A Question of Honor (31 page)

“Yes, of course, that was always my safeguard. As for my reasons, that impossible girl—Gwendolyn—wanted to be invited to my wedding. She wouldn’t go away, I knew that. She was always a tenacious little beast. She would show up at my door one day, claiming acquaintance. I can’t keep the Princess waiting. It’s rude.”

“I have something for you. A parting gift, as it were.”

She must have seen the box on the bed. I glimpsed her as she crossed the room and reached for it. “For me? I don’t trust you,” she said. “I’ll take it with me and decide later whether I wish to open it or not.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It’s rather personal.”

I could hear people in the hall below, taking their leave. Someone called up the stairs, “Lady Campbell?” and then the remark, “She must have met an officer she knew.”

I was praying now that no one would start up to find her, half my mind on the distraction, the other half trying to hear what was going on inside that room,

The sound of someone opening a box. And then I heard Lady Campbell say,
“Where did you find this?”

“You left it in that poor woman’s shed. You left her to take the blame if I wouldn’t.”

I realized that the revolver must have been in that box. My heart was in my throat. Large as it was, the room wasn’t big enough for a gun to be fired without hitting someone. Simon. My mother.

“Well, it never hurts to be prepared, does it?” Lady Campbell was saying. “I see it still has three shots left. A shame to waste them.”

And before I could move I heard her scream, an ear-shattering cry.

In almost the same instant, the revolver went off. And again.

Chapter Twenty-one

P
eople were racing up the stairs, someone shouting Lady Campbell’s name. I was already through the door, my shoes forgotten.

Simon was on his feet, struggling with her, hampered by the unwinding bandages. He had just twisted her wrist, forcing her to drop the revolver.

Somewhere in a corner of my mind, I realized that if it had been Lieutenant Wade in that chair, he couldn’t have moved as fast, not with the collarbone just healing, and his leg still fragile. And that was what she must have counted on.

I started to pick up the revolver but Simon shouted, “Don’t touch it.”

He had her hands behind her back, and now Lady Campbell was screaming for help. “He’s run mad, I stopped him from killing himself, and
now he’s run mad
.”

An officer came through the door ahead of the others, and he drew his own revolver.

“Let her go at once. Do you hear me?”

I stepped between Simon and the officer. “There are witnesses, Major. Perhaps you’d care to listen to them before you go any further.”

My mother was just coming out from behind the screen. Lady Campbell, furious, exclaimed, “Shoot him, if you have to, just make him let me go.”

Mother came up to the Major and put a hand on his arm. “I’m Colonel Richard Crawford’s wife,” she said, as if she were holding a regimental tea and the Major was an expected guest. “I was a witness to attempted murder. Only it wasn’t the patient who was holding the weapon, it was Lady Campbell, and it wasn’t the patient who fired, it was Lady Campbell. I could see her very well from behind that screen, as perhaps you’d care to verify.”

The Major stared at her, frowning.

Mother looked over his shoulder. “Matron, how lovely to see you again. I’m afraid there’s been a little confusion, but no one has been hurt.”

The Major was shoving his revolver back into its holster. “I want to know what’s going on here,” he said.

“Sister Crawford, if you could settle the patient again, I’ll see you, Major, and Mrs. Crawford, as well as Lady Campbell in my office.” Matron’s voice brooked no argument.

She turned and sent everyone else away, then waited for us to follow her.

The Major, almost as an afterthought, retrieved the revolver, and marched out the door in Matron’s wake. My mother waited for Lady Campbell to precede her and then followed them.

“You took a terrible risk,” I scolded Simon. “Her aim is good enough that she shot three people before they could move from their chairs.”

“A timely reminder,” Simon replied. “Now go after your mother while I change into my own clothes and bring Wade back into his room.”

I caught up my shoes and hurried down the stairs, reaching Matron’s office just as she was saying something to my mother. She broke off, adding to me, “Is the patient’s leg all right?”

“Yes, Matron, I don’t believe it was damaged in the struggle.”

She nodded, then turned back to Lady Campbell. “I was unaware that this patient was suicidal. How in fact did he come by a weapon? We are very careful about that, you see.”

“It was in a box. There on the bed. I can only think someone gave it to him.”

“Sister Crawford, will you please retrieve the box she’s referring to?”

“I’ll go,” the Major cut in.

I could only hope that Simon was ready for him.

We sat in silence, crowded together in the small office, waiting for him, and after a moment the Major brought us the box. He set it on the desk, and Matron opened it. Inside was a man’s driving gloves, suspiciously like a pair Simon had bought some time ago when we were in London. There was a card under the gloves, and she slid it out.

“It reads
Thank you
. And it’s signed
Colonel Crawford
.” She looked up. “I know the Colonel. In fact, he visited the patient only recently. He would not bring a weapon to any patient in this house. What did the patient say to you, Major, when you went up for this box?”

“He was sitting quietly in his chair. I told him I’d come for the box, and he pointed to it with his good hand.” He paused. “I stepped behind the screen. I could see well enough through the cloth. The patient was seated by the window, and the light was good.”

“I’m sorry, Lady Campbell, but it appears you’ve not told us the truth. You insisted on going up alone to see this patient, and shots were fired when you were in the room. I myself saw the holes in the ceiling. We were very fortunate that the staff works with patients during the day and so they were not in their rooms. I’d like to hear your side of this story.”

She said, “I don’t need to defend myself. I have told you that the man was suicidal, and I tried to take the weapon from him.”

“It was lying on the floor,” Matron said. “And the patient was holding
your
wrists, not the reverse.”

“He was trying to prevent me from going for help.”

“Sister Crawford was already in the room, and still the patient was keeping his grip on your hands. The revolver remained on the floor.”

“They’re all lying, I tell you. That man in room twelve is being sought by the police, Matron. When I arrived he knew that he would be facing the hangman.”

“Corporal Caswell?” Matron asked, shocked. “How do you know this?”

“He’s wanted—” She broke off in the midst of answering Matron’s question, the name not registering at first. “What did you say?”

“I asked you how you could possibly know that Corporal Caswell is wanted by the police.”

Lady Campbell sat there, boxed in. Anything that she could tell us about the man in room twelve would convict her as well. “I don’t know any Corporal Caswell,” she said finally.

My mother spoke then. “I overheard you calling the poor man by a very different name. You confessed to killing three people in 1908 in Hampshire, and you told him why. That you were marrying well, and they were threatening to claim acquaintance. An impossible family, and you didn’t want them at your wedding. It’s quite possible that that revolver is the same one you used to kill them. Three of the chambers were empty, and now two more are as well.”

The Major, looking down at the revolver he was holding, said, “She’s right.”

Lady Campbell stood up, pushing back her chair. “This is ridiculous. I’ve kept the Princess waiting. I don’t have time for this nonsense. These people have been badgering me, and I have had enough.”

“Sit down,” Matron said, in the voice that could calm a riot in the streets. “Her Royal Highness has already left.”

Lady Campbell hesitated, then sank back into her chair.

“I think we should call in Scotland Yard. I don’t believe this is a matter the local constable could handle well enough. Is there a telephone here, Matron?” the Major asked.

“Yes, it’s there in Dr. Gaines’s office. Sister Crawford, would you please show him the way?”

He laid the revolver on the desk, and I followed him out of the little office. As I was leading him to Dr. Gaines’s office, he turned to me and said, “I’d like very much to know just what is going on.”

“Actually, it’s quite true that a mother and father and daughter were shot in their house, The Willows, just outside Petersfield, in 1908. As I understand it, there was a witness after the shooting, who claims Lady Campbell—Hazel Sheridan as she was then—came out of the house with the revolver in her hand. He went inside and found the bodies. When he came out, she had gone.”

He whistled. “This can be proved?”

“The man who saw her there was in my father’s regiment. He went missing on the Northwest Frontier before the police could question him.”

“Is that why she brought the revolver with her today, to kill the only witness? But you say this witness is missing or dead?”

“
She,
it seems, thought he was the man in room twelve.”

We had reached the doctor’s office. “I would never have believed such a thing of Lady Campbell. She’s always been a pillar.” He picked up the telephone, preparing to make the call, when I heard a commotion in the passage.

My only thought was for my mother, in Matron’s office with a murderer.

Without a word, I dashed out and ran toward Matron’s office.

I got there in time to see Simon once more forcing the revolver out of Lady Campbell’s hand, and in the doorway to the office, Matron’s pale face, mouth open in surprise. Behind her was my mother, watching Simon.

There was only one shot left, but the rooms down here were filled with patients and staff, a revolver fired here would most certainly strike someone.

And Lady Campbell was fighting viciously, determined to keep control of the weapon.

Then, very quickly, it was over. Simon had the revolver, and he was once more pinning Lady Campbell’s hands behind her back.

The Major—I still didn’t know his name—was saying, “I’ll take charge of that, if you please, Sergeant-Major. Matron, is there somewhere we can confine this woman until the police arrive?”

Half an hour later, calm had been restored. Lady Campbell was locked up in a linen closet, the Major had reached Scotland Yard, and my mother was taking tea with Matron, who had been speechless when Lady Campbell had taken the revolver from the desk and pointed it directly at her. The other patients had gone back to their usual occupations, and Simon had disappeared up the stairs to speak to Lieutenant Wade.

I was standing in the drive, where the cool breeze of late afternoon was beginning to soothe my own inner turmoil.

I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. Whether Lady Campbell—Hazel Sheridan, that was—would ever be tried for the murder of the Caswells. But she had tried to shoot the man in room twelve, and she had pointed the same weapon at Matron.

Simon came down the steps to the drive and stood behind me, looking up at the sky. “You’ll have a rough crossing tomorrow,” he said after a moment.

“What about the Subedar?” I asked. It was the question he’d raised two nights ago.

“I don’t know. It’s likely he was trying to find Wade, to be sure, and was shot by a sentry who brought him as far as the nearest aid station. It happens.”

“If you didn’t believe Wade, why did you ambush Lady Campbell?”

“It was the only way I could think of to be sure. I never indicated I was Wade. When I told her I knew she had blood on her hands, she jumped to the conclusion I must be the Lieutenant. She must have wondered all these years when he’d show up. Perhaps that’s why she erased her past in Hampshire.” He reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. “Bess, it couldn’t go on. Either Wade was a fraud or he was not. For your father’s sake, we had to be certain.”

“There’s still India.”

“I know. But I think Mr. Kipling will get to the truth, if anyone can.”

“And the Gesslers?”

“When the sexton couldn’t retrieve that last photograph, he must have sent word to her. And so the Gesslers had to die. We may not be able to prove that. But I rather think the sexton might be persuaded to talk, and that will point to Lady Campbell.”

“That’s terrible. I feel so guilty about them.”

“Don’t. You and I had no way of knowing what would happen. Lieutenant Wade was in France. We had no reason to think there was anyone else involved.”

“Perhaps,” I said, still unconvinced. I took a deep breath. “You took a terrible risk in there today,” I said again. “At the very least, you should have removed the cartridges.”

I could hear him chuckle deep in his chest. “To tell you the truth, I thought the gun would never fire. Given the condition it was in.”

I
was back in France and busy with influenza patients again when the final resolution came.

Mr. Kipling wrote to Melinda—and Melinda sent the letter on to me—to say that the Subedar’s brother had been found in Delhi where he had gone to live with another cousin and had been taken into custody for the killing of Mr. and Mrs. Wade, driven by his anger over losing his position with the railways. He had, in fact, confessed, claiming he’d been drunk at the time. She had sent a copy of the letter to my parents. My father saw that the information reached the right ears at Scotland Yard and the Army, exonerating the late Lieutenant Thomas Wade.

I had an opportunity later on that week to speak to Teddy Belmont. Teddy claimed he knew nothing about the dying Subedar. I didn’t know whether to believe him or not. But his desperate need to escape from the past made me wonder if perhaps he hadn’t killed the man to prevent any search for Lieutenant Wade, either to protect himself or to protect the man who had done what he had never had the courage to do. It didn’t matter—he was killed two weeks after I returned to France, when a probing shell made a direct hit on his ambulance.

As for Lady Campbell, she maintained throughout that she had had no contact with the Caswells. Miss Gooding swore she was in their care, as did Sandy Hughes and Captain Bingham. Barney Lowell refused to testify until he saw which way the wind blew, that his tidy little sum of bribes was finished forever. And then, for fear he would be charged as an accessory, he agreed to tell what he knew. He even confessed to attacking Simon by the motorcar, convinced that it was the only way to discourage us. I was certain Lowell had also been Miss Gooding’s caller, but whether he was just looking to change the photograph or had come to look for the revolver with an eye to blackmail, I wasn’t sure.

No one ever discovered where Lady Campbell got the revolver. It was possible that it had come from the house of her late guardian, Sir James Felton.

Simon swore—but privately to the family—that it had come from Barney Lowell.

To my surprise, “Thomas Wade” was never called to testify. Only Corporal Caswell—no relation to the family of the same name—was asked about his spurious attempt at suicide. With his scars and a limp as the leg healed, no one recognized him. And Lady Campbell dared not name him as Thomas Wade because to do so would have allowed him to tell the court about encountering her coming out the door of The Willows, revolver in hand.

As to why she tried to kill him at the clinic, it was alleged that bandaged as he was, she had mistaken him for someone else. That was all she would say.