A Connoisseur's Case

by Michael Innes

  ‘I see. She went off with another man?’

  ‘I suppose so. But, as far as I know, nobody ever saw her or heard of her again. Unusual, come to think of it, among the propertied classes. But, no doubt, there were lawyers in on settling the affair, and they got their whack.’

  ‘And then the commercial Mr Binns quit too?’

  ‘Very suddenly, my dear. And that’s where the queer part of the story comes. Binns and Bertram Coulson had some sort of business connection. In fact, one gathered that they were quite pals. The arrangement for Binns’ tenancy, in consequence, had become rather casual. The current lease hadn’t been renewed up to within a few weeks, or days, of its being due to expire. Then there was this scandal about Mrs Binns. And Bertram Coulson had a belated fit of conscience about Scroop and what it should stand for. So he came down and virtually turfed Binns out on the spot. The story is that his books arrived in one van, his linen in another and his sporting gear in a third. And there he was: a Coulson at Scroop once more. Later on, he must have made it up with Binns. I’ve never heard, indeed, that Binns has been back to the place himself. But he has a couple of children who stay with the Coulsons quite often. Grown up now. Lad called Peter, and girl of the name of Daphne.’

  ‘So there’s a Mrs Coulson?’ Judith asked.

  ‘Certainly. And a devilish fine woman, in a mature way. No children, though. I see her from time to time. Her body speaks, if you ask me.’

  Appleby, who had been listening attentively, was startled.

  ‘What was that?’ he asked.

  ‘Shakespeare.’ Colonel Raven produced one of his rare contented smiles as he made this unexpected reply. ‘Cleopatra, would it be? No harm in frankness with a married woman, my dear.’ And the Colonel gave an ingenuously conspiratorial nod to Judith. ‘Idle and childless women of a certain age. They sometimes develop a roving eye.’ The Colonel hesitated. ‘And turn up in unexpected places.’

  ‘In fact’ – Judith interpreted – ‘Mrs Bertram Coulson is no better than Mrs Binns was?’

  This time the Colonel shook his head.

  ‘No, no,’ he said hastily. ‘One mustn’t say that. Dashed serious thing to say. No evidence, at all. Or very little. But flighty – yes.’

  Appleby watched, with considerable satisfaction, more burgundy being poured into his glass. Only Colonel Raven’s butler was now in attendance. As well as being a dolt, Appleby reflected, he must be a decidedly confidential servant.

  ‘You said one thing, Colonel, about the belated arrival of Bertram Coulson that struck me. Clearly the man would need some personal possessions, including his own collection of books, and so on. But why sporting gear? He’d apparently ignored, for years and years, being the possessor of a large sporting property. I don’t get a picture of the fellow at all.’

  Colonel Raven considered this for a moment. He took a sip of burgundy and considered it again.

  ‘The man’s a romantic idealist,’ he said.

  Both the Applebys had found this so surprising an expression to drop from Uncle Julius that a moment’s silence succeeded. Appleby caught the butler’s eye, and had a feeling that it had turned more than commonly inexpressive. But, oddly enough, it was to his butler that Colonel Raven now turned.

  ‘Tarbox,’ he said, ‘you would agree with me?’

  ‘Yes, sir – although I am not quite clear on the score of the qualificatory epithet. “Romantic”, sir, I confess to be obscure to me. But “idealist”, certainly. Only a very considerable idealist would have considered retaining the services of the man Hollywood.’

  ‘Hollywood, Tarbox?’

  ‘Mr Coulson’s butler, sir. He had been many years at Scroop House, and served both Mr Binns and the Honourable Mrs Coulson before him. But to my mind, sir, he is a person to be deprecated.’

  ‘Deprecated, Tarbox?’

  ‘“To advise the avoidance of” is, I understand, sir, the common signification of the term. I should advise the avoidance of the person under review.’

  ‘Dash it all, Tarbox, this Hollywood isn’t under review, and I certainly have no intention of looking him up. And now I have quite forgotten what is under review, as you call it.’

  ‘The temperamental characteristics of Mr Coulson, sir. You were remarking that he is a romantic idealist. Her ladyship will correct me if I have repeated the expression incorrectly.’

  ‘It was certainly the Colonel’s phrase,’ Judith said.

  ‘Thank you, my lady.’ Tarbox bowed gravely and withdrew – apparently upon some mission connected with the service of dessert.

  ‘The dolt’s no fool,’ Colonel Raven said. ‘He agrees with me – although he was determined to confuse the issue with rubbishing talk about somebody called I’ve already forgotten what. But at least you’re now clear about Bertram Coulson.’

  Appleby shook his head, laughing.

  ‘Not in the least,’ he said. ‘But was it his romantic idealism that prevented him from coming to live at Scroop when he first inherited it?’

  ‘Yes – I think it was.’ Colonel Raven sounded at once convinced and a trifle vague, as if an unwonted clarity of perception were now failing him. ‘That sort of thing – yes.’

  ‘You mean that he felt he couldn’t live up to the place? Then why did he shove in this Binns, who doesn’t sound to have been much of a catch?’

  ‘Perhaps he was taken in by him.’ Colonel Raven made another big effort. ‘Bertram Coulson wouldn’t quite notice, you see, if a fellow was a bit of a phoney.’ The Colonel paused, and looked anxiously at his niece. ‘Would that be the expression, my dear? I had it from Tarbox, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Quite right, Uncle Julius. And is the reason that Bertram Coulson wouldn’t quite notice if a fellow was a bit of a phoney really that he’s a bit of a phoney himself?’

  ‘I wouldn’t care to put it that way. He’s not at all a bad chap, as I said. But you couldn’t call him an easy man. Might have something in his past, you know. Or that inferiority business the psychologists talk about. Sometimes, I’ve thought him rather like an actor feeling his way into a what’s-it-called.’

  ‘A role?’

  ‘Just that, my dear. I expect those books were all about how to be an English landed gentleman, and that the sporting gear was all stuff he’d gathered from them he ought to possess.’

  ‘He doesn’t sound a very sterling character, Uncle Julius.’

  ‘But that’s just what I don’t want to say. Or at least what I don’t know.’ Colonel Raven sounded almost distressed. ‘He’s not unattractive. He has a kind of innocent joy in feeling that he’s begun to know the ropes.’

  ‘Did he come, then,’ Judith asked, ‘from so very unpolished or unsophisticated an environment?’

  ‘I believe he owned sheep or cattle in rather a big way in Australia. I’ve talked to him about the place, as a matter of fact. It seems that they have trout and they have fish. What isn’t a trout is a fish. Obviously an undeveloped place.’

  ‘But, Uncle Julius, people who own sheep in rather a big way in Australian pastoral country could most of them step into the proprietorship of an English estate entirely in their stride.’

  ‘That may be, my dear. But it’s my view of Bertram Coulson that he has some sort of’ – Colonel Raven searched the air – ‘some sort of thingummy built into him.’

  ‘Diffidence?’

  ‘That’s the word, mind you, he isn’t retiring. He’s eager to be on his game, and all that. But he has some picture of himself that he can’t feel certain he’s living up to. Tarbox’ – and the Colonel turned in appeal to his butler, who had returned to the dining-room accompanied by an alarmed assistant of tender years for the purpose of removing the tablecloth – ‘Tarbox, what am I talking about?’

  ‘I believe the term to be persona, sir.’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘But there are other expressions. “Ego-ideal” might also be applicable.’ Tarbox turned to Appleby. ‘I think, sir,’ he murmured, ‘that
you will elect to stay with the burgundy?’

  Appleby did elect to stay with the burgundy. He watched Colonel Raven moving to port and Judith to Sauternes. Tarbox, he reflected, was more than a mere philologist.

  ‘What about Binns, the late tenant?’ he asked the Colonel. ‘Did you form any impression of him? But perhaps you didn’t much run into him.’

  ‘Oh, dear me, yes.’ Colonel Raven spoke almost severely. ‘You must take one fellow with another, you know. And there was a lot that was sound about Alfred Binns. Particularly on the Caribbean. He’d fished some pretty monsters out of it. He used to drop in for a yarn. And he gave me a book to add to my collection. Rather well written thing. Called The Old Man and the Sea.’

  ‘But you haven’t seen him lately?’

  ‘Lord, no. Not for quite a number of years. His kids stay at Scroop, as I said. But I don’t suppose Binns himself ever comes near this part of the world now.’

  ‘On the contrary, sir.’

  This was a murmur from Tarbox, and Colonel Raven turned to him in surprise.

  ‘What’s that, Tarbox?’

  ‘Mr Binns is now in the library, sir. He has called. The hour being a trifle on the early side for an after-dinner visit, I thought it well to accommodate him there.’

  ‘Well, I’m blessed!’

  ‘I have provided whisky, sir. But with some shade of hesitation.’

  ‘Like that, is it?’

  ‘Yes, sir. And her ladyship will find coffee in the drawing-room.’

  ‘The deuce she will!’

  ‘Yes, sir. I judged it possible she might not wish to join the gentlemen until the conclusion of Mr Binns’ visit.’

  ‘I see. Is the fellow bad?’

  ‘Why, no, sir. Only a trifle heavy. Vino gravis, as it was expressed by the ancients.’

  ‘Blockhead means a bit lit up,’ Colonel Raven explained, when Tarbox had withdrawn again. He was clearly impressed by this latest exhibition of his butler’s linguistic knowledge. ‘Alfred Binns always was a little that way. But no vice in him, you know.’

  ‘I’m touched,’ Judith said, ‘by Tarbox’s anxiety to preserve me from anything unedifying. But I take it that Mr Binns isn’t violent in his cups?’

  ‘Lord, no, my dear. The man wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

  It wasn’t at all clear to Appleby – when he had been introduced to Alfred Binns some ten minutes later – that the former tenant of Scroop House was in fact drunk. Tarbox, he was disposed to feel, had keener philological than physiological perception. It was true that Binns had been drinking, since he did faintly smell of whisky. But he had the appearance – at least to an expert eye – of a man suffering from the effect of shock rather than of a man suffering from the effect of alcohol.

  ‘Delighted to see you after all these years,’ Colonel Raven was saying amiably. ‘Hope you have time to stop and have a bit of a yarn, my dear Binns. Conditions have changed over there a good deal, I’ve been told.’

  ‘Changed, have they?’ Binns was a heavily built man in his middle fifties. He possessed, Appleby felt, that kind of powerful personality which makes it difficult to take a guess at some men’s antecedents and background. Binns might have come a long way – and done so by exercising a good deal of ruthlessness en route. He was a man who could make stiff, quick decisions and stick to them. On the other hand, there was some obscure point at which he was vulnerable. And it was possible to feel that, quite lately, this point had been touched.

  ‘Decidedly changed,’ Colonel Raven went on. ‘No time ago at all, I heard of a fellow getting drowned – and in a deuced queer way.’

  ‘I know nothing of that.’ It was with some abruptness that Binns offered this reply.

  ‘Ah, you must be a bit out of touch. Shooting, too.’

  ‘Shooting?’ Binns glanced rapidly from Colonel Raven to Appleby and back again. ‘Shooting at Scroop?’

  Colonel Raven stared.

  ‘Scroop, my dear fellow? They don’t have lobsters at Scroop.’

  ‘Lobsters?’ Alfred Binns had flushed darkly, as if suspecting he was being made a fool of.

  ‘Drowned while up to something called skin diving, my dear Binns. And stalking lobsters and shooting them under water. Big fish too, in the same way. Stalk them across the ocean bed with some sort of electric gun. Would you call that angling, now? It’s a nice point.’

  ‘Good heavens, Raven – what on earth are you talking about?’

  ‘Sea, my dear chap, not earth. And the Caribbean, of course. Great changes since the days we used to talk about.’

  Appleby, who found these absurd cross-purposes sufficiently entertaining, wondered whether they might not conceivably be instructive as well.

  ‘Do you often,’ he asked, ‘revisit your old haunts in this part of the country?’

  ‘No – and it’s not what I’m doing now.’ Binns again spoke with a shade more abruptness than was to be expected in one making a social call. At the same time he gave Appleby a sharp considering glance. It was evident that he hadn’t at all placed Colonel Raven’s guest. ‘Driving rather rapidly through,’ he went on. ‘But I didn’t feel I should simply pass the Colonel by.’

  ‘Quite right, Binns. I take it very kindly in you.’ The Colonel was all hospitality. ‘But have you dined, my dear fellow? My donkeys can dish you up a meal of sorts in a jiffy.’

  ‘Thank you. But I had dinner fifty miles away. And how is the great work going forward, Raven?’

  This very proper inquiry about the Atlas and Entomology of the Dry-Fly Streams of England was made by Binns with every appearance of interest and cordiality, and it set the Colonel talking at once. Appleby sat back and listened. And it was presently clear to him that Alfred Binns, whatever might have been his past activities in the Caribbean, retained very little genuine piscatory concern. Moreover he continued to suggest a man in some way obscurely perturbed. Unless – Appleby thought – he had turned in to Pryde Park on a momentary impulse which he was now regretting, and unless he was simply preoccupied with some entirely extraneous business or personal concern, it looked as if some ulterior purpose in his visit must soon discover itself. He was drinking a stiff whisky, and no doubt he had drunk an earlier one while the Colonel and the Applebys were finishing dinner, But Tarbox’s diagnosis remained a faulty one. Any fair-minded police surgeon would have judged Binns sober.

  ‘And how are your children?’ Colonel Raven asked. ‘Not that “children” is at all the proper word for them now, I suppose.’

  ‘Peter and Daphne?’ Binns, who had been feigning interest in the Colonel’s fish, now seemed to Appleby to be equally feigning absence of interest in his own progeny. ‘What do I ever know of Peter and Daphne? They roam about, you know. I can’t get Peter interested in the business – and as for Daphne, I can’t even get her interested in a young man. Seen anything of them lately, yourself? Or heard anything?’

  For a moment Colonel Raven was surprised. Then he remembered.

  ‘But of course. They stay at Scroop from time to time. I was mentioning it to Appleby. But, if either of them is there now, I haven’t heard of it. I doubt whether I should. They mightn’t look in on me, as you have so very decently done, my dear chap.’

  Binns nodded absently, as one dismissing the most casual of subjects.

  ‘I had an idea,’ he said, ‘of looking up Bertram Coulson as well. We were very good friends at one time. There was a little awkwardness when he ended my tenancy so abruptly, but that belongs to the past. I’m glad my children keep up a link. How does he get along?’

  ‘Coulson? Well enough, I think. I was giving Appleby a fair account of him as a good neighbour earlier this evening. But we don’t run into each other a great deal.’

  Binns nodded – again absently, as if this too were a matter only of casual interest. Then he rose.

  ‘I must be getting along,’ he said. ‘And a call on Bertram must keep for another time. I’ve still got a hundred miles to put on the clock. Just shooting through,
as I said.’

  ‘But can’t I persuade you to stay the night?’ Colonel Raven was hospitably distressed. ‘Absolutely delighted if you could.’

  Binns shook his head. And the gesture, although accompanied by expressions which were sufficiently polite, gave Appleby the impression of a man who was now regretting some futile act. The three men moved to the door of the library. Appleby took a deft sideways step, which brought Binns full-face before him.

  ‘What do you think,’ he asked, ‘about Crabtree’s death?’

  There was a moment’s silence which might, or might not, have been of incomprehension merely.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Binns spoke to an effect of rather more courtesy than was native to him.

  ‘Seth Crabtree.’ And Appleby looked straight at Binns. ‘He has been killed. Today. Did you know?’

  ‘My dear sir, I don’t even know what you are talking about.’ Binns seemed about to break off this exchange and take his leave. Then he gave a start of surprise. ‘Did you say Crabtree? When I had Scroop, there was a fellow of that name working about the place. But he went abroad. You don’t mean him?’

  ‘I do. He was found dead this afternoon, and the facts point to foul play.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear it, I’m sure. But of course I have heard nothing of it. As I explained, I’m simply driving rapidly through.’

  ‘So that early this afternoon you were, in fact, nowhere near this part of the world?’

  ‘I was a long way off, Sir John, and with no notion of the impertinent curiosity I might be running into. Good night.’ And Alfred Binns gave a curt nod and strode into the hall, where Colonel Raven was waiting for him.

  For a minute Appleby remained where he was. Binns, he was thinking, had some claim to be called formidable. He had been a man for some reason thrown off his balance at the start of his odd call. But he had met that sudden sharp attack like a rock.