‘But why didn’t he just get hold of Dankton before he left the Hall?’ asked Trapp.
‘Oh, that’s easy enough to figure,’ Treasure answered confidently. ‘Speke-Jones had to persuade the chap to postpone the plan he’d agreed with Scarbuck, either through bribery or perhaps even blackmail. I doubt he’d considered violence until it came to the point. In any circumstance, though, he needed Dankton well clear of further contact with Scarbuck.’
‘And if he had killed Mr Dankton for refusing to cooperate, then Scarbuck might have been the prime suspect,’ put in Thelma Goodbody.
‘With no witnesses, and nothing to connect Speke-Jones with Dankton, you’re quite right,’ said Treasure, ‘and that’s something Speke-Jones may well have taken into account when he decided to clobber Dankton. I don’t know what his plan was after that – perhaps he didn’t either. If he knew about the arrangements in the tunnel, he might have decided to drag Dankton in there, then make it look as though he’d been killed by a roof-fall. It was little Fred who cooked his goose, of course. When he came to in Reading Hospital, Fred started babbling about seeing Dankton, whom of course he knew, and Speke-Jones, whom he remembered from the golf course, talking together at the pool before Speke-Jones biffed Dankton with a wooden pole. The amazing thing was that the person nearest his bed understood every word he said. She was a nursing auxiliary from the same part of the Philippines as Fred. She translated the whole thing to the policeman watching over Fred. Of course, Speke-Jones denied everything until Inspector Bantree told him that Dankton had recovered consciousness at the Radcliffe in Oxford …’
‘Has he?’ exclaimed Elizabeth. ‘Oh, I’m so glad.’
‘As a matter of fact he hasn’t,’ said Treasure, ‘but Bantree knew there was a sporting chance of his doing so by tomorrow so he took a chance to get a confession. Once Speke-Jones realized he couldn’t be accused of anything more serious than assault, he coughed up.’
‘I’m not sure that was entirely cricket,’ remarked Thelma Goodbody primly.
‘Neither is attempted murder,’ observed the Vicar. ‘But tell us why Speke-Jones needed to keep the discovery of the holograph quiet – you said for some weeks.’
‘Well, that’s privileged information,’ replied Treasure carefully, ‘so keep it to yourselves for a day or two. Scarbuck’s company is in trouble financially. Worse than that, a rescue operation to save it from liquidation is going to disclose that Scarbuck transferred half a million pounds from Scarbuck Construction into a private company he owns himself called Forward Britain Enterprises. That’s the company he used to buy Mitchell Hall from Arthur. If Scarbuck could have announced by Tuesday that he owned the holograph, any bank would have lent him the half million to repay the loan to Scarbuck Construction against the security of the manuscript. Without such collateral he was sunk. His creditors are putting a receiver in mid-week.’
‘But, Mark, didn’t you say that the Forward Britain Movement had plenty of money?’ enquired Moonlight.
‘Yes, the Movement could well afford to bail out Scarbuck, but it’s a Trust with no financial connection with Forward Britain Enterprises. During the slanging match Scarbuck and Speke-Jones had in front of Inspector Bantree after Speke-Jones had confessed, it came out that a majority of the trustees of the Movement – led by Speke-Jones – were quite unwilling to lend Scarbuck a penny from the Movement’s funds. That’s partly why Scarbuck held the jamboree here this weekend; he was hoping to persuade them differently – especially after they’d seen the manuscript – but it didn’t work. Of course, only Speke-Jones could have known why he desperately needed the money, but Speke-Jones wanted Scarbuck to be disgraced publicly so that he, Speke-Jones, could take over the Presidency of the Movement. No doubt, if this had happened with the existence of the holograph still undisclosed, Speke-Jones would have arranged for the Movement to take over responsibility for the debts and assets – including the hidden one – of Enterprises, to the huge relief of any liquidator involved. In that way Speke-Jones would have been rid of Scarbuck and acquired the leadership of a potentially powerful and extremely rich organization. Oh yes, the man had a great deal at stake – enough even to risk murder … I still think unpremeditated, but murder nevertheless.
‘How clever you are, Mark.’ Elizabeth stifled a yawn. ‘Now I really think we should go to bed. Thelma, why don’t you stay here for what’s left of the night? – then you won’t feel obliged to join our worthy Vicar at the early service.’
Miss Goodbody agreed; then to everyone’s surprise kissed Timothy Trapp on the cheek before leaving the room with Elizabeth.
‘And what does that signify, I wonder?’ Elizabeth enquired archly.
‘We’ll tell you tomorrow,’ replied Thelma, pirouetting to the foot of the stairs. ‘We’ve all had enough excitement for one day.’
Trapp said his farewells and left the study ahead of the two older men.
‘Close the door a minute, Mark, there’s a good chap.’
Treasure had been making his own way to bed but he did as he was asked. He settled into a chair opposite Moonlight.
‘There was a significant and tactful lack of enquiry about my motive for blowing a hole in the Acropolis.’
‘Your first explanation is good enough for me, Arthur.’
‘Yes, but I’d rather you knew the whole truth; then it will be up to you to pass it on to the police if you see fit.’ Moonlight’s tone was matter-of-fact. ‘You see, in a strict sense, I’m responsible for this whole damned mess and I’m ready to take the consequences.’
Treasure smiled. ‘You mean you planted that letter for Dankton to find?’
Moonlight was genuinely astonished. ‘How did you know?’
‘After reading that report on the Diaries it seemed fairly likely that the letter had ended up here with Sarah Moonlight and not in some Northamptonshire hole in the wall.’
‘You’re quite right. I found it here along with the Diaries. Sarah was a cool customer by all accounts but she did have a streak of sentiment – she preserved that last contact with her dead husband … Mark, six months ago I was desperate about selling the Hall. I’m a good deal older than Elizabeth, as you know, and the way things were it looked as though, when I kicked the bucket, I’d be leaving her with nothing except a white elephant and a pile of debts. Dankton came to see me here when he discovered those other diary scraps. Incidentally, he came with an introduction from Freddy Canwath-Wright, I gathered they were pretty thick …’
‘Which accounts for Dankton’s actor friend knowing the boathouse and the way to it; the chap stayed with “Stacey” Dankton all through last summer.’
Moonlight nodded. ‘Dankton invited me up to Northampton to look over this Corble Manor place – miserable pile, no wonder they were knocking it down. Anyway, on a whim, or a hunch, or whatever you want to call it I – as you said – planted the letter. It looked genuine enough; dammit, it was genuine. I don’t know what I thought it would lead to. Dankton was shoving out articles on Corble by the yard. I suppose I thought that if he did one on the letter it might wake up the market a bit for the Hall. To be honest, when Scarbuck turned up with his cheque I didn’t connect him with Dankton at all. Then when they arrived together two weeks ago it all fell into place. Dankton had found the letter all right, but instead of advertising it he’d used it.’
Moonlight rose and poked the dying ashes of the wood fire. Then he turned to face Treasure again. ‘I knew at the time I should have come clean, spilled the beans – but I didn’t and for the basest of all motives … money. I wanted to see the sale through to the irrevocable stage. Mark, it’s difficult to live with a lie. I’d been going through hell for two weeks telling myself that the Hall was worth two hundred thousand anyway, and that Scarbuck was getting his money’s worth without any holograph. Deep down though I knew he was being swindled – and swindled by me …’
‘Very indirectly,’ put in Treasure, ‘and remember, he was planning to swindle you out of a great d
eal more than two hundred thousand.’
‘In a way that’s true, but two wrongs don’t make a right. Then Maggie Edwards dropped dead in the churchyard. It wasn’t difficult to figure how that happened. The expression on her face will haunt me for ever – I’m certain that one of those little Filipinos frightened her to death looking through the grille in the tomb.’
‘That’s only supposition, Arthur.’
‘Yes, but it’s one I gather you arrived at yourself without any help from me. Anyway, Maggie’s death did it for me. I couldn’t live with the lie any longer. I should have told Scarbuck the truth there and then, but curiously that seemed the coward’s way out. I felt I had to pay for my dishonesty – buy back the Hall, and get Scarbuck out of my sight.’
‘There were easier ways …’
‘I know, Mark, but they would none of them have atoned for Maggie, nor necessarily have sent Scarbuck packing.’ Moonlight paused. ‘But they would have saved Worple’s life, and it’s no thanks to me that Dankton’s still alive … I got the idea of blowing a hole in the Acropolis some days ago. I love that little building, Mark – hurting it was like hurting myself, but it seemed a more fitting way of showing Scarbuck the place was empty than taking him by his fat little hand through the crypt. Late as it was, I thought that with you still here and the gaff blown on the treasure story, Scarbuck might see his way to selling back the Hall straight away … Well, that’s the story Mark, and it doesn’t sound very pretty, does it?’
‘Not particularly,’ said Treasure seriously, ‘but there’s a lot you haven’t taken into account. Sure, I knew about Maggie Edwards, which is why I asked the local doctor about her tonight – he was here for some time after they took Dankton away. He told me categorically he’d been treating Miss Edwards for a terminal heart complaint for well over a year. Arthur, she was living on borrowed time. It’s just as likely she died from over-exertion as from a fright. As for the tragedy of Worple’s death, that would have happened with or without the opening up of the gallery. I’ve seen the place, man. The well area had never caved in, and it had never been filled in. Worple was digging a grave over a ten-foot open drop into a ruddy great well-hole. If the Filipinos hadn’t used the hole for rubble – and it may have been filled in three hundred years ago for all we know – but if it hadn’t been full of rocks, then Worple would certainly have broken his neck falling down the well. Remember, it was the fall that killed him, not the blades on the machine.’
‘You really think so, Mark?’ Moonlight clearly wanted to be convinced.
‘I don’t just think so – I know so. The police autopsy proved it. And don’t tell me you hold yourself responsible for Speke-Jones’s attack on Dankton? That little episode is far too distant along the chain of events for you to give it a second thought. Anyway, the chap’s recovering fast; he should be right as rain by the time of his trial for complicity in getting rid of Worple’s body and whatever else he’s done – and that goes for his American friend as well.’ Treasure snorted. ‘I’ll take a personal pleasure in hearing that chap’s sentence … Got to hand it to him in a way, I suppose,’ he added reluctantly, ‘with two identities he’d have been damned difficult to link in with this affair.’
Moonlight was hardly listening to these last ruminations. ‘I hope you’re right about it all, Mark. Anyway, you’ve made me feel a whole lot better. I may be poor, but I’d like to feel I was still fairly honest … Who the hell can that be?’ He glanced at the ringing telephone.
Treasure looked at his watch. ‘I think it’s my lovely young wife. She never can work out the time difference between here and the States,’ he added, picking up the ’phone. ‘Hello … yes, this is Mark Treasure … Hello, darling … yes, of course I’m all right, you’re ringing me remember? …’
It was not until some weeks later that Arthur Moonlight, having followed Treasure’s advice and come to terms with his conscience, enjoyed the bonus of discovering that he was, after all, relatively rich. Not only was Trapp’s picture proved to be a Vandyck; it was also an exceptionally good one, executed – so the experts divined – by the Master himself, without the aid of pupils. Sarah Moonlight’s unusually beautiful features were taken to account for the artist’s personal dedication to the task of recording them in oils; they also went some way to explain the lady’s almost life-long attraction for the opposite sex.
The cleaned picture fetched £240,000 at Sotheby’s – an all-time record price at auction for work by this artist. Moonlight insisted on Trapp appropriating £20,000 for good works, expecting to use what was left after tax to help re-purchase Mitchell Hall, albeit against the advice of Mark Treasure.
In the event, the liquidators of Forward Britain were only too pleased to accept £100,000 for the property. Having reacquired the place, Moonlight was facing the dilemma of what to do with it when he was approached by the Committee members of the Mid-Stoke Golf Club. Tired of being bombarded by golf-balls on the terrace of their unattractive Club House, these worthies recognized the several benefits – practical, social, and aesthetic – that would accrue if they moved base to a seventeenth-century mansion complete – or nearly so – with a capacious swimming pool and room in plenty for tennis courts and a much improved putting green.
The members bought Mitchell Hall, showing a profit for Moonlight and for themselves since the old Club House was converted into expensive flats. Mid-Stoke thereafter acquired a new status in the golfing world which justified a considerable increase in membership fees. Thus the transaction was highly satisfactory for all concerned.
It will never be known how the Vandyck came to be preserved in the first place. Bishop Wringle definitely recalled the over-painted picture being relegated to the vicarage cellar by his discerning father when appointed incumbent of Mitchell Stoke. He claimed some recollection of a reported conversation between his mother and Mrs Symington concerning the earlier removal of the then whitened picture from the church, where it had done service as a draught screen – but he was not sure of the details. If some Puritan abominater of high-class harlotry had, in a frenzy of zeal, obliterated Sarah’s image during the Commonwealth period, then he had inadvertently done a service for posterity. The substance he had employed for the task had proved to be an ideal preservative, as the restorers had attested.
Following the public disgrace of Arthur Scarbuck and Griffith Speke-Jones, the Forward Britain Movement was formally disbanded shortly after it informally disintegrated. Without the catalyzing influence of its two leading members, the disparity of views and aims harboured by the inharmonious groups comprising its membership soon led to bitter internal dissent. The issue was resolved and the Movement extinguished with the return of everyone’s subscription. Surprisingly, all were reimbursed in full.
Thelma Goodbody and Timothy Trapp were married shortly after Whitsun – Bishop Wringle officiating, with Bach in attendance. Thelma never did acquire her doctorate, though she was able to continue her researches digging for information, physically and metaphorically, all around the parish. Her belief that Shakespeare and the King’s Men had performed As You Like It at Mitchell Stoke was, of course, fanned into conviction by the contents of the James Moonlight letter. On the advice of her doctor, she was obliged to desist from excavating in the churchyard shortly before her first child was born in the following February. The infant, a boy, was naturally christened Oliver Jaques Orlando Trapp.
David Williams
Stuart David Williams was a writer best known for his crime novel series featuring the banker Mark Treasure and police inspector DI Parry.
After serving as a Naval officer in the Second World War, Williams completed a History degree at St John’s College, Oxford, before embarking on a career in advertising. He became a full-time fiction writer in 1978.
Williams wrote twenty-three novels, seventeen of which were part of the Mark Treasure series of whodunnits which began with Unholy Writ (1976). His experience in both the Anglican Church and the advertising world informed and
inspired his work throughout his career.
Two of Williams’ books were shortlisted for the Crime Writers’ Association Gold Dagger Award, and in 1988 he was elected to the Detection Club.
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Copyright
First published in 1976 by Collins (The Crime Club)
This edition published 2016 by Bello
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Copyright © David Williams 1976
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