“I smiled.
“‘The rest is silence,’ I said.
“‘May I ask one question?’
“‘Of course.’
“‘When first did it enter your head that it might be Dracona herself?’
“‘The same day that it entered yours. Last Saturday week.’
“Dallas covered his face.
“‘Is anything hidden from you?’
“‘We arrived by different paths. But we got there about the same time. You’re a man of the world, Mr Dallas, and so am I. Of not only the under-world.’
“‘She didn’t allow for that. I mean, if I may say so, you’re rather exceptional.’
“‘I’ve had advantages.’
“‘No other detective alive would have raised his eyes to her.’
“‘That was her strongest suit.’
“Dallas pointed to The Times.
“‘Directly I saw you, I knew you were dangerous.’
“‘You’re very shrewd, Mr Dallas. I hope your knee’s getting well.’
“‘Thank you, it’s slowly improving. I hope to be able to get on to the terrace next week. Just as well I was bed-ridden.’
“I laughed and got to my feet.
“‘That certainly ruled you out.’
“I put out my hand and he took it and held it fast.
“‘Goodbye, Superintendent. I wish I’d known you before. You know where I live in Paris.’
“‘If ever I’m there, I promise to look you up.’
“‘I suppose you know that you’ve done a most beautiful job.’
“‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I’m glad it came out as it did.’
“He let my hand go, and put his hand up to his eyes.
“‘Came out as it did,’ he said. ‘Came out… What a man!’
“Both of us laughed then, and I made my escape.
“I bade the porteress goodbye and drove to Ne’er-do-well.
“There I arranged for the Inquest on Lord St Amant to be brought to an end tomorrow at two o’clock. That was simple enough. (I must attend, of course – I shall be the principal witness. But her confession, of course, will finish it off.) I wrote a note to the Coroner, gave it to the local Superintendent and left the rest to him. Then I collected Rogers and off we went.
“I saw the AC as soon as I got to the Yard.
“He seemed very satisfied.
“‘It couldn’t have been better,’ he said. ‘A trial would have been too awful. As it is, she’s branded and Justice has been done. A very good leader in The —. Makes that very point. Pays you a very nice tribute – as you most richly deserve. Will you dine with me tonight? The Director’s going to be there. Just us three… Good. Let’s say a quarter past eight. At four o’clock we’ve got to go to Whitehall.’
“‘What, again?’
“The AC smiled.
“‘The VIP wants to thank you. I’ve said he can tell the Press.’
“‘Oh, that’s not fair, sir,’ I said.
“‘I don’t agree.’
“The Press must have told the public. I really was quite ashamed. Uniformed police were there to control the crowd.
“The VIP spoke very nicely indeed.
“‘A double triumph, Superintendent. Please believe that I’m very grateful indeed. And full of admiration.’
“‘I was very fortunate, sir.’
“‘From what I hear, you induced what luck you had. What should we do without you?’
“I didn’t know where to look.
“I wanted to leave by the back, but the AC wouldn’t have that.
“‘They want to see you,’ he said.
“It was really very moving – not in my line. All trying to shake my hand or clap me upon the back. Reflected glory, of course. It shows how St Amant was loved.
“And so to dinner – at the AC’s private house.
“The Director was very cordial, and after dinner of course I opened my mouth.
“At the last –
“‘As it turned out,’ he said, ‘if she’d lived, we should have got home. Because you found more Mafra locked up in her chest of drawers. That would have sent her down. But you never expected to find it. You had no reason on earth to think it was there. Four doses of Mafra the Countess must have received. A positive armoury. Fancy any physician giving her that amount. She probably approached two physicians, and each of them gave her two. But what a nightmare business the trial would have been. That poor, unfortunate girl… It makes my blood run cold. Oh, no. Very, very much better to end as it did. Didn’t the Coroner kick at a verdict of felo de se?’
“‘I frightened him into it, sir. I said that Paterson and I were, both of us, going to swear that she was perfectly sane.’
“‘A masterly performance, Superintendent, from first to last. I was always sure that you would deliver the goods. But you did much better than that. You’ve really done everyone’s job. I include the hangman. You’ve never brought me a carcase, as so many fellows do. That’s not your way. And I’ve got to skin it and clean it and sometimes find it bad. Unfit for a jury’s consumption. Your meat is always handed to me on a plate. So it would have been this time. That letter you sent her. Against all the conventions, of course. But master-strokes often are.’”
Falcon stopped there and looked round.
“I tell you these things, but not out of vanity. You know, even better than I, how very little the praise of the world is worth. But I wanted to complete the picture – for now I’ve done – of what I shall always consider much more than a case.
“And ‘picture’ isn’t quite right. I think it’s more of a triptych, of which only you and I have studied the whole.
“Let’s consider the outside first.
“The death of Lord St Amant was a catastrophe. In these most dangerous days, when men like Berryman are stoking the fires of class-hatred, which, as I happen to know, require no stoking at all, this nobleman’s life issued a shining statement no communist dared deny. More. To the gentle youth of England, he set an inspiring example: he showed them how to behave. Such a man in these days was worth far more to his country than any politician or prelate, be they never so wise.
“Well, he was cut off in his prime. He was murdered, in a barbarous way. At once the eyes of England were focused on Scotland Yard. And if Scotland Yard had failed, she would not have been forgiven for years to come. Her very prestige was at stake.
“That’s the outside of the triptych. What do we find within?
“In the first place, we find the truth. That lies in a love-affair, between a young god and goddess, each bearing a famous name – the saddest, most pitiful story that ever was told. We speak of ‘the irony of Fate’. I will wager that not one in a million who uses that well-known cliché, has ever conceived an instance one half so savage as that which the centre panel so faithfully presents.
“Now for the lesser panels, one upon either side. The same figure appears on each. On the left, a Mother in God, whose cure of souls was rare, to whose charge Lord St Amant was committed – a truly notable figure, adorning her office, displaying an efficiency which had to be seen to be believed. On the right, a murderess, who took it upon herself to destroy the brilliant being whose charm had touched her heart. And when she had committed this fearful crime, lied, did her best to deceive me, sought, as she admitted, to print a false impression upon my mind… to save herself from the consequences of her deed.
“I think you’ll agree with me that this was more than a case. It was a terrible drama, a shocking tragedy. The evil which it has done is quite incalculable. St Amant’s loss apart, a blow has been dealt to all convents, which men will talk of for years. ‘Them – nuns.’
“That is why I have left nothing out. In such a picture as this, every tiny detail contributes to the amazing whole. It’s like a painting by Memlinc, in which the expression of each of the many faces plays its part. Dallas, Bolton and Sister Geneviève: Selden, Sister Josephine, Paterson: the sur
geon and Sir Evelyn, mildest of men.
“And no one but you and I has seen or will ever see the detail of all five panels of a triptych – a human document, such as I never expected to read myself.”
That was Falcon’s summing-up, and I cannot better it. When he said it was not a case, that was perfectly true. I do not know what to call it. Perhaps, an event. And Falcon shaped its end.
On the following day, the Inquest on Lord St Amant came to an end. The proceedings were formal and took but a very short time. A verdict of wilful murder by Cecilia, Mother Superior, was returned. Out of consideration for her family, her true name was not disclosed.
By one consent, that evening we spoke no more of the Ne’er-do-well affair. But after dinner Falcon looked at us.
“You told me of Daniel Gedge. I should love to hear of some others with whom you dealt.”
Mansel laughed.
“You turn to small beer,” he said.
“I shouldn’t call The Shepherd small beer.”
The Shepherd was Mansel’s meat: and the rest of us sat and listened while he related quietly the brush he had had with him.
When he had done –
“The relief at the Yard,” said Falcon, “when you reported his death, was very much more than marked. The gems that man got away with. And we never knew who he was. Formosa was suspected. But we had too little to go on, and the French refused to play. I think they fought shy of the man, as they did of Daniel Gedge. And he was a member of Walter’s. I’m not in the least surprised. The AC always maintained that he was someone like that.”
Then we spoke of Friar.
“That was William’s show,” said Mansel, and made me tell the tale.
When I had done –
“Friar was suspect,” said Falcon.
“That’s a new one on me,” said Mansel. “When I talked to James – , he said you had no idea.”
“He probably didn’t know it: but Friar was down on my list. I’ve seen him myself in very queer company. But he never worked in England. Like The Shepherd, as you probably know, he belonged to a famous Club. But I knew that, to live as he did, he must have a handsome income which he didn’t honestly earn. He’d pay big money at Christie’s for objets d’art. A very hard case. We were very grateful indeed when you broke Biretta and Cain. They’d been a thorn in our flesh for several years. Cain was the driving force. He was rather like Baal, you know. But they were terribly slim. But we ought to have known Forecast. When you told us the truth of his hostel, we nearly died. The AC was simply furious. It was in —’s district. He was retired at once. And now, if you please, will you tell me of Number Four?”
“Ah,” said Mansel. “Bullfinch. We used to call him Barabbas. He was an evil man.”
“He did murder by proxy,” said Falcon, “again and again.”
“That was how Lord St Omer died. And that set us off.”
Between us, we told how at last we were led to Barabbas and put an end to the man.
“There you are,” said Falcon. “That was a thing which we could never have done.”
“You said,” said Jenny, “that you would do as I said. I think you should go to bed. And tomorrow we’ll all go fishing. On Sunday the Avons have asked us to bring you to lunch.”
I think Falcon truly enjoyed the next three days. He shared our very quiet life. The Avons made much of him: he was Jenny’s obedient servant, as Carson and Bell were his. On Monday, at his request, we visited Adamant. The latter was out of humour: but Jenny talked to him and after a little, his head came out of his box. Still, his ears were laid back and he looked the rogue he was. ‘I don’t like you like that,’ said Jenny. ‘Nobody would. I mean, you don’t do yourself justice. Never mind. On Saturday we all went fishing. And Bashful and Gamester went with us – we didn’t take the car. And when we got to the river, we took them out of the shafts, took their harness off and let them graze and roll. It made a change for them…’ Before she had finished, Adamant’s ears were pricked. The horse was listening intently, and I am ready to swear that he understood. And he looked magnificent. But that was as far as it went – I was taking no more risks.
As we moved away, Delaney looked at Falcon.
“Seeing’s believing, Superintendent.”
“Yes,” said Falcon, “it is. Because of that, I shan’t tell anyone. I’ve never been called a liar, except from the dock.”
On Tuesday morning, Mansel and Falcon left. The latter had brought no driver, so Mansel sat by his side and Carson followed behind. And that was the end of a visit which neither Jenny nor I will ever forget.
A few days later, again I drove my wife to The Ne’er-do-well Home. By her desire, I did not wait this time: but I came back at five o’clock.
As we were driving home –
“They’re taking no new patients,” said Jenny. “As soon as those there have gone, the Home will be closed.”
“I think that’s best, my darling.”
“Yes, I’m afraid it is.”
She said no more at that time, but when I kissed her goodnight, she slid an arm round my neck and held me close.
“Rosemary’s failing,” she whispered. “Her heart has been broken twice over. Before very long, they’ll be together again.”
Jenny saw her twice more. And then, when October was old and the fall of the leaf was in, Sister Helena died in her sleep.
So the tragedy came to an end, and the curtain fell.
Introductory Titles
(in order of first publication)
These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
1. The Brother of Daphne 1914
2. The Courts of Idleness 1920
Bertram ‘Berry’ Pleydell Titles
(in order of first publication)
These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
1. Berry and Co 1921
2. Jonah and Co 1922
3. Adèle and Co 1931
4. And Berry Came Too 1936
5. The House that Berry Built 1945
6. The Berry Scene 1947
7. As Berry and I were Saying 1952
8. B-Berry and I Look Back 1958
Richard Chandos & Colleagues Titles
(in order of first publication)
These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
1. Blind Corner 1927
2. Perishable Goods 1928
3. Blood Royal 1929
4. Fire Below alt: By Royal Command 1930
5. She Fell Among Thieves 1935
6. An Eye for a Tooth 1943
7. Red in the Morning alt: Were Death Denied 1946
8. Cost Price alt: The Laughing Bacchante 1949
Other Novels
(in order of first publication)
1. She Painted Her Face 1937
2. Gale Warning 1939
3. Ne’er-Do-Well 1954
Synopses of Yates’ Titles
Published by House of Stratus
Adèle & Co
This is the first full-length novel featuring Yates’ finest comic creation, Bertram ‘Berry’ Pleydell. The popular character of Adéle is based on the author’s first wife, Bettine, a highly gregarious American dancer and actress. Written in response to massive public demand for the Berry stories, this is regarded as one of Yates’ best books. Amongst the madcap escapades of the Pleydell clan as they career about the French countryside you will find ‘crime, criminals, and some of the funniest writing in the English language’.
And Berry Came Too
Eight stories in which we encounter ‘the hair-raising adventures and idiotic situations of the Pleydell family’ (Punch). Along with John Buchan and ‘Sapper’, Yates dominated the adventure book market of the inter-war years, and Berry is regarded as one of British comic writing’s finest creations, including Tom Sharpe amongst his fans. Read these and weep (with laughter).
As Berry & I Were Saying
Reprinted four
times in three months, this semi-autobiographical novel is a humorous account of the author’s hazardous experiences in France, at the end of the World War II. Darker and less frivolous than some of Yates’ earlier books, he describes it as ‘really my own memoir put into the mouths of Berry and Boy’, and at the time of publication it already had a nostalgic feel. A great hit with the public and a ‘scrapbook of the Edwardian age as it was seen by the upper-middle classes’.
B-Berry & I Look Back
This is Yates’ final book, a semi-autobiographical novel spanning a lifetime of events from the sinking of the Titanic to the notorious Tichborne murder case. It opens with Berry, one of British comic writing’s finest creations, at his funniest, and is a companion volume to As Berry and I Were Saying. Pure, vintageYates.
Berry & Co
This collection of short stories featuring ‘Berry’ Pleydell and his chaotic entourage established Dornford Yates’ reputation as one of the best comic writers in a generation, and made him hugely popular. The German caricatures in the book carried such a sting that when France was invaded in 1939 Yates, who was living near the Pyrenées, was put on the wanted list and had to flee.
The Berry Scene
These stories, written by huge popular demand, give us classic Berry Pleydell – Yates’ finest comic character – at the top of his form. The first story sees Berry capturing a German spy at a village cricket match in 1914, and things get more bizarre from then on. A self-consciously nostalgic work harking back to more decorous days, here are tense plotting and high farce of the best kind.
Blind Corner
This is Yates’ first thriller: a tautly plotted page-turner featuring the crime-busting adventures of suave Richard Chandos. Chandos is thrown out of Oxford for ‘beating up some Communists’, and on return from vacation in Biarritz he witnesses a murder. Teaming up at his London club with friend Jonathan Mansel, a stratagem is devised to catch the killer. The novel has compelling sequels: Blood Royal, An Eye For a Tooth, Fire Below and Perishable Goods.
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