‘Certain—things?’ she echoed.
‘When you arrived that morning and learned that Doctor Hardene was dead you were badly frightened. Why?’
‘I—I was shocked,’ she said. ‘The news was so terrible. After all, he’d seemed quite all right the night before.’
‘It was quite natural for you to have been shocked, but what I said,’ Mordecai Tremaine observed gently, ‘was that you were frightened. What was the reason for that?’
The girl’s face had gone a little white but she faced him with steady eyes.
‘I thought that he might have met Rex and that they might have quarrelled—as they’d done a short time before. I knew that Rex was still angry and I thought they might have come to blows. When I heard just how Doctor Hardene had been killed, of course, I knew that it couldn’t possibly have been Rex. But just at first, before I knew the whole story, I was terribly afraid.’
Tremaine nodded in satisfaction.
‘That was the way I summed up the situation, but I wanted to have it from your lips as well, just to be quite certain. No doubt,’ he added, ‘it was also your anxiety for Mr. Linton that made you go through the documents Chief Inspector Boyce left on Doctor Hardene’s desk.’
She was startled.
‘You—know that?’
‘Oh yes. The Chief Inspector knows it, too. I’m afraid that the truth is that he set a little trap for you. He isn’t really as careless as all that. He wanted to find out whether you had anything to hide, and you must admit that you gave him reason to think you had.’
‘But he doesn’t suspect me?’ she said, a catch in her voice. ‘Not now?’
‘Naturally, I’m not in a position to say what the Chief Inspector is thinking,’ Tremaine said gravely. And then he smiled. ‘On the other hand I’ve known him a long time and I’m reasonably safe in saying that now that he’s aware of your—interest—in Mr. Linton he understands the reason for your rather strange behaviour.’
He glanced shrewdly from the girl to Linton, who had been listening with a taut expression on his face. He thought that the atmosphere was favourable for the next stage in the operation.
‘Suppose we just say that you took rather an uncharitable view of the police and tried to hide things from them when it might have been wiser to be quite frank about Mr. Linton and his relations with Doctor Hardene. That’s all over now, but it still leaves us with the murder to solve. Now, Miss Royman, what can you tell me about Mrs. Colver?’
‘What do you want me to tell you?’ she countered.
Tremaine smiled across the table at her.
‘I suppose it’s a fair question at this stage,’ he admitted. ‘Doctor Hardene and his housekeeper were supposed to be on good terms with each other. Would you say that was true?’
‘I can only speak for the times when I was at the house —and during the day I didn’t see a great deal of Mrs. Colver. She saw to the household duties and it was my job to attend to the patients and Doctor Hardene’s correspondence and so on. Although we were in the same house we didn’t have much contact.’
‘But you must have encountered her sometimes, and I daresay you would have heard Doctor Hardene speaking to her—or perhaps he might have referred to her when he was talking to you. What was your impression of the relationship between them?’
‘Well, they appeared to get on all right together.’
‘When you say they appeared to get on, do you mean that you had doubts about it?’
She was uncertain how to reply. She hesitated.
‘It wasn’t anything that was said,’ she went on at last. ‘It was just that sometimes there was an—an atmosphere. It was almost as though they really hated each other and were only keeping up a pretence of being on good terms. I used to think that I was imagining things because I never heard either of them speak sharply or saw any signs of a quarrel. It must have been imagination,’ she added. ‘If there had been any trouble, all that Doctor Hardene would have needed to do would have been to give her notice. I don’t suppose he would have found it all that difficult to get another housekeeper.’
Deliberately Tremaine ignored the point.
‘Did Doctor Hardene ever give you the feeling that he might be hiding something?’
The girl still hesitated; it was Linton who replied.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘There was something phoney about him. I can’t put my finger on just what it was but I’ll swear there was something. All that business about cleaning up local politics, for instance. It was just an act. He didn’t really care about setting things to rights; what he was after was his name in the newspapers. Then there was the way he’d interview any down-and-outs who went out to see him. I don’t believe he was genuinely anxious to give them a helping hand; he wasn’t the sort.’
‘What do you believe?’
‘He was looking for somebody,’ Linton said. ‘That was the way it struck me. I daresay it sounds pretty crazy, but it seemed to me that there was somebody he badly wanted to meet and he had the idea that that was how he might do it.’
‘You didn’t,’ Tremaine said, carefully, ‘take any action about it?’
‘As a matter of fact I did. When I saw what his game was with Margaret I decided that I’d do what I could to find out what was going on. I didn’t have any real lead, of course; it was just that I didn’t intend to take any chances where Margaret was concerned. I went down to the Seamen’s Mission—made a few enquiries there; all very much on the quiet. It did occur to me that he might be mixed up in some sort of dope smuggling—plenty of ships put in here from the West Indies, and as a doctor it would be right up his street. But I drew a blank. If anything of that kind was going on it was being kept well under cover.’
Linton broke off. His glance held Tremaine’s across the table.
‘Look here, was Hardene a shady customer? Off the record, I mean. I’m not asking you so that I can print it. I’d like to know just for my own peace of mind.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ Tremaine said, ‘if it doesn’t turn out that Doctor Graham Hardene was a very shady customer indeed.’
The reporter leaned back. There was a grim satisfaction in his face.
‘Thanks. It’s nice to know I wasn’t following the green-eyed monster up a blind alley.’
Tremaine looked enquiringly at the girl.
‘What about you, Miss Royman? Did you ever have any reason to suspect a skeleton in the doctor’s cupboard?’
She shook her head.
‘No, I can’t say I ever noticed anything.’
‘You’re quite sure? There was nothing at all? What about those arguments with Mr. Slade, for instance? He’s been quite frank with me, by the way—told me that sometimes he had quite high words with the doctor—so you needn’t be afraid of telling me what’s in your mind. I understand that some of the—er—disagreements—were connected with what Doctor Hardene was proposing to do about treating Mr. Slade’s disability, but I rather gather that some of them may have touched upon non-medical matters. Mr. Slade told me, for instance, that he didn’t like Doctor Hardene’s politics and I can well imagine that he wouldn’t mince his words!’
‘I do seem to remember one occasion,’ she said, frowning. ‘It’s not exactly to do with Doctor Hardene’s hiding anything but it was about his getting himself into trouble or at least getting himself disliked. I’d been out—Doctor Hardene had asked me to go to one of the local chemists for something he wanted, and when I got back Mr. Slade was in the surgery. It was an appointment I’d made several days before. He must have arrived just after I’d left.’
‘And the argument was in full swing?’
‘Yes. They were both talking so loudly that I couldn’t help overhearing them. Doctor Hardene said that it was nothing to worry about and that people couldn’t see the wood for the trees and then Mr. Slade said that he was a fool and that he’d be sorry if he went on with it.’
‘Did you overhear enough of what they were saying to gather any i
dea of what they were talking about?’
‘I didn’t exactly overhear it; Mr. Slade told me. A few moments after I’d got in the surgery door was opened and I heard Mr. Slade say that he’d get another doctor if Doctor Hardene didn’t change his mind because he wasn’t going to be made a laughing stock. Then he came out and when he saw me he said that Doctor Hardene was taking up politics and would I do something to stop it. He said that a doctor ought to stick to his profession and not go mixing with a lot of politicians and getting his name in the newspapers. I’m afraid he was rather—irate.’
‘I don’t doubt that he was!’ Tremaine said. ‘It sounds,’ he added, innocently, ‘as though he believed you had a certain amount of influence with Doctor Hardene.’
A flush came into Margaret Royman’s face.
‘Oh no,’ she said hastily. ‘It wasn’t that. It was just his way of talking.’
‘What about Doctor Hardene? What was his attitude?’
‘He seemed—amused. He told me not to take any notice of Mr. Slade because he was a privileged patient and that in any case he didn’t mean it.’
‘Well, it looks as though Doctor Hardene did go into politics and Mr. Slade didn’t change his doctor. They agreed to differ and that was the end of the matter, was it?’
‘I suppose it was. They did have arguments, but I don’t think Mr. Slade ever really was as fierce as he sounded. But he certainly did seem to believe that Doctor Hardene might run into trouble. You don’t think,’ she finished, looking at him seriously, ‘that Mr. Slade was right and that his going into politics did have something to do with his death?’
‘It mightn’t be such a long shot at that,’ Rex Linton put in. ‘And I’m thinking of Jerome Masters,’ he added pointedly.
‘I don’t think our different brands of politics in this country have reached the lethal stage,’ Tremaine remarked. ‘Not yet.’ He took out his pocket watch. ‘Dear me,’ he observed, ‘I’m afraid I’m dreadfully late. I’m supposed to be meeting the Chief Inspector. I really must ask you to excuse me.’ He rose to his feet, extricating himself from the table. ‘It’s been a very pleasant little talk—very pleasant indeed. I’m always delighted when I’m able to satisfy myself that two nice young people couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with a murder.’
He saw that Rex Linton was about to speak and he glanced at the girl.
‘By the way, Miss Royman, do you happen to know the Chief Constable by sight?’
‘Sir Robert Dennell?’ She shook her head, clearly surprised by the question. ‘No. At least, I don’t think so.’
‘Perhaps not,’ Tremaine said. ‘As far as I know he hasn’t been to Doctor Hardene’s house although he was at the house where the body was found. It isn’t important.’
He smiled benevolently and turned away, leaving behind him two puzzled faces.
It must be admitted that he suffered no qualms of conscience but felt indeed very pleased with himself as he walked up the long winding path leading out of the Canyon. He had found out what he had wanted to learn and he had given little away in return.
It was unlikely, of course, that Rex Linton was as satisfied with the results of their conversation. The reporter had probably been expecting a story he could flourish before his editor, and the story had not materialized.
Still, the newspapers could wait a little while longer. The important thing was to clear the ground in preparation for the grand climax.
And he was doing that. Tremaine nodded contentedly as he came out upon the main road. Yes, he was certainly doing that.
19
THE LADY HAS SOMETHING TO HIDE
JONATHAN BOYCE WAS already at Hardene’s house when Tremaine arrived.
‘The housekeeper’s here,’ the Yard man announced. ‘Haven’t tackled her yet, though. Been waiting for you, since it was your idea.’
‘Thank you, Jonathan.’
Boyce hesitated, his hand on the door handle of the surgery.
‘How’s the romance?’ he enquired, suspiciously casual.
‘It seems to be developing along the right lines,’ Tremaine returned carefully, and Boyce grinned.
‘No—difficulties? Such as one of the parties being arrested for murder, for instance?’
‘I don’t think so, Jonathan. And neither do you. Those two youngsters had nothing to do with the murder.’
‘Case of the young lady getting scared on the boy friend’s behalf, eh? Suppose it was natural in view of the general set-up. But you can’t be too careful. Got to make sure there aren’t any loose ends.’
Tremaine settled his pince-nez in position.
‘Has he been found yet?’
‘Fenn? No news so far. He’s gone to earth all right and his scent seems to be giving Parkin’s hounds some trouble. Well, let’s see what we can do with our end of the problem.’
A few moments later the housekeeper was seated facing them in the surgery, a look of foreboding on her face although she seemed otherwise self-possessed.
‘I had hoped, Mrs. Colver,’ Boyce began, ‘that it wouldn’t be necessary to ask you any further questions, but I’m afraid it has become my duty to send for you again.’
‘I don’t see why,’ she returned, sullenly. ‘I’ve told you all I can.’
‘The information in my possession,’ Boyce said, ‘doesn’t confirm that statement.’
She flushed and looked up at him angrily, but he held up his hand before she could speak.
‘Before you say anything, Mrs. Colver, I must point out to you that you are not compelled to answer my questions and that if you wish to obtain legal advice you are perfectly free to do so.’
The flush died away and her face became very pale. Her voice was unsteady.
‘You’re not—you’re not going to arrest me?’
‘That was not my purpose in calling you in here.’
‘But what you said—it sounded—it was a caution, wasn’t it? What the police always say before they arrest anyone.’
‘It wasn’t exactly a caution,’ Boyce said. ‘Not in that sense. But quite frankly I’m not altogether satisfied that you’ve told me everything and I considered it my duty to give you a warning before I questioned you.’
The treatment was having its effect. There was fear now in the housekeeper’s eyes. She did not know what to do with her hands and her fingers were picking nervously at her dress.
‘Among Doctor Hardene’s private papers,’ Boyce went on, ‘we discovered a number of newspaper cuttings. Do you happen to know anything about them?’
‘The doctor’s private papers weren’t any concern of mine.’
‘In the ordinary way, perhaps not. But these cuttings were of particular interest. They dealt with two murders that took place in Bridgton at the beginning of this year. One of the victims was a seaman called Marton and the other was a pawnbroker whose name was Wallins.’
‘Yes, I remember reading about them. There was a lot in the newspapers. The police never found out who did it.’
Despite her uneasiness there was a trace of sarcasm in her voice.
‘Yes, that’s right, Mrs. Colver,’ Boyce said calmly, ‘the police didn’t find out who committed either crime—not officially.’
He stressed the last word and was rewarded by a nervous twitch in her face that she could not control.
‘I don’t see what it has to do with me.’
‘Can you suggest any reason why Doctor Hardene should have wanted to keep those cuttings?’
There was a distinct hesitation in her manner before her answer came.
‘No, I don’t know of any reason. Except that he was a doctor and it might have had something to do with his work.’
‘That’s a possibility, of course. But I’ve been able to find nothing so far to support the theory that he might have been interested in murder from the medical or psychological point of view. In any case, why those two murders only and no others?’
‘I’ve told you,’ she persisted stubbor
nly. ‘I don’t know.’
Boyce nodded as though he was satisfied, and when he spoke again he seemed to be following an entirely different line of thought.
‘I understand,’ he remarked quietly, ‘that there is very little hope of your son being cured.’
She stared at him for an instant or two, nonplussed by his change of front.
‘There isn’t any hope at all,’ she said at last. ‘The doctors have told me.’
‘Keeping him in the sanatorium—even in these days—must be very expensive for you. I don’t doubt that there are all sorts of little luxuries you try to get for him.’
Her manner softened and the hard, defensive lines of her face became almost gentle.
‘I do what I can,’ she said. ‘After all, he’s all I have left.’
Boyce was regarding her steadily.
‘Mothers are notoriously ready to do a great deal for their sons. And the prospect of obtaining a regular income in addition to your housekeeper’s salary would naturally be a great temptation.’
It was clear now where he was leading her. She sat upright, the earlier sullen antagonism replacing the brief softening of her expression. She waited for the direct accusation, but Boyce, seeing that he had accomplished his purpose, once more switched his attack.
‘It’s my opinion, Mrs. Colver, that Doctor Hardene had something to hide. Did you ever see or hear anything that might confirm that?’
‘Something to hide?’ she echoed. She drew in her breath. At first Tremaine thought that the denial was going to come, and then she hesitated as though she had changed her mind. ‘I—I think there might have been something,’ she said slowly, picking her words. ‘He was strange at times—almost as if he was afraid. I didn’t pay much attention to it. After all, it didn’t seem likely that a man in Doctor Hardene’s position would need to be afraid of anything.’
‘Would it surprise you to learn,’ Boyce said, ‘that Doctor Hardene had very good reason to be afraid? That he had, in fact, a criminal record?’
She stared at him, her eyes wide and her expression one of blank innocence. It was a good performance, Tremaine thought, but rather overdone; it bore the marks of too careful a rehearsal.
In At The Death Page 19