The Unfinished Clue (11 page)

"I see. And about the position of the study: I under stand it is in the front of the house, facing on to the drive?"

"That's right. On the right of the front door as you go in, it is, there being what they call the morning-roon behind it, then the stairs, and beyond them the drawingroom, which is a big room along the back of the house next to the billiard-room."

"The terrace, I take it, is also at the back of the house.? Then the study is at a considerable distance from it? No chance of any noise in the study reaching the ears of anyone on the terrace?"

"Oh dear me, no," said the Superintendent, with a tolerant smile for one as yet unacquainted with the dimensions of the Grange. "It's a very big house. What you might call a mansion. Very well off, Sir Arthur was. and did himself proud."

"And these windows," pursued the Inspector, consulting one of the photographs. "Were they open, or shut?"

"Wide open, the front window was. The one on the west side the General never had open, it being right opposite the door, and him not liking a draught. It was the butler shut the windows after the crime was discovered, which, properly speaking, he shouldn't have done."

"No footmarks outside?"

"No, but that doesn't mean anything either, when you come to think of it. There hasn't been any rain since I don't know when, and the ground's as hard as a rock. "Fisn't as though there was a flower-bed by the window either. Well, naturally, there wouldn't be, because it's one of them french windows, as you can see for yourself. There's just a bit of grass, and then the drive, which is gravel. Whoever it was that murdered the General might have come in through the window without leaving any trace, or, on the other hand, he might have come in by the door, and no one the wiser."

"That makes it rather difficult," said the Inspector. "Is it known whether the General had any enemies?" He looked up from the photographs as he spoke, and saw that both men's faces had relaxed into broad grins. His own rather grave grey eyes smiled faintly. "Oh! Have I said something funny?"

"Well, Inspector Harding, you've pretty well hit the nail on the head, that's what you've done," said the Superintendent. "I don't suppose, if you was to search the whole county, you'd find anyone who'd got more enemies than what Sir Arthur had. I don't mind going so far as to say that if you set out to find somebody who'd got a good word to say for him you'd have a job."

"That's a fact," corroborated the Sergeant, in a slow deep voice. "You'd have a job."

It was at this moment that the Chief Constable walked into the room.

"Ah, Superintendent, I see the Inspector has - er arrived. No doubt you have put him in - er - possessioi of the facts. Inspector Harding, isn't it? Very glad you have got down here, Inspector."

The Inspector had risen, and turned to face the newcomer. Major Grierson, who had held out his hand looked at him extremely sharply, and said: "Dear me surely we have - er - met before? Your face is very - er - familiar, yet for the moment I cannot exactly call to er - mind where we have met Do you, by any chance - remember meeting me?"

"Yes, sir, I remember you perfectly," answered the Inspector, shaking hands. "We met in Bailleul."

"Why, of course, of course!" exclaimed the Major. "Harding! Dear me! Yes! You were attached to Colonel — er - Mason! Yes, yes! Well, this is a surprise! But what are you doing in the Police Force? You were - wait. I have it! You were reading law at — er — Oxford!"

"The War rather knocked that on the head, sir, so I joined the Police Force instead."

"Well, well, well!" said Major Grierson.

The Inspector moved to the desk, and put down the photograph he was still holding in his left hand. "Superintendent Lupton has just been giving me all the facts of this case, sir," he said. "It looks like being a bit of a teaser."

The Major's face clouded over. "Very bad business. Nasty — er - case, Harding. I felt at once it was - er -a matter for Scotland Yard. Too many people in it. Have you read the - er - statements?"

"Not yet, sir. I was going to suggest to the Superintendant that he should let me take them away with me now, so that I can study them before I go up to the Grange."

"By all means! Certainly! A very good - er - plan, Superintendent. Don't you - er - agree?"

The Superintendent, who had viewed with disfavour the meeting between the Major and.Inspector Harding said that he had no objection, but that in his opinion the sooner the Inspector went up to the Grange the better it would be.

The Inspector looked at his wrist-watch. "Then shall we say in an hour's time? That will make it half past three."

"Yes, yes, do just as you —- er - think best, Harding," said the Major. "Where are you - er - putting up?"

"At the Crown, sir, if they have a room," replied the Inspector.

"You could not do better," approved the Major. "I'll put you on your — er — way."

Outside the police station he button-holed the Inspector in a confidential manner, and warned him that the Superintendent was rather a difficult man to deal with. "Between ourselves - er - Harding, not quite the man for this — er - business. Naturally - quite realise you must have - er —- a free hand. But if you could manage to er - keep on the right side of him, as it were - But I've no doubt you - er - will do your best."

"I will," promised the Inspector.

"And when we've - er - finished with this case you must come out and - er - dine with me, and we'll have a yarn. I shan't keep you now. You've got a tough — er- job there. Most unpleasant - er - affair." He dabbed at his nose. "Most unpleasant!" he repeated with conviction.

Chapter Eight

At the Grange a peculiar discomfort reigned. From the moment when it had become known that Scotland Yard was to be called in , a constraint descended on the house. Until then every one had been either shocked or ghoulishly excited, according to his or lur disposition, but with the mention of Scotland Yard a realisation of all the implications arising out of the affair was universally felt. An atmosphere of suspicion crept into the house; the murder was very guardedly discussed, and no one, except Miss de Silva, spoke the thought uppermost in mind without first considering whether it were safe.

It struck Dinah, listening to confidences, theories, discussions, that perhaps no one was speaking the whole truth. Every one had something to hide, something to tone down, or to explain away. No one seemed any longer to be quite natural, from Fay, unusually quiet and self-controlled, down to Guest, more taciturn than ever.

The mere mention of Scotland Yard had produced varied emotions. It was easy to see that Fay was dreading what lay before them all, but she would not say so even to Dinah. Geoffrey was easier still to read. He could not leave the subject alone, but harped continually on it, alternately demonstrating the folly of having detectives down, and offhandedly wondering what the detectives would want to know.

Camilla became a little shrill when she heard the news. She said it was ridiculous for anyone to ask her anything because she knew nothing; she could not see why she and Basil could not go home. Suddenly it had become very inconvenient for her to stay at the Grange; she did not think it fair to expect her to put herself out like this, and at once worked herself into an abortive hatred of the Police Force. Panic evidently possessed her shallow brain, and she displayed quite extraordinary vulgarity in the way she gave way to it. Probably, Dinah thought, she was the type of woman who shrieked wildly in moments of emergency.

Basil Halliday occasionally begged her irritably fof God's sake to be quiet, but he seemed to have not tlu smallest influence over her. He himself asserted that he thought it clearly a case for Scotland Yard. It was absurd to make a fuss about it. Why should one mind having to answer a few questions? Yet Dinah felt, watching his twitching brows, that he did mind, perhaps more than his wife.

There was no saying what Stephen Guest thought about it. No hint of emotion disturbed the inscrutability of his countenance when he heard of the Chief Constable's decision. He folded the evening paper open at the middle page with his capable, deliberate fingers, and said: "I thought they'd call in the Yard." That was the only comment he made; he did not seem to be much interested.

I.ola was also uninterested. She said that policemen did not matter to her, and it was incredible that only a reporter on the local paper had as yet called at the house seeking a story. With him she would have nothing to do; it would perhaps be better if nothing was told to the newspapers until she had seen her press agent. "For it occurs to me," she said seriously, "that it may not be a good thing to put this in the papers. In France it would he a success of the most enormous, but England I do not know so well, and one must ask oneself whether it will make good publicity for me, or, on the contrary, not good at all, but very bad."

Lola, unlike Camilla, evinced not the slightest desire to leave the Grange. She even forbore to complain any more of the matutinal habits of cocks, though she did once announce that when she was married to Geoffrey the matter would have to be arranged.

The murder of her host was from her point of view a good thing. Geoffrey would have a great deal of money, which would enable him to marry her, and there need no longer be an inexplicable dearth of absinthe in the house. These conclusions she expressed freely, for, as she very sensibly pointed out, it was good for every one to look on the bright side.

The absinthe was procured for her by Finch, who informed Dinah apologetically that he had taken it upon himself to ring up the wine-merchant. "For, if I may say so, miss, it will be one worry the less," he said.

The other matter could not be so easily settled. Geoffrey, Lola discovered, was behaving quite absurdly, and instead of adoring her openly, showed a marked disinclination to be anywhere near her. If she caught his eye he would hurriedly avert his own glance; if she addressed him he answered her in a constrained way. and would immediately begin to talk to someone else. Even the seduction of her beauty failed to rekindle his passion, and when she tried the effect of stealing her arm, about his neck at the foot of the staircase on Mondat night, and whispering: "Kiss me. But kiss me, my Geoffrey!" the result had been anything but happy. He had almost violently disengaged himself, saying: "Don't! Can't you leave me alone? I don't want to touch you! And then, when she had opened her eyes at such odd behaviour, he had said, in a high-pitched, excited voice: "Don't keep on talking about marriage! We're not going to be married. You threw me over when you thought. I hadn't any money, and I saw what a fool I'd been about you. And it absolutely killed my love for you!"

This was very shocking, quite rude of Geoffrey, and extremely annoying besides, since he spoke in such a loud voice that every one must have been able to hear him. For a moment Lola wavered on the brink of a truly magnificent scene. It would be a splendid end to the day, and she would enjoy a quarrel where one screamed abuse, and hurled vases to the ground. But Geoffrey though excitable, was, after all, English, and probably he would not enter into the spirit of the thing, but instead of shouting too would just walk away, quite disgusted. Shc curbed herself therefore, and said reproachfully: 'But I find you entirely cruel, my dear Geoffrey. You hurt me very much, I assure you,,but I forgive you, because it is seen that you are not at all yourself."

After that she had gone upstairs to bed and, meeting Dinah on the landing, had asked her when it would be made known how much money Geoffrey would have.

Dinah was unable to enlighten her. Geoffrey had rung up the offices of Tremlowe, Tremlowe, Hanson and Tremlowe as soon as the Chief Constable had departed but Mr Horace Tremlowe had not returned from a long week-end, and Mr Gerald Tremlowe hardly expected to see him before eleven o'clock on Tuesday. Geoffrey had sonnewhat incoherently explained his need of Mr Horace Tremlowe, and Mr Gerald, very much shocked, had said 'Tut-tut-tut, in a perturbed voice, and promised that Mr Horace Tremlowe, who was both the General's solicitor and executor, would come down to the Grange by the first available train on Wednesday.

During the course of Tuesday morning Finch was kept busy answering the front door. A great many people drove up, and handed in flowers, or a note for Fay. Nearly all these sympathetic callers told Finch how deeply shocked they were; nearly all supposed that Lady Billington-Smith was not yet receiving visitors, and upon having this guess politely confirmed, drove regretfully away.

Mrs. Chudleigh did not call, or leave flowers. She rang up instead, and she was not to be put off by a butler. She said that she would like to speak to Miss Fawcett, please, on an important matter. When Dinah went reluctantly to the telephone the important matter was disclosed. The Vicar, said Mrs. Chudleigh, had made her ring up, since he hesitated to intrude at such a moment, and yet wished to come to see Fay. Spiritual consolation, said Mrs. Chudleigh. Dinah declined it for her sister.

"No doubt you know Lady Billington-Smith's wishes, Miss Fawcett," said the sharp voice at the other end of the wire. "Though I must say I should have thought that such a time - However, I assure you neither my husband nor myself would dream of coming to see your sister unless she expressed a wish to see either of us. No doubt you have been besieged by callers? I know how vulgarly inquisitive people are, and that is why I rang up instead, of leaving a note. Of course, I suppose there will have to be an inquest?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so," said Dinah patiently.

"So painful for the family!" said Mrs. Chudleigh. "I hope there is no truth in the story that is going about that the police consider it necessary to call in Scotland Yard . I paid not the slightest attention to it when it repeated to me, but of course you know that Constable Hammond is engaged to Mrs. Darcy's underr housemaid?"

"I didn't know it," said Dinah, "But -"

"Well, that is undoubtedly how it leaked out. Naturally I told Mrs. Darcy that I was surprised at her listening to mere gossip like that. I suppose it is quite untrue?"

"No," replied Dinah. "It is perfectly true. I'm sure you'll forgive me, Mrs. Chudleigh, but I'm very busy at the moment, and -"

"I quite understand!" Mrs. Chudleigh assured her. "Everything must be at sixes and sevens, I am sure. And so objectionable for you to have detectives in the house. Reporters too!"

"Yes," said Dinah. "Foul. I'll tell Fay you rang up, Mrs. Chudleigh. So kind of you! Good-bye!"

Later still Mrs. Twining rang up. She wanted merely to know how Fay was, and Geoffrey, and whether her presence had been needed.

"No, not yet," Dinah replied. "The detective hasn't turned up so far. It'll be quite a relief when he does come if you ask me. This waiting about is getting on everybody's nerves. Are you coming over today, Mrs. Twining?"

"I think perhaps I had better," said Mrs. Twining in her calm way. "I understood from Fay that I was to hold myself in readiness to answer questions the detective may want to put to me. I am really not very well versed in the etiquette of these affairs. Does a detective come to me, or do I go to him?"

"I don't know," said Dinah. "But I wish you would come. We - we rather badly want a normal person here."

"Then I will drive over this afternoon," said Mrs. Twining.

At luncheon Camilla announced that she had a splitting head, and was going to lie down all the afternoon, and if the detective did actually come at last it was no use expecting her to see him, because she was feeling far too ill to talk to anybody.

Upon which Lola turned her candid gaze upon her, and said: "I do not find that there is any reason for a detective to see you. You are not at all important, let me tell you, so it's quite foolish for you to create for us any scenes."

Camilla, pale with anger, said in a trembling voice that she wasn't going to sit there to be insulted, and flounced from the room. After a moment's uncertainty Halliday got up abruptly, and followed her.

"I am quite pleased that they have gone," said Lola composedly. "They are not at all sympathetic, and besides I am nearly sure that her hair has been dyed."

That seemed to dispose of Camilla. No one found strength to make any comment on this speech, and the meal was resumed in depressed silence.

When it was over Dinah took Fay firmly by the hand and led her upstairs to her room. "You're going to lie down till tea-time, my girl," she said. "How much sleep did you get last night?"

"Not very much," Fay said, with a forced smile. She let Dinah help her to slip off her frock, and huddled herself into a dressing-gown with a little shiver.

Dinah banked up the pillows on the bed, and patted it invitingly. "Come along, ducky. You'll feel better if you can manage to put in a little sleep."