The Case of the Four Friends

by J. C. Masterman

  ‘If there was no robbery, I don’t quite see the need – ’ began Piers Gradon, but the Inspector interrupted him.

  ‘The robbery did not succeed,’ he said, ‘but there is plenty of evidence that it was attempted. The alarm would not have gone off if someone had not tried to make a burglarious entry into the hotel. That, at least, is the theory of the police.’

  ‘Naturally,’ said Bannister; ‘but really, Inspector, I cannot see how four guests in the hotel can be expected to give you any assistance in tracking down burglars who tried to break in from outside.’

  The Inspector’s tone was sweet as honey as he replied:

  ‘The local police have gone further than that,’ he said, ‘and I’m bound to admit that they have been working hard since the alarm sounded. Briefly their theory is this. A jewel robbery was to be attempted, for, as you know, there are some very valuable jewels in this hotel. The jewels had to be got away, and that means an outside job. But no one would attempt that without confederates inside the hotel. Clearly someone within would both have to do the preparatory work, and to secure the jewellery in order to hand it to those who would get it away. We think it’s obvious that some person or persons in the hotel were in collusion with the burglars. Very well then – the police began by making a check on all the servants, but nearly all of them have been here some time, and the manager and the hotel detective have pretty complete information about them all. The police then went with care through the list of the guests staying in the hotel, and that, gentlemen, is where you come in.’

  ‘What the hell are you driving at?’ said Gradon.

  ‘Just this, sir, and you must realize that I’m only voicing the opinion of the local police. They’ve looked through the list of guests, and Mr Gerard had given them information about nearly all. When they come to your party they find that you have not been to the hotel before, that you are a party of four friends, that you arrived–yesterday evening, and that some at least of you were not in your rooms just at the time when the balloon went up, if I may put it so. Put in a nutshell, I think the provisional theory of the police is that you were the inside gang who were to arrange the robbery.’

  Piers Gradon snorted. ‘And you believe a lot of blasted tomfoolery like that?’ he asked.

  Inspector Riley remained perfectly composed and smiled at Gradon. ‘No, sir,’ he said, ‘I don’t believe a word of it, and I’m sure you’ll realize that if I did I should not dream of having this sort of conversation with you. But I do think that the whole affair is strange, and I also think that as you four had, I understand, not yet gone to bed when these odd events occurred, you may be able to help me to get them straight.’

  No one could have spoken in a more friendly or apparently straightforward manner, but Brendel watched with the utmost interest to see what effect his words had on the others. Bannister, he noticed, who had at first appeared almost bored with the proceedings, was now listening with the tensest interest. He had had experience of police methods, and he seemed, as the Inspector grew more friendly and confidential, to become, himself, more and more wary. For all his openness and for all his friendly approach this man, thought Bannister, is clearly dangerous. It was otherwise with Sandham. His almost painful nervousness at the beginning of the interview had left him when the burglary had been mentioned, and he now tried to ingratiate himself with the Inspector.

  ‘But of course we must help you if we can,’ he said. ‘It is the duty, as I very well know, of all good citizens to assist the police to the limits of their power. And, if I may venture to say so, the local police show excellent good sense in availing themselves of your fortunate presence here. I’m sure that I’m speaking for all my friends when I say that we shall be only too glad to tell you anything we can, though I fear that no one of us will be able to throw any light on this attempted robbery. I fancy that when the local police go further into this there will really be nothing for them to inquire into – that is, if as you say the attempted burglary failed to come off.’

  Riley was not fond of lawyers, and he was temperamentally averse from what he called ‘soft soap’.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ he snapped, ‘that is most satisfactory. I take it, then, that all of you are willing to tell me what you can of last night’s doings. Perhaps, Mr Bannister, you would be kind enough to begin, for I understand that you were actually in the lounge when the alarm occurred. What took you there?’

  ‘With the greatest pleasure. I stayed till the end of the ball, and then I went up to my bedroom and undressed. I wanted to smoke a cigarette before I turned in, and then I realized that I had mislaid my cigarette-case somewhere. I thought – you know how one does think back in such cases – about the occasion when I had last used it, and it seemed to me that it must have slipped out of my pocket when I was in the lounge at the end of the evening. So I put on a dressing-gown and walked down to the lounge; sure enough it was behind the cushion of the big arm-chair that I had sat in. I found it just about the time that the alarm went off. Let me see, yes, it was almost exactly at that moment that I found it, for I remember the shock it gave me when all that noise suddenly began; I think one of the waiters came running in just afterwards.’

  ‘And did you go anywhere else except to the lounge when you left your bedroom?’ asked Riley.

  Bending forward, Brendel watched Bannister’s face with absorbed attention. Was it his fancy or did Bannister drop a little of his easy nonchalance and adopt a more cautious tone? Only a very acute observer, or one already informed of some of the facts, could have noticed any change in his manner, yet Brendel was satisfied in his mind that there was a change.

  Bannister’s nerves were under complete control and he thought quickly. He did not know what the Inspector knew and the question might be one thrown out at a venture, but it was possible that someone had seen him as he walked down the corridor, and he meant to take no chances. Besides, he knew that it was always safer to tell the truth, as long as the truth did not jeopardize him.

  He laughed as he answered the Inspector’s question. ‘Yes, in fact, I did. It crossed my mind that my nephew, Piers Gradon here, had already had a bit more to drink last night than was altogether healthy – forgive me, Piers, for being so fussy – and I thought I’d just look in on him to see if he was all right. You know his room is on the ground floor, and I went by it on my way to the lounge. It didn’t seem worth mentioning when you asked about my movements just now, and no doubt Piers hadn’t really had much more than the rest of us. Still, that’s what I did. I opened his door and turned on the light, but then I saw that he hadn’t yet come in to bed, so I walked on to the lounge. I was only in his room for half a second, I suppose – just long enough to be sure that he wasn’t there.’

  ‘In fact you only went in as far as the doorway,’ said the Inspector, looking at him thoughtfully.

  ‘That’s right. I just looked in, saw that the room was empty, and walked away again.’

  ‘That’s a pity, for you can’t in that case tell me anything about a pill-box which was on his bedside table, and which, I can tell you in confidence, held a couple of pills we believe to contain poison. The analyst will tell us exactly what they are. Well, I shall have to find out about that box, I think – there are some good finger-prints on it, when we have time to examine them.’

  Bannister, as Brendel watched him, turned livid, and for the first time all his confidence deserted him, but before he could say anything Piers Gradon had hurled himself into the conversation.

  ‘Are you saying, Inspector, that some scoundrel tried to poison me?’ he shouted. ‘Was someone trying to bump me off? Christ, if someone did I’ll break his bloody neck with my own hands. That’s the sort of dirty, low crime that I’m not standing for; find out whose finger-prints these are and I’ll deal with the bastard myself. I tell you, I – ’

  The Inspector was quite unmoved by this outburst.

  ‘One moment, Mr Gradon,’ he said; ‘we shall find out whose prints they were in
due course – indeed, they are being worked on now – but meantime I should like to ask you a couple of questions. What exactly were you yourself doing when the alarm sounded? According to the report from the police constable who was outside the hotel, you were clambering down the fire-escape which leads up towards Mr Barrick’s room. Is that right?’

  Piers began to bluster. ‘That’s true enough,’ he said. ‘I walked backwards into the arms of your constable, and I was coming from Barrick’s room, but – damn it all – can’t you understand a little innocent horse-play on New Year’s night. I meant to rouse Toby up a bit and give him a scare – he was pretty tight when he went to bed, and I’d had one or two myself. What’s a bit of fun, anyhow? And what’s it got to do with jewel robberies? I think, Inspector, that you’d be more useful inquiring into this theft, or whatever it was, than busying yourself with the amusements of the hotel guests.’

  Piers Gradon never paid any attention to the feelings of others, but he would have been well-advised to refrain from exacerbating the Inspector. Riley flushed a little, but he looked keenly at Piers and spoke quietly.

  ‘It is natural, I think,’ he said with dangerous moderation, ‘that when a burglary is suspected some interest should be taken in an hotel guest who is climbing into, or out of an hotel window at four o’clock in the morning. Of course I can appreciate a piece of innocent horse-play – I think that was your phrase – as well as the next man, but I think that you may have to explain why you tried to enter Mr Barrick’s room by the window instead of by the door, and why you wore a mask and, especially, why you carried a cosh in your pocket. It is not a weapon often used in “innocent horseplay”.’ Suddenly his soft and almost apologetic tone became steely. ‘Perhaps, Mr Gradon, you had it in mind to beat up your friend rather than to indulge in this harmless joke, or is there some other simple explanation of your behaviour that has escaped me?’

  Toby Barrick was not a coward, but the picture of Piers, masked, intoxicated, and armed with a cosh, entering his bedroom at four in the morning was unnerving. Involuntarily he exclaimed, ‘Were you trying to murder me?’ and then wished that he had held his tongue. For there was an angry and wicked-looking flush on Pier’s face, and for the first time Toby realized that he was a dangerous enemy as well as a possible rival. He spoke hastily, both to placate the Inspector, and to cover up his own involuntary exclamation.

  ‘Surely, Inspector,’ he said, ‘that is a matter of detail which can be discussed later. I am perfectly satisfied that Mr Gradon must have had some sort of practical joke in mind, and I assure you that I’ve no sort of wish to make any fuss about it. You see, we were all a little “lit up” before the evening ended, and no doubt we behaved a bit oddly; but then that’s to be expected on such an occasion. A New Year’s party at the Magnifico is apt to lead to some rather wild and fantastic tricks, you know. I entirely agree that these things won’t help us much if there’s a robbery to be looked into.’

  His tone was suave enough, but he could not altogether disguise his anxiety, and a much less shrewd man than Riley would have guessed that he was trying to avoid any further disclosures if he could.

  The Inspector turned from Gradon to him and answered him with a kind of icy politeness.

  ‘Yes, sir, again I appreciate your point of view, and your wish not to make mountains out of molehills. None the less, there are a few questions which I should like to ask you – and they are not concerned with this regrettable entry of Mr Gradon’s into your bedroom. Now where were you at that time – for you were not, I believe, in your bedroom? Let me see now …’ And he began to turn over the little bundle of notes which lay before him on the table. ‘Ah, yes, here it is. You know that there were two of the local constabulary on duty last night; one of them (shall we say) apprehended Mr Gradon outside the hotel – the other, when the alarm went, made some equally interesting discoveries inside the hotel.’

  Brendel was listening with a kind of fascination, combined with some pity for Toby. It appeared as though the Inspector was playing with him as a cat does with a mouse, and Brendel waited expectantly to see the claws appear. He did not have to wait long.

  ‘Ah yes, here we have it. This is the report of the constable inside the hotel. Yes, I can pass over that bit – yes here it is. At 4.12 I entered the bedroom Number 16 (that is Mr Sandham’s room, I fancy). Attracted by a slight noise, I opened the door of the hanging cupboard, and there I found a man crouching and holding a dagger in his hand. It transpired that he was Mr Barrick, a guest in the hotel. When questioned, he was unable to account for his presence in the cupboard… Well, Mr Barrick, can you account for your presence there now?’

  Toby stuttered and his imagination, quick and perceptive though he was, failed him. ‘I – I was just playing a joke on my partner in the same sort of way that Piers was on me. I think I meant to jump out of the cupboard when Charles came in, and give him a surprise.’

  The Inspector paid little or no attention to this palpably lame explanation; instead he asked a further question.

  ‘Is this the dagger you were holding?’ he asked, as he pointed to the stiletto which lay before him on the table.

  ‘I think so, I mean yes,’ said the unhappy Toby.

  ‘Thank you. I will read some more sentences from the constable’s report. It goes on like this. Subsequent investigations showed that the dagger, or some similar implement, had been plunged two or three times into the pillow, which had been placed in the middle of the bed. Did you use the dagger in this way Mr Barrick, and how did you know that Mr Sandham was not in his room when you first entered it? I am a little uncertain why and when you got into the cupboard.’

  Charles Sandham had had no idea that Toby had not been safely in his own room throughout the alarm, and the shock of the discovery unnerved him.

  ‘Good God, Toby, were you trying to murder me?’ he asked in a half-strangled voice.

  Once again the Inspector did not wait to hear the answer, but turned full-face towards Charles Sandham.

  ‘And why, sir, were you not in your bed or even in your bedroom where the murderer, if there was a murderer, would have expected to find you?’

  The solicitor’s embarrassment was pitiful.

  ‘I cannot tell you,’ he stammered.

  ‘But perhaps this report can. It comes from the hotel detective. Let me find the right place. Yes. On entering Number 28, the room occupied by Mr Evelyn Bannister, at 4.15, I observed a man standing in the middle of the room, and holding a small revolver in his hand. The revolver was loaded in four chambers. When questioned he stated that he was Charles Sandham, and that he was anxious to pay a visit to his friend Mr Evelyn Bannister. Is this your revolver, Mr Sandham?’ The Inspector pointed again to the table.

  Before the wretched Sandham could reply Bannister had turned furiously upon him. ‘Were you trying to murder me?’ he asked, his voice full of venom.

  Charles Sandham was the oldest of the four friends, and he was also the weakest character. At this moment he broke down completely.

  ‘No, no, no,’ he cried. ‘I swear I never meant to murder you. It was myself that I should have shot. I meant to appeal to you once more, perhaps even to threaten to shoot you, but I know I could never have done that. If you wouldn’t listen to me, I should have shot myself in your room. I was at the end of my tether. You filthy blackmailer – you know that I couldn’t find that money, and if I did you’d only have squeezed me for more. I meant to shoot myself in your room, so that at least others should not be trapped by you as I have been.’

  Suddenly he buried his head in his hands and began to sob; Brendel was conscious of a feeling of embarrassment and of personal humiliation. No one there had heard Charles Sandham speak in such a manner before – always he had been the upright, dignified man of affairs or the trusted companion; now he was a broken man.

  At the mention of blackmail, comprehension had dawned in the mind of Piers Gradon. Crimes of violence were not unfamiliar to him, and gave him no sp
ecial feeling of digust; but blackmail and poisoning were a different matter. He had not troubled to listen at all carefully to the exposure of his friends, for his slow yet efficient mind had been occupied almost exclusively with the identity of the poisoner who had, apparently, made an attempt on his own life. But now the mention of blackmail, and the disclosures made by Sandham about Bannister, connected in his mind with the suicide of his friend Cordingly. Of a sudden the pieces in his puzzle fitted into one another, and he turned round and faced his uncle. A Bengal tiger, crouching for its spring, could not have looked more menacing, for Piers was revealed for what he was – a natural killer if his anger was aroused. Slowly he almost spat out his words. ‘Evelyn, are they your fingerprints on that pill-box? Were you trying to murder me?’

  Bannister, pale and trembling, shrank back in his chair, but he did not answer. Once more it was the Inspector who spoke.

  ‘That is the fourth time that that question has been asked, and, if I am not mistaken, by a different person on each occasion. “Were you trying to murder me?” It seems that instead of a robbery the local police may have to investigate four attempts at murder in the hotel last night. Eh, Mr Gerard?’ Each of the four friends looked in turn at the others. To each it was now obvious, with a horrid clarity, that he was sitting beside a supposed friend who might in other circumstances have been his murderer. They all sat silent for a moment – what, indeed, could any one of them say?

  It was Brendel who broke the silence, and he did so hesitatingly and almost apologetically.

  ‘Forgive the intrusion of an outsider, Inspector,’ he said, ‘but are you not – how shall I put it? – jumping a little too quickly to conclusions? Surely we must be very sure before we accuse anyone of attempting murder, and a great deal more evidence must obviously be collected before such a charge is preferred. Some astonishing situations arise, don’t they, when revels of this kind are going on late at night. I imagine that all sorts of practical jokes, perhaps in rather dubious taste, were being played in the hotel to greet the New Year. Should you not go a little more carefully into all the curious events of last night?’