by Clara Benson
‘Well, for a while I did think it might have been Mr. Bottle,’ he said. She did not reply, and he went on, ‘When I first met him I was certain I’d seen him somewhere before, but it wasn’t until a day or two before the rally that I remembered where—and remembered, too, something that Miss Flowers once said about your association’s never seeming to have any money, despite the subs you charge. I went to dig through our archives at the Clarion, just to make sure, but it was the same fellow, right enough. Your Mr. Bottle is an habitual embezzler of money. I last saw him in court about three years ago, when he was charged with stealing funds from an anglers’ club in Brentford. He pleaded guilty and repaid everything in full, and the court treated him leniently. It appears he has a fatal weakness for the horses, and is unable to resist helping himself to any sums of cash that happen to pass through his hands in order to finance his hobby. One might have thought that he would have learned his lesson after last time, but it seems not. I ought to have warned Mrs. Belcher when I first realized who Bottle was, but other events interceded, and it slipped out of my mind. At any rate, I telephoned her earlier today and suggested she look carefully through the Association’s bank books, but she told me the bank manager had already called her that very morning, as he was uneasy about certain irregularities he’d noticed. If I were to make a prediction, I should say that now Bottle has gone abroad—might I say skipped, even?—Mrs. Belcher will discover that she has not been keeping a close enough eye on the funds, and that her trust in her treasurer has been misplaced.’
‘Goodness me!’ said Miss Hodges, who had listened to all this open-mouthed.
‘Quite,’ said Freddy. ‘As you can see, this puts Miss Stapleton’s death in a very different light. We’ve all been assuming she was killed because of what she knew about the Communists, but from what we know now it seems equally likely that she was murdered because she had found out what Bottle had been doing, and was threatening to expose him. He didn’t come to the meeting that night, you remember, because he was ill in bed—or at least, that’s what he said. But it just so happens that I was wandering around outside after the meeting finished, and I saw someone who looked awfully like him creeping out of the hall at just around the time Miss Stapleton died.’
‘Oh!’ said Miss Hodges.
‘Yes. Of course, one might draw all sorts of conclusions from that. The most obvious one, naturally, is that Bottle remembered he had accidentally left evidence that would tell against him at the hall—perhaps a bank statement or suchlike—and came to retrieve it, but that Miss Stapleton found it first, and he was forced to resort to violence to hide his crime. You may remember that a torn-off scrap of paper was found in her hand. One might guess that he took the paper and the takings box from her after he had killed her, then made his escape.’
He glanced at her, but she said nothing, and he went on:
‘However, the difficulty with that theory is that the man I saw was certainly not carrying a takings box. Still, it was such a beautiful solution to the mystery that I didn’t like to let it go, so I started to wonder whether perhaps Bottle had had an accomplice.’
She shook her head quickly, but he ignored it.
‘You’ll think it absurd, no doubt,’ he said, ‘but it was a game that put me on to the other half of the solution. “Hobbes and Descartes Took the ’Bus” is the name. Frightfully silly game, but someone happened to mention it and for some reason it made me think of that night, when I left you at the ’bus stop. I passed that way again a few minutes later and because you weren’t there I assumed you’d got on the ’bus. But later on it occurred to me that I might have been mistaken in my assumption. And I was, wasn’t I? I don’t know about Hobbes and Descartes, but Miss Hodges didn’t take the ’bus, did she? I know she didn’t, because I tracked down the two women who were at the stop with you and spoke to them, and they were certain that you hadn’t got on with them. In fact, they said that not long after I left you, you gave an exclamation and hurried off back the way you had come. At first I couldn’t think why, but then I remembered that Mildred told me you were supposed to take the box home and count the subs. You didn’t have it with you when we left, but I expect you remembered it after we got to the ’bus stop. That’s what you went back for, isn’t it? The takings box.’
She stared at him, but still she was speechless.
‘So now I have two halves of a solution, but I don’t know how to put them together to make a whole,’ said Freddy. ‘If Bottle was working with someone, then why did he drag himself out of bed that night when he was unwell and might just as easily have asked his accomplice to do it? He must have come back for whatever it was he took out of Miss Stapleton’s hand. So where do you come in, Miss Hodges?’
There was a silence, then at last Miss Hodges spoke.
‘Was Mr. Bottle really stealing money all the time?’ she asked in a sort of wonder. ‘All this time? I can hardly believe it. Why, that explains—’
‘Explains what?’
‘Nothing.’
Although Freddy was still not entirely clear about what had happened that night, he decided to hazard a guess.
‘It wasn’t Mr. Bottle who killed Miss Stapleton, was it?’ he said gently.
She looked at the floor, and he went on, ‘I think you’re an honest woman, Miss Hodges, and you don’t want someone else to get the blame for what you did. Why don’t you tell me what happened?’
‘It was an accident!’ she exclaimed, and sat down suddenly on a chair. ‘At least, I think it was. I’m almost sure it was. I certainly never meant—’
‘Meant what? To kill her?’
She shook her head, terrified.
‘It sounds so awful, said out loud like that,’ she whispered. ‘But it was just a little push, and she’d been so provoking that evening that I’m afraid I couldn’t stop myself, and I did it before I’d even thought about what might happen. I don’t know how you guessed, but you’re right—I’d gone back to fetch the takings box. She told me to count the subs and in all the confusion I forgot to take the box with me, and had to come back for it. I came back in through the side door to the minor hall and got it from the office—I knew she was still about somewhere, because she’d left her keys in the lock of the drawer, so I took them and the box and hurried off, hoping she wouldn’t realize I’d forgotten and start telling me off again. I’d had rather a trying day—my sister had been very ill, you see, and I’d been nursing her, and I only came to the meeting because she insisted I go out and enjoy myself a little. But I didn’t enjoy myself at all, because Miss Stapleton kept telling me off for getting everything wrong, although it was only because I was tired and my mind was elsewhere. I thought I’d managed to get the box without being seen, but then she came out of the committee-room just as I was passing. She had a letter and the paper-knife, but when she saw me she clicked her tongue and said that was just like me, to forget, and couldn’t I do anything right, and perhaps I wasn’t to be trusted with the takings after all. Then she tried to grab the box off me, and then I—I don’t know—I think something snapped in my head, and I was suddenly determined that I shouldn’t let her treat me like this any longer, and that she shouldn’t take the box from me. So I resisted, and she kept on trying to pull it away from me. She was still holding the paper-knife in her hand, and I think it must have been facing away from me and towards her—I’ve thought about it and thought about it, and I can’t see how it could have happened otherwise. Anyway, at last I’m afraid I lost my temper, and I shoved the box at her, and said something like, “Oh, there’s your silly box!” I thought then that she’d overbalanced, because she sort of stumbled and fell backwards, and I was so sure she was going to get up and shout at me. But she didn’t move, and I looked and there she was, on the floor, with the paper-knife sticking out of her and the box by her side. At first I didn’t understand what had happened, and I was waiting for her to get up. Then I thought she must h
ave knocked her head against something. Time seems to pass so slowly, you know,’ she said, looking up suddenly. ‘It felt as though I’d been bending over her for hours, but it can’t have been more than a few seconds. At any rate, my mind went blank, and all I could think was that it was terribly important that I take the box home. I don’t really remember what happened then, but I suppose I must have picked up the box and run back out the way I came. I walked home after that, I think. I was sure nobody had seen me, and I thought that since Miss Stapleton had asked me to count the subs, then it wouldn’t arouse any suspicion if people knew I had the box. It seemed very important to behave as normally as possible. You do understand, don’t you?’
‘I think so,’ said Freddy.
‘I didn’t sleep a wink that night, but it wasn’t until the next day, when I heard that the police had been called, that I realized exactly what I must have done. I should have gone and confessed there and then, and told them that it had all been an accident, but then I happened to open the takings box and saw that the money we’d collected at the jumble sale wasn’t there, and I began to think, and to wonder, and to hesitate. I wanted to know where it was, because it seemed to me that if I did confess then they’d say I’d killed Miss Stapleton for the money.’
‘The jumble sale?’
‘Yes. We raised thirty-five pounds, and Mr. Bottle brought the money here to the hall and put it in the box, as the bank was closed. At least, he said he did, when I asked him about it a day or two later. That’s when I became really frightened, because if Mr. Bottle had put the cash in the takings box then why wasn’t it there now?’
‘You weren’t in league with Mr. Bottle, then?’
‘No! I had no idea he’d been stealing,’ she said. ‘Not until you told me just now.’
‘Then what did you know?’
‘Nothing. But he knew—knew—’
‘He knew what you’d done?’
She nodded.
‘Did he see you do it?’
‘I don’t think so. It was when we were at Mrs. Starkweather’s house on the Thursday. I dropped my bag and the keys to the box fell out, and he picked them up for me. He must have realized then that if I had Miss Stapleton’s keys then I must have the box too. He insisted we take a taxi together, and that’s when it all started.’
‘Was he blackmailing you?’
‘Blackmail?’ she said, uncomprehending. ‘No—at least, I don’t think so. He took the box from me and said he would keep it safe for me. He was very kind. He said he was sure it must have been an accident, but that I was in the gravest danger, and that I mustn’t think of telling the police. I’d happened to tell him that the thirty-five pounds was missing, you see, and he looked very sober at that and promised never to tell a soul, only I mustn’t say anything either, unless I wanted to be hanged. He followed me around after that. I thought he was concerned about me, and didn’t want to see me get into trouble. Oh, Mr. Pilkington-Soames, I can’t tell you how many times I was on the point of confessing everything—why, I believe it would have been nothing but a relief—but each time he reminded me that I should be hanged as a common murderess, and everybody should know I had killed a woman for thirty-five pounds. My sister was beginning to recover by this time, and I couldn’t bear the thought of the shame and disgrace I’d be bringing upon her if I were to be arrested and hanged. I didn’t want to see her fall ill again. And so I kept quiet, and said nothing. But I’ve been a fool, haven’t I? Because he was the one who took the money. I suppose he persuaded me to hold my tongue because he didn’t want his own misdeeds to be discovered.’
‘I’m afraid it rather looks like it,’ said Freddy. ‘If you’d confessed, then it would all have come out into the open, and he would have been arrested.’
‘Then he wasn’t concerned for me at all,’ she said sadly. ‘And I thought he was so kind.’
‘No, he was driven entirely by selfish motives,’ said Freddy. ‘Quite a coincidence that he decided to come along to the central hall that evening, though. I expect he left the incriminating bank statement, or letter, or whatever it was, there when he brought the takings box back to the hall on the day of the jumble sale, then came back to retrieve it on Tuesday night. I don’t know what happened then, but I can make a guess. He found Miss Stapleton’s body and took the letter from her hand. I wonder why he dragged her into the committee-room, though. Perhaps he wanted to search her pockets thoroughly in case she was carrying some other evidence that would tell against him.’
Miss Hodges was no longer listening, but was absorbed in her own thoughts.
‘But if Mr. Bottle has gone, then that means I may confess now, doesn’t it?’ she said suddenly.
‘Yes, I suppose it does,’ said Freddy.
‘Then I shall,’ she said. ‘I shall go and speak to the police tomorrow. I shall tell my sister first. I only wish she were well enough to come with me. I’m a little frightened of the police.’
‘I’ll come with you if you like,’ said Freddy. ‘I’ll see to it that they treat you well.’
‘Oh, would you?’ she said. ‘That would be terribly kind.’
‘Not at all,’ said Freddy. It was impossible not to feel sympathy for her.
‘Do you think they really will hang me?’ she said in a small voice.
‘Not unless you’re very unlucky. But you won’t be, as long as you have a good lawyer. As a matter of fact, I think I know just the chap. He’s terribly good in cases of this sort and he’ll see you right. They may not even prosecute if you can convince them it really was an accident.’
‘Oh!’ she said faintly.
The sound of a woman’s loud voice could now be heard from the lobby. Miss Hodges jumped up.
‘It’s Mrs. Belcher!’ she said. ‘And nothing’s ready yet. Oh, goodness!’
She picked up an armful of tea-things and hurried out of the room, scattering teaspoons behind her, and leaving Freddy to wonder whether he had dreamt the past ten minutes, for the whole conversation had had an air of unreality about it, somehow, and Miss Hodges was now bustling about in her usual apologetic manner as though nothing had happened. At length he wandered out of the kitchen and into the lobby, where the first thing he saw was Ivor Trevett, looking as pleased with himself as ever, and holding forth on the subject of the Temperance movement to several young women, who were hanging on his every word. A little way away, Mr. Hussey was watching the little group with some displeasure. Just then Trevett looked up and saw him. The two men nodded stiffly to one another.
‘Too funny, isn’t it?’ came a voice at Freddy’s ear. It was Mildred, who was watching the scene with malicious enjoyment. ‘The Chudderley has decided she wants no more of him, you see, and now that the Communists have disbanded Trevett’s found himself without an audience, so he’s decided to fasten on to us. Mr. Hussey is appalled. Watch out for fireworks now!’
‘If I thought your mother wasn’t listening I should call you a minx,’ said Freddy.
‘Get along with you,’ she said, by no means displeased. She went into the hall, slightly pink in the face. St. John was just coming out, and he smiled at her as they passed one another. He was wearing a slightly sheepish expression that Freddy recognized only too well.
‘She’s a fine girl, isn’t she?’ said St. John.
‘Mildred, you mean?’
‘Of course? Who else?’
‘I thought you were in love with Ruth.’
‘Pfft!’ said St. John in disdain. ‘A mere passing interest. I mean to say, she’s not quite the thing, is she? But Mildred, now. There’s a girl a man could really depend on—sensible, intelligent, and without any of these silly modern ideas. A jolly good sort, in fact.’
‘I quite agree with you,’ said Freddy.
‘She’s already come up with some marvellous ideas for the Radical that won’t cost too much, and she’s also thought of some
people who might be interested in advertising with us. Ruth hadn’t the first idea about money—had to keep reminding her that it wasn’t a bottomless well—but Mildred has already been looking at the accounts. My, didn’t she shake her head when she saw some of the things we’d been spending the funds on! If anyone can get the Radical into profit, she can.’
‘It sounds like the perfect match,’ said Freddy.
‘Do you know, I think perhaps it is,’ said St. John. ‘Mother knows her, and is fond of her, so I don’t think there’ll be any opposition there. Everyone’s all caught up with Iris’s wedding, but who knows—if I work fast, perhaps I can get in before her. And then you’ll have two weddings to go to. What do you say to that, eh?’
‘Splendid,’ said Freddy dryly.
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New to Freddy? Read more about him in the Angela Marchmont mysteries.
