Answer in the Negative

by Henrietta Hamilton

  Johnny nodded, and glanced down at the notebook again. ‘“2.25 Query Selina Marvell. To answer telephone.”’

  ‘A girl like a Gainsborough,’ said Sally.

  ‘That’s Selina, yes,’ said Toby to his glass.

  ‘She answered the telephone, but Morningside came in while she was still there and took over, and she came out again.’

  ‘Well, that would seem to be all,’ said Johnny.

  ‘Any ideas?’ asked Toby.

  ‘Plenty of ideas milling around, but they’re no use till they’re sorted out — if then.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ll leave you to it. I’m meeting a man at the Magpie and Stump at a quarter past seven.’

  ‘I don’t think you are. Not now,’ said Johnny. ‘It’s nearly ten past.’

  ‘Damn. I must just be late, then. Thank you for the drinks. Goodnight, Sally. See you tomorrow, I hope.’

  Johnny offered to cook supper; Sally said she could very easily do it, and, in the end, they made it a joint effort. But Johnny hadn’t much to say. He was obviously thinking about something else, and Sally had to take over when the omelette was half cooked, because his mind was not on the job. He apologised rather vaguely and began to cut some bread which they didn’t want. Sally told him that if he wasn’t careful, he would get like Uncle Charles, whose vagueness was a byword in Heldar Brothers, and he grinned and pulled himself together a little. But he was rather silent over the meal and over the washing-up, and though Nanny didn’t have supper with them, it was only when they had returned to the drawing room that he really surfaced and returned to the case. He lit his pipe slowly and carefully, and then asked, ‘Did any of these people who entered Morningside’s office while it was empty seem to you to spend an undue time there? We can check that to some extent from your timetable. Let’s take them in order. Pat first.’

  Sally thought carefully. ‘She went in and came straight out again.’

  Johnny made a note in the blue book. ‘All right. Teddy?’

  ‘Teddy — of course, if Teddy was only looking for Morningside, he had no reason to go in at all. He need only have put his head round the door. He should have knocked, of course, but he didn’t. Perhaps he was just inquisitive. He was inside for a minute or two, and I couldn’t see what he was doing.’

  ‘Right. Toby?’

  ‘You don’t suspect Toby?’

  ‘Not seriously, Sally. But remember, we’re looking for someone who is probably unbalanced, and that means someone who might conceivably have called us in when he himself was guilty. In any case, we’ve got to consider everybody.’

  ‘Very well, darling. Toby was looking for dead donkeys. It took him about two minutes, and I could see him for most of that time.’

  ‘Then Miss Quimper went in as soon as he came out?’

  ‘More or less. She was in for about two minutes, too, and in my sight for part of the time. I — I wasn’t watching her very carefully, anyway.’

  ‘Silcutt?’

  ‘Silcutt went straight in and out again, but he shut the door behind him. Michael Knox was next, wasn’t he? He had no reason to go in if he was just looking for Morningside. He shut the door behind him, and he was there for a good two minutes — perhaps three. I suppose he may have been looking for his pictures. And Selina Marvell was last. She was talking on the telephone all the time she was there till Morningside came in.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Johnny slowly. ‘I don’t think, you know, we can allow any one excuse for being in Morningside’s office to satisfy us more than any other. The joker may have thought it wise to have a sound one; he may have argued that anyone who was interested would look for a visitor with a sound one, and therefore left it a bit vague, or he may have waited till circumstances forced him into the office. After all, there was no particular hurry, and he — or she — could always have the letter ready for an impromptu visit. Incidentally, Sally, you seemed a little unforthcoming about Selina’s visit. I had the impression we were only getting the bare bones of it.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Sally, and told him the rest of it. He listened thoughtfully.

  ‘Funny little scene,’ he said. ‘I can’t imagine how those two came to be engaged. Can you?’

  ‘Not really. Perhaps she mistook his untried virtue for tried strength. Perhaps it was a genuine mistake, or perhaps she just wanted a solid prop and persuaded herself she’d found it — poor girl.’ Sally smiled a little, looking at Johnny, knowing that she had made no mistake.

  He nodded slowly. ‘And in that mood the middle-class virtues might seem very desirable,’ he said.

  ‘Johnny, are you putting your money on anyone yet?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not yet.’

  Chapter Three

  Johnny spent the next morning in the Archives and came home at midday again. It had been, he said after lunch, a rather unprofitable visit. Morningside had remained in his office all the time and had been irritable with everyone on the staff who had spoken to him in Johnny’s hearing, and barely civil to two or three clients. Johnny himself had made an excuse to talk to Selina Marvell, whose late engagement still puzzled him, and said she was intelligent and charming, but he hadn’t got beyond the intelligence and charm. He had also penetrated to Comic Cuts, another long room beyond the first, and talked to Michael Knox, whom he thought brilliantly clever, extraordinarily interesting, and probably quite amoral. And that, he said, was all he had to report.

  Sally reached the Archives, as before, a little after half past one. For the moment there seemed to be no one about, and she knocked on Toby’s door, found him at home, and asked if she might collect her pictures.

  ‘Certainly,’ said Toby, rising from behind his desk. ‘Come along in, Miss Merton.’ She shut the door, and he added under his breath, ‘Morningside hasn’t gone out. He’s in such a state that he won’t leave his office. He wouldn’t have had any lunch, but Pat got him some sandwiches from the canteen.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ said Sally.

  ‘It is unfortunate. Well, I don’t know what you can do but wait and see.’

  Sally waited, and for most of the afternoon saw very little. Not very many people went into Morningside’s office, and with those who did, as far as she could hear, he was short. The time passed slowly, and no one of interest appeared. It was just before five o’clock when Teddy and a short boy came past her, carrying a stout wooden box, about twenty-four inches by nine, full of glass negatives stacked on edge. The boys crashed into the office without looking, taking some paint off a jamb, and Morningside’s voice said, ‘For heaven’s sake take care what you’re doing, you clumsy clots. No, don’t put it on that shelf; it won’t take it. And not on those negs — you’ll break them. Teddy — put that box down and get out!’

  ‘Okay, okay. Keep yer shirt on,’ said Teddy. The box was dropped on the floor, and Morningside broke out again. The other boy came out of the office, looking rather worried. Teddy said, ‘All right, mister. Wotcher goin’ ter do abaht it? That’s wot I wanter know. Wotcher goin’ ter do abaht it?’ The unmistakably Cockney voice was eager, almost anxious.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Morningside. His voice was trembling with anger. ‘I haven’t decided. But if you go on this way, you’ll get what’s coming to you, you little—’

  Teddy got his epithet in first, and left the room, slamming the door behind him. His freckles stood out almost startlingly on a dead white face. He said harshly to the other boy, ‘Come on, Bill,’ and strode away to the glass doors, with Bill behind him. As he reached them, they opened, and the big, ruddy man whom Sally had seen in the lift yesterday afternoon came in. Teddy stepped quickly aside. The big man smiled, and then stopped and looked at him. Teddy stood still — almost, to Sally’s astonishment, at attention.

  ‘Anything wrong, Parston?’ asked the big man.

  ‘No, sir,’ said Teddy flatly.

  ‘All right. By the way, have you got another tie at home — a quieter one?’

  ‘Yessir.’

  �
��Then I should wear it at the office. That one really won’t do. Wear it at home if you must, but not here. All right?’

  ‘All right, sir.’

  ‘Fine.’ The ruddy man nodded to Bill, who had come to attention nearby, and walked on. He recognised Sally, who hadn’t returned to her pictures in time, and smiled and nodded again. She smiled back, and he stopped beside her and knocked on Morningside’s door. Morningside called sharply, ‘Come in,’ and the ruddy man opened the door and put his head round it.

  ‘Have you by any chance got me those desert pictures?’ he asked in his pleasant voice. ‘It doesn’t matter if you haven’t had time; I was just passing and thought I’d look in.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got them, Sir James. Please come in. I hope they’ll do.’ Morningside spoke much more calmly.

  So that was Brigadier Camberley, thought Sally. His face had seemed familiar yesterday; she had seen his photograph in the newspapers more than once. He looked a nice man, and he seemed to be effective.

  He came out of Morningside’s office a few minutes later, carrying a large, well-filled envelope, and moved on to Toby’s. He knocked and disappeared inside.

  Five minutes passed. The big room was quiet. No one else visited Morningside, and he didn’t come out.

  When the interruption came, it almost startled her. Michael Knox swung suddenly past her table. He didn’t notice her, and he didn’t knock at Morningside’s door. He walked straight into the office and said loudly, ‘Have you got those Tunisian pix?’

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t walk in without warning like that,’ said Morningside crossly.

  ‘Why? You haven’t got Selina on your knee.’

  ‘That’s a disgusting suggestion!’ Morningside’s voice was almost a scream. ‘You know I—’

  ‘You wouldn’t do that in the firm’s time?’ Knox leaned against the jamb, his hands in the pockets of his disreputable coat.

  ‘I wouldn’t do it at any time. Now—’

  ‘No, it’s not done in Balham, I suppose.’

  ‘I suppose you think that’s funny,’ said Morningside shrilly. ‘Well, let me tell you I don’t understand public-school humour. I went to a grammar school. I don’t think it’s funny to talk like that and bandy about a lady’s name in public.’

  ‘That’s a real gem,’ said Knox delightedly. ‘In the very best Victorian tradition.’

  ‘You’re not writing now, Knox. I won’t—’

  The high voice broke off suddenly. There was a moment’s silence. Then Morningside said in a quite different voice — flat and expressionless and rather dull, ‘So it is you who’s writing the letters. That’s just the sort of thing you say in them. About Selina—’ His footsteps sounded flatly on the composition floor.

  ‘Take it easy,’ said Knox calmly. His hands were still in his pockets.

  ‘I won’t take it easy.’ Morningside was directly in front of Knox now, standing in the doorway, side-on to Sally, and entirely unaware of her. His voice rose again. ‘I won’t have you saying things about Selina.’ He raised his clenched fists in what looked even to Sally a rather clumsy and amateurish way.

  Knox’s hands came out of his pockets so quickly that she scarcely saw them move. The long bony fingers closed round Morningside’s wrists, and he looked suddenly helpless.

  ‘Don’t be a bloody fool,’ said Knox contemptuously. ‘I don’t want to hurt you. And it’s you who are saying things in public, not me, you know.’

  Sally became suddenly conscious that Toby was standing beside her. How much of all this he had heard she didn’t know. The blood was in his thin face.

  ‘It sounds to me as if neither of you were showing to much advantage,’ he said, and his voice cut like a lash. ‘You might break it up now. There are clients here, and the Brigadier is with me.’

  Knox made a sound of disgust which was pure Irish, dropped Morningside’s hands, and swung out of the room. Sally caught a whiff of whisky as he passed her. That probably explained something of this scene. He must keep a flask or a bottle in his office; the pubs were barely open yet, even in Fleet Street. Morningside stood quite still for a moment, his released hands at his sides, and a look of despair on his uninteresting face. Then he shut his door. Toby turned and limped back to his office. His shoulders were rigid.

  Just before half past five the Brigadier went away. Sally waited another quarter of an hour or so, just in case anything more happened, and saw most of the staff leave. Toby went into Morningside’s office, knocking first, and shut the door behind him. She hoped he wouldn’t be long; it would be better to see him before she left. She was putting her pictures together when she heard someone walking with long strides behind the filing cabinets. The footsteps halted suddenly, and Michael Knox’s voice said, ‘Come and have a drink, Selina.’

  ‘Not tonight, thank you.’ Selina’s voice was lowered, but still clear, and very cold. ‘You’ve had more than enough already, Mike.’

  ‘If I didn’t have a drink or two now and then I couldn’t stand this bloody place.’

  ‘It probably won’t stand you much longer. Must you pick quarrels with everyone?’

  ‘I must. It’s my cursed nature.’ His brogue had cropped up again.

  ‘Stop going all Juno and the Paycock,’ snapped Selina. ‘It may be very effective with complete strangers, but I know just how bogus it is.’

  Knox was silent for a moment. Then he said very softly, ‘All right, Selina. In that case you know just why I have to quarrel with Morningside.’

  There was another short silence. Then a chair skidded on the floor and Selina whispered furiously, ‘No. No, Mike.’

  Again there was silence. Then Knox said in a low, hard voice, ‘All right. Not tonight, then. But, by God, I won’t believe you prefer that bourgeois from Balham to me.’

  Selina said on a note of faint surprise, ‘You’re quite wrong—’ But Knox had gone. He strode on to the glass doors and went out without looking back. Presumably he had finished for the day, but he wore no overcoat.

  Sally sat still for a minute, rather unhappy. She was here to watch and listen, but she hadn’t quite reckoned on this sort of thing. She wondered if she could possibly get away without Selina’s realising she was still here.

  Toby dashed that hope. He came out of Morningside’s office and said, ‘Oh, you’ve finished, have you, Miss Merton? I think we’d better put your stuff away.’

  He followed her into his own office. He was looking very tired, but not quite as wretched as she had expected.

  ‘Sorry about that sordid scene,’ he said quietly. ‘Not to edification, as my father used to say about the lower forms of newspaper life. Look, Sally. I think something’s got to be done about Morningside. If we can’t relieve the tension a bit, he’ll crack. You’ve seen for yourself the state his nerves are in. He’s not sleeping, and when I offered him some dope, he said he didn’t approve of taking drugs. He’s not eating. He nearly always works late on his negs on Wednesday evenings, and has supper in the canteen. He said he wasn’t going down this time, only Camberley persuaded him to do it. He’s afraid to leave his office, in case the joker looks in. As far as I can see there’s nothing to prevent him from working all night — a newspaper building doesn’t shut.’

  ‘I can see he’s on the edge of a breakdown,’ said Sally. ‘But we’ve got to give Johnny time.’

  ‘I know. I was only going to suggest that Johnny should talk to him tonight. If you want to carry on with this observation after that, then he must just take a day or two off, so that he can’t give you away. If no one knows how long he’s to be off, the chances are the joker won’t suspend his activities. Do you think Johnny will agree?’

  ‘That’s up to him. You’d better come along and ask him.’

  ‘I can’t, Sally. I’m meeting Camberley for a drink. Supposing I ring Johnny up. Will he be home by now?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I should try it before the shop.’

  Toby dialled the Heldars’ number. Evidently
the Archives had their own telephone system, and no connection with the Echo’s. After a minute Johnny answered. Sally could hear only one end of the conversation, but she gathered that he agreed. Toby said, still softly, ‘No, I think eight o’clock should be absolutely all right. I’ll meet you down in the entrance hall…Yes, I’ll send her home now.’

  He put down the receiver, and Sally said, ‘Toby, I hope you’re going to have a proper meal.’

  ‘Oh, yes. I shall probably go to the canteen. Camberley won’t want to linger over his drink; he’s eating early, I gather, and going on to the House. Middle East debate.’ Toby broke off and glanced at his watch. ‘It’s nearly six. I’m supposed to be meeting him downstairs, and I promised Johnny I’d send you home at once. Come along.’

  As he opened one of the glass doors for her, a door at the end of the passage opened too. Camberley and Silcutt came out. Camberley grinned and said, ‘Hullo, Lorn. I’ve been gossiping ever since I left you, I’m afraid.’

  Or possibly soothing Silcutt, thought Sally. Toby said, ‘The day’s work is over, sir. Even for the Archives. Sally, may I introduce Sir James Camberley and Mr Silcutt?’ His voice dropped slightly. ‘This is Mrs Heldar.’

  Silcutt looked faintly embarrassed, as if he would have preferred to ignore the existence of unofficial adjuncts to detection, and murmured something incoherent, but Camberley said, ‘We’ve almost met, Mrs Heldar, though I didn’t know who you were.’ He shook hands with a grip that was hard without being painful. ‘It’s extraordinarily kind of you to help us with this nasty business. Tell me, can you spare the time to join us for a drink? Mr Silcutt says he must get home, but Lorn and I are on our way to some respectable bar.’