Ne'er Do Well

by Dornford Yates

  “I knocked on the well-known door and entered at once.

  “Seated, as usual, at her table, the Mother Superior surveyed me grimly enough.

  “‘Superintendent,’ she said, ‘I am not accustomed – ’

  “‘You are under arrest,’ I said, ‘for the murder of Lord St Amant. It is my duty to warn you that anything you say will be taken down and may be used in evidence against you.’

  “With that, I took out my book…

  “The woman never moved, but her eyes were like coals of fire.

  “Then she burst out.

  “‘That puling fool Sister Josephine gave you your cue. Until that moment I had you in your place. You thought you were sharing my counsel.’ She threw back her head and let out a dreadful laugh. ‘Church and State, you boasted, both are subject to the Law. You thought I accepted that statement – that arrogant blasphemy. To encourage your fool’s belief, I attended your puny court and bowed to your Coroner. Let me disillusion you. The State is subject to the laws of man: the Church to the laws of God. You execute the one: I administer the other. As such an administratrix, I put Lord St Amant to death… The world will not forgive me for what I did: but that is nothing to me, for what I did was right. The man had to die. He had the charm of the serpent that commended the apple to Eve. And, but for your blundering foot, all would have been well.’

  “She drew in her breath.

  “Then she picked up an envelope.

  “‘When they brought me your note last night, I knew what it meant. You’d ferreted out something, behind my back. Perhaps you found the tablet I dropped – close to my private door. I had no desire to be questioned – like Sister Josephine. And so I wrote down this statement, writing far into the night. I need no justification for what I do. This is a statement of fact, and nothing else. Take it and read it and feel ashamed of your manhood – and in future render to God the things that are God’s.’

  “She threw the envelope to me. My eyes were on hers, and I let it fall to the ground.

  “‘You think you have done your duty: but that is because you’re a fool.’ Her face was working, and she was breathing hard. ‘I’ll tell you what you have done. You have destroyed this House – this precious institution which I have built. For I am the cornerstone: and with my going, the edifice must collapse. And my sheep will have no shepherd. The ship, without its helmsman, will drift upon the rocks. That’s my reward for bruising the serpent’s head, for doing my bounden duty…’

  “‘That will do,’ I said. ‘What else you have to say can be said in another place.’ I tapped twice on the door behind me: that was a signal to Rogers to fetch the women police. ‘I must ask you to come with me. If you wish to arrange yourself first – ’

  “She threw back her head again and laughed that terrible laugh. That seemed to set her coughing… As she drew out a handkerchief, I stepped forward and caught her wrist.

  “She stared at my hand. Then she lifted her eyes to my face.

  “‘The moment I saw you,’ she said, ‘I knew you were dangerous. But there’s another sergeant, more strict in his arrest.’

  “Here a knock fell upon the door.

  “As I called to Rogers to enter, she seemed to lift herself up and then fell sideways, almost into my arms.

  “With the help of the women police I eased her on to the floor.

  “Then I spoke to Rogers, whose eyes were half out of his head.

  “‘Dr Paterson, quick! And Sister Geneviève. Run out and call their names.’

  “As he ran out of the room, I picked the envelope up and put it away.

  “One of the women looked up.

  “‘I think she’s dead, sir.’

  “I nodded.

  “‘The doctor will be here in a moment.’

  “Sister Geneviève was the first to arrive.

  “I must say I admire that woman. She just went down on her knees by the Mother Superior’s side, peered at her face and then took hold of her wrist. Then she sat back on her heels and put her face in her hands.

  “I addressed the women police.

  “‘Wait outside.’

  “As they left the room, Paterson arrived at a run.

  “‘Good God,’ he said.

  “Then he went down on his knees, to feel her heart.

  “At a gesture from me, Rogers shut the door.

  “‘What happened, Superintendent?’

  “‘She was under arrest,’ I said. ‘For the murder of Lord St Amant. She had two tablets of Mafra within her mouth. When I said she must come to the Station, she laughed and swallowed them.’

  “Sister Geneviève stayed still as she was, but Paterson stared at me, as if I was out of my mind.

  “When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

  “‘But the thing’s incredible.’

  “‘I know it is. But it’s true. She admitted committing the murder before she died.’

  “‘God Almighty,’ said Paterson.

  “‘I’ll tell you later,’ I said. ‘I hope you’ll do the post-mortem. Rogers, get in touch with the police.’

  “When Rogers returned, I told him to stay in the room with one of the women police. Then –

  “‘Sister Geneviève,’ I said, ‘it’s my duty to search her bedroom. Will you please accompany me?’

  “Without a word, she complied. She led the way, and I followed – with one of the women police. It was a most dreadful duty, as you will believe. But I found what I wanted – but never dared hope that I’d find. Two tablets of Mafra, still in their special case.”

  Falcon put his hand in his pocket and took out an envelope. He opened it over the table, and something slid out.

  This was a thin, oblong, transparent capsule or case: three quarters of an inch in length, three eighths of an inch in breadth, and, I should say, one thirty-second of an inch thick. Within, we could see two white tablets, lying side by side. That such a case could have laid behind and beside the teeth of the lower jaw, was perfectly clear. I cannot believe that, so bestowed, it would have been noticeable.

  “There you are,” said Falcon. “Sir William wouldn’t believe that saliva wouldn’t dissolve that special case. But I can swear to that. She had them in her mouth when I entered the room. I prayed that she had, you know. A trial would have been too awful. That’s why I let her talk. And then, when nothing happened, I said she must come with me. I had to stop her, of course, when she put her hand to her mouth.”

  “You’re a scrupulous man,” said Mansel.

  “I find if one does one’s duty, one usually has one’s reward. But I’m not too scrupulous. Her written confession is going to be suppressed. At least, I hope it is. The AC will have to decide.” He glanced again at his watch and got to his feet. “And now I must go. I hope to be back tomorrow. There’s only one thing.” He turned and looked at me. “The Sisters may have a visitor twice a year. I have reason to think that Sister Helena is in the deepest distress. Would you allow Mrs Chandos – provided, of course, she consents – to go to see her tomorrow? All traces, of course, will be gone.”

  “She’ll jump at it,” said I. “I’ll take her over myself.”

  “In that case, will you send a note to Sister Geneviève? To say that she may expect her at, say, four o’clock?”

  “Of course.”

  “Very well. I’ll write it now.”

  The note which he wrote at my table was simple enough.

  Dear Sister Geneviève,

  The friend of whom I spoke will arrive tomorrow at about four o’clock. Please believe and assure Sister Helena that she will tell me nothing of what transpires. Not one single word.

  Yours very sincerely,

  Richard Falcon.

  As I handed it back –

  “Now may I write to Mrs Chandos?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’d rather not show it to you.”

  “I’m more than content, Superintendent.”

  Falcon wrote a few lines. Then he folded
the sheet in two and gave it to me. As I slipped it into my pocket –

  “Will you give that to her just before she enters the Home?”

  “I promise.”

  “Oh, one thing more. You’d better have a card for the constable at the gates.” He took a card from his case and wrote and initialled four words.

  Pass bearer without question.

  R F.

  Two minutes later Falcon left the house.

  As his car disappeared –

  “Dallas was right,” said Mansel. “What a man! And she was above suspicion. Not one in a thousand would ever have looked at her. Her exalted position and her commanding presence saw to that. To raise your eyes to her was lèse majesté. No one but Falcon would have done it, and no one but Falcon could ever have brought it home. If murder is done in a British Embassy, the one person you do rule out is the Ambassador himself. His great position, his standing forbid any other course… I must confess that it never entered my head.”

  “I thought it was Paterson.”

  “So did I.”

  I drew in my breath.

  “But what a fearful ordeal. I’m not surprised that he was all in last night.”

  “He must have prayed she’d take poison.”

  “Then why,” said I, “why did he catch her wrist?”

  “I think that, when she coughed, he knew it was in her mouth.”

  “Out of her mind of course.”

  “Say rather fanatic. It comes to much the same thing. Falcon will certainly tell us when he comes back. Apart from anything else, my belief is this. It’s perfectly clear that St Amant was a most attractive man. We know he was very handsome and had a remarkable charm. Selden said, ‘You couldn’t help liking Jo.’ Now the Mother Superior was a nun. She was a gaunt ascetic, who many years ago had subdued the flesh. But such was St Amant’s charm that she had to respond to this, against her will. He actually made her laugh… Even to her, he proved irresistible. He had stormed that seemingly impregnable fortress in which was confined her heart. He had set the prisoner leaping. That night she scourged herself. And then she perceived that such a man was a menace, the embodiment of the serpent in human guise. And so she found it her duty to put him to death. You remember how she harped upon duty. She decided that it was her duty to commit this terrible crime.”

  “I’ve no doubt you’re right,” said I. “But Falcon can’t read hearts. And if he can, it isn’t evidence.”

  “Oh, no. There’s a lot behind it. But speculation is idle. We’ll have to wait for him. But, you know, it’s a great achievement. And it’s tied up and posted, William – by registered mail. No one can ever dispute it. A dose of Mafra, such as Sir William described, has lain on your dining-room table. And Falcon found that in her room.”

  I nodded.

  “And more will be found in her.” I sighed. “She’s cheated the gallows, of course. And the public won’t like that. But a jury would have found her insane.”

  “Far better like this,” said Mansel. “I mean, if she hadn’t taken her life, the subsequent proceedings won’t bear thinking about. I felt quite sick when he mentioned the women police. By the way, you’ll have to tell Jenny.”

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s my job.”

  I told her upstairs in her bedroom, when she came in.

  “Listen, my darling,” I said, “Falcon has been and gone. I think he’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Been and gone?”

  “While you were out, my sweet. He couldn’t wait.”

  Jenny regarded me.

  “What’s happened, darling? You look so terribly grave.”

  “It’s all over, Jenny. The Mother Superior did it.”

  “Richard!”

  “She confessed and then took Mafra. There’s not a shadow of doubt.”

  Jenny burst into tears…

  I let her weep in my arms.

  When she was calm again –

  “It was better that way, my darling.”

  My wife did not seem to hear me. Her eyes were looking out of the window at something she only could see.

  “Now it’s all over,” she said, “please let me go to the Home. I think, perhaps, they’ll let me see Rosemary. I’m sure she loved Lord St Amant and he loved her. Before the war, I mean. And then, when she thought he was dead, she took the veil.”

  As soon as I could speak –

  “Did she hint at such a thing? When you met her at Buckram, I mean.”

  “Oh, no. But I’m sure I’m right.”

  Now that I had been told it, so was I.

  At a quarter to four on Sunday, I brought the Rolls to the gates of the Nursing Home. These were shut.

  A constable stepped to my side, and I showed him Falcon’s card.

  “That’s quite all right, sir.”

  He nodded to a gardener inside, who opened the gates.

  As I brought the car to the doors –

  “I may be some time, my darling.”

  “Jenny,” I said, “I don’t come into this. You’re to stay just as long as you please. I’ve brought a book to read and I don’t care how long I wait.”

  Jenny smiled and nodded.

  “I thought you’d say that,” she said.

  “Oh, and here’s a note from Falcon. Don’t tell me what he says.”

  Jenny read it and nodded. Then she folded it again and gave it back to me.

  As I saw her out of the car, Sister Geneviève appeared at the head of the three, low steps. At least, I was sure it was she: and when we were back at Maintenance, Jenny said I was right. I saw her greet my wife. Then they turned together and passed out of sight.

  It was nearly six o’clock before Jenny reappeared at the head of the steps.

  As I left the car –

  “Come, Richard,” she said.

  I mounted the steps and followed her into the hall.

  There a sister was standing. Again I knew who it was.

  “This is my husband – Sister Helena.”

  I bowed, but she put out her hand, and I took it in mine.

  When I met her eyes, I saw a quiet, grave smile on the peerless face. Falcon was right. She might have been the Madonna.

  Suddenly I felt very humble and very much of the earth. At the risk of sounding foolish, I felt I should be on my knees.

  A quotation came into my mind. ‘These are they which came out of great tribulation…and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.’

  For a moment we stood in silence. Then –

  “God bless you both,” she said in her low, sweet voice.

  And then she was gone…

  Jenny never spoke, until we were halfway home, but when we had left the grounds, she slid her arm through mine and held it tight.

  At last –

  “She wanted to see you, darling. You see, she remembered me, and she wanted so much to be able to remember you. She said she would pray for us both as long as she lived.”

  After dinner that Sunday evening, Falcon took up his tale.

  “I always felt very strongly that the murder had been committed by somebody on the spot. That is why I never fancied the Duchess. But it was Sir William’s letter that started me off. This, as no doubt you perceived, put quite a fresh complexion upon the case. It gave it, let us say, a new look. For it made it perfectly clear that whoever did the crime was either connected with medicine or had some connection with France. Paterson was much in my mind. But, if indeed it was he, then he was a past master of the art of roguery. I set him aside for the moment and looked elsewhere. Always excepting the Duchess – and I must confess that she seemed to be leading the field by a good many lengths – there was only Dallas left, so far as I knew. And he was bed-ridden. I decided that I must find out who else of those in the running had some connection with France.

  “That was on Friday evening, not quite three full days from the time the murder was done.

  “Now for Saturday morning. Until that Saturday morning, the idea, which proved th
e correct one, had never entered my head.

  “You’ll remember that the Mother Superior had asked me to come and see her at half past ten. I hoped and believed this meant that, after a talk with her, Sister Josephine was going to open her mouth. As you know, I kept the appointment and I told you all that was said. But I didn’t comment upon it. Neither did you. There was one obvious comment: but when you didn’t make it, I knew you were waiting on me. And I valued your reticence, for I wasn’t ready to comment – even to you.”

  (Falcon did us more than justice. Mansel and I had, both of us, noticed the point: but had dismissed it at once, as being of no account.)

  “The obvious comment was this. Why wasn’t Sister Josephine there?

  “I mean, she should have been there, to tell me herself. I could have asked to see her, but that would have made it clear that I wasn’t content. And that was the last impression I wanted to give.

  “I hope you will try to imagine my state of mind. Without any warning at all, a flashlight had illumined for an instant a bleak and terrible prospect of which I had never dreamed. Why wasn’t Sister Josephine there? The temptation to weigh the implications of her absence was insistent: but I knew that I must not do that. I must concentrate as never before upon the conversation about to take place. And so I did.

  “I listened to every word that the Mother Superior used. I marked the inflections she gave them. I watched her face and her hands. And when it was over, I wasn’t satisfied. Our relations had certainly improved: but now they seemed to me to be improving too fast. I had done my best: but now she was making the pace. ‘We were perfectly right, Superintendent.’ ‘Well, now, I must make a confession.’ ‘So you see, the fault was mine.’ And then, at the end, she actually rallied me…

  “Now, if Sister Josephine had been there, and the woman had spoken like that when the girl was gone, I should have thought nothing of it. I had been attentive on Friday – had spared her and Sister Helena all I could. And so she wished to convey the favourable impression she had formed of my solicitude. But Sister Josephine hadn’t been there. And so I began to wonder whether the Mother Superior was playing a game – seeking to win my goodwill, for that, of course, is the finest defence in the world.