“Yes, Janet, I’ll remember.”
The man’s voice was almost toneless, and Bony marked it because the voice had been animated when directed to him. He wondered if this front to his sister had long been adopted to conceal from her his true personality, as he concealed from her so many other matters. She spoke again, and Bony would have given much to have observed her face.
“You must never forget, too, how I told you to behave when a stranger comes to the house. Doctor Lofty might come again tomorrow to see Mary, and he might want to come up to see you. We Answerths always mind our own business, as I’ve told you so often, and we never permit anyone else to know anything of it. Remember the story of the little boy who talked to the strange man and was taken to the forest and left alone to die there. You will remember, won’t you?”
“Yes, Janet. I’ll tell Doctor Lofty nothing at all. Do you really think Mary will soon be well enough to come up here?”
“Yes, dear.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Morris! Why?”
“I want a lamp,” replied Morris.
“Please don’t go over all that again, dear. You know quite well that Mary says you are not to have a lamp. She has said a thousand times that you might upset it and burn the house down.”
There was a pregnant silence till Morris asked:
“If Mary had been killed, you would let me have a lamp, wouldn’t you, Janet?”
“I would certainly think about it,” cooed Janet.
“Would you give me a lamp like the one Bony gave me?”
Instantly the dove changed to a hawk.
“Bony gave you a lamp! Did you say that Bony gave you a lamp? Answer me.”
“Yes. Please don’t scold me, Janet. It was a beautiful lamp, but after I had played with it for a little while it wouldn’t work. I took it to pieces to find out why it wouldn’t go when I pressed the tiny knob, and I couldn’t make it light again. Please, Janet! I don’t like your face.”
“Why did Bony give you the lamp?”
“Because…”
“Don’t think, Morris. Why did he give you the lamp?”
Morris, however, had gained time to think. He replied:
“He wanted to know who killed Mother.”
“Go on.”
“I didn’t know, Janet. I only asked him if he’d like to know. He said he would like to know who killed Mother, but I wouldn’t tell him. I wouldn’t tell him anything, Janet. Now, please take that look off your face, Janet. You know it frightens me. Please, Janet. Please.”
The man’s voice now contained more colour, more tone. Janet didn’t speak, and Morris began to sob. After a little while, Janet said, soothingly:
“There, there, dear. It’s all over now. I’m glad you didn’t tell him about Mother. Now dry your eyes. What else did Bony ask you?”
“He asked me… if I could read. I said yes, I could. And Doctor Lofty asked if I could write and I said I could just a little. I showed them the books, and my train and Meccano set.”
“That was kind of you. What else did they ask you about?”
“Only about the lamp, Janet. You see, they brought a wonderful bright lamp with them, and they said it belonged to Mary. And when I asked if I might have it, they said no, as Mary would not like me to have her lamp. I think I was rude to them, Janet. I’m ever so sorry, truly. So I asked them to forgive me before they left, and Bony gave me his lamp.”
“Bring me the lamp, dear.”
Janet’s voice was calm. Bony could not pass a fraction further out of the window without losing balance, and still was unable to see into the next room. He ached to observe Janet’s face during the period when, he was sure, Morris was in the outer room. Then he heard Morris say:
“Here are all the pieces, Janet.”
“Every one of them?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll take them away on the tray, and later I’ll slip out and throw them into the Folly. They must never be seen by Mary, and you know what she would do if she found them. Don’t you, Morris?”
“I…”
“You do know, but I’ll tell you what she would do. When she found out why Bony gave you a lamp, you would have to tell her about asking him if he’d like to know who killed Mother, and she would go very red in the face and her eyes would have red fire in them, and she would make me whip you while she held you.
“So you mustn’t tell her about it. Or say anything about Mother to anyone who may come to visit you. If they find out who killed Mother, they’d take you away and lock you up in a bare room. Just a bare room, mind you, where there’s nothing to play with, and where I wouldn’t be allowed to see you. And they would stick red hot bodkins into you, until you screamed and screamed.”
Bony could hear Morris sobbing.
“Now dry your tears, dear, and go to sleep. Lie down and I’ll tuck you in. That’s right, now. Just forget about the lamp. Mary will never know now. And as you are falling asleep keep on saying over and over: ‘I must not tell about Mother, not to anyone.’ Say it aloud to me.”
Morris repeated the phrases.
“Now good night, dear. I’ll always stand by you. But do remember how strong you are, and how easily you could kill Mary if you lost your temper. We would be so very happy without her, Morris, and if she died you might have a nice lamp like the one Bony gave you. But that won’t be for a long time, because it wouldn’t be right to kill Mary, bad as she is.”
“Do you forgive me, Janet?”
“Yes, and here’s my forgiving kiss. You did upset me, though, but never mind, I’ll take an aspirin to cure my headache. You have said your prayers?”
“Yes. Good night, Janet.”
Janet’s voice came so softly that Bony barely detected thewords: “Good night, dear boy. You must always love me like I love you. Sleep well.”
“Sleep well, Janet, and good night.”
The light waned from the diamond-shaped window-panes. Through that open window, Bony heard the door to the passage being closed, and, immediately after, the bed creaked violently as Morris sprang from it. There followed unbroken silence. Bony waited a full five minutes, expecting to see the steel lattice being pushed open, the blanket rope being let down to the ground. He waited another five minutes and then decided that Morris was lying on the floor at the foot of the outer door.
Chapter Twenty-four
The Pot Boils
BONYDRIFTEDDOWNthe stairs to the door at the bottom. The steps were of stone, and the door, like the front and all the room doors, had been made when craftsmen built real houses. It opened to the kitchen opposite the range.
So solid was the door and so close-fitting, the voices in the kitchen were reduced to a barely audible murmur. Bony felt for the key, a real gaoler’s key he remembered seeing Mawson replace. It was not on the inside, and there wasn’t a bolt, and as light failed to pass through the key-hole, he knew the key was in the outside of the lock. Since Mawson had replaced the key, someone had changed it.
He remembered, too, that the handle was of iron and not easy to turn. When he had tested it, the rusty catch squeaked like amouse, and now when trying to peer through the key-hole he smelled oil.
Under slow and steady pressure, the door handle turned without making the mouse-squeak. And when there appeared before his eyes a perpendicular hair-line, he stopped moving the door, and listened.
“… Miss Mary?”
“She was comfortable enough when I looked in after washing up the dinner things,” replied Mrs Leeper. “I left her with papers to read and the bell rope quite handy, and I’ll be making her right for the night in a minute or two.”
“How was her poor neck?” cooed Janet.
“She said it was no better for the asking, but I know it’s better than it was this morning. In spite of what Dr said, she’ll be up and around by Sunday. That’s if she doesn’t catch the bed alight and burn herself to death.”
“Oh!”
A dish clattered at the s
ink, and Mrs Leeper said, conversationally:
“Don’t let the idea burn holes in you, Miss Janet. They can tell by the ashes if kerosene caused the fire.”
“That will be enough, Mrs Leeper. Has Miss Mary said anything more about the attempt on her life?”
“No, but she’s full of steam and says she will exact her own justice when she gets up. Just in case she has all her angles wrong, you lock your door. I’ll be locking mine. And be sure not to walk in your sleep for she might be doing that, too, and there’s no knowing what might happen if two sleep-walkers met in a dark passage.”
“I am so thankful you are in the house with me,” Janet said, sweetly.
“I’m glad to hear it, Miss Janet.”
“You will: I suppose, be thinking of leaving us when you’ve saved enough money to buy your own hospital?”
“Perhaps I won’t be leaving. After all, experience is money, and I am certainly learning something at Venom House. Then there’s Morris to look after if anything should happen to you and Miss Mary at the same time. You didn’t forget to padlock his door?
“I didn’t forget, Mrs Leeper. I’m going up now, and will read myself to sleep. Good night!”
Bony closed the door and retreated up the stairs. He sped along the passage to Morris’s door, paused to touch the padlock and the key on its nail, and made for the hall. He was behind the dining-room door, when Janet passed up the stairs in the dark. He heard her bedroom door being closed and the key turned.
Why the hall lamp was never lit save when tragedy dictated, why there was rarely a lamp of any kind burning in the hall, he could not understand. The saving of kerosene was trifling: walking about in the dark so unnecessary. When Mrs Leeper appeared, she carried a hurricane lamp.
Mrs Leeper entered the lounge, leaving the door open, and he heard her say:
“Now, Miss Mary, it’s time to go to sleep.”
“Don’t feel like sleeping,” Mary objected. “Why the hell don’t you leave a woman alone? I can put meself to bed without you mucking about.”
“Now, do be original, Miss Mary. You’re not telling me anything I don’t know. Please let me have the papers, or you’ll tear them. It has gone eleven, and all patients should be asleep. Also, I am entitled to a few hours in bed.”
“To hell with you, Leeper, if that’s your name. All right, take the blasted papers. I’m not swallowing any more of them tablets.”
“Doctor says two at eleven p.m. Now I’ll just straighten the clothes, and if you move your head a little I’ll be able tofreshen your pillows. That’s right. How are your feet? Let me feel. Ah, warm enough.”
Mrs Leeper’s voice was the voice Bony remembered hearing on those occasions he had been in hospital. Only very small children or delirious patients were stupid enough to argue with it. Mary, probably being without hospital experience, continued to object.
“Of course me feet’s warm. The bed’s like a damned oven,” she rasped.
“You won’t do your throat any good by too much talking.”
“I’ll talk as much as I want.”
“Lie still while I refix the bandage.”
“Stinking stuff. If that jackass of a Lofty knew as much as a vet, he’d have ordered plain liniment.”
“And taken all the skin off your neck.”
“Not my skin it wouldn’t. My skin’s been brought up right by the sun and wind, not by the filthy muck you la-de-da women smear on your dials. Lipstick! Cream, and eye-wash and scented cow’s milk… what for?”
“I don’t use lipstick, and I’m not la-de-da, Miss Mary.”
“Never said youwas. I was meaning dear Janet.”
“Well, you just mean to open your mouth and swallow these tablets.”
“Ow! Blast you, Leeper. You’re hurting me neck. Oh, give me the tablets.”
“That’s right, Miss Mary. Now I’ll see to your lamp, and you will be asleep long before I can go to bed.”
“That’s what you think. Why don’t you give Morris a fistful of tablets? What’s Janet doing, the lying little bitch?”
“Readingherself to sleep… I hope.”
“You let her read in bed, don’t you? You don’t saynothing to her, do you? The mealy-mouthed little… What you doing with that lamp?”
“Trimming the wick.”
“I’ll do a bit of trimming when I get up,” swore Mary. “I’ll show that Janet and you and young Morris who’s the boss when I get outer this ruddy bed. I’ve had it, Leeper, see? I’ve more’n hadit. Now get out, and don’t nag me any more.”
The voice said:
“Yes, yes, of course you will, Miss Mary. Now good night. Pull on the rope if you want anything. I’ll hear the bell.”
Emerging from the patient’s room, Mrs Leeper proceeded upstairs. Her slippered feet softly thudded along the passage beyond Janet’s room, stopped at Morris’s door, and returned. When her light retreated along the passage to the kitchen, the little lamp in the lounge painted a narrow oblong of colour upon the blank wall of the hall.
Bony could hear Mrs Leeper washing utensils in the kitchen. He sat on a chair he had moved forward to the dining-room door, and from which he could watch the lounge door marked by the soft light of Mary’s lamp and, too, the window of the dining-room, expectant that Morris might slide down his blanket rope and come testing all the ground-floor windows.
What had he said to Mawson? Proceed calmly, without haste, and Time will give you the murderer. Murder is the climax. After the climax, the murderer must behave abnormally. He cannot help it. If you are clever enough, he will give you the proof of his guilt on a silver salver.
The murderer of Mrs Answerth was inside this house. The person who had killed Carlow, and had attempted to strangle Mary Answerth, was now within fifty yards of Detective-Inspector Napoleon Bonaparte. No matter when the murderer again tried to kill, Bony would be there right behind him. You don’t go to your murderer: you whistle, and he comes to you. Provided you refuse to be rattled. Provided you have the gift of patience.
Bony heard a door close beyond the passage to the kitchen, and assumed that Mrs Leeper had gone to bed. The clock on the dining-room mantel softly ticked away Time which he ignored. Not at once, but slowly, the house became itself, a personality freed now that the human beings had retired. And slowly the personality grew in power, slowly madeitself felt by the alert Napoleon Bonaparte.
Men had placed stone upon stone, rafters upon walls, a roof upon the rafters. Their hands had worked with cunning while their minds were plotting evil. They planed and carved and polished that glorious staircase, and raised the great coloured window to enhance beauty. They loved beauty even when lovingevil, and the evil of their thoughts sprang forth to leap into these inanimate stones and panels and beams, there to be imprisoned for ever. From the laying down of the foundations of this house, was ever loving word spoken?
This house lived only in the dark. The light it feared. It was jealous even of the small light at the foot of Mary Answerth’s bed, trying to smother it with its hatred. And succeeding!
A few seconds passed before Bony was sure that the light in the patient’s room was going out for want of oil.
Had Mrs Leeper intended the lamp to be short of oil?
Was Mrs Leeper about to reveal abnormal activity?
Was Janet responsible?
Was the expected second attack on Mary’s life about to be attempted?
The lamp was going out, slowly, inevitably. Motionless, Bony waited. Presently, there was a faint flicker upon the oblong surface of the opposite door, and the shape vanished.
Bony slid across the hall to stand beside the door of the lounge. His wire became a rapier feeling in the dark for a heart to pierce. Used like a sword to twang upon a skull, he could grapple with the murderer partially stunned and losing blood from a split scalp.
The seconds ran like endless mice across the hall. The procession was cut by the knife of sound coming from the lounge. The patient’s bed faintly creaked
, waited a moment to creak again. Had Morris gained entry through the window? Was he even now finalizing the life of his half-sister?
Under normal circumstances the breathing of someone just within the lounge would not have been registered by ears trained to hear. The “breather” could have been not more than a yard from Bony’s back, when he slipped to one side of the open doorway. Without sound, the invisible “breather” passed into the hall, and Bony’s nostrils registered the smell of oil of wintergreen used as an ingredient in salves.
If Mary Answerth needed anything, she had but to tug the bell rope to rouse Mrs Leeper.
The fact that the sleeping tablets, in which both Dr Lofty and Mrs Leeper had such faith, had had no effect on this patient was of less import at the moment than the fact that Mary Answerth had passed from the lounge into the hall without causing sound enough to be heard by Bony standing within two feet of her.
A noise did reach Bony from the passage to the kitchen, but this did not completely satisfy him that Mary Answerth was the cause. Down that passage to the right slept Mrs Leeper. Down that passage was the kitchen, and from the kitchenrose the stone stairs to the upper floor where Morris and Janet slept. Bony felt like the man in the haunted house listening to the clock striking the awful hour of midnight. He had whistled for the murderer and the murderer…
It could have been caused by a mouse, but wasn’t. The sound was like suds exploding against the ear, and yet with rhythm. It was produced by cloth moving over polished wood. It came from near the front door. Instinct warned him that someone was approaching and he moved away from the lounge door, his back against the wall.
The perfume of flowers came through the darkness to touch his nostrils, as once it had done in the radiance of the lamp suspended over the golden staircase. As certainly as though he saw her, he knew that Janet Answerth had passed by to enter the lounge. Exultation carried him, filled him with ecstatic expectancy.
No light was born within the lounge. No sound issued from the room. Bony neared the door frame, leaned sideways that his ear might protrude beyond it. The melodrama and its possibilities forced him to bunch his toes within the canvas shoes.
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