The Affair of the Bloodstained Egg Cosy

by James Anderson

  Lord Burford gave a squawk. 'No! I didn't! I didn't. I tell you. I didn't shoot anybody. Why should I? I—'

  'Family pride, Lord Burford. You overheard Batchev and the Baroness discussing the blackmail of your brother and you were determined not to let his career be ruined by a pair of foreigners—'

  'No, it's not true!' Lord Burford was positively squeaking by now. 'I knew nothing about the blackmail. I thought Anilese was a lovely gal, Adler - Batchev - a delightful feller. I took Peabody's gun - I admit that—'

  'Ah!' Deveraux pounced. 'You did?'

  'Yes - yes.'

  'What for - if not to shoot someone?'

  'Just to show to Trimble Greene - another collector. Wanted him to think I owned the pair. Was only going to keep it until September, then send it on to Peabody in the States, in time for the New York exhibition. Chap who sold me my original sold me the replica as well. Said there'd originally been a pair, but they'd got split up and someone had had the replica made so there'd be a pair again. I thought it might be good enough to fool Peabody, so long as he didn't look at it too closely.'

  'George!' The horrified exclamation came from Lady Burford. 'George - I can't believe my ears! You took Mr. Peabody's gun? You stole from your own guest! I've never been so ashamed in my life!'

  'I'm sorry, my dear. I really don't know what came over me.'

  'I should hope temporary insanity, George. It's the kindest explanation.' She turned towards Peabody. 'Mr. Peabody, I don't need to say—'

  Deveraux coughed. 'Lady Burford, I'm sorry to interrupt yet again, but that really must keep. This is a murder enquiry. Lord Burford, let me get this straight: you say you left your replica in the carrying-case in Mr. Peabody's dressing room and took his original away. What did you do with it?'

  'Locked it in the safe in my study.'

  'Then what did you do?'

  'Went back to bed.'

  'At what time?'

  'I got back in my room just after twelve minutes past two.'

  'How can you explain the gun being found by the Baroness's body?'

  'I can't. I've been worried stiff about it. I swear to you, Deveraux, that I killed nobody—'

  'I know, Lord Burford. We never thought you did. But I had to find some means of persuading you to admit to the - the borrowing of Mr. Peabody's pistol.'

  Lord Burford mopped his face with his handkerchief. 'Gad,' he said.

  'Now,' Deveraux said, 'we still have to explain how your gun came to be wrapped up in Mr. Peabody's shawl, how another replica found its way into the display stand in the collection room - and how your own replica got from Mr. Peabody's carrying-case where you left it, to the armchair in your study, where I found it this afternoon.'

  Lord Burford stared. 'You found it there?'

  'Yes. Have you an explanation, Lord Burford?'

  The Earl shook his head blankly.

  'Then,' said Deveraux pleasantly, 'I think it would be reasonable to ask if Mr. Peabody has an explanation.' He turned to the Texan. 'Well, Mr. Peabody?'

  Jane noticed that whereas Lord Burford had gone red when Deveraux had switched his attention to him, Mr. Peabody was now a pale shade of green. 'I - er—' he said.

  'Mr. Peabody.' And this time Deveraux snapped the name. 'Did you go to the collection room in the early hours of Sunday, remove Lord Burford's pistol and replace it with a replica of your own?'

  Peabody gulped, then gave a single, jerky nod.

  'Hiram!' Mrs. Peabody stared at her husband in horror. 'What are you saying?'

  'I put it to you,' Deveraux rapped, 'that you took that gun and used it to shoot Stanislaus Batchev.'

  'No, sir, I most certainly didn't.'

  'You know that it was used for that purpose?'

  'Yes, but—'

  'How do you explain that?'

  'I can't.'

  'I recommend that you try, Mr. Peabody. I think you'd be wise to make a clean breast of the whole thing. Why did you take the gun, if not to kill Batchev?'

  'I—' Peabody closed his eyes for two seconds. 'I wanted it to put with mine so I could exhibit the pair at the New York exhibition. Naturally, I was intending to send it back immediately after. The guy who sold me the gun sold me the replica, too, as a curiosity. I figure now both replicas must have been made when the two originals were still together as a pair - perhaps for insurance reasons, perhaps by a crook aiming to do a switch. Anyway, sometime, somehow the four got mixed up, and each original got itself paired up with a replica. I'd intended to mention my replica to the Earl, but the shock of seeing his original drove it out of my mind. Then later I got to thinking that maybe my replica would fool him for a few weeks, so long as he didn't examine it too closely. I thought about making the switch during the day time, but I figured if it vanished then, I'd be the chief suspect, as everyone knew I was in and out of the room all the time, and it would be best to do it at night. So during the thunderstorm I just hustled along to the collection room with my replica—'

  'What time was that?' Deveraux interjected.

  'Just gone five-and-twenty after two.'

  'I see. Go on please.'

  'There's not much else to tell. I switched the guns, hurried back to my room, and went to bed. I put the pistol under my pillow. I didn't put it in my suitcase till the next morning. To tell the truth, I found I'd taken more out of myself than I'd realised. I suppose I hurried more than I'm accustomed to, and on top of that there was the tension. My heart was beating like a steam-hammer. I don't remember anything else till John woke me.'

  'How long were you in the gun room?'

  'A matter of seconds - just in and out again.'

  Deveraux glanced at Jane. 'Now we know who it was you heard closing the gallery door.' He turned back to Peabody. 'Mrs. Peabody didn't wake up during all this?'

  'Er, no, I guess not.'

  'Is that right, Mrs. Peabody? You slept right through?'

  Carrie Peabody looked flustered. 'Why - er, I, that is—' She took a deep breath. 'No, I didn't.'

  'Because you'd already left the room, hadn't you. Mrs. Peabody?'

  She nodded.

  'I'm sorry,' Peabody said. 'I didn't mean to mislead you, but I figured it wouldn't look so good, Carrie being out of the room at the time of the murders. Truth is, I woke up and saw her leaving the room. I guessed she was going to the bathroom and it occurred to me it would be a good time to get the Earl's gun without her knowing. That's why I hurried so. I got back into bed before she returned. Sorry, honey,' he added to his wife.

  'I see,' Deveraux said. 'But you hadn't gone to the bathroom, had you, Mrs. Peabody?'

  Carrie glanced sideways at her husband, then shook her head again.

  'Where had you gone?'

  'Down - downstairs.'

  'Where precisely?'

  To the Earl's study.'

  'What for?'

  She looked up. 'To get rid of the gun I'd seen Lord Burford putting in Hiram's carrying-case.'

  Peabody gave a gasp. 'You did what?'

  'Why?' Deveraux asked.

  'Well, heavens to Betsy, why do you think? Listen, the thunderstorm had kept me awake for an hour or more. Hiram had gone to sleep. So I turned on my bedside light and read for a while. Then I started to get drowsy and decided to turn out the light. I looked at the clock first. It was exactly nine minutes after two. I hadn't had the light out for more than a few seconds when I heard the door from the dressing room to the corridor open. Then I heard footsteps in the dressing room. I decided to investigate. I got out of bed and crept to the adjoining door, which we'd left ajar. I saw Lord Burford. He had a torch. He took a pistol from the pocket of his robe and put it in the case where Hiram kept his new gun. I must have just missed seeing him take Hiram's gun. Then he went out of the room. I was petrified. I couldn't think just what he was up to. I went across to the case and saw that the gun he'd put there was exactly the same as Hiram's own - in fact, it might actually be his own. I was in a complete quandary. For some reason
, Lord Burford had either planted his own gun on Hiram or had taken Hiram's gun earlier and had now replaced it. I couldn't think of any ordinary reason Lord Burford would do that.'

  'But for Pete's sake, honey, why didn't you wake me?' Her husband stared at her, baffled.

  'I didn't want to worry you, Hiram. Not with your cardiac condition. And you were enjoying your time here so much, I didn't want to spoil it for you by getting you suspicious and uneasy, perhaps without cause. Anyway, for about quarter of an hour I just dithered. Then I acted very stupidly. But I've read lots of mystery stories, and when one person plants a gun on another, he's never up to any good. Then we'd been warned about the Wraith coming after my diamonds and we had the Baroness, obviously an adventuress, arriving out of the blue and foreign diplomats and the whole atmosphere of Alderley and some of the Earl's ancestors none too scrupulous about how they treated guests in the old days so I've read and I suppose I'd gotten sort of crime-minded - so I decided I'd just plant the gun back on the Earl and if it turned out the next day it was just a joke or something no harm would have been done but if anything out of the ordinary had occurred Hiram would be out of it.'

  Mrs. Peabody stopped talking and took a breath. She looked round the room, apparently satisfied herself that everyone was paying attention, and started off again.

  'I couldn't decide where to leave the gun. I wanted it to be a room which was specifically the Earl's domain. Hiram had been in and out of the gun room all the time and had the key, so I didn't want to put it there. Eventually I made up my mind just to put it in Lord Burford's study. I made my way downstairs, lighting my way with matches. I went to the study and pushed the pistol down inside the armchair.'

  'What time was that?'

  'The clock struck two-thirty just as I was leaving the study. I was going across the hall to the stairs when the match blew out and I found there were no more in the box. I started to grope my way upstairs in the dark. I hadn't gone up more than about six steps when I heard a noise at the top - first a sort of scuffling, then a louder noise like furniture being overturned. Well, I can tell you, I just froze. A few seconds later I had one of the biggest shocks of my life. Somebody came down the stairs quite quietly and brushed against me without any warning.'

  'And you screamed,' Deveraux said.

  'Why, yes. I was just so startled. If I'd known he had my jewels, though, I wouldn't have just screamed, I'd have gone after him.'

  'You think the man who brushed against you was the thief?'

  'Why, surely. He must have bided his opportunity until both Hiram and I were out of the room, don't you think?'

  'Perhaps. What happened after you screamed?'

  'I just blundered up to my bedroom in the dark, tumbled into bed and went straight to sleep. I may have blacked out. The next thing I remember is Hiram waking me and telling me my necklace had gone. I guess that's about everything. Naturally, ever since I learned of the murders I've felt terrible. I have to admit I've thought the Earl must have done them, but I had no way of proving it and I was sure nobody would believe me if I reported what I saw. Anyway, I'd just like to apologise to everybody: to you, Mr. Deveraux, and you Inspector, if you're still over there, for not telling the truth before and I truly hope I haven't confused you too much. And to Lord and Lady Burford, for the way Hiram and I have both behaved under your roof. I really am very ashamed.'

  'My dear, you have no occasion whatsoever to apologise to us,' Lady Burford said decisively. 'I think you behaved quite reasonably in the circumstances. It is we who should apologise to you. The very idea of George skulking into your rooms in the middle of the night . . .'

  'Oh, but Hiram stole his most treasured possession.'

  'George stole his most treasured possession first.'

  Suddenly Lord Burford banged on the arm of his chair and gave a roar. 'Good gad, I've never heard so much nonsense in my life! Nobody stole anything from anybody. Peabody's was a quite legitimate ruse and I don't hold it against him for a moment.'

  'Well said, Earl.' Peabody nodded vigorously. 'Ladies just don't understand these things. All's fair in the collecting game. If my wife had only woken me, I'd have known at once what was going on and told her to stop worrying.'

  'Peabody, I want—'

  'Call me Hiram, Earl.'

  'Very well, Hiram. You must call me George. Hiram - I want to lend you my Bergman Bayard for the New York exhibition.'

  'I was going to tell you to keep mine to show General Trimble Greene, George. I'm sure—'

  'Gentleman, please.' Deveraux interrupted rather desperately. 'Did either of you - or you, Mrs. Peabody - see, hear, or do anything else other than what you've told me?' He glanced from one to the other and saw three shaking heads. 'Very well,' he said. 'Having got all that out of the way, perhaps we can now start dealing with some real crime.'

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Nightmare

  'I now want to turn,' Deveraux said, 'to another of the puzzling incidents of the night: the fight in Batchev's room. This was something which seemed quite unaccountable. Why should both the men involved have wanted to remain undetected? Why didn't the one who had been attacked call for help? One explanation which occurred to me was that one of the fighters was the murderer - and the other the Wraith, who had somehow gone into Batchev's room by mistake. But he couldn't, at almost the same time, have been taking the diamonds from Mrs. Peabody's room, then running downstairs, brushing against her in the dark. One thing we do know is that a few seconds after the fight stopped, someone cannoned into Lady Geraldine in the west corridor. It was obviously someone who wanted to get away from the scene undetected. No one who wanted actually to get out of the house would go that way - he'd turn towards the main stairs; in fact, only someone who had a room in the west wing would have occasion to go that way. And only one man did.'

  Deveraux turned to where Felman was sitting. 'Felman, you told Inspector Wilkins that you went early to bed on Saturday night and slept until I roused you just before three-fifteen. That was a lie. At two-thirty you were fighting in Batchev's room.'

  Felman seemed carefully to weigh his reply. Then he gave a shrug. 'Well, if you can call it fighting. It was mostly sound and fury, signifying nothing. No one got hurt.'

  'It was you who shut me in the cupboard!' Gerry exclaimed indignantly.

  Felman bowed his head in her direction. 'I regret to plead guilty, Lady Geraldine. My humble apologies. I used the minimum force. But it didn't suit my purpose to be discovered just then.'

  'Maybe not then,' Deveraux said, and his voice was dangerously soft, 'but I wonder why you've kept quiet until now. More than anybody, you had a good excuse for being there: you knew Batchev to be a ruthless spy, who had killed your superior and friend, who had kidnapped Anna, and who was attempting to obtain secret information endangering the safety of your country. It would be quite reasonable for you to have been in his room - perhaps looking for incriminating evidence. The fact that his men were holding your sister would protect you from suspicion of murdering him yourself, wouldn't it?'

  'Yes, but—'

  'But for the fact that they are not holding your sister at all - because you are not Nicholas Felman. Is that what you were going to say?'

  For seconds the man they'd known as Felman didn't move a muscle. Then: 'You're right,' he said. 'I'm not Felman. I'm Martin Adler.'

  * * *

  'Yesterday morning,' the real Martin Adler said, 'I told you how Martin Adler was killed on the Orient Express by Batchev and his men. That story was true in every particular but one: it was really Nick Felman who died - though Batchev believed he had killed me.

  'The idea originally came from our security service back home. There was a fear that an attempt would be made to stop me reaching this country. The Grand Duke and his advisers seemed to think that my presence here was vital to the success of these talks. So it was suggested that Nick and I switch identities for the trip. Special passports were issued to us. Everybody - including Nick - though
t it was a good idea. Except me, that is: I agreed to go along with it just to keep them all happy, but only because I didn't for one moment believe there was any real danger. If I had, I wouldn't have let Nick face it instead of me. As it turned out, they were right and I was wrong. Batchev and his men killed Nick, believing they were killing Martin Adler. I was forced to come along here and watch Batchev masquerade as me, and at the same time masquerade as Nick Felman myself. It was a most wearing - and very weird - experience. Every time anybody here asked me a question about my past life, I had to answer as though I were Nick.'

  He looked at Lady Burford. 'For instance, I've never been to Stockholm, yet I had to answer as though I were Nick, who had. I'm sure I slipped up. I know Batchev did. He was supposed always to answer as me, and he'd obviously researched my life, but several times I heard him talking about places I'd never been. Naturally, to Batchev that wouldn't matter: the real Adler was unknown here and, he believed, dead anyway. The negotiations were a nightmare. I was scared all the time that Mr. Saunders here would give Batchev the dope he wanted. I knew that as soon as that happened he'd vamoose - probably trying to kill me first, so I couldn't expose him. Worse than that, once she was no longer needed as hostage, I could see no reason for them not to kill Anna Felman. However, luckily, Saunders, you held out. The ironic thing was that while Batchev simply didn't have the information you wanted, and so had to stall you, I did have it. It's all in my head. But he'd been told - correctly - that only Adler, not Felman, had this knowledge, so, believing I was Felman, it never occurred to him to ask me.'

  Richard said: 'But why did you keep the pretence up so long?'