Surfeit of Lampreys (14 page)

“Until…” Lord Charles took out his glass and put it in his waistcoat pocket. It was an automatic gesture. Without the glass the myopic look in his weak eye was extremely noticeable. His lips trembled slightly. He paused and began afresh. “Until I heard there was—until I heard my sister-inlaw scream.”

“And did you realize, my lord—”

“I realized nothing,” interrupted Lord Charles swiftly. “How could I? I know now, of course, that they had gone down in the lift and that she had made that—that terrible discovery, and that it was while the lift returned that she screamed. But at the time I was quite in the dark. I simply became aware of the sound.”

“Thank you,” said Fox again, and wrote in his notebook. He looked over the top of his spectacles at Lord Charles.

“And then, my lord? What would you say happened next?”

“What happened next was that I went out to the landing followed by the two boys. My wife and my girls—my daughters—came out of 26 at the same time. I think my youngest boy, Michael, appeared from somewhere but he wasn't there for long. The lift was returning and was almost up to our landing.”

“Up to the landing,” repeated Fox to his notes. “And who was in the lift, my lord?”

“Surely that's clear enough,” said Lord Charles. “I thought you understood that my brother and his wife and my son were in the lift.”

“Yes, my lord, that is how I understand the case at present. I'm afraid this will seem very annoying to you but you see we usually take statements separately for purposes of comparison.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Fox. Of course you do. I'm afraid I'm—”

“Very natural, my lord, that you should be, I'm sure. Then I take it that Lady Wutherwood must have begun to scream while the lift was near the bottom of the shaft?”

Lord Charles twisted his mouth wryly and said yes.

“And continued as it returned to your landing?”

“Yes.”

“Yes. Would you mind telling me what happened when the lift stopped at the top landing?”

“We were bewildered. We couldn't think what had happened, why she was—was making such an appalling scene. She—she—I should explain that she is rather highly-strung. A little hysterical, perhaps. The lift stopped and Henry opened the doors. She rushed out, almost fell out, into my wife's arms. My son, the twin—I—it's too stupid that I can't tell you which it was—came out without speaking, or if he did speak I didn't hear him. You see I was looking in the lift.”

“That must have been a great shock to you, my lord,” said Fox simply.

“Yes. A great shock.”

“I saw my brother,” said Lord Charles loudly and rapidly. “He was sitting at the end of the seat. The injury—it was there—I saw it—I—I didn't understand then, that they—my sister-in-law and my son—had gone down in the lift without at first realizing there was anything the matter.”

“When
did
you realize this, my lord?”

“As soon as my wife had calmed her down a little she began to speak about it. She was very wild and incoherent, but I made out as much as that.”

“You did not question your son, my lord? Whichever son it was,” inquired Fox, as if the confusion of one's children's identities was the most natural thing in the world.

“No. There doesn't seem to have been any time to talk to anybody.”

“And of course if you had questioned him you would have known which he was?”

“Yes,” rejoined Lord Charles evenly, “of course.”

“Did any of the others talk to him, my lord?”

“I really don't know. How could I? If I had heard that, I would—” He stopped short. “I really can't tell you more than that.”

“I understand, my lord. I must thank you for your courtesy and apologize again for causing you so much pain. There are only one or two other points. Did you touch your brother?”

“No!” said Lord Charles violently. “No! No! They carried him out and took him to my room. That is all.”

“And you did not see him again until you came into his room while I was there?”

“I took Dr. Kantripp to the room and waited with him. The children's old nurse was there. She helped the doctor until the trained nurse arrived.”

“I take it that Dr. Kantripp—” Fox paused for a moment—”the doctor did everything that was necessary? I mean, my lord, that the injury was unattended until he came?”

Lord Charles made an effort to speak, failed to do so, and nodded his head. At last he managed to say: “We thought it better not to—not to try to—we didn't know whether it might prove fatal to—”

“To remove anything? Quite so.”

“Is that all?”

“I shan't trouble you much further, my lord, but I should like to ask if you know whether his lordship had any enemies.”

“Enemies! That's an extravagant sort of way to put it.”

“It's the way we generally put it, my lord. I daresay it does sound rather exaggerated but you see the motive for this sort of crime is usually something a bit stronger than dislike.”

To this bland rejoinder Lord Charles found nothing to say.

“Of course,” Fox continued, “the term enemies is used rather broadly, my lord. I might put it another way and ask if you know of anyone who had good reason to wish for Lord Wutherwood's death.”

Lord Charles answered this question instantly with a little spurt of words that sounded oddly mechanical.

“If you mean, do I know of anyone who would benefit by his death,” he said, “I suppose you may say that his heirs will do so. I am his heir.”

“Well, yes, my lord. I know Lord Wutherwood had no son.”

“Do you, by God!” said Lord Charles. The exclamation was completely out of key with the level courtesy of his earlier rejoinders but Fox took it in his stride.

“I have heard that is the case,” he said. “I understand that two of his lordship's servants were here. It's not very nice,” continued Fox with an air of one who apologizes for a slight error in taste, “to have to think of people in this light, but—”

“Murder,” said Lord Charles, “is not very nice either. You are quite right, Mr. Fox. My brother's chauffeur and my sister-in-law's maid were both there.”

“Might I trouble you for their names, my lord?”

“Tinkerton and Giggle.”

“Giggle, my lord?”

“Yes. That's the chauffeur.”

“Quite an unusual name,” said Fox, placidly busy with his notes. “Have they been long with his lordship?”

“I believe that Tinkerton was with my sister-in-law before she married and that's twenty-five years ago. Giggle began at Deepacres as an odd boy and under-chauffeur. His father was coachman to my father.”

“Family servants,” murmured Fox, placing them. “And of course your own servants would be in the flat?”

“Yes. There's Baskett, the butler; and the cook and two maids. They may not all have been in. I'll find out.” He stretched his hand out to the bell.

“In a minute, thank you, my lord. These are all the servants you employ?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you spoke of a nurse, my lord.”

“Oh—you mean Nanny,” said Lord Charles who now seemed to have himself very well in hand. “Yes, of course there's Nanny. We don't think of her as one of the servants.”

“No, my lord?”

“No. She's the real head of affairs, you see.”

“Oh, yes!” said Fox politely. “I would be much obliged if you would send for the butler now.”

Baskett came in with his usual ineffable butler's walk, executed with the arms held straight down, the hands lightly closed and turned out with the palms downwards. It was the deliberate relaxed pose of a man whose deportment is an important factor in his profession. Baskett did it superbly.

“Oh, Baskett,” said Lord Charles, “Inspector Fox would like to ask you about the people who were in the servants' quarters this evening. Were all the maids in?”

“Ethel was out, my lord. Mrs. James and Blackmore were in.” He glanced at Fox. “That is the cook and the parlour-maid, sir,” he explained.

“Any visitors in your quarters?” asked Fox.

“Yes, sir. Lord Wutherwood's chauffeur and Lady Wutherwood's maid. The chauffeur was in the staff sitting-room, sir, for some time, and then went into No. 26 to help Master Michael with his trains. Miss Tinkerton was with Mrs. Burnaby in her room.”

“Mrs. Burnaby?”

“That's Nanny,” explained Lord Charles.

“Thank you, my lord. And that is the entire household at the time of the occurrence?”

“I think so,” said Lord Charles. “Was there anyone else in your part of the world, Baskett?”

Baskett looked anxiously at his employer and hesitated. “You will of course tell us,” said Lord Charles, “if you know of anyone else in the flat.”

“Very good, my lord. There was another person, sir, in the kitchen.”

Fox paused, pencil in hand. “Who was that?”

“Good God!” ejaculated Lord Charles. “I'd entirely forgotten him.”

“Forgotten whom, my lord?”

“What's the miserable creature's name, Baskett?”

“Grumball, my lord.”

Fox said sharply: “You mean Giggle. I've got him.”

“No, sir. This person's name is Grumball.”

Fox looked scandalized. “Who is he, then?” he asked.

Baskett was silent.

“He's the man in possession,” said Lord Charles.

“A bailiff, my lord?”

“A bum-bailiff, Mr. Fox.”

“Thank you, my lord,” said Fox tranquilly. “I'll see the rest of the staff, now, if it's agreeable.”

“Would it be one of these society affairs, sir?” asked Detective-Sergeant Bailey, staring with lack-lustre eyes through the police-car window.

“What society affairs, Bailey?” murmured Chief Detective-Inspector Alleyn.

“Well, you know, sir. Cocktails, bottle parties, flats and so forth.”

“One of the messy sort,” said Detective-Sergeant Thompson, moving his photographic impedimenta a little farther under the seat.

“That's right,” agreed Bailey.

“I've no idea,” said Alleyn, “in what sort of country we shall find ourselves.”

“The flat belongs to deceased's brother, doesn't it, sir?”

“Yes. Lord Charles Lamprey.”

The police-surgeon spoke for the first time. “I fancy I've heard something about Lamprey,” he said. “Can't remember what it was.”

“Wasn't he mixed up in that Stein suicide?” said Bailey.

Alleyn glanced at him. “He was, yes. Stein left him with the baby.”

“The baby, sir?”

“Figuratively, Bailey. Lord Charles appeared to have developed an amazing flair for signing himself into every conceivable sort of responsibility. He turned out to be Stein's partner, you remember.”

“Did he go bust?” asked the doctor.

“I don't think so, Curtis. Must have felt the draught a bit, one would imagine.”

“Was the deceased a wealthy man, sir?” asked Bailey. “This Lord Wutherwood, I mean.”

“Oh, pretty well, you know,” said Alleyn vaguely. “There's a monstrous place in Kent, I think. Not that that tells one anything. May have been hanging on by the skin of his teeth.”

“It sounds an unpleasant business,” said Dr. Curtis. “Through the eye, didn't you say?”

“Yes. Beastly, isn't it? Fox was very guarded when he rang up…I recognized his suspect-listening manner.”

“Large family of Lampreys?” asked Dr. Curtis.

“Masses of young, I fancy. Damn! We're in for a nasty run, no doubt. Why the devil do these people have to get themselves messed up in a case like this?”