The Ivory Dagger (23 page)

The opening door disclosed Frederick with a basketful of logs to replenish the wood-box. He stepped back with a murmured apology. Haile waved him on.

‘That’s all right—you can go in. You don’t mind, Chief Inspector?… All right, Frederick—carry on.’

Never was anyone more easily at home—he might have been the master of Vineyards for twenty years. He passed out of sight down the passage.

Frederick, having disposed of his logs, picked up the empty basket and turned to go.

Miss Silver leaned towards the Chief Inspector and said something in a low voice at which he first frowned and then nodded, turning finally to say,

‘Just a moment, Frederick—shut that door and come here. Miss Silver wants to ask you something.’

Encouraged by the fact that it was not the police who now wished to question him, Frederick approached, the big open basket dangling from his hand.

‘Yes, miss?’

She brought a bright attentive look to bear upon him.

‘It is just this, Frederick. You say you came out of your room after you had seen Professor Richardson go away at a quarter past eleven—’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘Marsham had not come upstairs to his room?’

‘Oh, no, miss.’

‘You would have heard him?’

‘Oh, yes, miss.’

‘How did you know that you would not meet him on the stairs?’

‘I listened very carefully, miss. I reckoned I’d hear him if he was anywhere about. I reckoned he’d be through the other side of the house. He’d always do the back premises first. I reckoned I’d hear the baize door if he come through and have time to slip into one of the rooms.’

Miss Silver’s hands were folded upon her knitting. She said kindly but firmly,

‘And did you hear the baize door?’

‘N-no, miss—’ But his voice wavered.

‘I think you did hear something—or see something.’

‘N-no, miss—only—’

Frank Abbott had looked up. Lamb, who had appeared to give a very scant attention to the first questions and answers, now turned in his chair, frowning and aware.

Miss Silver continued without any change of manner.

‘Only what, Frederick?’

‘There wasn’t nothing, miss—only I thought I’d get along to the baize door and just have a look to see the coast was clear. I mean, I wouldn’t want Mr. Marsham to catch me getting out of a window.’

‘Of course you would not. So you opened the baize door?’

‘Just the least creak—not so anyone would notice.’

‘And was there anyone to notice, Frederick?’

‘Well, miss, there was and there wasn’t in a manner of speaking.’

‘Do you mean that you saw someone, but he did not see you?’

‘That’s right, miss.’

Frank Abbott took a sharp breath. Lamb sat like a rock.

Miss Silver said equably,

‘Whom did you see?’

‘Only Mr. Marsham—going into the study, miss. Lucky I wasn’t only half a minute sooner, or he might have seen me move the door.’

‘He did not see you? You are sure about that?’

‘Oh, no, miss. He was half-way in—he wasn’t looking my way.’

‘You are sure that it was Marsham you saw? Going into the study at about twenty minutes past eleven on Saturday night?’

‘Oh, yes, miss.’

Lamb’s big hand lifted, and came down with a resounding slap on his knee.

‘Then why didn’t you say so before?’

‘I—sir—’ Frederick turned an alarmed and bewildered look upon the Chief Inspector.

‘Why—didn’t—you—say—so—before ?’

‘It was only Mr. Marsham, sir, going his rounds.’

Absorbing as was the sight of a purple-faced Chief Inspector and a young man who appeared to be about to burst into tears, it was at this moment that Miss Silver and Frank Abbott found their attention irresistibly diverted by the appearance—the very rapid and energetic appearance—of Professor Richardson who, having come up the terrace steps two at a time, was now rattling the handle of the glass door with one hand whilst knocking loudly with the other.

Frederick turned, Lamb turned, they all turned. Frank Abbott got up with a slight shrug and opened the door. The Professor bounded in, his square form enveloped in tweeds of a prehistoric cut, his red hair standing up wildly about the bald patch on his crown.

‘Ah,’ he said—‘that’s better! I thought the damned thing had stuck. What do you want to go locking doors for in the daytime? Never lock mine—insult to one’s neighbours. If a burglar wants to get in he will. And what are the police for anyhow? Haven’t arrested anyone yet, have you?’

Frank Abbott, his voice at its coolest, performed an introduction.

‘This is Professor Richardson, sir.’

The Professor was unwinding a large mustard-coloured scarf.

‘You keep this place too hot. Always told Whitall he. kept it too hot. No living-room should have a temperature of over sixty Fahrenheit. Have you arrested anyone yet? Because if you have, you’re probably making a mistake—and if you were thinking of arresting me, you would be making a bigger one. So I’ve come here to tell you something.’

At the Professor’s entrance Frederick had removed himself as far as he dared. He was now kneeling on the hearth and making believe to be very busy over the fire.

The Professor came round the table, flung his scarf on the ground, and thumped down into the just vacated chair.

‘Now you just listen to me!’ he said in his most sonorous tones. He appeared to be unaware of the Chief Inspector’s dominating stare. He had come there to say something, and he was going to say it. ‘I made a statement yesterday to that young fellow-me-lad. All correct, and I’m standing by every word. But I’ve got something to add to it.’ He addressed Lamb. ‘I take it you’re the Lord High Something-or-other from Scotland Yard —and that you know what’s been going on.’

Frank Abbott raised an eyebrow.

‘The Chief Inspector has seen all the statements.’ He dipped into the case before him and passed some typewritten sheets to his Chief.

‘All right—that’s what I wanted to know. Now we can get going!’ He directed himself to Lamb again. ‘If you’ll turn to the end of my statement you’ll see I said I went away at getting on for a quarter past eleven. I’d pretty well flattened Whitall out—he wouldn’t admit it of course, but he knew it all right— and there wasn’t anything to stay for. So I went out by that door to the terrace, and he fairly banged it after me and drove down the bolt. A grown man should have more control over his temper. Well, then I went round the house, picked up my autocycle—I’m not one of your plutocrats, I don’t run to a car—and went off down the drive. I hadn’t got far along the road when I remembered I had left my magnifying-glass— Whitall had it in his hand, and I hadn’t got it back from him. It was a good glass, and I wasn’t going to lose it. The temper he was in, he might have chucked it in the fire, or out of the window, or anything. So I went back.’

Everyone in the room held their breath. Lamb said,

‘If this is a confession, I must warn you—’

The Professor said, ‘Tchah!’ in a loud explosive manner.

‘I must warn you—’

‘You don’t have to! I’m not confessing anything! Do you suppose I’d be such a fool? I’m engaged on some very serious research work, and I couldn’t possibly spare the time to be arrested. Anyhow I haven’t got anything to confess, and if you’ll listen to me instead of interrupting, I can prove it. What do you suppose I’m here for? Now listen!’

Lamb nodded.

‘All right—what do you want to say?’

‘That’s more like it! Well, I came back, pushed my bike up against a tree at the top of the drive, and came round the house to the terrace. I got to the steps, and I thought, “That’s queer”. Because I told you Whitall had banged and locked the door behind me, and it was open—or, I should say, it was opening. The curtains didn’t meet, because there was a man standing between them and he was opening the door. I was two-thirds of the way up the steps by this time, but I didn’t go any farther. I thought it was damned queer. I was wondering why on earth Whitall should be opening the door at that time of night.’

‘You say it was Sir Herbert Whitall who was opening the door?’

‘I don’t say anything of the sort! I thought I told you not to interrupt! I only thought it was Whitall just long enough to get the feeling that it was queer. And then I saw it was only the butler going round making sure everything was shut up for the night—though why he should have wanted to open that damned door passes me. Didn’t trust anyone to do it properly except himself, I suppose. Always did think the man had wind in the head. So you see, you’ve only got to ask the fellow, and he can tell you he was in the study after I left, and Whitall—,’ he stopped suddenly, the blood rushing to his face, and said in a voice like an explosion, ‘Oh, good Lord!’

If he wished to strike everyone dumb, he achieved this object.

The Chief Inspector was the first to recover. He said in his most authoritative manner,

‘You say that you saw Marsham come to that glass door and open it?’

‘Don’t any of you understand plain English? Of course I saw him—that’s what I came here to tell you! Because I thought he could clear me—and, believe it or not, it wasn’t until I had the words on my tongue that I saw it could mean that the fellow had done it himself.’ He pulled a loud bandanna from his pocket, rubbed his face vigorously with it, and thrust it back again. ‘My word, it’s stinking hot in here!’

Lamb rapped on the table.

‘This is a very serious statement, Professor Richardson.’

The Professor exploded again.

‘Serious? Of course it’s serious! I’m a serious person—I’ve no time to waste over trivialities!’

Lamb rapped again.

‘You say you saw Marsham opening this door at—what time would it be?’

‘Might have been five and twenty past eleven—mightn’t have been as much. I don’t go about looking at my watch.’

‘Could it have been later than that?’

‘Might have been—by a minute or two—not more.’

‘You came to recover your magnifying-glass, but you went back without attempting to do so. Why?’

‘I don’t know. I thought Whitall had gone off to bed and the man was shutting up. I just thought I’d ring up in the morning —well, if you really want to know, I thought it would look a bit queer, my looming up out of the dark like that. Never really cottoned to the man—didn’t feel like putting up with any of his superior airs.’

He looked so like a rueful schoolboy that Frank Abbott’s hand came up to cover his mouth. It is as true today as in Shakespeare’s time that one touch of nature makes the whole world kin. Even Lamb could remember to have quailed before a butler. It was a long time ago when he was very young, but he remembered it now.

‘So I went home,’ said the Professor in a diminished voice.

Lamb looked across to where Frederick still knelt before the fire, his ears flapping, his mind in a turmoil of terror and dismay.

‘Here, you, Frederick Baines—you can let that fire look after itself. Come here!’

Frederick came, a streak of black on one pale cheek.

‘Yes, sir?’

Lamb addressed him sternly.

‘You say you saw Marsham enter this room a few minutes after Professor Richardson had left?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘How many minutes after?’

‘Three or four, sir.’

‘Not more than that?’

‘No, sir.’

‘And then you got out of the window in the housekeeper’s room and went down to the village. Did you see or hear the Professor on his autobike?’

The Professor burst in.

‘He didn’t, because I wasn’t riding it when he passed me. I had remembered my magnifying-glass, and I was going through my pockets just to make sure. I was off the road on the grass verge, when something long and thin ran past me. Going quite a pace he was.’

‘That correct, Frederick?’

‘I was in a hurry, sir.’

The Professor burst out laughing.

‘Girl in the case, eh? Well, I said you were running, and you say you were running. How’s that, Chief Inspector?’

‘It’ll do. Then Frederick sees Marsham come into this room at, say twenty past eleven. You, Professor, see him opening the door on to the terrace somewhere between that time and the half hour. He had five, six, seven, eight minutes. Long enough—and it wouldn’t take so long. Sir Herbert was there at the table. The ivory dagger was there. Marsham crosses behind him to go to the window—no one takes any notice of a man-servant doing his job. He leans over, picks up the dagger, and stabs. That’s how it would be. Then he opens the window to make it look like an outside job. He had been feathering his own nest, and Sir Herbert had found him out—he was under the threat of exposure. He’s a proud man, and there were plenty of others more likely to be suspected. That would be it—he took a chance.’

Lamb had spoken almost as if he were thinking aloud, manner abstracted, voice subdued. He roused now and said sharply,

‘Who answers the bell in this room?’

Miss Silver coughed.

‘Marsham, I believe.’

Lamb turned to Frederick.

‘Go over and push the button, my lad!’

They sat and waited for Marsham to come in.

Ray Fortesque came back to a disorganized house and the news of Marsham’s arrest. It was Mary Good who poured it all out to her in Lila’s room, with a good deal of ‘Who would ever have thought it!’ and, ‘It only shows you can’t ever tell.’

‘And I’m sure I don’t know how we’re going to carry on—not with the house full the way it is now. I suppose that won’t only be till after the inquest, but Frederick he don’t seem to know whether he’s coming or going—you’d think he’s never as much as laid a table. And those two girls carrying on and saying they wouldn’t have come in to oblige if they had known they were going to get mixed up with a murderer! I’m sure the only one going on as if nothing had happened is Mrs. Marsham. It don’t seem natural, but there she is, beating up eggs for a soufflé and planning to make an orange cake with those tangerines that come in. And when I said to her, “You take and have a lay-down, and I’ll make you a good strong cup of tea”, all she has to say is, “Thank you, Mary”. She’s a very well-spoken person, I’ll say that for her. “Thank you”, she says, “but there’s no need, and I’ve got the lunch to do”. Always very set on her cooking, Mrs. Marsham, but it don’t seem natural to me. They say Marsham was quite out of himself when the Chief Inspector told him he was going to be charged with the murder—took up a chair and threw it clean across the room. Frederick says it took the three of them and Professor Richardson to master him. Strong as a bull, Fredrick says he was, and roaring like anyone crazy.’

There was a good deal more on the same lines, but in the end Mary Good remembered that Frederick must be superintended and went away in a hurry.

Ray felt rather as if the sea had been breaking over her. If it was really all over, if Bill was clear, if the nightmare had broken, why, then anything was possible. She must let Bill know—she must go down to the Blue Room and ring him up at once. But as she turned to the door, Lila caught at her—a pale, wide-eyed Lila with soft trembling lips.

‘Ray—’

‘What is it? Don’t keep me. I must let Bill know.’

‘No, Ray, wait! Please, please wait! I don’t want him to come—I don’t really. It’s no good his being angry, or anyone being angry.’

Ray subdued her throbbing impatience. It was no good being impatient with Lila, it only muddled her. She said quite gently,

‘I promise you he won’t be angry.’

Tears had brimmed up in the blue eyes.

‘He will when I say I don’t want to marry him. It always makes them angry when I say that.’

Ray took her by the shoulders.

‘Look her, let’s get this perfectly clear. You don’t want to marry Bill?’

Lila shook her head. Two large, beautiful tears overflowed and ran down. ‘Oh, no!’

‘You don’t want Bill Waring—you’re quite sure about that?’

Lila gave a big childish sob.

‘I don’t want anyone—anyone—except Adrian.’

Ray laughed, shook her a little, and kissed the wet patch on her left cheek.

‘All right, darling, don’t worry. You shall have Adrian if you want him. I rather think I’m taking Bill myself. “Jack shall have Jill, Nought shall go ill. The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well! ” ’

She ran out of the room, leaving Lila confused but comforted.

On her way across the hall Ray encountered Adrian Grey. Impulse having the upper hand, she caught him by the arm.

‘Look here—is this all true about Marsham?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘Mary Good was telling me. I’m ringing up Bill. If you’ve got five minutes to spare, would you like to go up to Lila and do a bit of soothing? She’s in a flap. She seems to think someone is going to try and make her marry Bill. See if you can get her to believe that Bill doesn’t want to marry her any more than she wants to marry him.’

‘Why doesn’t he?’ Adrian’s tone was a little indignant.

A very beautiful colour came up in Ray’s cheeks. Her dark eyes sparkled.

‘I think he sees it was a mistake.’

The indignation faded. He said,

‘Lila doesn’t want him?’

Ray shook the arm she was holding.

‘Of course she doesn’t want him—she never did! She only wanted to get away from Lady Dryden. There’s only one person she wants. And if you don’t know who it is you had better go and find out.’

She let go of him and ran on to the Blue Room. When she looked back at the door Adrian was already half-way up the stairs.