“The doctor can’t even do that. Yeldham apparently dined with Salter at quarter-past eight. Coffee was brought to them afterwards in the drawing-room, and the parlourmaid knows that he was alive when she came in to take the cups away at about half-past nine. He went with her into the dining-room, saw that everything that he wanted was put out and told her that as she had been kept up the previous two nights, she and the staff were to go to bed. He said that he was not really expecting many people, and that he would attend to anyone who did come himself. She says that she was very tired and that they all did, in fact, go to bed.” Scoresby put back the sheet of paper which he had turned up more as mute confirmation of his story than as a reminder and then went on: “But the trouble is that I asked the doctor if there was any medical reason why he should not have been killed directly after he left her, and his reply was ‘None whatever. By her, for all I know.’ There’s no doubt about it, that fire is either a cursed nuisance or a very clever bit of work.”
“Any fingerprints on the switch?”
“None. The only thing where Dr Vesey does help is in that he says the bruise on the back of Yeldham’s head is so slight that it might have been made by using his head to turn on the switch with rather more easily than by accidentally knocking it against the switch as he fell. If he did fall, his head struck the carpet—a thick one—not the wall. Of course, it might have happened but it does not give much margin of error.”
“Was the switch in the wall behind him or beside him?”
“Beside him. Otherwise I think that he must have hit the wall. The fire was the other side of the room to the switch, which was handy to one of the chairs, so there was no scorching. It happened, too, that a second switch on the fire itself prevented more than half of it being turned on.”
“I see.” A short pause ensued and then Flaxman went on to ask if there were any other fingerprints about.
“None of any great use,” Scoresby answered. “Yeldham’s own, of course; Reeves’s on the door-handle. You can’t blame him for that, whatever else you may say, as when he went in he had no idea that anything was amiss.”
Flaxman nodded.
“There’s a point there that I want to come back to, but go on. Finish with the question of fingerprints first. What about the dining-room?”
“Not much more to tell you there, either. Examples of Salter’s and all the Hands’ party on glasses and plates. None from the mysterious lady; also one set that certainly belongs to Reeves which, so far, is not accounted for.”
“On the door-handle again?”
“No. That was a confused jumble of everyone’s. This time on a wine glass. I shall have to talk to him about that.”
“So shall I about his conduct generally. However, to go back to the study.”
“As you saw, the room was not upset in any way. No sign of violence. A book open on the table as if it had been put down quite naturally.”
“Novel?”
“No. A text-book on law, open at a page dealing with the question of people who marry under the age of twenty-one without the consent of their parents and the consequences of making a fraudulent representation of being of age.”
“That hardly sounds normal, light, after-dinner reading for a bachelor of just over fifty. Is anyone connected with the case a minor?”
“Nobody. Hands is twenty-eight, his sister twenty-four, Miss Carmichael twenty-seven, Lansley thirty, the unknown lady is put down as from twenty-three to thirty, according to various witnesses. Salter is forty-two. The only person under twenty-one is the kitchen maid. I did ask her, and she giggled a great deal and said she was walking out but that the master hadn’t known of it.”
“A text-book on law, you said? On that subject only?”
“Oh, no. A sort of general help for the amateur. If you mean to ask, sir, whether it is certain that marriage was the subject about which Mr Yeldham was consulting it, the answer undoubtedly is ‘No’. He did have his thumb on the page but he had had it also on several others. One dealt with bankruptcy, another with contracts for sale of real property, a third was concerned with foreign domicile in connection with income tax, and the fourth with ancient lights. A various collection, and so far as I can see, all completely irrelevant.”
“Quite sure?” Flaxman asked, looking a little sceptical. “I mean, how did you know which page to look at?”
“It does sound rather a fairy story, I agree,” Scoresby answered laughingly, “but the solution’s quite easy, really. Yeldham happened to put his finger in the butter on one of the sandwiches or something like that, and the subsequent transfer of it left faint, but quite definite, traces. By the way, I must ask the parlourmaid if she noticed if he touched any of the food when he was with her.”
“I see. You still have kept that room locked up?”
“Yes. And so far the dining-room, too, but I think we might release that.”
“I wish you would. Salter is staying for another night in case he is still wanted, and also because that was his previous arrangement, and he rather wants to know how long he is to have his meals in the drawing-room. Personally, I should have thought he would have wanted to avoid the associations of the dining-room, but he seems to have no nerves at all. In fact, he asked me on the telephone how long it would be before you finished investigating the tooth marks on the sandwiches because he thought that they ought to be cleared away.”
“As soon as he likes. I rather wish that we could keep him more than one night though, but there isn’t any excuse.”
“Where’s he going?”
“Joining some friends at a hotel in Wales. Rooms booked. Name of Featherstonhaugh. I’ve confirmed that with the hotel. We shall have to risk it, I suppose.”
“Very well. I want to know a lot more about him, but before we come to that, just clear off the point to which I said I was coming back. What was the constable doing there?”
“Reeves? This is his story.” Scoresby selected one of his sheets of typescript and read out:
“‘On the evening before that on which the county ball was held, I was making my ordinary rounds, which included the residence and gardens at Y Bryn. Whilst doing so I was stopped by a gentleman whom I knew was Mr Yeldham. He informed me that he was expecting company on each of the three following nights, and told me that there might be trouble with cars, and also that he would rather like an eye kept on those parked in his drive and the road. I am not quite certain exactly what was meant by the last remark, as it would be impossible for me to know who was, or was not, the real owner. I explained this to him, and he said that he was referring to an obvious thief. I left the matter at that, promising that, while not neglecting my ordinary round, I would keep as careful an eye as I could on the area particularly specified by him. At the same time, I warned him that the road was a public highway, and that he could not cause an obstruction on it.’
“I can’t help wondering,” Scoresby looked up with a twinkle in his eye, “whether our young friend has not remembered some of that afterwards.”
“More than likely,” Flaxman laughed, “although he seems to be quite capable of having given such a warning; but I strongly suspect that he did neglect some of the rest of his beat.”
“Exactly. But I can’t prove it. I rather wish I could. But to go on, Reeves says that on the first two nights ‘no untoward incident occurred’—he rather likes long, conventional phrases, as no doubt you have noticed. On the third night, at about eleven-fifty, he found no cars outside the house, and the door open. ‘I then,’ he says, ‘managed to observe partially the dining-room. The only occupant was not Mr Yeldham, whom I anticipated seeing—’”
“Expected,” Flaxman corrected pedantically, and almost automatically. It was a solecism he particularly disliked.
“Sir?” Scoresby went on with hardly any check, “‘but the gentleman whom I now know to be Mr Salter. Thinking that this was an unusual occurrence, I went in, and instantly noticed the unexpected warmth of the house. The heat appear
ed to emanate from the study, to which I directed my steps.’ Just in parentheses,” Scoresby put in, “nobody else noticed the heat. I questioned Reeves about that, and I think that he left the inner hall door wide open, whereas before it had been ajar.”
“Either something of that sort, or he is lying.”
“Quite. Or perhaps he was more observant than we have given him credit for being. I don’t see as yet why he should lie.”
“To cover up something he did, do you think?” Flaxman suggested doubtfully. “Perhaps Yeldham had said something about a tip, and he hoped to meet him in the study.”
“That may be it. Anyhow, he went there and found the body. According to him the sight gave him a very considerable shock. He had been expecting nothing of the sort, and there was a great deal of blood about, but, again according to his own account, he recovered very quickly and decided that this was his big chance. Reeves has only been in the force about two years, but it has always been his ambition, to my knowledge, to go on to the detective side. He applied to me six months ago, and I told him that I would consider him when there was a vacancy, but that meanwhile he was to do his work properly. As you know, sir, Treve doesn’t need many people in my line—in fact, before you came we did without any—and I had all I wanted, or was likely to want, for a bit, but I was anxious not to discourage a keen young man, especially as he was a bit too quick for Sergeant Evans. But be that as it may,” Scoresby went on hurriedly, seeing Flaxman trying to conceal a smile, “it is quite certain that Reeves was ambitious, and he thought that this was his big chance.”
“So it was,” Flaxman agreed, “if he had handled it in exactly the opposite way.”
“Quite, sir, but to do the proper routine thing wasn’t good enough for him. He must needs try and play the detective to show how well he could do it and so, instead of ringing up at once, he proceeds to go into the dining-room, without saying why he was there, in the hope of surprising those who were there, and perhaps causing somebody to make a mistake.”
“Did he, as a matter of fact, get anything?”
“No, sir, not that you might say, really, but I will give him this. Before he went in he took down quite a lot of the conversation in his note-book—he’s taught himself a bit of shorthand—and he remembers a good deal afterwards of what was said. All the other five have made an attempt to recall what was said, and none of them have got it so fully as Reeves, but what they do state in the main seems to substantiate his account. In due course, I can compare all of them, and see where they differ, but it hardly seems worthwhile as yet because it all happened after Yeldham was killed, and probably doesn’t matter. All the same, there is a good deal that arises from it. Incidentally, Reeves did startle them all. If anyone present was concerned, he or she must be a very cool customer.”
“In fact, to be fair, Reeves may have been of some use?”
“A little, though the routine thing was the right thing to do. Still, I might have forgiven him if he hadn’t let that woman escape. He’s not a bad fellow, young Reeves, though he has been a bit too big for his boots. I think this will be a lesson to him, and perhaps later on—Anyhow, I thought that as he has put his foot into it, perhaps I might be allowed to go on using him. The coroner might want him tomorrow, although it’ll only be formal, and anyhow, I could do with another man, sir.”
“Perhaps. I’ll see if Evans can spare him—after I have had a talk with him.” There was little doubt from Flaxman’s tone of voice that Reeves would not entirely enjoy the talk.
“Thank you, sir.” Scoresby saw neither reason nor chance of sparing Reeves what was coming to him. “But to go on, sir, if I may. The first thing is to find this lady, I think.”
“I agree. What have you found out about her so far?”
“Not so much as I should like but, so as to begin at the beginning, perhaps I had better start by telling you what Salter says about her arrival.”
5
According to Salter
It had been a rather unsatisfactory interview that Sergeant Scoresby had had with the awkward and uncouth Salter early that morning after the chief constable had gone away with the deliberate object of leaving Scoresby to pursue his own course unhampered by the presence of his senior officer. It all came back very vividly to his mind as he now sat in Major Flaxman’s study, recalling what he was about to read out in a more concise form, and listening to Salter being telephoned, and told that the dining-room at Y Bryn would shortly be made available for his use.
Salter had begun by explaining that he was a master at Finchingfield as Yeldham had been, and that, in fact, he had taken over Yeldham’s house there from him quite a short while before. They had not, he said, been particular friends there, although they had been colleagues who got on perfectly well with each other. The transfer of the house, however, which Salter admitted he had been fortunate to get after only a few years’ work at the school, had given them many interests in common, and Yeldham had been anxious to hear detailed news of the progress of his old boys, as well as generally learning what had been happening in the school.
Accordingly, he had suggested that Salter should spend a couple of nights with him some time, and as this suggestion happened to fit in both geographically and chronologically with the plans of the friends whom Salter was joining in Wales, he had agreed to do so. It was only on arrival that he found that he had let himself in for the last of the three nights when Yeldham was keeping open house.
“That was rather a bore, to put it mildly,” was Salter’s own comment to Scoresby. “I am not by nature very interested in talking to strangers, and I have quite enough of it with parents. I did think of going straight to bed after dinner, but I could see that it would seem an extraordinary idea to Yeldham, who was of as social a disposition as I am not, and clearly thought that he was providing a pleasant entertainment for me. Or would have been if he could have been certain that more people were coming. I believe that he went out of his way to ask the four people who did turn up, and a rather special point was made to me that he hoped Lansley would come because Lansley was an Old Finch. The idea struck me as appalling, because I never knew Lansley, and anything more revolting than trying to find a hearty, common interest in artificial circumstances such as that, I cannot imagine. To give Lansley his credit, he seemed to show an equally sensible lack of interest in me.”
“Still, you consented to do what you were asked?” Scoresby had put in, as Salter had seemed to hesitate.
“One generally did do what Yeldham suggested. A good fellow, mind you, and very kind-hearted, but a trifle overbearing. Yes, I consented. Fortunately I had, purely by chance, the necessary kit, but I cursed Yeldham heartily while I dressed and cut myself shaving in consequence. However, I don’t think that the stain really showed on my shirt. I got most of it out.”
At the time Scoresby remembered that that remark had given him two reactions. In the first place, Salter must be either very short-sighted or very optimistic if he thought that the mark was not very obvious. Secondly, why was he shaving after putting on his shirt? But he had said nothing and allowed Salter to go on.
“During dinner I did my duty and described which boy was doing well and which was not. Unfortunately, Yeldham was a man who had very violent likes and dislikes—in fact, notoriously, he favoured some boys atrociously, and others never could do anything right.”
“Was Lansley a particular favourite?”
“Very far from it, I gather, but by now the mere fact that he had been in Yeldham’s house has thrown a halo round him. But to go back, we got through dinner and coffee without a hitch. In fact, all went well, until we adjourned—for no good reason that I could see—into the dining-room and continued the discussion. It had been growing increasingly obvious that all the people I liked Yeldham regarded as pedantic little squirts—to use his schoolboy phrase—and all the people he liked I regarded as brainless hearties of no importance whatever.”
“In fact you favoured the intellectual and he th
e athletic boy?”
“Roughly speaking. Rather before eleven o’clock we got so cross with each other that though nothing regrettable had actually been said, it was clear that it would be soon, and Yeldham finally made an obvious excuse to get out. He had, he said, a few letters to write in his study. Directly anybody came he would rejoin me. With that he left me alone in the dining-room with absolutely nothing to do except look at food which was slowly becoming dry and stale, and wait for people whom I did not know, and did not wish to know. I might, I suppose, have taken to drink but that was more in Yeldham’s line than mine.”
At that Scoresby had cocked an eye.
“Did Mr Yeldham—I mean was he—?”
“Was he drunk?” Salter had come to his rescue. “No, he wasn’t. He had taken, as the phrase is, a very fair refreshment; but then he usually did. I should have been drunk if I had taken what he did, but he was not. Practice, I suppose, and a good digestion.”
“So you stayed in the dining-room by yourself without taking a drink until this unknown lady arrived?”
“Oh, no! I did for about ten minutes or so, and then I got bored, so I went back to the drawing-room and found a pack of cards. When I returned—”
“Just a minute. You would have to pass the door of the study to do that. Did you notice any unusual heat?”
“Isn’t that rather an obvious question, sergeant? No, I can’t tell you if he was murdered then or not. I just passed by and came back to find that I was no longer alone. This lady, in whom you are naturally so interested, had arrived. She seemed rather surprised to see me. In fact, her first question was ‘Who the hell are you?’ which I thought was very unladylike. So I said—”
“Just a minute, sir. You had gone straight along the passage, picked up the cards and come straight back.”
“Yes, except that I couldn’t find any cards at first, and I knew that there must be some because Yeldham liked playing bridge, although his partners were given to deprecate his slam calling. I don’t know how long it took me—quite a while, perhaps. I wasn’t thinking about it carefully. Anyhow, when I got back there was the lady.”
And Death Came Too Page 4