by Jean Stubbs
‘Did Miss Nagle tell you that, sir?’
‘No one in this house told me, Mr Hann. That’s how far the tales have spread. Why, I could double and re-double the information I’ve got this afternoon – just with what I hear from outside! Tongues – aye, and pens, too – are busy round this neighbourhood.’
The coachman rubbed his hands on his knees, discomforted.
‘It’s that Mr Titus, sir. He’s a right bad lot. He tells stories about me to make folks laugh. That’s slander, sir, isn’t it?’
‘Not if they’re true, Mr Hann.’
Henry turned over the muddled contents of his skull and could find no answer.
‘So you don’t mind slurring the reputation of a gracious mistress provided you can cast a clod of mud at Mr Titus?’
‘I didn’t think on it that way, sir.’
‘Then do so, Mr Hann. Do so in future, if you please. Will you copy this for me?’
The coachman sat bemused, turning the paper round and round in his hands.
‘I don’t know my letters, sir. I can’t neither read nor write.’
‘Then give it back here, man. Now, what’s your version of this matter? Let me guess! Mr Titus poisoned his late brother with his sister-in-law’s sleeping capsules, which he crushed into a decanter of port wine, so that he could pay his debts. The fact that the late Mr Crozier kept a mistress, who was blackmailing him by means of love-letters, is beside the point. Correct?’
‘Sir,’ said Henry slowly, but with some dignity, ‘it wasn’t the master’s Fancy Woman. It was Mr Titus’s.’
‘Well, well, well,’ said Lintott softly. ‘You can be too clever for your own good, John Joseph. If you get much sharper you’ll cut yourself! Tell me what you know, Mr Hann, if you’ll be so good.’
‘It was like this, sir. When my master recovered from the influenza he was pretty well knocked up for a week or two after, and instead of riding into the City on his horse I took him in the carriage. Now I never knew about that Woman coming with the Letters, sir, because Kate is very close and said nothink. None of us knew anythink about that until the inquest. So when this Woman run up to the carriage I didn’t know as it was her.’
‘When was this, Mr Hann?’
‘A day or so after he went back to work. She run up, and the master was fair put about. She said somethink like, “I’ve been waiting to see you!” And he called me to stop, very sharp, and held up his hand as if to tell her to shut her mouth – excusing the expression, sir. Then they was whispering together, and then she went off and he told me to drive on.’
‘How do you know she was Mr Titus’s flight of fancy?’
‘He just said to me, as we was driving off, Mr Crozier said, “That brother of mine will get into one scrape too many!” Then he sunk his chin in his hand, like this, and never spoke another word until we reached Crozier’s.’
Lintott tapped the desk with his pencil, thinking.
‘How do you account for the fact that Mr Titus reported her as his brother’s mistress, Mr Hann? Or don’t you believe that?’
‘It could be lies, sir. Mr Titus don’t know the difference between truth and falsehood. He takes whichever serves him best at the time. But it could even have been, sir, that Mr Crozier was a-trying to protect Mr Titus from somethink serious and passed it off to him as somethink else.’
‘Far-fetched,’ said Lintott, ‘far-fetched. But worth bearing in mind, of course. Truth’s a funny thing and can take a corner or two that nobody expects. There’s nothing more than that, then?’
‘Well, sir, that’s what I know. But there is somethink else. Mrs Hill is a great one for her family. Harriet’s a cousin’s daughter, and Mrs Hill’s niece cleans for Mr Titus. So we get like a view of both sides, with them seeing each other on their day off.’
‘You’re a lovely lot!’ said Lintott, in admiration. ‘So what does Mrs Hill’s niece say?’
‘Mr Titus was taken up with a young woman in the theatre line, as sounds just like the Woman in Question. Put two and two together, sir, and what do you get?’
It was plain that Mr Hann would get nothing at all, so Lintott helped him out.
‘I’d make it four, myself. But having met everyone here I’d say it was ninety-nine at least. Thank you, Mr Hann. Is there anybody in the kitchen that I haven’t seen yet?’
‘Only Annie Cox, the kitchenmaid, sir. She can’t tell you nothink.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that. Be off with you and send her in – and keep your observations to yourself, Mr Hann.’
*
‘Annie Cox, sir. I think as I’m thirteen, sir, but I don’t rightly know. There’s a many of us at home and my mam don’t remember. Wages is ten pound a year and keep.’
‘And what do you do with a fortune like that, Annie?’ Lintott asked, rattling the change in his pocket, and smiling.
‘I shall take it home on my day off, sir, and give it my mam – else my dad’ll have it for the Drink.’
‘I don’t suppose, Annie, that you can read or write, can you?’
‘No, sir.’
‘It’s of no consequence, Annie. Don’t trouble yourself. Are they kind to you in the kitchen?’
‘Sort of, sir. Mrs Hill, she don’t half tell me off. But then she gives me a piece o’ pie, sir.’
‘Ah! That pastry is worth the end of her tongue, isn’t it, Annie?’
‘I ’spect so, sir. Yes.’
‘And the mistress, is she kind to you?’
‘I’m not allowed in the house, sir, while the family’s about, except for prayers.’
‘I see. Well, Annie, do as Mrs Hill tells you and say your prayers every night as well as every morning. Then I shouldn’t be surprised if you were a housemaid in a few years’ time. You’d like that rarely, wouldn’t you? Yes, of course you would. Here, Annie, here’s a ha’penny for you. And, wait a minute, Annie. Here’s a humbug. Cut away, and be a good girl, mind!’
16
Lord Illingworth: ‘The Book of Life begins with a man and a woman in a garden.’ Mrs Allenby: It ends with Revelations.’
A Woman of No Importance – Oscar Wilde
‘Now let’s take another look at her,’ said Lintott to himself, and found his way back to a subdued kitchen, busy for once only with the details of dinner.
‘I’ll just have a word with Mrs Crozier, before I go. If that’s convenient to her.’
They hastened to send word up to Kate, who was performing her evening duties. They accommodated him at a corner of the table and were careful to say nothing. Amused, aware, he made himself comfortable until summoned to the drawing-room.
Laura had decided on her attitude towards him: courteous, remote, without attempt to charm.
That’s better, Lintott thought. Now we can get somewhere.
‘I can see how gossip starts, ma’am,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Envy is at the bottom of all of it. A compliment here, a smile there, and they’ve got a regular love affair going – if you’ll excuse me mentioning the matter.’
She inclined her head and said nothing.
‘A heap of talk and no evidence, ma’am. So you can rest your mind on that score. Of course, with Mr Titus Crozier being what you might call a ladies’ man, and you being a close friend of his, talk was likely. You are close to the gentleman, aren’t you, ma’am?’
A quiver of the black-feathered fan betrayed her, but her voice was composed.
‘We are much of an age, Inspector, and have known each other for many years. If I had had a brother with similar tastes, and grown up with him, we should have been as close. And there would have been no gossip,’ she added bitterly.
‘Your late husband apparently saw no wrong in your association, at any rate, ma’am.’ The statement lulled her, and he spoke casually. ‘Were you happy in your marriage, Mrs Crozier?’
She opened her mouth, hesitated, and glanced rapidly at him. Imperturbable, Lintott raised his eyebrows to encourage her to the truth.
‘Not particu
larly,’ she replied, and as he seemed neither surprised nor shocked, ‘no, Inspector.’
‘It’s not uncommon, ma’am. I wish it was. I’m a happily married man, myself, and grateful for it. This unfortunate association of his must have caused a deal of trouble between you. Very wounding and hurtful to any lady to be passed over for a woman of this sort.’
Her bent head was so rigid that Lintott guessed she withheld tears.
‘But I believe your brother-in-law acted in good heart on this occasion, and reconciled you both. Acted out of kindness and affection. He admires you, naturally,’ Lintott continued mildly, giving her time, paying out the rope. ‘I’d even say he was in love with you. What would you say?’
She wanted to cry that he was impertinent, that he lied, that he must leave the house immediately. But he sat opposite her in his solid, humorous, commonsense way that dared her to do any such stupid thing.
‘Come now, ma’am, let’s have no humbug. I can’t abide humbug. He was in love with you, wasn’t he? That’s not your fault, is it? He must have made no end of a nuisance of himself, and worried you into the bargain. Why, bless you, a gentleman of that kind can’t help courting a woman, now can he?’
She shook her head, soothed and riven at once.
‘But you saw through him straight away, I know. It must have been a temptation – not a real temptation, I don’t mean that. I’m thinking that you needed a bit of comfort with your late husband ignoring you, and for someone you wouldn’t care to wipe your shoes on. I daresay you didn’t know where to turn.’ She whisked a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes, under cover of fanning herself.
‘I’m not sitting in judgement,’ said Lintott. ‘I’m not such a saint – and I don’t come across any, in my line of work – as to judge a person’s feelings. Feelings aren’t actions, you know, ma’am. How long had you and the late Mr Crozier been at odds with one another?’
‘I never knew him,’ she cried at random. ‘He was a stranger to me. He led his own life and told me nothing. Anything I ever knew I had to find out for myself, secretly, and keep to myself. I could not please him. I tried, and I could not please him.’
Tears were running down her face now, but she made no effort to wipe them away or to conceal them, staring proudly at Lintott: daring him to probe further.
‘Would you like me to go away, ma’am? I will, you know. I’m just a policeman doing my duty, not a member of the Spanish Inquisition. I can come back another day.’
‘No, no. Give me a moment. A moment only. Would you be kind enough to pour me a glass of sherry wine – and join me, of course, if you wish.’
Quieter, eyes reddened, she sipped. He had had the effect of a priest hearing confession: cathartic, cleansing, healing.
Now for the next fence, thought Lintott.
‘Of course these things happen, ma’am. Men are inclined to say a great deal before marriage, and then forget after. Mrs Lintott keeps me up to the mark – not that I need keeping, for I know my luck. I daresay your late husband wrote you letters that you’ve still got by you, tied with a ribbon. My wife keeps mine – and they were poor enough rubbish, though well meant. Still, you know, happy memories. Think of that time in your life, ma’am, and forget the rest. Men do and say unkind things to their wives that they don’t mean. Take it from me. God forgive us all.’
His strength lay in his sincerity, and in the fact that he never once lost sight of his objective.
‘You are exceedingly kind,’ said Laura, thankful for any kindness.
She felt she owed him something, and repaid with honesty.
‘My late husband never wrote me any letter more intimate than a distant acquaintance would write. I have no pleasant foolishness to tie with ribbon.’
MY DEAR LAURA, I shall be in Bristol during the coming weekend. This is a note to prepare you for what should be no surprise, since you know my mind. I purpose to ask your father for the honour of your hand in marriage. I assure you that I shall do my utmost to make you happy. YOUR SERVANT, THEODORE CROZIER.
And out of this she had made a little god of your servant, thinking that he meant it truly.
‘Men are not always good at expressing their feelings,’ said Lintott, sorry and alert. ‘I know I wasn’t, but it came through somehow.’
DEAREST MISS MOUSE, I looked in on you while you were asleep last night, and thought a little leopard cub had crept into your bed. But as no leopard ever born had golden hair I knew it must be you, under all those spots. Poor Mousie, I shall buy you a musical box to charm them all away. When you are well again, my love, we must take a long ride in the carriage, and find a place which sells strawberries and cream. And I shall order two tons of strawberries and twenty gallons of cream, and make you eat every bit. Will you like that, or shall I just ask for a mouse-bowl full? YOUR LOVING PAPA.
Into her bruised recollection Lintott said, ‘You found those letters that your husband wrote to his mistress, didn’t you, Mrs Crozier?’
‘Yes,’ said Laura. ‘It took me a long time, but I found them. He had hidden them in a secret drawer in his desk, but I knew where the spring was.’
‘Did you burn them? You said you thought they had been burned.’
A sleepwalker, she replied, ‘I did not burn them then, of course, because he would have discovered the loss. There were six altogether. I began to burn them in the bedroom grate, after his death. I kept two, though, in the end. They were the sort of letters I wanted him to write to me, a long time ago.’
‘Might I see them, my dear?’
The lapse of courtesy passed unnoticed by either of them. Submissive, uncaring, she rang the bell for Kate.
‘My jewel box, Kate, if you please – and the key.’
The letters lay at the bottom and she rummaged heedlessly through a little fortune of stones to find them.
MY LOVE FORBIDDEN LOVE, I am laid up again with a wretched chill that my doctor says is the result of the weather we have been suffering. But I could tell him that the fastest cure would be to have you with me. Perhaps I was ill because I had not seen you for a week? I expect so. We speak so lightly of time, and it hangs so heavily upon me in your absence. He tells me that a mere five days will see me on my feet again. If he said five years it would seem as long. I looked into my glass this morning to catch a glimpse of your eyes, and they were not there. I must see you soon, or I shall be ill in earnest. I live to see you. Smile for me. All mine are gone. THEO.
‘What colour were your husband’s eyes, Mrs Crozier?’ Lintott asked gently.
‘Dark. Oh, I see what you mean. Her eyes were dark also. I had thought he quoted from John Donne. Your face in mine eyes, thine in mine, appears.’
‘I thought I’d find a goldmine with these letters,’ said Lintott, ‘but now I hardly know what to look for! Unless he saw something that was never there. That’s likely enough. We look for someone who fits what we want, and then hang the notion on them like a suit of clothes.’
She sat, mute and spent, looking for help in whatever guise.
‘Don’t you fret yourself,’ said Lintott, patting her hand. ‘Eat your dinner up. Food’s a great restorer.’
Eat your dinner up, like a good girl, Miss Mouse, or you will fade quite away. And then what shall I do without a mouse to buy presents for?
‘I should like to thank you, Inspector Lintott. You have been most kind.’
Thank you for having me. It was most kind of you.
‘And get a good night’s sleep, ma’am, if I may be so bold as to say so. Dr Padgett should be able to help in that direction.’
Goodnight, sleep tight, sweet dreams, God bless, see you in the morning.
‘I’ll have to take these letters, you know,’ said Lintott.
No, my love, those are Papa’s papers.
‘It is of no account to me,’ said Laura. ‘They were never mine.’
‘No,’ said Lintott.
But they should have been. Why not, I wonder? he thought.
‘Kate, my dear, what was that woman like who brought the letters?’
‘A baggage!’ said Kate roundly.
Her matter-of-fact response brought himself to himself again. He pinched her cheek.
‘So are you, in the nicest possible way, Miss Kate!’ said Lintott.
*
Laura was sitting over her jewel box, a small gold coin clasped in her hand: severed from Titus’s watch-chain, fifteen years earlier.
We look for someone who fits what we want, and then hang the notion on them like a suit of clothes.
17
‘Contrariwise,’ continued Tweedledee, ‘if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn’t, it ain’t. That’s logic.’
Through the Looking Glass – Lewis Carroll
INSPECTOR LINTOTT was always honest with himself, particularly as the nature of his calling demanded that he be sometimes dishonest with others.
But set a thief to catch a thief, Lintott thought, and you never hook a fish but with bait or a crooked pin.
So he partly deceived Mrs Hill’s niece by reporting himself and her aunt as being on especially close and friendly terms.
‘Now what a fortunate occurrence,’ the inspector beamed, ‘to find you here. I was looking for Mr Titus Crozier. But I know you, my love, by very good report. I tell you this much – if you can cook a half or a quarter as good as your aunt you’ll make some chap a fine wife!’
Lily Day was a plain girl, and his compliment brought up a blush almost fit to match the cruel stain on her left cheek. To which she lifted one hand as if she would blot it out.
‘Yes, Lily – it is Lily, isn’t it? And as pretty a name as ever I heard! I’m a police inspector, my dear, but don’t be frightened. Lintott’s my name. I can see you’re a good girl, and I ain’t after them, of course. Is your master at home?’