by Robert Warr
‘I came across him being pushed around in a bath chair and politely asked him for a moment of his time in private. With some reluctance he agreed to give me five minutes so I quickly sketched my doubts about the Gordon and Prudence and the reasons for my actions. Finally I handed over three pieces of paper; the bill of lading for the Gordon and Prudence, the same document for the Ranee of Bengal and finally the article from the Telegraph.
‘My father read these documents and then reached out and clasped my arm. I will not repeat what we said to each other but it suffices to say that all the bad feelings of recent weeks were quickly laid to rest.
‘We were still talking when Mr MacDonald, the family solicitor, came bustling up; a belligerent set to his features reminiscent of an outraged grouse. It was obvious that he intended to rescue my father from my attentions. His expression changed as he neared and saw my father’s smile.
‘My father summarised my story for Mr MacDonald and showed him those proofs that I had presented. The solicitor was not willing to take anything at face value and asked a few searching questions that would have exposed any falsehood on my part. At last he nodded and offered me his hand. I cannot describe the relief I felt when those two decent men accepted my account.
‘There were a few more minutes of conversation during which my father arranged that Mr MacDonald would come and see him on the sixteenth to reinstate his original will. I was invited to dinner the following evening when my father promised that he would tell the family about my reinstatement. He was definitely of the opinion that my brother-in-law had been deceived by Arrat and was looking forward to working with the two of us to even the account.
‘I returned to London and spent most of the morning planning the future of the business. I just could not wait to take up my job again and this time I would be able to use the agents I wanted. In the early afternoon I went to Fortnum’s and purchased a large box of Turkish delight, which was my father’s favourite sweetmeat.
‘I reached the Hall about an hour before dinner and walked into a very tense atmosphere. I had expected that there would be some stiffness as my sister is a proud woman who would find it very hard to apologise, but, for my father’s sake, I was prepared to let the past lie and endeavoured to act as if the previous few months had not happened.
‘The meal was difficult as my sister and her husband seemed to resent my presence and left the table at their earliest opportunity. My father and I retired to the library where we played several games of chess. It was a wonderful evening and by the time I left to return to London I had forged a new and stronger relationship with my father based more on friendship and a mutual respect than previously.
‘I walked back to the station in a good mood and having some time in hand dropped into the Red Lion for a pint or two. It seemed to me that there was definitely something to celebrate. I stayed at the inn for slightly longer than I intended and only just managed to catch a later train.
‘You can imagine my consternation when I received a telegram informing me that my father had been poisoned. I sat in a state of shock for several hours before realising that I was one of the last people to see my father and that the police would need to ask me some questions.
‘I had just sent my man out with a cable asking Mr Macdonald to arrange for me to see the investigating officer when a large, loud, officious and generally obnoxious individual came barrelling into my study accompanied by two uniformed constables. I had only time enough to confirm my name before I was clapped into handcuffs and literally thrown into a police van.
‘After several hours in a cell the same charming gentleman came to see me and informed me that I was under arrest for the wilful murder of my father. I protested my innocence and he slapped me hard over the face. The suddenness of this assault silenced me and I was dumbstruck when he lent towards me and said in a chilling whisper, “I know you are guilty, it is self evident that you killed your father. You cosseted, work shy aristocrats think you are so much better than the likes of us normal folk and it will give me pleasure to see you hanged, and hang you will.”
‘It was an absolute nightmare; no words of mine would persuade him that I was innocent. There was no evidence that I could produce that he could not twist into another proof of my guilt. Inspector Bowman never questioned me about the events of that terrible day: he would just tell me his version of events and try to force me into signing a confession.’
Sebastian paused for several minutes and then said quietly, in a voice ragged with suppressed emotion, ‘Inspector, please find out who murdered my father.’
There was something terribly noble about the Honourable Lloyd Carney and I could not believe that he was a self-serving patricide. I looked at my master and Sergeant Allen and could see that they had both reached the same conclusion.
‘Thank you, Mr Lloyd-Carney, ‘my master said gently. ‘I will be investigating the case properly and will talk to you again soon. In the meantime if your solicitor wants to apply for you to be released on bail I will raise no objections.’
Sergeant Allen summoned a constable who escorted the Honourable Lloyd-Carney from the room. For a few minutes your uncle and the Sergeant sat quietly summarising their observations of the interview into their pocket books. It was a basic rule of my master’s that all the police officers involved in a case recorded their observations before discussing anything with their colleagues.
‘Sergeant, I would be obliged if you would contact Mr Macdonald and ask him if he could meet me at the Red Lion. I would suggest that six o’clock would be convenient,’ my master capped his pen and replaced it in his pocket. ‘While you are doing that I think I should warn the boss that the press are going to have a good time at our expense when this case finally comes to court.’
We travelled down to Lower Monksford in the afternoon pausing at Basingstoke to make the acquaintance of the local county officer, an Inspector Thorpe, who had first investigated the case. He was not able to help us because Bowman had unceremoniously dismissed the local officers as soon as he had arrived. It is this type of cavalier action by some of the Metropolitan police that leads to the resentment that I have observed during some of my master’s cases.
Mr MacDonald arrived at the Red Lion a few minutes early for our meeting. He was an elderly and faintly fussy man who looked like a rather absentminded vicar with an air of befuddled abstraction. A few minutes conversation, however, revealed him to be a very astute man who knew a superior Spaniel when he saw one.
Your uncle asked Mr Macdonald to describe the changing relationship between Lord Reventhorpe and the Honourable Sebastian. The solicitor described the two of them as having a very good friendship that was deepening into a mutual respect when, suddenly evidence of Sebastian’s duplicity had come to light causing a frost to come between the two men. When the son had later defied his father and had removed cargo from the Gordon and Prudence, Mr Macdonald had been quite shocked and was not in the least surprised that Lord Reventhorpe had disowned Sebastian.
After the meeting at the racecourse Lord Reventhorpe’s demeanour changed totally. It was as if a curtain had been opened letting sunshine pour into a darkened room. In a few minutes he went from being a hopeless invalid to a man bursting with energy and full of plans. According to Mr MacDonald he had left Lord Reventhorpe, at the racecourse, laughing and joking with two other local land owners.
By the time Mr Macdonald left us I was certain that his rather unworldly appearance was a pose and behind the friendly face there was a very sharp legal mind. He was definitely not the man you wanted to cross-examine you in court, a veritable danger to the ungodly.
The next morning we borrowed the Landlord’s trap and made our way to Hevershap Hall. It was a glorious winter morning with the low sun shining off the overnight frost. The ditches by the side of the road had a thin coating of ice and the hooves of the horse made a sharp sound on the frozen track.
We turned into the drive and saw the Hall for the first time. It is quite
a modern house that manages to be both smaller and more pretentious than Arlesford. It had obviously been built to impress by someone who had more money than breeding. I wondered if the family had made all their money through trade and whether the first Lord Reventhorpe had made an astute political donation.
The cart stopped in front of the house and we alighted. No servants appeared to ask after our business and more importantly no grooms came to take charge of the trap.
‘It looks like it’s going to be one of those visits, Sir,’ Sergeant Allen remarked as he took hold of the horse’s bridle. ‘They must have seen us coming with that long drive and the depth of this gravel makes it certain that they heard us and all.’
‘I quite agree,’ my master said in a resigned voice. ‘As I sent a note from the inn last night informing Sir William of my intention to call this morning I think we can conclude that the residents are not feeling co-operative.’
With that my master strolled casually up the steps to the front door and rang the bell. As I bounded after him I could hear the bell ringing and expected a rapid response. To my surprise the door remained firmly closed. Your uncle grabbed the bell pull and tugged it more violently setting the bell to ringing loudly.
The sound of the bell died away and we could hear footsteps approaching in the hall. After a moment the door opened part way and a man stood glaring at us. He was a tall well proportioned fellow with a natural arrogance. He looked us up and down slowly before allowing his face to assume a very haughty sneer. His expression was ruined by the fact that his nose had been badly broken at some time and now pointed noticeably to one side.
‘Are you the police officers?’ he inquired in a slow and pompous voice. ‘My master informs me that he is too busy to see you as he has already wasted enough time with the other detective. If you go round to the tradesman’s entrance I will attempt to answer any questions you might have.’
This paragon of hospitality was starting to close the door when my master took a half pace forward and leaning on the door put his face close to the butler’s.
‘Go and tell Sir William that Major Thompson, from Scotland Yard, is here to see him,’ my master spoke in a deceptively quiet tone. ‘Unless he changes his mind I will be forced to make him come to the station, even if I have to arrest him to enforce his attendance.’
There is something about your uncle that makes people understand that he is not joking. The butler took the card that my master had proffered, asked us to wait and disappeared into the house.
While we were waiting for his return Sergeant Allen calmly tied the pony’s reins to part of an ornamental balustrade and strode up the stairs to join us by the door. My master started telling the sergeant how he wanted to handle this part of the investigation and I turned my attention to the park. The first order of priority, for a Springer, when assessing new country is to spot any opportunities for a good muddy swim. I knew that I was unlikely to get the chance but a dog can dream. There is a lake at Hevershap that consists of two main sections linked by a narrow arm of water over which the drive passes on an ornate stone bridge. A very well developed shrubbery leads almost down to the water after following the far edge of the drive for about fifty yards. I was working out if I could approach the lake through the shrubbery without warning any ducks when the butler returned.
The butler’s gasp of refined outrage when he spotted how Sergeant Allen had secured the pony woke me from my reveries and I listened with some amusement as the over mighty servant struggled to pass on his master’s message with even a modicum of insincere politeness.
‘My master will see you now Inspector’ the butler grimaced. ‘He was unaware that I was referring to your good self when he was told that the police were going to call. Please come this way.’
We were ushered into a nicely appointed study, which seemed to be at odds with the man who rose from a chair to greet us. The room reflected an educated good taste, while the man was obviously a follower of the more outrageously flamboyant fashions.
‘Sir William,’ my master offered the man his hand. ‘I am so dreadfully sorry for this interruption but I have been asked to take over the case following the unexpected departure of Inspector Bowman. Unfortunately, with the evidence that has been handed to me, I do not think that we can guarantee a conviction. I would like, therefore, to re-interview some of your household.’
‘So you think the lad’s guilty?’ Sir William tried to sound grave but there was a faint undercurrent in his voice that hinted of satisfaction.
‘Inspector Bowman’s report leads to that inescapable conclusion,’ my master answered slightly mendaciously.
I watched Sir William’s face relax slightly as his smile became genuine and I silently applauded my master’s cleverness. Any other approach would have been met with a total lack of co-operation but this way my chief suspect might actually co-operate in his own downfall.
‘I understand that you are very busy, Sir William, and I do not want to disturb you unnecessarily.’ My master paused as if in thought before continuing, ‘if you would instruct your butler to show me the relevant rooms in the house and introduce me to any of the staff that I need to talk to I think that you can be left to your work.’
‘Thank you, Inspector. I do appreciate your courtesy in this matter,’ Sir William crossed to the bell rope as he spoke and gave it a quick tug. ‘You will come and see me before you leave, I trust.’
The butler entered the room and listened to his master’s instructions. I could tell that he was slightly surprised by Sir William’s change of heart, but took his new orders in good heart. Courteously, he opened the door and ushered us into the hall.
‘Sorry about the earlier misunderstanding Inspector,’ the butler said in a slightly ingratiating fashion. ‘My name is Groom and I’ve been the butler here for nearly eleven years. Now, how may I be of service?’
‘I would appreciate it if you could show me the library, the drawing room and the dining room. After that I want to ask you, and perhaps some of the other servants, to clarify parts of your earlier statements.’ Your uncle was once more brisk and professional in his attitude.
‘Certainly sir, if you would care to follow me.’
The butler crossed the hall and opened one leaf of a pair of double doors revealing a comfortable library. The room was quite large with a big table and a map chest close to bay windows. By the fire two comfortable leather armchairs were arranged on either side of a small table the top of which had an inlaid mother of pearl and ebony chess board. A small cabinet stood to the right of the doors and the rest of the walls were lined with floor to ceiling book cases containing a wide selection of volumes.
I settled down to watch my master at work when a small hiss attracted my attention. Turning my head I caught sight of a female tabby standing in the hall. She turned and using her tail to beckon disappeared from view. I quietly got to my feet and followed her, moving carefully so that none of the humans noticed my departure. She was waiting for me in a corner of the hall where a large piece of furniture made a secluded corner.
‘What can I do for you?’ I asked her politely, noting as I did that she was well fed and had sleek fur.
‘Am I right in thinking that your master is the great Inspector Thompson and that you are Snuffles?’
‘Yes,’ I replied modestly. ‘Who do I have the honour of addressing?’
‘Bee, I was Lord Reventhorpe’s cat, and I believe that you are investigating his murder?’ She paused and waited until I nodded. ‘I don’t need to tell you that Sebastian did not kill his father. He is a good kind man.’
I reassured her as to that point and asked her if she had anything to add to my knowledge of the events.
‘The accursed daughter killed him with a poisoned nut. After Sebastian left she followed the butler into the library and talked with her father for a while. While she was sitting opposite him she cracked a nut and gave him half the kernel, within seconds he had died and she slipped out of the librar
y, pausing only to throw away the remains of the nut.’ The cat lashed her tail and continued in an agonised meow, ‘She murdered my human and then her nut killed my Squeak.’
I waited patiently for a few moments while she collected herself. It was hard to be still when I realised that I might be on the track of some physical evidence but I could tell that she was in a very distressed state.
‘Your Squeak?’ I asked gently when she was calmer.
‘He was only a mouse, but he was mine,’ her voice broke into a soft meow so I nuzzled her gently. ‘I found his mother in the kitchen and killed her only to realise that she had been moving one of her young. I looked at the small creature and just couldn’t harm it and before I knew it I was raising it as my own.’
Once more I waited for her to compose herself.
‘You want the villain to be punished for Squeak’s death as well as your human’s?’ I asked her gently and was answered by a small affirmative movement of her ears, ‘Show me where this nut is and I will make sure that it comes to my master’s attention.’
We waited until the humans moved into the drawing room and then I followed Bee back to the library. Having witnessed the little cat’s obvious grief I wondered whether or not I could arrange matters so that the daughter paid for Squeak while her husband settled Lord Reventhorpe’s account. I could not see any way of achieving this outcome so I resolved to speak to Fielding who is much better at that sort of thing; I resolved, however, that someone was going to get bitten.
I nudged the left hand leaf open and instantly Bee ran to the small cabinet beside the door and with a small heart-broken cry pointed behind it with her paw.
The position of the cabinet beside the door allowed me to look behind it with relative ease. As I approached I noticed a large number of cat hairs on the carpet and a rub mark on the wall and deduced that Bee had spent some time vainly trying to reach her mouse. Behind the cabinet I could easily see half a walnut and several pieces of shell. Lying on top of the nut was a mouse, its body contorted with the effects of the poison. Agonisingly it must have been just outside Bee’s furthest reach.