Death at St. Asprey’s School (10 page)

“Did you then return to your room?”

“Yes. Mr. Sconer went off towards the boys' part of the house and I didn't like to disturb Mrs, Sconer in the drawing-room.”

“You were back at your window in time to see me drive in?”

“Yes. I did happen to notice your car and Duckmore getting out of it. I heard you tell Mayring not to let Duckmore get away but I still didn't know what was wrong.”

“Really? It was a quarter to five when I picked up Duckmore.”

“Yes,” said Matron angrily. “It only shows how they were trying to keep it from anyone, doesn't it? You can't tell me some of them hadn't known for some time by then. But was I told? Not till one of the boys came running in and said ‘Old Sime's been shot in the eye by an arrow like King Harold at the Battle of Hastings'. Can you imagine it?”

“Which boy was that?”

“Lipscomb. I asked him whatever he was talking about and he said Chavanne had told him. It was All Over the School in a moment.”

Carolus did not show the least sign of impatience. Although he was desperately anxious to see the assistant masters before the police examined them, he knew enough of witnesses to realize that in Matron he had the observer of all time. Keen, watchful, malicious, there was nothing she would have missed. She might never again be so informative. With the police she would try to cover up things she thought to the school's disadvantage and even with Carolus, if he returned to question her after her first excitement was over, she might be reserved and difficult. She did not exaggerate for she was too accustomed to having the facts
she gave to Mrs. Sconer disputed by erring Men or the boys themselves to take any risks.

“So you did go down to Sime's room?” asked Carolus.

“Yes. But it was too late. There is no key in the lock—I told Mrs. Sconer long ago it Doesn't Do for the Men to be able to lock their doors—but Mr. Stanley was there and Mr. Sconer had told him not to allow anyone in. So I haven't seen It yet. I suppose the police will take It away now?”

“They'll have a lot of photography and measurement to do first,” predicted Carolus. “Did Sime's bed always face the window like that?”

“No. It was against the wall on your right as you go in.”

“Who moved it?”

“He wanted it moved himself when he knew he had to Lie Up for some time. I suppose he wanted to be able to look out and talk to the boys at the window when they came to see him.”

“Did you have it moved?”

Matron hesitated a moment as though wondering whether she was committing herself.

“In the end, I did. When he first asked me I told him it would be bad for his eyes, reading against the light like that. But he kept on about it and said he'd rather be able to see out than be able to read. So I got two of the Men to move it.”

“Which were they?”

“Oh I can't remember now. Two of them, anyway.”

“Was Stanley one?”

“Was he? Yes, I believe he was, and Mayring was the other. I just asked the two of them from the common-room to do it.”

“Was it usual for Sime to sleep in the afternoon?”

“I didn't go down there more than necessary so I don't
know everything. But 1 think he had a nap after his lunch unless the boys kept him awake.”

Reviewing in his mind Matron's pieces of narrative and answers to his questions, Carolus noticed a singular thing. Not once had she speculated on the identity of Sime's murderer, or asked Carolus any questions which suggested the least curiosity about it. In view of her inquisitive nature, there could only be one explanation for that. She knew, or believed she knew, who had killed Sime.

Carolus went from Matron's room to the Common Room to find Mayring and Duckmore sitting there in uncomfortable silence. Mayring had evidently taken literally the instruction Carolus had given him not to let Duckmore leave because he sat on a high chair between him and the door while Duckmore was slumped on a settee with broken springs beside the fireplace.

“Have the police been here?” asked Carolus.

“No. They've left a man in Sime's room and gone. I suppose they're with Sconer,” said Mayring in a solemn voice.

Looking at the young man Carolus could see that he was scared. This told him nothing for Mayring was scarcely nineteen years old and less than two hours ago had discovered the body of a murdered man. Whatever he knew of this, or even if he knew nothing at all except the fact, one could expect him to be unnerved. Duckmore did not look up when Carolus came in.

“I think I ought to tell you both that I came here at
Sconer's invitation to find out what was causing the trouble. I have a good bit of experience in finding out things. Now I want to get at the truth about Sime's death and I'd like to ask you a few questions.”

Mayring nodded solemnly but Duckmore did not stir.

“You found the body, didn't you, Mayring?”

“Yes. I took in Sime's tea as I usually do, and there it was…”

“What time was that? You don't know exactly by any chance do you? Don't say anything if you don't.”

“I can be pretty exact. The tea is supposed to be put in here by one of the chars at four-thirty. When I came in from archery and found it wasn't here I was pretty annoyed. We'd had a bit of trouble about this tea. On the days when Mrs. Skippett brings it it's sometimes late and once it was already cold when we got it. So I looked at my watch to see how late she was and found it only just after half-past four. At that moment Mrs. Skippett appeared with the tray and Sime's was the first cup poured. So by the time I had put some bread and butter and jam on a plate and taken it in it was, say twenty-five to five. No later.”

“I see. Who poured it out?”

“Parker. He usually does.”

“Who else was here?”

“Only Stanley. Duckmore was on duty in the boys' dining-room.”

“When you saw Sime was dead what did you do with the cup you were carrying?”

“I … suppose I must have brought it back here. Yes, I did! I remember seeing it afterwards on the table. I didn't realize what I was doing.”

“Do you remember what you said?”

“Not the exact words. I was badly shaken, I can tell you. I said Sime was dead.”

“How did you know that? You had a cup of tea in one hand and a plate in the other, presumably, so you couldn't very well touch him unless you put them down there.”

“How did I know?” repeated Mayring a little wildly. “I could see. Anyone could. His eyes were popping out. There was masses of blood. It was ghastly.”

“Yes. I saw it.”

“Anyway Parker and Stanley went in at once. They touched him I suppose. Parker told me to go and tell Sconer he was dead and I went.”

“Did you go back to Sime's room with Sconer?”

“No. As we came through the hall Matron came hurrying downstairs, flushed up and excited. She told Sconer that Duckmore had run out of the front gates and he sent me after him. Then I met you and that's all I know.”

“Is it, Mayring?”

The young man looked confused and resentful.

“Yes,” he said. “If I knew any more I'd tell you.”

“You'll probably have to tell the police a good bit more than that. About the archery this afternoon, who was there at what times. Perhaps other things which I'm not going to ask you now. Have you discovered who killed your puppy?”

Mayring blinked and hesitated, then said—“Not for certain.”

“Whom do you suspect?”

“I don't know. But it's rather strange that when Sime became laid up all those things finished. I didn't jump to any conclusions, of course.”

“No. I shouldn't.”

Mayring stood up.

“If there's nothing else you want to ask me I'll be running along,” he said.

“There is. But it's something you may find difficult to
answer. Would you close your eyes a moment? That's it. Now try to see Sime's room as it was when you went in with his tea. Can you see it?”

“I can see him all right. Nothing else.”

“Is he in bright light?”

“Oh yes. He is. Was, I mean. Too Bright.”

“Daylight?”

“Yes, of course. He was right opposite the window.”

“The curtains were drawn back?”

“Certainly. Must have been. His curtains are green things, fairly thick. If they were drawn over and the light was on I should have noticed. It was bright daylight.”

“And the window?”

“I'm sure it was open. He kept it open the whole time even when the curtains were drawn.”

“Thanks,” said Carolus. “There's nothing else I want to ask you just now.”

Mayring, looking relieved went out leaving Carolus with Duckmore.

“Cigarette?” suggested Carolus.

Duckmore shook his head.

“What made you run out like that?” asked Carolus gently.”

Still Duckmore did not speak.

“You must have had a reason.”

“I don't know.” The words were muttered rather than spoken.

Carolus pressed on, still speaking in a friendly almost tender way. “You knew Sime was dead?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Now Duckmore looked up and stared at Carolus in a bewildered way.

“How'did you know? You had been on duty in the boys' dining-room. Sime's death wasn't discovered by Mayring until after half-past four. How did you know?”

There was silence in the shabby little common-room, a long silence which Carolus did nothing to break. Then suddenly Duckmore stood up and turning to Carolus looked full in his eyes before asking a most extraordinary question.

“Did I do it?”

Carolus made no answer to that at all, but after a moment or two said in a calm businesslike voice: “Tell me about you and Sime.”

Duckmore was seized with almost hysterical loquacity.

“It has been going on all this term,” he said. “During the holidays Sime found out something. At least I'd told him, really. He wanted money. He knew I was that most unfortunate person, a schoolmaster with private means.”

Carolus, to whom the term could be held to apply, smiled. “There's one person more unfortunate, surely,” he said. “A schoolmaster without private means. But go on.”

“You see, for three years I was out of the world.”

“You mean?”

“In a mental home. Oh, I was a voluntary patient, of course. But Sime knew this…”

“How?”

“One day last term I just mentioned the village in which it was: Buckfield in Somersetshire. I said nothing about Holly House, the name of the home itself. Just mentioned the glass in the church there. But when Sime came back this term he had been there and knew the whole story.”

“Did that matter?”

“Yes. You see I am studying for the Church. I have always wanted to take Orders. I went to see the Bishop of Bungay—a very go-ahead man. He advised me to do a year or two as a schoolmaster and if all went well he would
ordain me. So I knew that if anything went wrong here all my plans would be upset.”

“I don't see how Sime knowing that you had been in a mental home could do you much harm. You could leave this school and go to another.”

“That's what I thought until all those mysterious things began to happen. If anyone knew about my past I should be suspected at once, as Sime pointed out. It was a terrible position.

“And the only way out of it was to get rid of Sime. That's why … I
could
have done it, you know. I was out there this afternoon practising archery with the rest. I know what an arrow can do. I had even felt an urge to do it. I had fought against that, but while Sime lived there was no peace for me—no hope, even. I felt something in me pressing me on to kill Sime…”

“With a bow and arrow?”

“When you shoot an arrow at a target you know you are using a lethal weapon. You know that your arrow could kill a man. I couldn't help having thoughts of that kind about Sime. Then when I knew…”

“Knew what?”

“Knew that he had been killed…”

“How did you know that, Duckmore? You were on duty in the dining-room when Mayring found him. Did you come back to this part of the house after the boys' tea and before you rushed out into the road?”

“I don't know.”

“Oh come now, Duckmore, I think you know that. Did you remain with the boys?”

“Yes. Yes. I was in the big schoolroom. Something was hammering in my head. I wanted to get away.”

“Yes, but why?
Did you know Sime was dead
?”

“I must have, mustn't I? I told you when I met you so
I must have. That's why I started to run away. I knew I should be blamed…”

“But
how
did you know he was dead?” insisted Carolus.

He was watching Duckmore's face and saw a strange expression on it. He looked suddenly shifty, cunning, or was it just hunted? An ugly expression in any case.

“I suppose I must have seen him,” he said at last in a resigned voice. “Must have. No one could have told me.”

“Only one man knew and that was the murderer.”

“I must have seen him. Gone to his room and looked in.”

Carolus spoke in a cold and hostile voice.

“Whatever your mental condition, Duckmore, you know perfectly well what were your movements this afternoon.”

“I don't! I don't even know whether I did it!”

Unimpressed, apparently, Carolus continued his relentless questioning.

“But when you came on duty late, at nearly half past four, you knew Sime was dead. Had you seen his body or not?”

“Yes. I had. I came in from the archery range and went to the common-room. I was due to be on duty at four-fifteen and it must have been that then. I thought I'd just take a peep at Sime to see if he wanted anything. I looked in and saw what had happened. So I ran to my room.”