Helen Passes By: A Bobby Owen Mystery

by E. R. Punshon

  “Well, I was going to ask you again,” Bobby said, “to allow me to post a man inside the house.”

  Lord Adour fairly bounced in his chair.

  “Most certainly not,” he began, and Bobby interrupted him.

  “I consider it advisable,” Bobby said earnestly. “I think there is real danger, a real necessity for protection.”

  “Why? In what way?”

  “I can’t give you any specific details,” Bobby said. “It is my general impression from my study of the case—”

  Now it was Lord Adour’s turn to interrupt.

  “No,” he said. “Nonsense. I know what’s in your mind. I quite understand. You’ve been listening to some of this absurd gossip that’s going on. I’ve consulted my solicitor and he is considering whether it is possible to take action for slander. He tells me you are protected by privilege. Others are not. We shall see. In the meantime, I have asked him to protest both to Commander Seers, as head of the police in this district, and direct to the Home Secretary. I will not have it. I have no intention of either committing suicide or of running away, and, if I had, your childish precautions wouldn’t stop me.”

  “But I assure you—” began Bobby, only once more to be interrupted by the indignant torrent of Lord Adour’s eloquence.

  “I tell you I won’t have it,” he repeated, thumping emphatically on the table at which he was sitting. “Everyone for miles round thinks it means I am practically under arrest. Have I got to remind you that this is private property and your men are trespassers? I have every right to order them off the premises and in the future I shall do so.”

  “I shall greatly regret it if you do,” Bobby said. “Of course, you will be within your rights if you see fit to exercise them. May I ask you to believe me when I assure you most earnestly that my only thought has been to give you protection? If any harm comes to you or any of your family—”

  “I prefer to take my own precautions,” said Lord Adour stiffly and disbelievingly. “I am quite capable of protecting both myself and my family against any of these imaginary dangers of yours.”

  “Very well,” Bobby said. For a moment he contemplated using a threat he had found efficacious in other such cases—that of placing police patrols on the roads surrounding Kindles. But Kindles and its grounds occupied a space that would require a very large force to watch it with any degree of efficiency, and such a force he could neither command himself nor reasonably ask Commander Seers to supply. It would probably have needed the whole, or nearly the whole, of the local police. Also Lord Adour’s attitude and his complaint to the Home Office did seem to Bobby to relieve him of responsibility. He could only hope that the danger he vaguely feared, though he could give no particulars to justify those fears, would not materialize. “Very good,” he said. “I must of course respect your wishes. I shall continue, however, to ask Commander Seers to see there is always a constable on duty near at hand, should he be needed.”

  “Most unnecessary,” declared Lord Adour, only half pacified. “I shall make a point of telling Seers so,” and he spoke with such emphasis that Bobby found himself wondering, and not for the first time, whether there was anything at Kindles, any secret comings and goings, for instance, that Lord Adour preferred should not come under the notice of the authorities. Lord Adour went on: “There’s another matter I wished to mention. A man named Haile called here yesterday. I didn’t see him. Do you know anything about it—or him?”

  “He came to see me this morning,” Bobby said. “He told me he had tried to see you. As you refused, he came to me instead.”

  “What for?”

  “Well, I’m afraid,” Bobby answered, “I must regard that at the present stage of the inquiry as being confidential. I hope you won’t mind my saying that so far I have not received much cooperation.”

  Lord Adour received this remark with a fresh and even more formidable scowl.

  “The fellow seems to have been asking a lot of questions about me,” he said. “About us. Can’t you stop him?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Bobby said, and added, with a touch of malice: “If people know their rights and insist on the strict letter, we are very badly handicapped. Of course, if you can prove slander, you can always sue for damages.”

  “He is a tool,” declared Lord Adour. “He is being used to carry out a political intrigue.”

  “That’s entirely outside my province,” Bobby answered quickly. “I’ve nothing to do with politics. I’m here to find out who is guilty of the murder of Itter Bain. I’m hoping to be able to make an arrest soon.” He paused, but Lord Adour only looked at him blankly, and seemed quite unmoved, uninterested—too much so, in fact, Bobby thought. He went on: “I’ve got a lot of information together one way and another. Some of it very disturbing, some of it even alarming.” He paused again, but Lord Adour still showed no sign of interest. “I have,” he continued, “been trying to get an opportunity to ask Miss Adour a few questions on points on which I thought she might know something, matters of no very great importance perhaps, but that might help. I have not been able to see her. I have come to the conclusion that she is deliberately avoiding me. Why?”

  “Helen doesn’t know anything that could possibly help you,” Lord Adour asserted with emphasis. “Absurd to suppose so. She is most highly strung, very nervous. She has learnt to dread the intrusion of strangers who merely want an excuse to stare. Most annoying and embarrassing. We have even been subject to the insolence of people actually coming in person and trying to insist on persuading her to become what is, I believe, called a ‘film star’ or some such expression. Most distasteful. I have had to show such people the door. My daughter is not prepared to make herself a common show.”

  “If I may say so,” Bobby said, “that is a position everyone must respect. But I think it is hardly relevant. I need not remind you that murder is a serious matter and that this is a murder investigation. No private feelings can be allowed to interfere with it.”

  “If,” Lord Adour said grudgingly, “there is anything it is really necessary for you to ask Miss Adour, tell me what it is and I will let you know what she says.”

  “I am afraid that would hardly do,” Bobby explained. “I do wish I could have a little more co-operation.” He paused, but this produced no response. He continued: “Miss Adour was on the spot at or about the time of the murder. I understand Mr. Winstanley of the River Farm was with her. I have questioned him and he says he heard no shot, saw no gun, nothing in any way unusual. I must be sure that is equally true of Miss Adour. It is possible she may be able to remember some detail that it might be very useful for me to know. Did she know about the kingfisher you saw? Did you tell her about it?”

  “No, no,” Lord Adour said quickly. “That was Jane.”

  CHAPTER XVII

  LORD ADOUR’S STORY

  Bobby, though he hoped he did not show it, was considerably startled and disturbed by this sudden introduction of Jane’s name. He remembered very clearly the explicit statement in Commander Seers’s report that no one other than Martin Winstanley and Helen on their way back together to Kindles and Lord Adour himself, was known to have been in Coldstone Spinney on the afternoon of the murder. But now it seemed that Jane, too, had been in the vicinity. Either Seers had not probed deeply enough or the fact of Jane’s presence had been deliberately concealed from him, or else, as was certainly quite possible, Seers had not thought it worth mentioning. With his background of social prejudice, it might well have seemed to him so inconceivable that a young lady of impeccable birth and education could be in any way concerned in crime that he had simply never considered her at all in that connection. Bobby was not so sure. There were strong depths of character in Jane, he was well assured, and he remembered with some unease the almost mystical fervour with which Jane had spoken of Helen’s beauty, as in some way a general possession of all womanhood, a kind of ideal and type it was equally a general duty to defend and to protect.

  “Is Miss Jane i
n any way friendly with Mr. Prescott Bain?” he asked abruptly, and awaited the reply with anxiety; for if she were, or ever had been, then he supposed the whole foundation on which he was trying to build up his case might be destroyed.

  When the answer came—after a momentary pause and stare of blank astonishment—it came as a relief.

  “Why, no, not that I know of,” Lord Adour said. “She has only met him very occasionally. Why? Really a most extraordinary question.”

  “I’m sorry,” Bobby said. “I assure you I never ask questions without reasons, though they may sometimes be very bad reasons.”

  “Well, you must ask Miss Felgate herself if you want details of all her friends and acquaintances,” Lord Adour told him stiffly. “If there is nothing else—”

  “Oh, I’m afraid quite a lot,” Bobby interposed. “Can you tell me exactly what happened when you met her?”

  “Happened? Nothing happened. Why should it?” retorted Lord Adour. “How do you mean? I was hurrying back for my camera. Jane was somewhere in the garden. I called to her that the kingfisher was back and I was going to try to get a snap. That’s all.”

  “Do you know if Miss Jane went into the spinney to see if she could see for herself?”

  “I’ve no idea. You must ask her. When I found the bird had gone, I went on to the river to see if it was there. It wasn’t, and so far as I know it hasn’t been seen since.”

  “Yes, I must ask her. I expect she’ll remember,” Bobby said and spoke lightly; though inwardly he was feeling more and more disturbed by this unexpected new development, and, equally, more and more convinced that Lord Adour knew more than he had told. But evidently, whatever Lord Adour knew, he was in no mood to talk. Bobby decided it would be better to change the subject, though it would certainly be necessary to return to it later. He said: “There’s something else I would like to mention while I’m here. My information is that the Seagull launch you sold to Itter Bain has disappeared. There is no will apparently, and Mauley Bain, as next of kin took possession of the launch. I believe he has applied for letters of administration. I don’t know whether they have been issued yet. He has now reported that the launch is missing.”

  “I heard about that,” Lord Adour said. “If the thieves managed to get it across to the Continent, it would fetch a good price.”

  “Would that be difficult?”

  “Oh, no. She’s a good sea boat. The weather has been rough lately, of course. But she may quite well be somewhere along the coast, in some inlet or creek or another, waiting for a spell of good weather. I wouldn’t have cared to take her out myself in these recent winds. It could be done, no doubt, but a big risk. Thieves in fear of arrest might try.”

  “Yes, I see. Thank you,” Bobby said. “I am afraid I must put this to you. Was the sale of the yacht to Itter Bain a genuine sale?”

  Lord Adour looked very angry, very disturbed, and also very uncomfortable.

  “I’m not accustomed,” he protested, “to being asked questions of that nature.”

  “I’m quite sure you aren’t,” Bobby answered gently, “but then, you see, this is an investigation into a murder. Outside ordinary considerations. I’m sure you understand. I suppose I ought to say that you can refuse to answer questions or you can require the presence of your solicitor. But, of course, you know that already.”

  Lord Adour was looking now not so much angry and disturbed as just simply frightened.

  “I do refuse to answer questions that seem to me entirely unnecessary and unjustified,” he declared, but not very strongly.

  “Sorry,” Bobby said. “It does make everything so appallingly official.” Somewhat ostentatiously, he got out a fat new notebook and his fountain pen. “I’ll just jot down the questions you don’t care to answer,” he explained. “I expect I shall have to ask you to make a statement.”

  “I’ve done so,” Lord Adour told him. “To Commander Seers. He said nothing more would be necessary. Ask him to show it you.”

  “I should have said a supplementary statement,” Bobby explained. “I have seen the one you made to Commander Seers. I take it you prefer not to say more at the moment?”

  Lord Adour scowled again, pulled open a drawer of his writing table, took out a piece of paper, and threw it across to Bobby.

  “There you are,” he said. “That’s the cheque Itter Bain gave me. He asked me not to present it till he had paid in enough to clear it. No good now, of course, except as evidence of debt. For that matter, I’m not sure the sale itself is good now. Strictly speaking, I doubt if it had been completed. It was all more or less a friendly, informal arrangement. There was a memorandum of agreement, but that was all. I think Itter’s death destroys that, too. Terms not carried out, never put into execution. I’m not sure. Not that that’s of much importance if the Seagull has been stolen. If it has been taken across to the Continent, there’s not much chance it will ever be found.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Bobby promised. “You never know your luck. There is a suggestion it may have been taken out to sea and sunk.”

  “Not very likely,” Lord Adour said. “At current prices, she is probably worth much more than I asked. Two thousand. One doesn’t sink two thousand pounds,” and he had the air of being slightly shocked by the suggestion.

  “Not without good reason,” Bobby agreed. “I must put another point to you—under reserve, of course, of your full right to refuse to answer for any reason whatever or for no reason at all. My information is that a man named Thibaut, believed to be of French nationality, was seen in this neighbourhood, apparently on his way to this house. He is understood to have inquired his way here. We are trying to get in touch with him, but have not been able to do so as yet, though we hope to shortly. Do you care to make any comment?”

  That this invitation Bobby let fall quite casually had a most disturbing effect on Lord Adour was very apparent. His jaw dropped, he shrank back in his chair as if he had received some heavy blow. Nor at first did he make any attempt to answer. Bobby got up and went across to that shelf on which he had previously noticed such works of navigation and seamanship as the Admiralty Manual. He picked up the chart case in which, on his earlier visit, he had found that chart whereon had been traced a course from Toad-in-Hole Harbour to a spot on the French coast where was shown no indication of any village, of any human habitation indeed.

  “I think I should like to keep this,” Bobby said. “I will write out a receipt.”

  Lord Adour, still silent, still pale, watched while this was done, Bobby passed the receipt across. Lord Adour took no notice. He said gloomily:

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I’ve been getting to know a good deal in one way or another,” Bobby explained. “Police work is like that. Adding little bits and pieces together till at last you begin to see a coherent pattern taking shape. ‘Information received’ is what we say. It would help, of course, if you would care to give me your side of it. Might prevent me drawing false conclusions.”

  Lord Adour was still silent. Easy to tell that he was doubtful, confused, hesitant. Bobby waited patiently. He could see a decision was coming, one way or another. At last Lord Adour spoke:

  “You seem to know so much,” he began, “I suppose I had better explain, though I can’t say anything to help about the murder. I have big commitments in France. I was extremely anxious to get news of how my business affairs stand there. Most unfortunately, some of my pre-war associates seem to have compromised themselves during the German occupation.”

  “Collaborators?” Bobby asked.

  “That is what is being said, apparently,” Lord Adour admitted. “If any of the concerns in which I am interested worked for Germany, I regret it, but I can’t feel responsible. I should certainly have done what I could to prevent it, had I known. Of course, that was impossible. But it was important, vital, for me to know how matters stood.”

  “I can see that,” Bobby said, “but was there still difficulty once the war was
over and communication opened again?”

  “All I could learn,” Lord Adour answered, speaking with some care, “was that investigation was proceeding. A suggestion was made that I should go to Paris. The idea seemed to be that I should appear as a witness before the tribunal set up. I did not choose to do so. I had no wish to submit my private affairs to the questioning of a prejudiced court, only too anxious, I felt sure, to find a scapegoat—above all, a foreign scapegoat. I might easily have found myself accused also of being a collaborator. I might have been held responsible for transactions of which I knew nothing. My record is entirely clear. There is nothing I have any reason to hide. I certainly shared the confidence felt by many highly responsible, highly placed persons, persons in the confidence of the Government, that there would be no war, that war was incredible. Utterly incredible. I can hardly believe even now in such madness. But I do see that some things had happened that could be twisted to my disadvantage. On the outbreak of the war—I was in Paris at the time—I was induced to take part in a meeting in Switzerland. I have learned since that some of my French colleagues went further than I knew at the time or could have approved. It seems my name was used without my knowledge. Naturally, I informed the Foreign Office on my return and no objection was raised. It was realized in the highest quarters that the German offers made could be considered, but unfortunately there seemed no really satisfactory official guarantees. Assurances, but no undertaking that action would follow. I had reason to believe the matter might be raised in the French courts if I went to Paris now, and there might have been highly undesirable political repercussions. I happen to know that was the view taken in the Foreign Office.”