so. They want to talk to those persons who were at Galliard Hall last week.'
'And I am one of them.'
'So am I. So are a number of other people.'
'Will the police come here, or shall you and I need to go back there?'
'They will come here.'
'I shall have nothing to tell them.'
'That, most likely, will be my case, too, so there is nothing for us to worry about, thank goodness.'
'I should never worry if you were with me.'
'Good. By the way, it is essential to be quite frank with them.'
Rosamund looked scared.
'But I can be nothing else,' she insisted. 'I don't know anything about Hubert Lestrange at all. I had no idea he was dead.'
'They will ask you to account for your movements, and so forth.'
'Suppose I can't remember?'
'Tell them so.'
'But they'll bully me into trying to remember, won't they? Romilly was always bullying me and shouting at me and losing his temper.'
'The police will not behave like that, I promise you. But don't attempt to conceal anything from them, even if it is embarrassing or painful for you to admit some things which you may wish to keep to yourself. We all have our weak points and it is useless to attempt to disguise or hide them.'
Rosamund looked at the keen, black eyes and the quirky, beaky little mouth and then dropped her own eyes and said quietly:
'You are thinking of something in particular.'
'Yes,' agreed Dame Beatrice, 'I am. As I suppose you know, Hubert's body was found on Dancing Ledge.' She saw the girl flinch. 'Yes,' she went on, 'Romilly will have told the police that he saw you drown the cat and the monkey somewhere along that stretch of coast, and throw the large doll into the sea.'
'But you don't believe him, do you?'
'No, I do not, but I am anxious that you shall not deny having run away to those cliffs or that Romilly found you and brought you back-that is, if these things really happened.'
'But the police may believe I drowned things-living creatures-and they may think I'm mad, and that I pushed Hubert over the cliff.'
'Tell the truth, simply and openly. Then I can help you. And now I will tell you the truth about myself. My name is not Beatrice Adler. I did not correct you at the time, because it was unnecessary and, for you, perhaps, alarming. I am Beatrice Adela Lestrange Bradley, and I am attached to the Home Office in the capacity of psychiatric adviser.'
'But then-but then-' she raised her eyes and gazed first at Dame Beatrice, who had seated herself composedly in an armchair, and then at the tall and magnificent Laura, who, like Rosamund herself, was still standing.
'Yes,' said Dame Beatrice quietly, 'failing yourself and Romilly, who is quite as infamous a man as you have always suspected, I am the heiress named in your grandfather's Will. Nevertheless, I have every intention of seeing that you get your rights. I cannot prove this to you at present. I can only ask you to believe me and to tell the police the whole truth.'
'But I-but I-'
'There's nothing else you can do,' interpolated Laura bluntly, 'so there's no point in raising objections. Besides, you're being cagey. You read this morning about the body on Dancing Ledge.'
(2)
The police, called up by Laura and told that Dame Beatrice was at home and would be pleased to see them, turned up in the person of a friend of hers, Detective-Inspector Nicholas Kirkby, recently promoted, youngish, keen, efficient and fair-minded. He was shown into the library, where she greeted him warmly. Laura had already made his acquaintance through Dame Beatrice and her own husband, so Rosamund was introduced and the two young women went out of the room.
'So that's the young girl I've been hearing about,' said Kirkby. 'The lady who chucks things, animate and inanimate, into the sea. The theory at Galliard Hall seems to be that this dead man was one of them. What can you tell me about her, Dame Beatrice? I was told you've been staying at the house, but left before the body was discovered.'
'That is so. I was invited to go to Galliard Hall to examine and treat this girl with a view to curing her of what I was told was an obsession. In my opinion, she is perfectly normal, and the stories which have been put about are lies. I hasten to add that this is only an opinion. After all, I have only known her for about a week. In her own view, she is the centre of a conspiracy to rob her of her fortune. When she dies, after she attains the age of twenty-five, the money goes to the man who claims to be her husband.'
'Mr Romilly Lestrange? Yes, he told me she was his wife. Why, do you doubt it, Dame Beatrice?'
'Yes, I do. I believe the girl, who asserts that she is merely his ward. I think the housekeeper, Mrs Judith, may be married to him.'
'It sounds an odd sort of set-up. Reminds you of a mid-Victorian novel, doesn't it? However, all I have to find out at the moment is who killed the Reverend Hubert Lestrange, so I am trying to discover where everybody was, and what each of the household was doing, at the probable time of his death.'
'And when was that?'
'That's my chief difficulty at present. It's hard to pin the doctors down about it. The furthest they will go is to say that when they examined him he had probably been dead for five or six days, but that, as the body had been in water, it could be as long as seven or eight days. Now, just for the record, could I have an account of your own movements for the past eight days?'
'Certainly. That takes us back to yesterday (Sunday) week, does it not?' She opened a table drawer and took out her engagement book. 'Last Sunday week I was at home here and, apart from a stroll in the garden to look at the early daffodils, I did not leave the house. 'Last Monday I went to London on a routine visit to my clinic. I caught the early train-the slow one, because the fast, which comes through from Weymouth, does not stop at Brockenhurst-and reached my clinic at twelve. I lunched at half-past one at the Dorchester, where they will remember me, took a short stroll in the Park and returned to my clinic at three. I remained there until half-past four, took tea there with the resident staff, had about an hour's conversation with the doctor-in-charge, and caught the six-thirty fast train from Waterloo to Bournemouth, where my chauffeur met me with the car. I arrived home at approximately nine o'clock, dined, talked to Laura, sent her to bed and then I stayed up and read until about midnight.'
'That seems to account very nicely for Sunday and Monday.'
'On Tuesday I attended the baptism of Laura's baby daughter. We lunched at home and the ceremony was at three in the village church. After the ceremony, which was also attended by the Assistant Commissioner and his son, I told Laura that I had received an invitation to stay at Galliard Hall.'
'Oh, yes. When did you receive this invitation?'
'On the previous Thursday. Laura usually attends to my correspondence, but this envelope was marked Personal, so, of course, she did not open it and, as I did not make up my mind immediately whether to accept or not, I did not mention it until I had come to a decision.'
'But you did accept the i
nvitation?'
'Oh, yes, after some thought, I wrote to Romilly Lestrange on the Monday, while I was at my clinic, and posted the letter at Waterloo.'
'May I ask why it took you from the Thursday until the Monday to make up your mind?'
'Certainly you may. I had never heard of Romilly Lestrange, and his claim to be my cousin by my first marriage I mentally queried. This being so, I decided that Romilly might be a scoundrel, and I thought I would add him to my collection of smooth villains. I have done so with the greatest delight.'
'That, then, brings us to Wednesday and the time you actually spent at Galliard Hall.'
Dame Beatrice gave him a detailed account of her stay, including her talks with Rosamund and the others. He did not ask any questions until she had finished. Then he said:
'So you disbelieve Mr Romilly Lestrange's description of the strange conduct of the young lady, and she, in spite of what he told you, insists she is not his wife.'
'At present I am inclined to believe the girl. I think she has been worried, thwarted and unhappy, but that is not all. I believe she has gone in fear of her life. I do not know who Romilly is, but I doubt whether he is a member of my first husband's family. There is much that I intend to find out, but, so long as the girl is safe, I am in no hurry to continue my investigations on her behalf. They can wait until you have cleared up your case. May I ask what makes you regard the Reverend Hubert's death as murder?'
'That he was murdered is only our theory. It may have been suicide, but, considering his vocation, we are doubtful about that. However, if he hadn't been a clergyman we should have been more open-minded about suicide than we are. Our object, when we've heard what our witnesses have to tell us, is to try to find out what on earth he was doing on the cliff at all.'
'I wonder whether he had paid any previous visits to Galliard Hall? I understand that he had not.'
'That's something I hope to find out. You mean he may have been decoyed on to the cliff-top. If he didn't know the countryside, he wouldn't have realised that Dancing Ledge is not on the way to Galliard Hall. I asked Mr Romilly for a list of his guests-and his household. I wonder whether you would be good enough to check it with me?'
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