Ne'er Do Well

by Dornford Yates

  “‘Then one of your bluebottles showed himself on the terrace.’

  “‘Didn’t you ask what that meant?’

  “‘Geneviève wouldn’t talk: and Paterson was what is called uncommunicative.’

  “‘Why did you say that Lord St Amant had been bumped off?’

  “‘Be your age.’

  “‘I want to know, please.’

  “‘Well, I assumed he had. You’re not down here for nothing.’ He pointed to the paper. ‘Head Sleuths make headlines.’

  “‘I see. Did you know Lord St Amant was here?’

  “‘How should I?’

  “‘Does that mean that you didn’t?’

  “‘I didn’t know he was here.’

  “‘He died on Tuesday night. Cast your mind back for a moment. Did you sleep right through that night? Or were you awake at all?’

  “‘I woke up now and again.’

  “‘Pain?’

  “‘Yes, damn you. Pain.’

  “‘I’m sorry for that. What do you do for it?’

  “‘What can I do, but bear it?’

  “‘If it was bad, I think I should ring for the sister and ask for some dope.’

  “‘I do sometimes.’

  “‘Anyway, on Tuesday night, you woke up more than once.’

  “‘Correct.’

  “‘Did anything wake you up except the pain?’

  “‘I don’t understand.’

  “‘Did anything else rouse you? Did you ever wake up to find that you had no pain?’

  “‘I don’t think so.’

  “‘Did you hear any sound that night, for which you couldn’t account?’

  “‘Not that I can remember.’

  “‘Did you see anything unusual? Some light, for instance, that you had not seen before?’

  Berryman shook his head.

  “‘I see you’ve a torch by your side. What do you use that for?’

  “‘If I want a drink, it saves switching on the light.’

  “‘I see.’ I got to my feet. ‘Well, now I must go.’

  “‘See you again?’

  “‘Perhaps.’

  “‘Any progress to report?’

  “‘Perhaps.’

  “‘But not to me?’

  “‘No.’

  “I left his room for the terrace and passed to the parapet. I stood still there for a moment, looking at the meadows and considering Berryman. That I had no use for him, is beside the point. A most unpleasant type. But I was perfectly sure that he was covering up. More. His studied truculence showed that he was afraid. For some absurd reason, I resented his recognition of Lady Rosemary Vernon. But his casual disclosure of her private name had made me more angry than a policeman should ever get.”

  “By God, I don’t blame you,” I said.

  “Well, when I’d calmed down, I ventured to put my head into Dallas’ room.

  “‘At last. Good morning, Superintendent. I’m happy to say that I have some news for you.’

  “‘Your memory has responded?’

  “‘It has, indeed. Strangely enough, I remembered when first I woke up last night.’

  “I nodded.

  “‘When you come to think,’ I said, ‘that was the likeliest moment for such a thing to occur.’

  “‘Of course. The witching hour. We ought to have thought of that.’

  “‘I’m glad we didn’t. When memory is contrary, it’s best to leave her alone.’

  “‘What a lot lies in gender! Of course, you’re perfectly right. Ignore the capricious jade, and she comes to heel.’

  “‘I’ve found that so.’

  “‘What a man you are!’

  “‘Why d’you say that?’ said I.

  “‘Because you haven’t yet asked me what it was that I heard or saw at precisely a quarter to two in the morning of yesterday.’

  “‘I don’t want to rush you,’ I said. ‘I know you’ll tell me all right.’

  “‘Your restraint is remarkable. That’s why you’re where you are. Never mind. I now remember that I saw the flash of a torch.’

  “‘No doubt at all?’

  “‘None. I saw it upon the terrace. Only a flash. Put your head close to my pillows.’ I did as he said. ‘Now, looking out of those windows, what do you see?’

  “‘I see the turn of the parapet, just where it reaches the steps.’

  “‘That was where the light fell. But only for an instant of time. Whether the torch was switched off or the beam was diverted, of course I can’t possibly say. But the flash was there.’

  “‘It wasn’t the light from some room?’

  “‘Oh, no. That would have been diffused. This was limited and concentrated. It was the light of a torch.’

  “‘I quite understand. And now let me hand something back. What a witness you’d make!’

  “‘If you possibly can, please preserve the conditional mood.’

  “I laughed.

  “‘You won’t be called tomorrow. I can’t say more than that – except, Mr Dallas, that I am greatly obliged. Please keep this to yourself.’

  “‘Depend upon that, Superintendent. May I ask how you’re getting on?’

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  “‘Routine stuff, for the moment. No more than that.’

  “‘Have you seen any other patients?’

  “‘Yes, I’ve just visited two.’

  “‘Have you made the acquaintance of Mr Berryman?’

  “‘Yes,’ I said. ‘How did you know he was here?’

  “‘St Amant told me that.’

  “‘How did he know?’

  “‘He saw him from the terrace, before I called to him. St Amant was laughing about it.’

  “‘Why?’

  “‘Apparently Berryman’s one of these Eton and Labour lads. Urges the dockers to strike, and then goes home to bed in Grosvenor Square. His father and St Amant’s were lifelong friends, and when Berryman went to Eton, St Amant was asked to keep an eye on him. In fact, for a while, he was St Amant’s fag. ‘I’m afraid,’ he said, ‘he doesn’t do me much credit.’ ‘I hope you thrashed him,’ I said. ‘I had to once or twice. Not for his failings as a fag, but for breaches of discipline. He had to be fired in the end. And he’s gone on as he began. Conscientious Objector in the War, and stoking the fires of class-hatred right and left. In view of the speeches he makes, it’s rather amusing to find such a fellow here.’ ‘I hope,’ I said, ‘I hope he’s confined to his room.’ ‘I hope so, too,’ said St Amant, thoughtfully.’

  “‘An unpleasant type,’ I said. ‘I must confess he didn’t appeal to me.’

  “‘The king of cads,’ said Dallas. ‘I don’t mind honest Labour. For a man like John Burns, I have an immense respect. But I cannot stand these bastards. You’re sure he’s confined to bed? I don’t want him walking in here.’

  “‘I’ve no idea,’ I said. ‘But I’m sure you could deal with him.’

  “‘Perhaps. But I have reached an age, Superintendent, at which friction of any kind has become repugnant to me. It was not always so. I used to enjoy a really sharp dispute. Let us say that my rapier was loose. But now, at sixty-two, I’m much more peaceable. I hope Dracona is not a thorn in your side.’

  “‘Oh, no,’ said I. ‘She doesn’t like it, of course: but I think she understands that I’m out to help.’

  “‘What a man!’ said Dallas. ‘Dracona eats out of his hand.’

  “‘I never said that,’ said I.

  “‘I know, I know. Miracles are in your line. You’re heading for canonization. If you go on like this, you’ll become St Falcon of Ne’er-do-well. Pilgrims will repair in great numbers to Scotland Yard. By the way, have you seen your star turn?’

  “‘Yes, I have.’

  “‘Isn’t she a winner? All wrong for her to be here. Born to be a chatelaine – the mistress of a proud duchy, the mother of glorious sons. The veil, you know, has much to answer for.’

  “As I got to my fe
et–

  “‘I’m afraid,’ I said, ‘there’s something in what you say.’

  “‘But what a man!’ said Dallas.

  “We, both of us, laughed at that, and I took my leave.

  “I saw a sister and asked where the House Surgeon was. She asked me to wait, and, after three or four minutes, Paterson came. By my desire we sought a consulting room.

  “‘Here’s your draft statement,’ I said. ‘Will you look it through and make what corrections you please?’

  “‘For the Coroner?’

  “‘Yes.’

  “He read it through, made a revision or two, put in his Christian names and gave it back.

  “Then –

  “‘There’s been,’ he said, ‘the devil and all to pay.’

  “‘Because I saw Sister Helena?’

  “‘Yes.’

  “‘I gathered that. I hope I’ve straightened things out.’

  He looked at me very hard.

  “‘Well, I hope you have,’ he said: ‘for life’s quite wearing enough in the ordinary way. I mean, if ever there was one, she is a martinet. She’s a very good woman, you know. She’d go to the stake for one of her principles, and though you might not think it, she loves her flock. And she runs this Home, as could no man or woman I’ve ever met. Her efficiency is staggering. But talk about being stiff-necked… Of course she was born out of time. She ought to have been an abbess – and more than that.’

  “‘We’ve had a straight talk,’ I said. ‘And I hope very much that now she will see the wisdom of putting some trust in me.’

  “‘Very good indeed. And how d’you like Berryman?’

  “‘I don’t like him very much. I shouldn’t think anyone does.’

  “‘Between you and me, Superintendent, the man is a poisonous cad.’

  “‘Why d’you say that?’

  “‘He’s been fit to walk for a week – and the lavatory’s fifty feet off. On Monday last I found he was still using a bed-pan. What about that?’

  “‘That,’ said I, ‘is atrocious.’

  “‘To degrade these wonderful women in that disgusting way!’

  “‘And all the time he can walk?’

  “‘Perfectly well. But he’s too damned lazy to move. I ordered him to bathe on Sunday and saw him to the bathroom myself. I don’t think he’s had a bath since.’

  “‘Can’t you get rid of him?’

  “‘He’s leaving on Saturday. In my opinion, he’s quite fit enough to go now.’

  “‘I asked him how he was sleeping: he said that the pain woke him up from time to time.’

  “‘It may, but it’s not severe. And he has his tablets there. And if he wants any more, he’s only to ring.’

  “‘I see. You give japonica freely?’

  “‘Yes. It’s completely harmless and seems to work very well. No news of the analysis yet?’

  “I shook my head.

  “‘I’ll tell you as soon as I hear.’

  “We parted then: and as it was twenty to twelve, I made my way to the meadows and strolled there for a quarter of an hour. As you will agree, I had plenty of food for thought.

  “That Berryman had seen St Amant, I had no doubt. What do you say, Colonel Mansel?”

  “I think he must have,” said Mansel. “St Amant was on the terrace, while he was within his room. Now by day the man without is always more apparent to the man within than is the man within to the man without. Yet St Amant recognized him. And if anyone passes your window, you always look up.”

  “I agree. So Berryman lied when he said that he didn’t know that St Amant was there. Then he omitted to tell me that he had known St Amant all his life. I don’t think that’s putting it too high.”

  “Certainly not,” said I. “They’d been at school together, and their fathers were lifelong friends. They must have met sometimes, for St Amant expressed the hope that he wouldn’t come into his room.”

  “Exactly. Then he concealed the fact that, as in St Amant’s case, tablets were put by his side. Then he possesses a torch. I don’t attach a great deal of importance to that, for he must have expected me, and it would have been so easy to put it away. Still, I didn’t think much of his reason for keeping it there. For the switch was to hand. And Dallas saw the flash of a torch. Then – the man can walk. He walked to the bathroom on Sunday. Finally, he had no cause to love the man who is dead.”

  “As like as not,” said Mansel, “he hated his guts.”

  “I think it probable. But I don’t want to put it too high. The thrashings may well have rankled, and there may have been other things. Besides, the howling cad dislikes the gentleman. That doesn’t mean that he wants to bump him off. But that sort of feeling sometimes runs very high.”

  Jenny lifted her voice.

  “I don’t wonder he was afraid when you came into his room.”

  Falcon smiled.

  “Nor do I, Mrs Chandos. But that is not evidence of guilt. Many an innocent man has been frightened to death, because, if the truth were known, things would look very black for him. But of course fear makes you think. And I don’t mind admitting to you that I’m looking at him very hard. So hard that, when he leaves, Mr Berryman will be watched. I don’t want him to leave the country before I can see him again.

  “At precisely twelve o’clock I knocked on the door of the Mother Superior’s room. Sister Helena opened the door and ushered me in. I bowed to them both. Then I produced the statement.

  “‘With your permission, Madam, Sister Helena will read this through and say if there is anything in it to which she cannot subscribe. If there is, it will be altered at once. And then, if you please, I should like you to read it yourself.’

  “‘Very well.’

  “There were one or two slight corrections, but nothing of any account. When these had been made, I gave it to the Mother Superior. She perused it with a slight frown. Then she addressed Sister Helena. ‘When you looked in at three o’clock, you saw nothing amiss?’ ‘Nothing, ma mère.’ Then she addressed herself to me.

  “‘You will understand, Superintendent, that Lord St Amant was never seriously ill. The sister was, therefore, more concerned not to rouse him than she was to observe his condition. Had he been seriously ill, the reverse would have been the case.’

  “‘I quite understand, Madam.’

  “She handed the statement back.

  “‘Have you any more questions to put to Sister Helena?’

  “‘A few, if you please.’

  “‘Very well.’

  “‘Tell me, Sister Helena, have you any tablets at all, except japonica?’

  “‘No. When we had tried japonica, the others were all withdrawn.’

  “‘You use japonica at your discretion.’

  “‘Not altogether. I’m allowed to give two or three, as I see fit. But not more than three in two hours.’

  “‘Did you give them to other patients?’

  “‘Oh, yes.’

  “‘Who did you give them to?’

  “‘Mr Dallas and Mr Berryman. Both have pain.’

  “‘Do you wait for them to ask?’

  “‘No. I always put two by their side, when I say goodnight. If they want any more in the night, they let me know.’

  “‘You place them in the bowl of a spoon?’

  “‘Yes.’

  “‘What about injections?’

  “‘I only give them by order.’

  “‘Had any been ordered that night?’

  “‘No.’

  “‘Have you ampoules at your disposal?’

  “‘Only penicillin. That is kept in the refrigerator.’

  “‘Did you look into all the rooms about three o’clock?’

  “‘Yes.’

  “‘Did you go into any room?’

  “‘I passed through Sir Arthur Brake’s – that’s Number Two.’

  “‘I take it that he’s the patient that sleeps so sound.’

  “‘Yes.’


  “‘Did you go into any other?’

  “‘Only Number One. That’s Admiral Lacey’s room.’

  “‘I understand that he’s very ill.’

  “‘Yes. That was why I went in.’

  “‘To have, shall we say, a close-up?’

  “‘Yes.’

  “‘What about Number Three?’

  “‘He’s being specially nursed. I just showed myself to the Sister, in case she wanted me.’

  “‘Not counting Number Two, through which you passed, you only went into one?’

  “‘Yes.’

  “‘So far as you could see, were the other patients asleep?’

  “‘Yes.’

  “‘How long did that round take you on Tuesday night?’

  “‘I should say about a quarter of an hour.’

  “‘Did you start at three o’clock?’

  “‘No. About five minutes to.’

  “‘Thank you.’

  “I looked at the Mother Superior.

  “‘The Inquest, madam, will be held tomorrow at two o’clock. I shall not be called, but I shall be there. Entirely between us three, I have seen the Coroner and he has expressed his intention of showing the utmost consideration to any Sister called. I have also seen the Press, and I’ve done my best with them. I have some influence there, because they find it pays to keep in with me. If they do as I ask, I’m more inclined to talk.

  “‘I should like to call for Sister Helena at half past one. I expect both you and she would like another Sister to go with her. I’m going to try to arrange to bring them into the court by a private way.’

  “‘Thank you,’ said the Mother Superior. ‘The two will be ready and waiting tomorrow at half past one. Have you any more questions to ask Sister Helena?’

  “‘No more questions for the moment, but I have a request to make.’

  “‘Yes.’

  “‘Madam, the thing is this. On the table beside the bed were a glass and a spoon. These are being tested for fingerprints. Two sets of prints will, I imagine, be found – on the glass at any rate. One will be those of Sister Helena. But I cannot be sure that they are her fingerprints, unless she allows me to take an impression of hers. And I must know whose they are.

  “‘If she will allow me to take it, the moment the prints have been checked she shall have the impression back.’