The gathering about the couch was breaking up, the men preparing to go their separate ways. Theresa, again glancing round at them, said:
‘Please don’t go. Now that you’re all here, I think there are one or two things we should go into.’
‘You ought to rest, Theresa,’ Inigo said. ‘You’re all in. Charlie and I have finished the car, and we’re just going to run it round to see how it goes. We’ve cleared up some more of the snow out there, too, so it should be all right. Why don’t you lie here quietly? Dylis will be around if you still feel scared. Won’t you, Dyl?’
Dylis said she would, and smiled with much amusement when Theresa did not show any sign of joy or gratitude. Charlie Best warmly seconded Inigo’s suggestion, but whether out of solicitude for his hostess or because he was longing to get back to the car was by no means certain. But Theresa was adamant. Before either Mr Ashley or Mr Raddle could make a move or add their voices to the discussion, she said:
‘I’m perfectly all right now, thank you. It was just an attack of nerves, brought on by someone who may only have been playing a practical joke, and now has not the sense to admit it. I could understand that, if we’d not had other evidence that there is someone amongst us with a very strange sense of humour. You are all staying here under the most trying circumstances, but I have done my best to make you as welcome as possible. But frankly, I don’t like this kind of thing happening in my house, and really Inigo, since you’re the only male member of the family present, I think it is up to you to put a stop to it.’
Inigo sat down and looked at her with a mixture of emotions. The others, aware of the tenseness that had crept into the atmosphere, did likewise, all except Dylis, who continued to lean against the mantelpiece, wondering what Theresa might be up to now. Mr Carpenter was the only one who took no interest in the proceedings. He blatantly snored. Inigo said at last:
‘But my dear girl, what can I do? You don’t expect me to tail everyone about the house in the hope of catching them making an apple-pie bed, or something indicative of a perverse sense of humour?’
‘You’re a man, aren’t you?’ Theresa asked, eyeing him with unusual coldness. ‘Surely you don’t have to be tinkering about with cars all the time?’
‘I’m a man all right,’ he said. ‘And as such I use a little logic. The quickest way to clear up this situation is to get one or all of the cars in working order.’
‘After which, I suppose, you will find some other excuse for playing about in the garage. With your uncle lying dead upstairs, I should have thought your first concern would be to find out who is making free of the house and grounds in so extraordinary a fashion.’
What exactly was she getting at, Dylis wondered. Her own surprise was reflected in the faces of the other interested occupants of the room. This attack upon Inigo was so out of place, particularly in view of his recent concern for her. If she were trying deliberately to antagonise him, she was doing very well indeed. There was an angry bitterness beneath the restraint of his voice when he said:
‘Do you think I’ve forgotten that he’s dead? If there were anything I could do to bring him back, do you think I’d overlook it? But I don’t see that it will help for me to go running round the house chasing shadows. I’m doing something practical. We’ve got to get the doctor here, and I want to find out about that poor fellow Ledgrove. As for the other things that have been happening, I agree, they’re odd. We’ll hold an enquiry on them, if you like, but I don’t think it will do any good. Have you told Theresa about your samples disappearing, Dylis?’’
‘Yes. As a matter of fact, I’ve told her everything.’
‘And I do think,’ Theresa said, ‘that you might have taken me into your confidence before, Inigo. After all, this is my house, and …’
‘You’ve a right to know what’s going on,’ Dylis finished for her. ‘While we’re all overstepping the bounds of etiquette, Theresa, I suppose you’re sure this is your house. There’s a will in your favour?’
Theresa sat up very straight, and her tone was contemptuous, as she answered:
‘There is a will, and naturally my husband’s property passes to me. That will all be settled legally in due course. But I did not ask for a debate on my personal affairs. I was merely saying …’
‘I think,’ Mr Raddle interrupted, in his soft voice, ‘if you’ll excuse me, I had better return to Mr Howe. He will be wondering where I am.’
‘Ah …’ Theresa turned her hostile gaze upon him, where he sat uncomfortably on the edge of a high-backed chair. ‘And how is Mr Howe? We have not had the pleasure of his company lately.’
Dylis, feeling that her own nerves were none too steady, was seized with a strong desire to burst out laughing, and to sing, ‘Oh, how are you, Mr Howe, how’s your mother, Mr Howe?’ She could see no sense in Theresa’s behaviour. Having started an argument about cars and people hiding in the dining-room, why drag in Mr Howe? With the best will in the world, Dylis could not imagine him doing anything of the kind. The secretary was looking acutely ill at ease.
‘He is very well, Madam, very well. I’m sure he would have been most concerned had he known it was you who were screaming. I’m sure he will be concerned …’
‘Why didn’t he come himself then, when he heard me scream?’
Mr Raddle rose, and if he did not actually stand to attention, he gave the impression of doing so.
‘Mr Howe,’ he said, ‘is engaged upon a work of vital importance, work of a creative nature which he cannot, at the moment, disturb. Were it otherwise, he would have left your house this morning, Madam, as he had no wish further to inconvenience you.’
‘And how long is this work likely to take?’
‘He has dictated to me in the past twenty-four hours some ten thousand words, and should be ready to leave the day after tomorrow.’
‘Really?’ She looked at him with undisguised irony. ‘It’s nice of him to let me know. But there’s a limit to my kindness. I hope you’ll tell him that.’
‘I shall, Madam, never fear.’ And Mr Raddle bowed himself out of the room, as if leaving the presence of royalty. Dylis had been watching the two of them with a curious sensation of disbelief. At last Theresa had abandoned her role of amiable hostess, and as her more natural self Dylis found her almost likeable. Almost, had it not been for that unjustified attack upon Inigo. But there was more to come. Theresa leaped to her feet and began to pace about the room, her hands clutching nervously at the edges of her coat as it swung out from her slender shoulders.
‘My guests!’ she exclaimed, with unsuppressed bitterness. ‘I was glad to take you in, all of you, because you were stranded and had nowhere else to go. My hands were full, but I did not mind a little extra work and worry. And what do I find? Disgraceful behaviour. People sneaking in and out of each other’s rooms, playing practical jokes of a most malicious kind. You all stare at me so innocently. None of you had anything to do with it, of course. And you, Inigo, whom I thought I could trust. You allowed yourself to be a party to a conspiracy …’
‘That’ll do, Theresa,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘We’ve heard quite enough. I’m sure we’re all agreed that we shall be glad to leave your house as soon as possible. But you’re only hindering us, carrying on like this. Are you coming, Charlie?’
‘You bet,’ Best said, rising also. He had been following Theresa’s speech with astonishment and regret. He paused, as she took a step towards them and said:
‘No, wait. I’ve something else to say to you.’
They hesitated, but what she would have said they never knew. For at that moment there came the sound of the french windows opening and shutting, heavy footsteps through the dining-room, and Bob Snell appeared in the doorway. He carried an electric torch in one hand, and his face, begrimed with dirt and oil, was very grave.
‘Sorry to bust in,’ he said, ‘but I got somethin’ to say and it won’t keep.’
‘Well, say it,’ Inigo invited irritably. ‘What’s
stopping you?’
Bob Snell looked across the room at Theresa, and Dylis was interested to see that she returned his gaze with something akin to fear in her eyes.
‘I got to talk to the lady,’ he said. ‘I knows what I knows, but I ain’t sayin’ anythin’ except to ’er. In private.’
But at that there was a general protest. Inigo said, ‘If you’ve got anything important to say we’d all better hear it. Mrs Brown has seen fit to accuse us, in a vague kind of way, of making free of her house and grounds. If it’s anything to do with this car business …’
‘Nicely put,’ Best said.
‘The cars haven’t been messed up again, I hope, Mr Snell?’ Dylis put in. It had just occurred to her that Inigo and Charlie had left their treasure unguarded. And where were Vauxhall and Ridley? And where, as an afterthought, was Mr Ashley? A moment ago, he had been leaning with his elbows on the back of an armchair, listening to Theresa’s tirade. Now he had disappeared, although she had not seen him go out of the room. He must have left very quietly, while their attention was fixed upon Bob Snell. No one else appeared to have missed him.
Theresa said, with a quick return to her best behaviour,
‘Of course, Mr Snell, if you’ve something important to say to me …’
She stepped across the room, and in so doing knocked against Mr Carpenter’s chair. He sat up, passing a hand over his face, and muttered:
‘Now what the devil is it? Can’t sleep for five minutes in this perishing house.’
Bob Snell had retreated into the dining-room, lit solely by the hurricane lamp which Inigo had left upon the table. Theresa, at the communicating door, was forced to pause, since Inigo stood in her way. She said:
‘If you’re going to behave like a thwarted schoolboy, my dear, I shall have to call the servants.’
But she had no need to do so. As if taking their cue from an unseen callboy, Vauxhall and Ridley came at lightning speed through the french windows, much as Inigo and Charlie had done earlier. They were breathless and almost inarticulate, but Vauxhall managed to say:
‘It’s Jackson! He’s gone off with the van.’
‘Since when?’ Bob Snell asked, his expression struggling between incredulity and consternation.
‘Since you left it. We heard him start her up, and thought he was just trying her out, until we saw him heading for the drive.’
‘’E must be barmy!’ was Bob Snell’s verdict, as he made a dash for the open spaces again. ‘But ’e won’t get far. Stuck in the drive already, most likely.’
He was through the french windows in an instant, with Vauxhall and Ridley following. Precisely what they intended to do was not apparent, should Jackson fail to fulfil Snell’s prediction, but their will to action was infectious. Without exchanging a word, the group gathered in the drawing-room went hurriedly after them, Theresa struggling into her coat, Inigo snatching up his hurricane lamp in passing, Charlie looking alert and interested, and finally Mr Carpenter, flushed of face and knocking into furniture as he moved, muttering, ‘To hell with the lot of them!’
Only Dylis remained, because she had no coat, and saw no reason why she should subject herself to the unpleasantness of a cold. But curiosity prevailed, and with a regretful glance at the brightly burning fire, she ran upstairs to fetch her coat from the wardrobe in her room. If the disappearance of a van were of sufficient importance to arouse Mr Carpenter from his lethargy, she could not just sit back in the role of amused spectator. And she had the feeling that she might need a coat from now onward, if people were going to rush in and out of the french windows for the rest of the evening.
Returning quietly along the first floor corridor, she paused at the head of the stairs and drew back into the shadows. Someone was ascending, slowly, a trifle faltering, as if weighed down by a cumbersome burden. Against the dim light filtering from the passage below, the figure of a man came into her line of vision, bent almost double, carrying over one shoulder the limp body of another man. The face was hidden from her, but Dylis caught a glimpse of tousled grey hair, a dark overcoat, heavy boots wet with snow, and the man who carried him was Ashley.
A few seconds more and they had merged into the darkness shrouding the upper staircase, and only the light of the torch which Ashley had switched on showed her their progress. A strange choking sensation assailed her throat, and she stood with her back pressed against the cold wall, straining her eyes, seeing the small point of light turn off in the direction of Ashley’s room, hearing him mutter something as he moved away from her.
Without giving herself time for reflection, she followed, hardly breathing, fumbling her way along the wall, pausing when Ashley paused, going on with a sickening sense of mounting nightmare. At a safe distance from Ashley’s room she stood and waited while he unlocked the door and stumbled inside. The door closed softly.
Chapter XV
The party that eventually returned to the drawing-room was cold, dishevelled and frankly argumentative. The van driven away so unceremoniously by Jackson had not broken down in the drive. They had, in fact, reached the end of that slippery surface in time to see its rearlight disappearing along the way that led past Wintry Wold, to join eventually the road to Cudge. And though the roads must still be in a highly dangerous state despite the evidence of a slight thaw in the atmosphere, the point did not appear to be worrying Jackson.
But it was worrying Bob Snell, to judge by the vitriolic language in which he cursed his renegade mate, as they grouped once again about the fire in the drawing-room. Inigo said, slapping his cold hands together:
‘I don’t see how he can get very far, with those brakes. You said yourself they were in bad shape. The best thing we can do is to get out my car, and I’ll give you a lift until we catch up with him. Then I can go on to Cudge, and that’ll be killing two birds with one stone.’
He had made the suggestion before, on the way back to the house, but no one was very enthusiastic about it, except Charlie Best, who had offered to go along, too. As far as Mr Carpenter was concerned, the incident was closed, for he had already poured himself a drink and retreated to the comfort of his chair. Theresa said, trying somewhat hopelessly to restore her hair to its usual tidiness:
‘I think you’d better stay here, Inigo, while I drive to Cudge. The car is working, Vauxhall?’
That versatile man admitted grudgingly that it was, but added that since he now knew the inside of it better than his own, it would be more practical for him to take the wheel, with Ridley for company, and as a possible helpmeet. Ridley, who was wandering about the room, smoking a cigarette and looking singularly ill at ease, nodded several times but said nothing. Theresa frowned.
‘When I want suggestions from you,’ she said, with all her old dignity, ‘I’ll ask for them. I shall drive alone.’
‘This ain’t gettin’ us anywhere,’ Snell said. ‘If you’re drivin’, lady, p’raps you wouldn’t mind …’
‘Don’t be so damned silly, Theresa,’ Inigo interrupted. ‘You’ll only make a mess of it.’ He moved to the door. ‘I’m getting the car out, and anyone who likes to come along will be welcome.’
‘That’ll be me,’ Best said, rising from the arm of the chair where Mr Carpenter reposed in happy oblivion. ‘But we’d better put a jerk in it, if we’re going to catch up with that van, brakes or no brakes.’
Bob Snell hesitated, caught, as it were, between opposing camps, and Theresa said, drawing on her gloves, ‘You all do what you please, but I’m driving my own car.’
‘Where’s Dylis?’ Inigo asked, realising with sudden alarm that he had not seen her for some time.
Theresa laughed, and remarked, ‘Poking her nose into someone else’s business, I daresay, in her usual delightful manner.’
‘And what about Ashley?’ Best put in, with an enquiring glance round for the other missing guest. ‘He was with us when we went down the drive, wasn’t he? I thought he came with us.’
‘So did I.’ With the assurance of a gen
eral issuing commands, Theresa turned to her servants. ‘Vauxhall, go and get the car started, and take Ridley with you, and look out for anyone you may see around.’ She put peculiar emphasis upon the last words and added, ‘Where are you going, Inigo?’
Halfway to the door leading on to the passage, he paused. ‘To look for Dylis. I expect she’s in her room. Charlie, d’you mind fetching out the car? I’ll be with you in a minute.’
‘Surely,’ Best said. ‘If this is going to be a neck-and-neck race, I’d like to be in at the start.’
He followed in the wake of Vauxhall and Ridley. Inigo went out the other way, observing, as he did so, that Theresa, despite her bravado, seemed to be in no particular hurry. He grinned a little as he raced up the stairs. She was a complex character. He wondered if she would take Snell with her, or whether she would really start at all. If she changed her mind, he and Charlie could take Snell with them. But he must find Dylis first. Quickly he made his way along to her room.
But a rapid inspection of it only added to his anxiety. Her coat, he observed, was missing, and it was possible she had gone out into the grounds to look for him. He called her name as he retraced his footsteps, and paused at the head of the stairs, still holding firmly to his lamp. He was about to descend, when he heard her soft answering call, and a moment later she came running lightly along the corridor, to catch him by the arm, her expression distressed and urgent.
‘Dylis!’ he exclaimed, seizing her in turn. ‘What have you been up to? I was worried.’
‘Prepare to worry some more,’ she said. ‘It’s becoming my normal state of mind. We’ve got to do something quickly, but I’m not sure what. I’m convinced now your uncle was murdered.’
‘But why …?’
‘Don’t shout, and don’t ask me if I’m sure I’m all right. Quickly, this way.’ She was dragging him along towards Ashley’s room. ‘It’s Ledgrove. He’s turned up. He was unconscious, but he’s just coming round.’ She paused outside Ashley’s door. ‘I saw Ashley carry him up just after you all went out. He didn’t see me, so I waited till he’d gone again, and then I forced the door, because he’d locked it. I always did have my suspicions of that man.’
Another Little Christmas Murder Page 18