by Clara Benson
‘Gertie,’ breathed Gertie, and just managed not to giggle.
Dauncey gestured to her to join him, and Freddy duly took a photograph of them both.
‘What sort of display will it be, sir?’ he said. ‘Looping the loop, something of the sort?’
‘Not exactly. It’s to be a demonstration of the Nugent Nuthatch, Browncliffe’s new fighter plane—I dare say you’ve read of it. I’m just going to put her through her paces, and show what she can do. There are some very earnest fellows here from the Air Ministry, and my job is to show them that the Nuthatch is the very plane they need. We don’t want to be beaten by our rivals, do we? Westray and several other companies would like nothing better to get the business.’
‘Do you think your plane will win?’
‘Oh, we’ll wipe the floor with them,’ said Dauncey. He laughed, showing his white teeth. Gertie gazed at him adoringly. Freddy nudged her with his foot and she glared at him.
‘Well, must be off,’ said Dauncey. ‘Don’t want to start late.’
He gave Gertie a wink and strode off, the very picture of heroic manhood.
‘Come on,’ said Gertie. ‘I want to find a good spot.’
Chapter Ten
They found a place where a good view might be had of the runway, and Gertie raised a pair of field-glasses with which she had thoughtfully provided herself and began surveying the crowd.
‘There’s Mother,’ she said. ‘She’ll be wondering where I am.’
She went off to join Lady Strathmerrick, and Freddy remained where he was. The first plane to take off was a Westray Ocelot, a wood-framed biplane, which, as far as he could understand from the dull honking and buzzing coming from the loud speakers, included something called an air-cooled radial engine and other features of an incomprehensibly technical nature. The machine zipped neatly along the runway and sailed into the air. It performed a series of daring rolls and loops, then came in to land lightly, to the sound of loud applause. It was followed by another aeroplane, produced by a different firm, which effected a number of exciting and dangerous dives, pulling up not fifty feet from the ground and rising back into the air. It was all very well done, and Freddy admired the engineering prowess which must have gone into producing such graceful, powerful machines.
He was watching the scene with interest and thinking of nothing in particular when he gradually became aware of a presence hovering at his elbow, and turned to see standing next to him a tall, thin young man upon whom Nature appeared to have bestowed more than his fair share of teeth and less than his fair share of chin.
‘Well, if it isn’t young Freddy!’ said Corky Beckwith, affecting an expression of surprise. ‘And what brings you here?’
‘The same as you, I imagine—work,’ said Freddy, for Mr. Beckwith was a reporter at the Clarion’s rival newspaper, the Herald, and a perpetual thorn in Freddy’s side.
Corky waved his hand and gave a heavy sigh.
‘Yes, it’s dreadfully unfortunate that one has to come to such places and mingle with the great unwashed in pursuit of an honest living. One had hopes of a preferment, but there was a little matter of a misunderstanding over my expenses. I told them the young lady was a valuable witness in a murder case, but they were unwilling to believe me.’
‘You astonish me.’
‘It was most provoking. They seemed to think it was a black mark against my character, which was infuriating enough, but worse than that, I was left severely out of pocket for the hotel bill and sundry other disbursements. So here you see me—’ (here there was another sigh) ‘—toiling anew on my pitiful pilgrimage through the Slough of Despond, when I ought to have been celebrating my promotion to chief reporter.’ He was patting his pockets as he spoke, and brought out a crumpled paper bag of confectionery, which he held out. ‘Humbug?’
‘Quite,’ said Freddy.
Corky inserted a sticky-looking sweet into his mouth and gazed across to where Gertie was standing with her mother.
‘I see you’re here with Lady Gertrude McAloon. Any news you’d care to share?’
‘What sort of news?’
‘Oh, you know: engagements, elopements, that sort of thing. She’s always good for a paragraph or two on a slow news day—all the McAloon girls are, in fact—but she seems to have been quiet lately. Any dirt there?’
‘None that I’d be prepared to tell you.’
‘Never mind. Whatever it is I shall find it out,’ said Corky imperturbably, crunching his sweet.
‘Or pluck it fully formed from whichever part of your body you’re using for a brain these days,’ said Freddy.
‘You malign me unjustly, young Freddy. However, you are right in that one must allow oneself to use just a little poetic licence in these cases. The Muse must not be denied. Am I not as much an artist as Leonardo da Vinci or Michelangelo? Though of course we tread very different paths as we strive for mastery of our chosen fields. Man cannot live by mere labour alone, for he must have some kind of release for the fire of creation that burns deep within his soul, and whether it result in an exquisite form in polished marble to which thousands flock in order to admire, or a smartly-written piece in an organ sworn to uphold the national dignity, the spur is the same.’
‘Look here, are you planning to go on all day? Because I’d rather like to watch the air show.’
‘No, but seriously,’ said Corky. ‘As it happens, I’m not just here for the fun. What were you saying to Captain Dauncey just now?’
‘Dauncey? We were talking about his plane. Why?’
Corky gave him a significant look and glanced around.
‘Let’s just say I’m doing a spot of digging at present.’
‘Into Dauncey? What do you have?’
‘You don’t think I’m going to give away all my secrets, do you? But if you must know, I have it on very good authority that he’s not quite the golden hero he’s cracked up to be.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Well, it all started back in May, after he won the round-Britain air speed race. I dare say you remember it—there was some question as to whether all the contestants had flown the whole distance, and even a suggestion that one or two of them had sat out the northernmost leg of the journey and bribed the ground staff to keep quiet about it.’
‘As I recall, nobody was suggesting that except the Herald.’
‘Yes, rather a good idea of mine, wasn’t it?’ said Corky shamelessly. ‘I worded it just vaguely enough so he couldn’t possibly get us for libel. At any rate, I was looking for a pithy paragraph to finish my piece so I tracked him down to his club the day after the race, but I fear that he didn’t take kindly to my presence and reacted rudely, not to say violently.’
‘Oh? What did he do?’ said Freddy with interest.
Corky pursed up his mouth primly.
‘He kicked me in the—er—rear, and had me thrown out of the club. It was a terrible thing. Just imagine treating the press like that!’
‘Au contraire,’ said Freddy. ‘Why the devil wasn’t he immediately knighted by a grateful nation?’
‘Aha! But that’s exactly my point,’ said Corky eagerly. ‘The whole episode started me thinking. Why wasn’t Dauncey given a knighthood after the war? Or a statue, at least. Do you know how many German planes he shot down? Thousands! Or lots, anyway,’ he amended, on seeing Freddy’s face. ‘And then he slunk out of the flying corps with nothing more than a handshake and a few medals. I suspect there was some dishonourable behaviour there, but it was never made public because of his heroism during the war.’
‘Your imagination is a rich and fertile place,’ said Freddy.
‘Scoff all you like, but I scent wrongdoing, and my nose has never yet led me astray. However, once again I find myself thwarted by my humble antecedents and lowly birth—I went to the wrong school, you see, and so nobody will speak to me.’
‘Nobody will speak to you because you’re an ass. It has nothing to do with the school you went to.�
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‘Once again you exult over your social inferiors even as you grind them under your heel. I suppose I oughtn’t to have expected anything more of you, but I did think you might be prepared to help a fellow press-man.’
Freddy’s curiosity got the better of him.
‘What exactly do you suspect him of?’ he said.
Corky glanced around again and lowered his voice.
‘For one thing, nobody seems to know where he gets his money from. You must have seen how he lives: a flat in town, all the finest restaurants, champagne, clubs, racing cars, planes, the lot. Now you can’t tell me he affords all that from his paltry wages as a test pilot.’
‘Perhaps he has a private income,’ suggested Freddy. ‘Lots of people do.’
‘He hasn’t—or not one that I’ve been able to discover, at any rate. He comes from a modest family and has no property or inheritances to speak of, and yet he wallows in the lap of luxury among all you lot.’
‘Well, then, I expect he’s in debt.’
‘Hmph. No more than you are,’ said Corky. ‘I tell you, he’s up to his neck in some dirty business, and I mean to find out what it is.’
‘Do you have any proof of this, or is it just another wild product of your fevered brain?’
‘Oh, well, if it’s proof you want, then I can’t help you,’ said Corky. ‘Isn’t my word enough for you?’
‘No.’
‘Then I take it you’re not interested in sharing the scoop with me.’
‘You don’t have a scoop. All you have is a half-baked idea that someone you don’t like is up to no good. Show me some solid evidence and I might take you seriously, but until then you can forget it.’
‘Pleased with yourself as usual, aren’t you? But you’ll see I’m right. Who was right in the Dacres case?’
‘Not you,’ said Freddy.
Corky ignored him, and went on knowingly:
‘Just you have a word in Dauncey’s ear and see what he says. And don’t forget to let me know. This could be a huge story for both of us if you’ve only the wit to follow my lead.’
He strolled off and Freddy shook his head. He was convinced that Corky’s view of Captain Dauncey was strongly coloured by vindictiveness. He turned his attention back to the air show, in which a display was taking place of a new kind of passenger aircraft which was meant to have the most comfortable cabin yet seen in any aeroplane. After that there was a short interlude of formation flying by a group of trick pilots. He had been shielding his eyes with his hand, but the sun was beginning to make them water, and so he looked away for a few moments and saw Tatty Nugent approaching him. She still wore the sad, anxious expression he had seen on her the last time they had met. It was hardly an appropriate look for a young woman who was soon to be a bride, and he supposed she was still mourning Douglas. She soon confirmed his guess.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve anything to tell me?’ she said in a low voice. ‘About Doug, I mean.’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Freddy. ‘As far as anybody is aware, Douglas’s death was exactly as it appeared to be: an unfortunate suicide. Sorry, old girl, but without any new evidence there’s not much else I can do.’
‘That’s a pity. Did you ever find out what happened to his shoes?’ she said.
‘No. That was a queer circumstance, right enough, but I can’t see where it fits into the affair at all.’
‘Nor can I, and I’ve tried and tried. I only wish I knew exactly what happened that night. Isn’t there anything you can think of that might help us?’
‘You might give me a little information. I don’t suppose it has anything to do with the thing, but what can you tell me about Captain Dauncey?’
‘Captain Dauncey?’ she said in surprise. ‘I don’t know much myself. He’s a good friend of Father’s, though, and it was a great coup for Nugent to get him as a test pilot. He got along very well with Doug, too.’
‘Did he, indeed?’ said Freddy, pricking up his ears.
‘Oh yes. They were very pally at one point and went out together often. I wasn’t especially keen on it, to be perfectly honest. Dauncey moves with a fast crowd, and they all tend to drink too much. That’s when Doug started doing it, to try and keep up, and you saw yourself how good he was at holding his drink.’
‘That is to say, not very.’
‘Exactly. And there were other things that went on. I think they gambled a lot—cards, mostly, but horses and motor-races too. Of course, they were rather thrown in each other’s way when Doug and I were engaged, so I expect that’s why they palled up.’
‘And did they remain friends after you broke off the engagement?’
‘Why, I—’ she stopped to think. ‘Now you come to mention it, things had cooled between them, but it started a while before Douglas and I parted ways.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes, it must have been last year, around the time that Nugent Corporation beat Westray Enterprises to the Woodville Prize, and poor Douglas was getting the blame for it from all sides. He was very grumpy at the time and not exactly good company, so perhaps that’s why Captain Dauncey gave up on him.’
‘Ah, yes, the wing slot patent. I think there was some question as to whether Douglas might have accidentally let slip the information about the invention to you.’
‘He certainly didn’t!’ she said emphatically. ‘He was always very scrupulous about that sort of thing—and in any case, there would have been absolutely no use in his talking to me about it, because I don’t understand aeroplanes and never shall. I felt dreadfully sorry for him, because his father refused to believe he hadn’t done it.’
Freddy was thinking. He had not been aware of Douglas Westray’s friendship with Captain Dauncey, but it seemed to shed a new aspect on the case. Might Douglas have found out something to Dauncey’s disadvantage which required him to be put out of the way? Freddy could not help remembering that Dauncey had been carrying a penknife on the night of the dance, with which he could have opened the sash window from the outside. Was that what had happened? Had Dauncey gone up the fire escape, seen Douglas through the window and seized the opportunity to get in and murder him? But no—that was not possible: he could not have seen Douglas, because the dressing-room curtains had been closed. Freddy shook himself. It was all pure speculation at present, and all because Corky had a bee in his bonnet as usual. Would the idea have even occurred to him had Corky not piqued his curiosity about Dauncey’s past? Most probably not.
The next person to speak to him about Douglas was Lois Westray, who was wearing an anxious expression not dissimilar to Tatty’s. Freddy congratulated her on the successful performance of the Westray Ocelot.
‘Yes, it went rather well, didn’t it? I’m glad for Stanley, since he hasn’t had much to celebrate recently. With any luck this will bring in some new business and help him get over what happened. Not that money is any sort of compensation for Doug, but at least it will keep his mind off things.’
‘Did he take Douglas’s death badly, then? He doesn’t seem the sort to show it.’
‘He isn’t, but that’s just his manner. He really was dreadfully cut up about what happened. Despite everything he was very fond of Douglas.’
‘But wasn’t he disappointed in him for losing Tatty and all the business that might have come his way through a closer partnership with Nugent?’
‘Yes, but he’d have come round sooner or later. It’s all too late now, though.’ She seemed agitated about something. ‘Listen, I’ve been thinking about what you said the other week about Doug’s death, and its not being suicide. Do you really think it’s true?’
‘I don’t know. I suppose it’s just possible that somebody might have got into the room, killed him, then come out through the window, but whoever it was would have been taking an awful risk—I mean to say, there were hundreds of people milling about that night, and he might have been seen.’
‘Oh, but you see, he wouldn’t,’ she said. ‘It’s occurred to me tha
t if somebody did come in or out through the window then there’s a very good chance he wouldn’t have been seen at all.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Because of the lights. Don’t you remember? The terrace was lit up so brightly that it threw everything else into shadow, and at least one of the lights was placed just below the balcony and directed towards the terrace. I remember it particularly, because I came out to look for Stanley at one point, and when I looked up at the balcony the light below it quite blinded me, and I couldn’t see a thing.’
‘I believe you’re right,’ said Freddy, considering. ‘It was midsummer, so light for most of the evening, but it would have been dark enough by ten o’clock. You went up there after supper, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but I hope you don’t think I had anything to do with it!’
‘Of course not, but perhaps you might have seen someone up there at the same time.’
‘No, I saw no-one.’
It was the second time she had denied seeing anyone on the balcony, but Freddy remembered that part of the evening very well—and also remembered that Lois had come down the fire escape only a minute or two before Captain Dauncey, and so must have seen him up there. He wondered why she was lying about it.
Chapter Eleven
Dauncey’s plane was now taxiing along towards the runway in preparation for take-off, and the chatter in the crowd swelled as the excitement mounted. The other displays had been all very well, but the Nugent Nuthatch was the real star of the show, for the Nugent Corporation—and Lord Browncliffe in particular—had been busy over the past few months seeking publicity for the machine, and instilling in the minds of the public the idea that it would be the next great aircraft—the fighter of the future, able to hold its own in combat should the unthinkable happen and war break out again. The crowd were therefore eager to see the first public appearance of this great national feat of engineering, flown by Captain Dauncey, the great national hero.
The loud speaker was informing the crowd indistinctly of the Nuthatch’s technical particulars. It was a two-seat, twin-engined monoplane constructed all in metal, with a top speed of almost two hundred and fifty miles per hour, and contained no less than twenty-one patented inventions. The speaker droned on, but few were listening, for they were all preoccupied with the sight of the plane itself as it stood poised at the end of the runway, preparing for flight. Heads strained to see above the crowd, and the shorter people stood on tiptoe, trying to catch a glimpse of Captain Dauncey, whose head was just visible in the cockpit, clad in its leather helmet. The propeller whirred, then hummed as it spun faster and the plane moved forward, gaining speed as it went. It lifted lightly and smoothly into the air, and there was a sigh from the crowd as Dauncey immediately began putting the plane through its paces. He ran it back and forth across the aerodrome once or twice, then took it a little higher and performed a series of rolls and other aerobatic manoeuvres which demonstrated its capabilities to a marvel. This was quite obviously a much sleeker and better plane than any of the others on show, and the crowd were enthralled. The Nuthatch disappeared into the distance, and the observers waited on tenterhooks for it to return, wondering what it would do next. They soon found out: a tiny speck appeared in the sky, growing larger and larger by the second, then there was a huge roaring overhead and it vanished into the distance again as the crowd gasped, and the loud speaker honked out a speech of which the only words which could be distinguished were a startled ‘My word!’ and ‘tremendously fast speed!’
