A Case of Conspiracy in Clerkenwell

by Clara Benson

  ‘Far from it,’ said Freddy. ‘As a matter of fact, I wanted to see whether there was anything I could do to help find out who killed her.’

  ‘Oh, goodness,’ said Miss Hodges, who appeared flustered as usual. ‘Do the police have any idea who did it?’

  ‘Doesn’t look like it,’ said Freddy. ‘If it was a common thief then I dare say they’ll never find him.’

  ‘No,’ said Mildred. ‘And it looks rather as though that might be the case. Mummy thinks he probably sneaked in through the side door to the minor hall, since there were a few people still in the building and the front door would have been too visible.’

  ‘The side door?’ said Freddy, pricking up his ears. ‘Show me.’

  Mildred cast a doubtful glance at Miss Hodges, who was holding several teaspoons in one hand and a cup in the other and looked as though she were not quite sure what to do with them, then laid down her tea-cloth. She led him into the minor hall, where Mrs. Starkweather was pinning something up on a notice-board.

  ‘There,’ said Mildred. ‘The door is left unlocked while the hall is in use in case of fire.’

  ‘I see,’ said Freddy. ‘So anyone in the minor hall can go straight out, while those in the main hall can get to the outer door through those folding doors.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Mildred.

  Freddy tried the handle of the side door. It opened directly out into a quiet side-street. He glanced up and down, but saw nobody.

  ‘Shut the door, dear, you’re letting the cold air in,’ said Mrs. Starkweather.

  ‘Sorry, Mrs. S,’ said Freddy absently, and did as he was told. He walked out of the minor hall, followed by Mildred, and stood by the door to the committee-room. The doors to this and the minor hall were down a short corridor which was out of sight of the main lobby. If Miss Stapleton had indeed been killed on this spot, then it was little wonder that no-one had seen it happen.

  ‘Is this where she died?’ said Mildred suddenly.

  ‘So I understand,’ said Freddy.

  Mildred looked sober.

  ‘It’s pretty awful, really,’ she said. ‘I know she was a nuisance, but there’s no need for that sort of thing.’

  ‘No,’ agreed Freddy. He opened the door to the committee-room and glanced inside. It looked exactly the same as it had last week. Then he emerged from the corridor and into the lobby proper. People were starting to arrive for their respective meetings. If the murderer had come in through the front door that night then he might easily have been spotted by anyone who had remained behind in the main hall or the kitchen. The side door through the minor hall was certainly a more discreet route. Freddy remembered the man he had seen leaving the building. Was he the murderer? If he was, then why had he chosen to leave through the front door, when here was a means of escape which was much less visible? Perhaps he was innocent, then, for it would have been much more sensible of him to have left through the side door. Freddy decided to disregard him as a suspect for the present.

  ‘Very well, then,’ he said. ‘Assuming for a moment that nobody here did it, it looks as though the killer came in through the side door, bumped into Miss Stapleton outside the committee-room, stabbed her and ran off with the money. I understand she was killed with a paper-knife.’

  ‘Yes, I think she was,’ said Mildred. ‘The police wouldn’t tell us officially how she died—I don’t know why—but they kept asking questions about this paper-knife, and who it belonged to, so we put two and two together. She must have been carrying it for some reason, and the murderer grabbed it off her. At least, that’s the only explanation I can think of as to how he got hold of it.’

  ‘Whom did it belong to?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. If it’s the one I think it is, then it’s usually kept in the drawer in the office. All the groups that use the hall have drawers or a cupboard they can use. We only have two drawers, but they’re lockable so we can keep money in them and suchlike. Not that we do, usually, but Mr. Bottle was ill last week so there was money in the drawer for a few days.’

  ‘Mr. Bottle? He’s your treasurer, I believe?’

  ‘Yes. He’s had pneumonia, the poor thing. He feels dreadfully guilty about having left the money here for someone to steal and perhaps kill Miss Stapleton for.’

  ‘It was hardly his fault.’

  ‘No, but still,’ said Mildred, ‘I expect I’d feel the same.’

  ‘The money was kept in a takings box,’ said Freddy. ‘Did it have a key?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mildred. ‘Two keys, in fact. Mr. Bottle has one and Miss Stapleton had the other.’

  ‘Was Miss Stapleton’s key missing?’

  ‘I think it must have been,’ said Mildred. ‘She kept her drawer key and her key to the box on the same ring, you see, but the drawer hadn’t been forced, so she must have taken the box out herself shortly before she was murdered. The police asked us if we knew where the drawer key was, so presumably they can’t find it, which means the thief must have taken her keys when he took the box.’

  Freddy tried to remember what the police had said about the key. Not much, as far as he could recall, for they had said very little about anything.

  ‘Do you think there’s a connection between Miss Stapleton’s death and the Communists?’ said Mildred suddenly.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Freddy truthfully.

  ‘She did have a bee in her bonnet, and it was easy to dismiss her suspicions, but sometimes I wonder whether she mightn’t have been right. Oh, most of them are harmless enough, I’m sure—I mean, I’ve known St. John since we were kids, and I know he’s all right. But I don’t like that girl-friend of his, and there are one or two others I don’t think much of either. Peacock and Dyer in particular.’

  ‘Why do you suspect them?’ said Freddy.

  ‘Oh, because that Oxford act of theirs is just too much,’ said Mildred. ‘One can’t talk to them without having to listen to one of their interminable anecdotes about how they ducked the Bursar in the river, or left one of the Fellows up a tree without his trousers on. I know that’s the sort of thing undergraduates get up to, but there’s just a little too much of it in their case.’

  ‘I see,’ said Freddy thoughtfully. ‘You think they’re putting on an act?’

  ‘Don’t you see it yourself?’

  ‘They’re a hearty pair, certainly,’ he conceded. ‘What about Sidney Bishop?’

  ‘Is he the one who laughs every time Mr. Trevett says anything, as though it’s the funniest joke in the world? He’s very polite to us ladies, although Miss Stapleton always spoke to him rather distantly because of his accent. I should say he was a dear.’

  ‘What did Miss Stapleton say about the Communists, exactly? I mean to say, did she have any evidence against them, or was this bee in her bonnet merely a bee?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Mildred. ‘From what she said, some of the things she saw did sound a little suspicious.’

  ‘What sort of things?’

  ‘Oh, you know—she’d find them in the kitchen before a meeting and they’d stop talking suddenly when she came in. But that’s hardly surprising, really, because we all share the kitchen and they might have been talking about private things that were perfectly innocent, but they didn’t want her to hear them because they were sick of her snooping around.’

  ‘True,’ said Freddy.

  ‘And then there was another time when she saw a book that somebody had left on the table, and she went to pick it up but Peacock snatched it away from her. He did it quite laughingly, and said he didn’t think it would be her sort of book at all, but she was offended at his manner.’

  ‘I see. What was the book?’

  ‘No idea,’ she said. ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘It might,’ said Freddy. ‘One can pass messages with a book.’

  She stared at him.

 
‘Of course! Do you mean like in mystery stories, where they cut the pages out of the middle to make a hiding-place?’

  ‘Er—yes, that’s one way to do it,’ said Freddy. ‘But are you sure Miss Stapleton didn’t see the name of the book?’

  ‘Yes. She just said it was one of those cheap things in the blue jackets,’ said Mildred. She lowered her voice. ‘If you ask me, he wasn’t passing a message in it at all, but whisked it out of her way because he knew it wasn’t the sort of book he ought to leave lying around for the ladies to find.’

  ‘I dare say you’re right,’ said Freddy, although he seemed doubtful.

  Mildred frowned.

  ‘It’s all absurd, really, isn’t it? The idea that they were passing messages in that way and Miss Stapleton found them and was killed for it. It’s too far-fetched for words.’

  ‘I suppose it is,’ said Freddy.

  ‘Are you really going to investigate Miss Stapleton’s murder?’ said Mildred. ‘Why? Isn’t that the job of the police?’

  ‘Call it curiosity,’ said Freddy. ‘The police are busy men, so it can’t hurt to try and help them, can it? I mean to say, they’re outsiders, in a manner of speaking. They don’t know the people involved in the case, whereas I do. And a lot of people are naturally suspicious of the police and won’t talk to them. I expect most of these Communists aren’t too keen on the Law, for example, since they spend half their time throwing bottles at them and getting hauled off to the cells in return.’

  ‘All right, then, when do we start?’ said Mildred.

  ‘We?’ said Freddy.

  ‘Yes, we. You don’t think I’m going to let you leave me out of it, do you?’

  ‘Well, er—’ said Freddy. ‘I’m not sure your mother would approve of your doing this sort of thing.’

  ‘Probably not,’ said Mildred. ‘But if we don’t tell her she need never know.’

  Freddy regarded the usually staid Mildred in surprise, and she flushed slightly.

  ‘I’m tired of being the dull one all the time,’ she said. ‘All the other girls I know go out and do exciting things. Dancing, and—and—drinking, and all that sort of thing. I should like a little excitement too.’

  Freddy was by no means sure that he wanted Mildred Starkweather tagging along with him in his investigation, since of course he could not tell her his real purpose in trying to find Miss Stapleton’s killer. He tried prevarication.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I promise I’ll let you know what I find out.’

  She snorted.

  ‘Oh, no you jolly well won’t!’ she said. ‘If I’m going to do this then I shall do it properly. We must question people and have meetings and compare notes. I’ll speak to the members of the Association and you can speak to the Communists, and we can meet afterwards and discuss it and see whether we’ve made any progress. What do you say to Friday? That ought to give us a bit of time. Oh—’ she broke off. ‘I can’t do Friday, as we’re going to the opera. Saturday, then.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Freddy in some concern. ‘I’m going to the Schusters’ on Saturday. Look here, Mildred—’

  ‘To the Schusters’? Why didn’t you say so? Then I shall come too.’

  ‘But you can’t—’

  ‘Are you already going with someone?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Then it’s settled,’ said Mildred firmly.

  ‘But Mildred—’

  Mildred affected an injured air.

  ‘I see, I’m not pretty or chic enough for you, is that it? You don’t want to be seen with me. Just because my nose doesn’t turn up like Iris Bagshawe’s—’

  ‘What’s Iris got to do with it?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Mildred.

  ‘Has she been talking to you about me?’

  ‘No, she hasn’t said a thing about you. She’s getting married, you know.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, I’m perfectly aware of that,’ said Freddy a little testily.

  ‘Well, then,’ said Mildred, as though she had scored a point. She glared at him, then her mouth began to turn down at the corners and tremble a little. ‘You might let me in on it, you know. I don’t have an awful lot of fun. Mummy has needed me more than ever since Father died, but I should like to live just a little for once.’

  A tear was threatening to form in the corner of her eye, and Freddy gave it up, for once a woman started weeping the argument was lost.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘But you must be discreet. Don’t go around telling everybody of our suspicions.’

  ‘Of course I won’t! I should think I know how to behave.’ She clasped her hands together and beamed. ‘Oh, how splendid! Will you really let me come? I was sure you’d say no. Thank you, Freddy. I always thought you must be a darling underneath it all.’

  After that there was nothing more to be said, and no further possibility of persuading her to back out. Freddy sighed inwardly and resigned himself to the inevitable.

  They had returned to stand outside the kitchen and Mildred was about to pursue the subject further when they were joined by a little man who was wrapped up against the cold in so many coats and scarves that all that could be seen of him was his nose and his moustache.

  ‘Oh, Mr. Bottle!’ exclaimed Mildred. ‘Ought you to be here? You can’t possibly be properly recovered.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Starkweather, but I am feeling much better,’ said Mr. Bottle. ‘I have spent four days in bed, but I dislike inactivity, and as soon as I felt well enough I got up. You need not worry about me, for my landlady has been nursing me with great care, and you may be sure that she would not have allowed me to rise from my bed had she not been certain that I was recovered enough to do so.’

  ‘But nobody expected you to come this evening,’ said Mildred. ‘It’s cold outside and it can’t be good for you. We don’t want you to relapse.’

  ‘I am quite of your opinion,’ said Mr. Bottle. ‘And I assure you that I shall be very careful not to over-exert myself. However, I cannot in all conscience continue to desert my post after the awful events of last week, for which I cannot but feel I am partly to blame.’

  He was removing scarves as he spoke, and Freddy regarded him with sudden attention as his face finally came into view. Mr. Bottle was perhaps in the middle forties, pale and with a thin little nose that was rubbed red from the cold, or possibly from blowing. His eyes were red-rimmed too, and altogether he had the look of someone who was severely under the weather. Miss Hodges came out of the kitchen just then and gave a squeak when she saw him.

  ‘Oh, dear me!’ she said. ‘You ought not to be here, Mr. Bottle.’

  ‘Nonsense, I am quite well,’ he replied, and glanced past her into the kitchen. ‘Might I give you a hand with the preparations?’

  Miss Hodges jumped.

  ‘Oh, no, you mustn’t exert yourself,’ she began, but Mr. Bottle was not to be gainsaid. He ushered her into the kitchen with a firm hand.

  ‘We must all work together now that the excellent Miss Stapleton is no longer with us,’ he said. ‘It is not to be supposed that we shall prove anything like as efficient as she was, but we have been sent this trial, and we must overcome it. No, no, Miss Starkweather, we can manage perfectly well without your help. I suggest you go and join your mother in the minor hall, for the meeting will soon begin.’

  ‘I’d better go and save a seat for Mrs. Belcher, too,’ said Mildred, and departed.

  The members of the Communist Alliance were also arriving, and Freddy went to take his seat in the main hall. Miss Flowers was there with her crochet, and he sat next to her again. The meeting went on much as it had done the previous week, although this time there was a lengthy discussion of the plans for the grand rally that was to take place in Hyde Park, followed by a great rattling of tins, since extra funds would be required for its organization. Then St. John stoo
d up and recited a poem of some length, after which Ivor Trevett took to the stage and gave another powerful speech. Freddy listened, his attention caught, and was forced to admit that the man spoke very well, although when he tried to remember afterwards what had been said, he could not. It seemed to Freddy that if there were indeed something afoot, then Trevett must be at the centre of it. He determined that he would keep his eyes open at all costs on Saturday. If there was anything to discover, then he would discover it.

  So it was that Freddy found himself, against his better judgment, escorting the very proper Mildred Starkweather to a private gathering of intellectuals of which he was certain her mother would never approve. The Schusters lived in a house in Doughty Street, and as they arrived Freddy could hear the sounds of voices and music issuing from an open window upstairs. All the rooms were lit up, and when he rang the bell there was some little wait before anybody answered it. Despite her determination to go out and enjoy herself as other young women did, Mildred was looking a little apprehensive as they stood on the step. She set her jaw when she saw Freddy looking at her doubtfully.

  ‘Why does nobody answer the door?’ she said, and rang the bell again.

  ‘Remember, you’re not to tell anybody why we’re really here,’ said Freddy. ‘Just talk about general things and lead the conversation around to the murder if you can, but don’t be obvious about it.’

  ‘Of course I won’t be obvious,’ said Mildred. ‘I can be as subtle as you like. I say, do you think they’ll be drinking?’

  ‘Almost certainly.’

  ‘Oh, goodness,’ she said. ‘Will they expect me to do it too?’

  ‘Not if you don’t want to,’ said Freddy. In reality he was hoping that Mildred would be tired by half past ten, or so uneasy at the company in which she found herself that she would insist on his taking her home. Then he could return and do some real investigating without being required to act as nursemaid to a young lady who was not accustomed to going to parties of this sort.