Death at St. Asprey’s School (11 page)

“Why didn't you give the alarm?”

“You don't understand. After all I've been through these months, with Sime telling me I should be thought guilty of everything, I was terrified. I wished I hadn't seen it. For ten minutes at least I fought to pull myself together.”

“Did you go back to the common-room?”

“No.”

“Was there anyone there when you left it before going to Sime's room?”

“No one. I didn't see anyone at all. I just stayed in my room for ten minutes trying to get myself in a condition to
go on duty. At last I felt I could do so and went through to the boys' dining-room. But I was late and they'd nearly finished tea. Matron was there and mentioned that I was late. All the time the boys were at tea and in the big schoolroom afterwards I was trying to decide what to do. I knew I should be suspected of killing Sime. It was too much for me and I made a bolt for it.”

“Didn't you realize that ‘making a bolt for it' was the worst possible thing for you in the circumstances? That in the minds of most people it would condemn you out of hand?”

Duckmore seemed more alert now and looked at Carolus shrewdly.

“I didn't realize anything,” he said. “I felt a hammering in my head and
had
to get away.”

“You were on the cricket field this afternoon?”

“Yes. For a while.”

“Then you went to the archery range?”

“Yes. For half an hour.”

“And from there direct to the common-room?”

“That's it. So far as I know. But I would like to be certain, you know. I don't remember…”

Carolus looked at him calmly.

“It will all come back to you,” he said.

They were interrupted by the entrance of one of the plain clothes men whom Carolus had seen earlier.

“Which is Mr. Duckmore?” he asked.

Duckmore rose. His face was quite expressionless now.

“We'd like to ask you a few questions,” said the policeman coolly and without showing even that false and slightly patronizing respectfulness, that repetitive use of the word ‘sir', which is the normal police manner of approach. Duckmore went out with him.

Carolus lit a cheroot and smoked it thoughtfully. The
case interested him. He found it difficult to feel deep sympathy for any of the people involved. The Sconers were not an amiable couple and their concern seemed wholly for the school in which they had admittedly invested their money, time and energies but which did not seem to Carolus of outstanding importance in the scheme of things. Sime seemed to have been a highly unpleasant individual if Duckmore's story was true, while all Carolus knew of Matron conformed with his experience of schools of this kind, a sour and intriguing woman, a power behind the throne and in the opinion of all ‘the Men', including probably Sconer himself, a malicious bitch. Of Mollie Westerly he had formed no sort of opinion and Mayring was not, he felt, quite the likeable young public school man he wanted to seem. Parker, after twenty years of this life, was (understandably perhaps) ‘taking to drink' while Bill and Stella Ferris had something ostentatious and
faux rustique
about them. Stanley, as a favourite of Mrs. Sconer and Matron, was at a disadvantage and might not be a bad fellow while Kneller was deep and as yet inscrutable. Any one of these, Carolus felt, who had the opportunity
might
have killed Sime, and that was what gave the case its intrinsic interest. But there were unknown quantities here, too. Had anyone else been on the premises that afternoon? What about Horlick, the gardener? And more insistently, why had Sime kept a loaded pistol in his room? Where was it now? And why, within a few moments of knowing Carolus, had Sime entrusted him with a letter to ‘Mrs. Ricks' which he did not want others to see? The murder itself did not seem to him quite such a problem as some of the corollary questions.

Young Mayring returned.

“There's something I think I ought to tell you,” he said. “I couldn't say anything in front of Duckmore.”

“Well?”

“It was something that happened after you left me with him. We came here together and were sitting quietly when suddenly he came over to me and, looking quite barmy, said: ‘I did it'. I couldn't believe it for a moment and made him repeat it. Then with an awful sort of grin he said—‘I, said the sparrow, with my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin'. I told him not to be an ass. It shook me, I can tell you.”

‘Yes, I suppose it would.”

“When he said that about the sparrow it was like some awful joke, but the first time, when he said ‘I did it' it sounded as though it was true. If he did do it it must have been by a tremendous bit of luck because he's not much of a shot.”

“Who is?” asked Carolus who did not seem much impressed by Mayring's story.

“Jim Stanley, I should say,” said Mayring quickly and rather sulkily, and did not seem inclined to talk any more about archery.

The boys, startled but chattering, were somehow got up to their dormitories where they assailed Matron with questions when she made her rounds.

“Please Matron, is it true Mr. Sime has been murdered?” “Matron, what do we do if the murderer comes here and tries to strangle Pumfret Minor?” “Do the police know who did it?” “Have you been questioned, Matron?”

“Now stop talking rubbish, boys,” said Matron crisply. “There has been a little accident. Nothing for anyone to get excited about. You'll all be in trouble with Mr. Sconer if you don't go to sleep at once.”

“Please, Matron, I can't go to sleep while there's a murderer about.”

“Silence! It's time your light was out. Into bed, Paxton.”

When Matron switched off the light there were cries of alarm, mostly feigned, and very soon afterwards the silence was complete but for a few awed whispers.

Meanwhile the Men were gathering for staff dinner which
would be a lugubrious affair that evening. Usually Mrs. Sconer, in a dress which emphasized her dignity rather than her figure, smiled graciously to Stanley who sat on her right and condescended to Jumbo Parker on her left, while Mr. Sconer, though he looked up nervously to his wife from time to time, found courage to talk to Mollie Westerly who sat beside him, or even to Matron who, with her thin neck protruding from her dark green dress looked like a stem of
arum maculatum,
the wild plant we call lords-and-ladies, sat on his left. Between these two trios sat usually only Duckmore and Mayring but now Carolus had joined them.

A moment's embarrassment was caused to everyone that evening by Jumbo Parker who appeared in a dark suit usually reserved for Sunday Church and known to be his only outfit beyond the sports coat and flannel trousers he wore everyday.

“Mrs. Sconer Won't Be Down,” announced Matron solemnly when they had taken their places.

The meal was eaten almost in silence except when Matron ventured to explain her difficulty in getting the boys to sleep to which none of the Men added the customary comments on the little abominations, the intolerable ruffians and so on, which usually followed anyone's complaints about Boy in general.

Towards the end of the meal Sconer had a surprise for them. Speaking for the first time since they had sat down he said—“I should like All You Men to come to my study after dinner. There are one or two things we must Go Over.”

There were mutterings of assent and Matron looked, as Mayring remarked afterwards, as though she were feeling seasick.

“Will you want me, Mr. Sconer?” she asked loudly.

“Won't be necessary thanks, Matron. Just a few little
things I want to go over,” repeated Mr. Sconer firmly. He grew almost dignified when his wife was not present. “Shan't need to bother you either, Miss Westerly,” he added.

The Men gathered with that assumed casualness which among Englishmen betokens at least concern, perhaps tension. Parker pulled at his large pipe and everyone knew that he allowed himself only two pipefuls of tobacco a day; Duckmore and Mayring smoked cigarettes. Stanley did not smoke. They waited till Sconer asked them to sit down and Carolus thought there was more curiosity on their faces than anything else.

“I've asked you Men to come here,” said Sconer, “because we must Go Over one or two things.”

There was a long pause. Then, to the mild surprise of Carolus, Sconer made no direct reference to the murder, expressed no regret for the death of Sime and showed what seemed to be his sole concern.

“If the school is to survive,” he said, “we must all make a concerted effort. Mrs. Sconer and I have been considering the matter and feel that with the future of the school in danger we should appeal to you to do everything you can to… make a concerted effort…”

A curious cacophony of low grunts came from the Men.

“In the light of what has happened we did at first consider asking the parents to take the boys home for the rest of the term, but we decided this would be most unwise. But something must be done to show that we are conscious of the gravity of the situation so we have decided to
cancel the school sports.
I am sending a letter to the parents tomorrow explaining that after the unfortunate accident of this afternoon we feel it would be inappropriate to hold them. I have also said that from today no form of …
archery will be practised on the school premises or by any of the staff. I have asked Kneller to see that all the paraphernalia of this pastime should be immediately removed. I wish I had done so long ago.”

The grunts this time were in a lower key.

“The police,” said Mr. Sconer, “seem convinced, unfortunately, that Sime … that the accident… that there has been … what is the word I want?”

“Murder,” said Carolus.

“The police,” began Sconer again, ignoring this gaffe, “are not wholly satisfied that the … incident was due entirely to carelessness. But I can see no reason at present to think that the newspapers … We can only hope that nothing sensational will appear.”

“What about the inquest?” asked Stanley.

“I am coming to that. It would be most unfortunate,
most
unfortunate, if it was suggested that Sime's er … death was anything but accidental. I have seen Kneller about this and he assures me that such accidents have been known among the practicants of this very foolish and reprehensible er … sport. I trust that any of you who may be called as witnesses will bear him out on this. The school might survive a fatal accident but any suggestion of deliberate action would quite destroy the confidence of the parents.”

“You'll never get away with it,” said Carolus.

Sconer flushed.

“I should be grateful…” he began.

“No coroner's jury in the world could possibly be persuaded to call it an accident. Sime's room was
behind
the line from which the archers were shooting.”

“We know all that,” said Sconer angrily. “What you fail to see, Mr. Deene, is something far more decisive. That is, that there could be no possible motive. I have not your experience in these matters but I
do
know that to convince
any reasonable person—and jurymen are surely responsible—that anything like a murder has been committed, you must be able to suggest a motive. What
possible
motive could there have been here? Sime was a most popular man.”

Carolus smiled.

“Have it your own way,” he said. “I should have thought your chances would be better if you faced up to the truth. After all, it wasn't one of the boys who was murdered.”

“No, but if we are to accept your monstrous premise the parents would feel that they may be in danger. If we admit the possibility that among us there is one capable of conniving at the death of a colleague we might as well close the school at once.”

Carolus said no more and the meeting broke up into groups. Before they dispersed however they had promised Sconer all the support they could give. Personal hostilities and jealousies, even the grey eminence of Matron seemed to be forgotten and earnestness was the keynote of their assurances to Sconer.

“Tomorrow,” said Sconer optimistically, “I want the school to go on as though nothing had happened. We don't want morbid ideas to spread among the boys.”

As the Oldest Member, Parker made a suggestion.

“I think if the boys know that Sports Day is cancelled it will leave them nothing to talk about but what happened this afternoon. Why not let them go on practising and have the sports without parents?”

“And have them writing home about sports to which their parents haven't been invited? No, no, Mr. Parker. But it might be advisable to give them something to take their minds off … Something immediate. Has anyone any suggestion?”

Mayring blushed and said, “Why not a school play?”

“Ye … es,” said Sconer a little dubiously. “Nothing realistic, of course.”

“In the open air! Scenes from
A Midsummer Night's Dream
!” went on Mayring, losing his head somewhat.

“There would be no harm in their rehearsing, anyway. It would keep them interested. Yes, start tomorrow, Mayring. Work in as many of them as you can.”

“What about the costumes?” asked Mayring tactlessly.

“That can all be gone into later. Now…”

“Chavanne will make a marvellous Titania!” said Mayring, completely carried away.

“Yes. Yes. You see to all that,” said Sconer impatiently.

“Would Matron help with the costumes?” suggested Mayring, who seemed to have lost all hold on reality.

“No doubt. Now there are more urgent matters to discuss. What about the match against St. Carrier's tomorrow?”

“It would be a pity to scratch it,” said Stanley. “Young Lipscomb's in cracking form.”

“So he may be, but I feel it will Look Bad if we play as though nothing had happened. What do you think Mr. Parker?”