The Gabriel Hounds (30 page)

‘What was it, then?’

‘Primarily her heart. She had a very slight coronary last autumn, and another in late February – after I had
come to live with her here. Then, as you may know, she was difficult about food, and latterly had periodic sickness and stomach trouble which added to the strain. She had one of these gastric attacks three weeks ago, a bad one, and her heart wouldn’t take it. That’s the story, as simply as I can put it. She was, I repeat, over eighty. One would hardly have expected her to get through.’

I said nothing for a moment, drawing on my cigarette and staring at him. Then I said abruptly: ‘Death certificates? Do you have them here?’

‘Yes, I signed one, for the record. You can see it any time you wish.’

‘I wouldn’t believe a word of it. You concealed her death, you and John Lethman and the girl. One might even say you went to pretty fair lengths to conceal it. Why?’

He turned up a hand. ‘Heaven knows I don’t blame you, in the circumstances I wouldn’t believe a word of it myself; but the plain fact is that, far from wanting your great-aunt out of the way, I’d have done a lot – in fact I did do a lot – to keep her alive. I don’t ask you to believe me when I tell you that I liked her but you may believe me when I tell you that her death was damned inconvenient, coming when it did, and could have cost me a fortune. So I had a base motive for keeping her alive as well.’ He tapped ash on the floor. ‘Hence the mystery and the masquerade, which I’ll explain in a moment. It didn’t suit me to have lawyers or family invading the place, so I didn’t report her death, and we’ve allowed the local people to think she’s still alive.’

‘And then my cousin and I turned up, just at the wrong moment. I see. But the wrong moment for what, Dr Grafton? You really had better start from the beginning, hadn’t you?’

He leaned back in the chair. ‘Very well. I was your great-aunt’s doctor for about six years, and for the last three or four of them I came up here once a fortnight, sometimes oftener. She was very fit and active for her age, but she was something of a
malade imaginaire
, and besides, she was old, and I think, in spite of her fanatical independence, a bit lonely. And living alone as she did with the Arab servants I think she must have had some dread of illness or accident that would leave her completely at their – in their charge.’

I thought he had been going to say ‘at their mercy’. I thought of Halide wearing the big ruby, of Nasirulla thick-set and tough and sullen, of idiotically mouthing Jassim. ‘Yes?’ I said.

‘So I paid her a regular call, and this set her mind at rest – and besides, she enjoyed the company of a countryman. I may say I enjoyed the visits, too. She could be very entertaining when she was on form.’

‘And John Lethman? He gave me a version of how he got taken on here, but I don’t know if it was true.’

‘Ah, yes, one of the few occasions where John managed a bit of lightning thinking. You may have guessed that he knows about as much as you do yourself about psychological medicine. He’s an archaeologist.’

‘I … see. Hence my great-aunt’s interest. Yes, I remember feeling a bit surprised when he talked about
a “loony-bin” … They don’t, if they know what they’re talking about. But the Adonis Gardens?’

‘They’re genuine enough. You could say they were his premise. The paper he was working on was on the Adonis cult, and I suppose that’s what suggested the exercise in morbid psychology – the “ecstatic religions” nonsense he gave you when he was cornered. Not bad, eh? Apart from that, I believe he told you the truth. He was travelling around doing research for his paper, and camping up near the little temple above the palace, and got caught by a storm one day – just as you were – and came to Dar Ibrahim. Your great-aunt took a fancy to him, and asked him to stay on while he did his work, and without anything much being said on either side he settled down and started looking after the place for her. I must say I was thankful when he decided to settle here. It made my job a lot easier.’ There was a ghost of a smile I didn’t quite like. He tapped ash off his cigarette again, delicately. ‘A nice boy.’

‘And useful?’

‘Oh, certainly. He made a great deal of difference here. The lady thought the world of him.’

‘I’m sure. But I meant to you. Useful to you.’

The heavy lids lifted. He gave a tiny shrug. ‘Oh, yes, to me. I find him an excellent partner in my – business.’

‘Yes, well, let’s come to that now. Your business. You’ve been at Dar Ibrahim ever since you left Beirut? Yes, it figures. You were the “resident physician”, not John Lethman. You were “the doctor” Jassim was talking about when Hamid and I came to the gate
… John Lethman certainly made a quick recovery from that one! But I was puzzled, because the Gab – the dogs liked him.’

‘The dogs?’

‘Oh, nothing to matter. She sent a letter home in February, did you know? She said her dog “couldn’t abide the doctor”.’

‘Oh yes, that was the wretched little brute that I – that died … Yes, indeed. I was the “resident physician”. That was part of the Stanhope legend, as you’ll probably know; your great-aunt rather fancied having her own “Dr Meryon” in attendance.’ He looked not unamused. ‘It was a small price to pay. She was entitled to her own legend, even though I didn’t quite see myself in the role of that unfortunate man ministering to that monstrous egoism day and night.’

‘Don’t tell me that poor Aunt Harriet made you minister to her monstrous egoism day and night? Even if she had it, which seems likely, since she was a Mansel, she had a sense of humour too.’

‘Don’t try and find motives for me, I told you I liked her.’ He gave a little twist of a smile. ‘Though I must admit that she was pushing it a bit the last year or two. On occasions the impersonation could get to be a little trying.’

I glanced above the bed to where the stick and the rifle hung.

‘It’d be too much to hope that she really used them on Halide?’

He laughed, quite genuinely. ‘She did occasionally throw things at Jassim, but that’s about as far as it went.
And you mustn’t be too hard on Halide. She’s working very hard for what she wants.’

‘John Lethman? Or Dar Ibrahim? Both sacred, I assure you.’ I leaned forward to stub out my cigarette on the saucer. Then I regarded him for a moment. ‘You know, I think I do believe you about my great-aunt … I mean, I doubt if you meant her any harm. For one thing you don’t seem worried about what she may have written in her letters … unless you censored all her letters, and I doubt if you did, since I gather she was free to speak to the village people and to the carriers who brought supplies across. You obviously never saw her last letter inviting Charles to visit her, or Humphrey Ford’s letter, either.’

I half expected him to ask what I was talking about, but he didn’t. He was watching me steadily.

‘And I’m inclined to pass John Lethman,’ I said, ‘but what about the servants? Are you quite sure that Halide didn’t have a good reason for wanting the old lady out of the way?’

‘No, no, that’s nonsense, Your aunt used to be pretty fierce sometimes with the servants – they tend to do nothing at all unless one stands over them – but she liked the girl.’

‘That wasn’t quite what I suggested.’

‘And Halide looked after her devotedly. I told you your aunt could be difficult, and the late-night sessions really were a fact. The girl was sometimes run off her feet.’ He waved a hand. ‘These rooms – they’ve only been neglected since her death, you must realise that. We cleared them a bit roughly of some of the worst clutter because we wanted to use them – they were
naturally the best kept and most central rooms – but there simply wasn’t time to clean them up properly before you saw them.’ A look. ‘We were glad of the darkness for more reasons than one. Oh, the place was always shabby, and she liked to live in a clutter, but the rooms were kept clean when she was alive … my God, they had to be! But to suggest that Halide hated your great-aunt enough to … No, Miss Mansel.’

He broke off as Halide came in with the tray. She set it down near me on the table with no more than a bit of a rattle, then, without looking at either of us or speaking a word, went straight out of the room. She had taken me at my word and just brought coffee. It was a bit weak, but it was hot and fresh. I poured a cup, and drank some, and felt better.

‘What’s more,’ said Henry Grafton, ‘the same applies to John and Halide as applied to me. They had more reasons to wish the Lady Harriet alive than dead.’

‘Meaning that they’re in your racket with you?’

‘You could put it like that.’

‘Did my great-aunt leave a Will?’ I asked bluntly.

He grinned. ‘She made them every week. Apart from crossword puzzles it was her favourite amusement.’

‘I knew that. We sometimes got copies. What happened to them all?’

‘They’ll be somewhere about.’ He sounded unconcerned. ‘She used to hide them away in odd corners. I’m afraid this isn’t exactly an easy place to search, but you’re welcome to try.’

I must have looked surprised. ‘You mean you’ll let me look around?’

‘Naturally. In fact it’s possible that the property now belongs to you – or more probably to your cousin.’

‘Or to John Lethman?’

He shot me a look. ‘As you say. She was very fond of him.’

‘Another of her eccentricities?’

‘A very common one. But I’m afraid that there’ll be little left of any value. There may be one or two personal souvenirs you may care to unearth from the general chaos, and as I say you’re welcome to try.’

‘Such as the ring that Halide’s wearing?’

He looked surprised. ‘The garnet? You would have that? It was certainly your aunt’s favourite, she always wore it, but I understand she gave it to Halide … well, of course … probably Halide wouldn’t mind …’

‘Dr Grafton, please don’t think I’m standing with one foot in my aunt’s grave, but the ring has what they call “sentimental value”, and I’m pretty sure that the family will fight to get it back. Besides, she meant me to have it. If she did give it to Halide then she must really have been round the bend, and no court would allot it to her.’

‘Is it so very valuable?’

‘I know nothing at all about the value of garnets,’ I said, momentarily truthful, ‘but you can take it from me it’s not just a keepsake for the maid, however devoted. It belonged to my great-grandmother and I want it back.’

‘Then you must certainly have it. I’ll speak to Halide.’

‘Tell her I’ll get her something to take its place, or there may be something else left she’d like to have.’

I put down my cup. There was a pause. Some big insect, a beetle, hurtled in through the bright doorway, blundered around the room for a moment or two, and went out. I felt suddenly very tired, as if the conversation were slipping away from me. I believed him … and if I believed him surely the rest didn’t make any sense?

‘All right,’ I said at length, ‘so we come to what’s happened since her death. But before we go on, will you show me where she is?’

He got to his feet. ‘Of course. She’s out here in the Prince’s garden, as she wished to be.’

He led the way out into the little court, past the dry fountain, through diagonals of sun and shadow and between beds of baked earth where in early spring there would be irises and Persian tulips. Over the high outer wall fell a tangle of white jasmine, and beside it a cascade of yellow roses made a blinding curtain. The scene was wonderful. In the shade thrown by the flowers was a flat white stone, uncarved, and at its head stood the stone turban of the Moslem dead.

I looked at this in silence for a moment. ‘Is this her grave?’

‘Yes.’

‘No name?’

‘There hasn’t been time.’

‘You must know as well as I do that this is a man’s grave.’

He made a sudden movement, quickly suppressed,
but I felt a jerk of apprehension as my body tightened back into wariness. This was still the man who had savaged me in the car, who was playing some nasty game or other where he had a lot at stake … Somewhere, not far below the surface – just under the sweating skin, behind the oil-black eyes – was something not as calm, as pleasant, as Dr Henry Grafton would like me to believe.

But he said with what sounded like gentle amusement: ‘No, really, I can’t have you suspecting me of anything else! You know – of course you do! – that she liked to dress as a man, and indeed behaved like one. I suppose it gave her a kind of freedom in Arab countries that a woman couldn’t have normally. When she was younger the Arabs called her “the Prince” because of the way she rode, and the horses and state she liked to keep. She had this planned’ – a gesture to the gravestone – ‘some time before she died. It was surely part of the same conceit.’

I stared in silence at the slender column with its carved turban. Somehow of all that I had seen this was the most alien, the most foreign symbol. I thought of the leaning lichened stones in the old churchyard at home, the big elms, the yews by the lychgate, the rooks blown past the tower in the evening winds. A shower of yellow petals drifted down on the blank hot stones, and a lizard flashed out, palpitated for an instant there, watching us, then vanished.

‘“I have purchased an excellent Tombstone locally”.’

‘What?’ asked Henry Grafton.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I’d spoken aloud. You’re right, this is what she wanted. And at least she’s with friends.’

‘Friends?’

‘In the next garden. The dogs, I saw the graves.’

I turned away. The tired feeling persisted. The heavy scented heat, the sound of bees, perhaps still the effects of the injection and the strain of the day, were weighing on me.

‘Come back in out of the sun.’ His dark eyes were peering at me. They looked very intent. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Perfectly. Floating, rather, but it’s not unpleasant. Was that only pentothal?’

‘That’s all. You weren’t out for long, and it’s quite harmless. Come along.’

The room seemed comparatively cool after the trapped heat of the garden. I sat down with relief in the lacquer chair and leaned back. The corners of the room were swimming in shadow. Henry Grafton picked up a glass from the table and poured water into it.