A Blunt Instrument ih-4

by Джорджетт Хейер

  "Can't you?" asked Neville solicitously. "Not at all?"

  "For the Lord's sake, drink your tea, and don't agitate!" said Sally. "If I were you I'd let John play his own hand."

  Helen set her cup and saucer down with ajar. John is not your husband!" she said fiercely, and walked out of the room.

  "Now we can resume the even tenor of our way," said Neville, with a sigh of relief.

  "I can't," replied Sally, finishing her coffee in a hurry. "I must go with her, and try to stop her doing anything silly."

  "I love people who go all out for lost causes," said Neville. "Are you a member of the White Rose League too?"

  Sally did not trouble to reply to this, but went purposefully out of the room. Her arrival in the library coincided with that of the butler, who informed Hannasyde that Mr. North was shaving, but would be down in a few minutes.

  Helen looked at her sister, with a frown in her eyes. "It's all right, Sally. I don't need you."

  "That's what you think," said Sally. "Morning, Superintendent. Why, if it isn't Malachi! Well, that is nice! Now we only want a harmonium."

  "A froward heart," said Glass forbiddingly, "shall depart from me. I will not know a wicked person."

  Helen, who had not previously encountered the Constable, was a little startled, but Sally responded cheerfully: "Quite right. Evil associations corrupt good manners."

  "Be quiet, Glass!" said Hannasyde authoritatively. "You have asked me, Mrs. North, why I wish to see your husband, and I will tell you quite frankly that I wish to ask him to explain his movements on the night of Ernest Fletcher's death."

  "And what could be fairer than that?" said Sally.

  "But my husband told you! You must remember. Surely you remember! He spent the evening at the flat."

  "That's what he told me, Mrs. North, but it was unfortunately not true."

  Sally had been engaged in the task of polishing her monocle, but this remark, dropped like a stone into a mill pond, made her look up quickly. "Good bluff," she remarked. "Try again."

  "I'm not bluffing, Miss Drew. I have proof that between the hours of 9.00 p.m. and 11.45 p.m. Mr. North was not at his flat."

  Helen moistened her lips. "That's absurd. Of course he was. He can have had no possible reason for having said so if it weren't true."

  Hannasyde said quietly: "You don't expect me to believe that, do you,. Mrs. North?"

  Sally stretched out her hand for the cigarette-box. "Obviously not. According to your idea, my brother-inlaw may have been at Greystones."

  "Precisely," nodded Hannasyde.

  A flash of anger made Helen's eyes sparkle. "Be quiet, Sally! How dare you suggest such a thing?"

  "Keep cool. I haven't suggested anything that wasn't already in the Superintendent's mind. Let's look at things sanely, shall we?"

  "I wish you'd go away! I told you I didn't need you!"

  "I know you wish I'd go away," replied Sally imperturbably. "The Superintendent wishes it too. It stands out a mile that his game is to frighten you into talking. If you've a grain of sense you'll keep your mouth shut, and let John do his own talking."

  "Very perspicacious, Miss Drew," struck in Hannasyde. "But your words imply that there would be danger in your sister's being frank with me."

  Sally lit her cigarette, inhaled deeply, and expelled the smoke down her nostrils. "Quite a good point. But I'm nearly as much in the dark as you are. Not entirely, because I have the advantage of knowing my sister and her husband pretty well. Do let's be honest! It must be evident to a child that things look rather black against my brother-in-law. He apparently had a motive for killing Ernest Fletcher; his sudden return from Berlin was unexpected and suspicious, and now you seem to have collected proof that the alibi he gave you for 17 June was false. My advice to my sister is to keep her mouth shut. If her solicitor were here I fancy he would echo me. Because, Mr. Superintendent Hannasyde, you are trying to put over one big bluff. If you'd any real evidence against my brother-in-law you wouldn't be wasting your time talking to my sister now."

  "Very acute of you, Miss Drew; but aren't you leaving one thing out of account?"

  "I don't think so. What is it?"

  "You are preoccupied with the idea of Mr. North's possible guilt. It is quite natural that you should not consider the extremely equivocal position of your sister."

  She gave a scornful laugh. "You don't think she had anything to do with it!"

  "Perhaps I don't. But I may think that she knows much more than she has told me. You wish me to be frank, so I will tell you that Mrs. North's evidence does not tally with those facts which I know to be true."

  Helen came forward, throwing up a hand to silence her sister. "Yes, you told me that the last time you were here. I agree with what Miss Drew says; it is time to be frank, Superintendent. You believe that the man I saw was my husband, and that I recognised him. Is not that so?"

  "Let us say, Mrs. North, that I consider it a possibility."

  "And I tell you that it is not so!"

  "That is what I propose to find out," said Hannasyde. "You yourself have given me two separate accounts of your movements on the night of the 17th. The first was before your husband arrived here on the morning after the murder; the second, which was apparently designed to convince me, first, that the mysterious man seen by you was shown off the premises by Fletcher himself; and, second, that Fletcher was alive at 10.00 p.m., you told me after the arrival of your husband. You will admit that this gives me food for very serious thought. Added to this, I have discovered that Mr. North left his flat at 9.00 p.m. on the evening of the 17th, and only returned to it at 11.45."

  Helen was white under her delicate make-up, but she said perfectly calmly: "I appreciate your position, Superintendent. But you are wrong in assuming that my husband was implicated in the murder. If you have proof that he was not in the flat on the evening of the 17th, no doubt you are right. I know nothing of that. What I do know is that he had no hand in the murder of Ernie Fletcher."

  "Yes, Mrs. North? Shall we wait to hear what he himself may have to say about that?"

  "It would be useless. As far as I know, he was nowhere near Greystones on the night of the 17th. It is quite possible that he may try to convince you that he was, for - for he is the sort of man, Superintendent, who would protect his wife, no matter how - how bad a wife she had been to him."

  Her voice quivered a little, but her face was rigid. Sally caught her breath on a lungful of smoke, and broke into helpless coughing. Hannasyde said quite gently: "Yes, Mrs. North?"

  "Yes." Helen's eyes stared into his. "You see, I did it."

  Hannasyde said nothing. Glass, who had been watching Helen, said deeply: "It is written, speak ye every man the truth to his neighbour. Surely the net is spread in vain in the sight of any bird!"

  "Not this bird!" choked Sally. "Helen, don't be a fool! Don't lose your head!"

  A faint smile just curved Helen's lips. She said, still with her gaze fixed on Hannasyde's face: "My evidence was true as far as it went. Ernie Fletcher did show the stranger off the premises, and I did return to the study to search for my IOUs. What was untrue was my story that I got out of the room before he returned to it. I didn't. He found me there. He sat down at his desk. He laughed at me. Taunted me. I saw it was no use trying to plead with him. I - I suppose I must have been mad. I killed him."

  Sally, who had by this time recovered from her coughing fit, said witheringly: "With your little hatchet. Don't you realise that this isn't a gun-pulling affair, you cuckoo? Whoever killed Ernie did it by violence. If you'd tried to bat him on the head I don't say you wouldn't have hurt him, but you haven't the necessary strength to smash his skull."

  "I caught him unawares. I think I must have stunned him. At that moment, I was so - so angry I wanted to kill him. I hit him again and again…' Her voice failed; a shudder shook her, and she raised her handkerchief to her lips.

  "A highly unconvincing narrative," said Sally. "You know, if you make up
much more of this gruesome story you'll be sick. I can just see you beating someone's head in!"

  "Oh don't, don't!" whispered Helen. "I tell you I wasn't myself!"

  "Mrs. North," interposed Hannasyde, "I think I ought to inform you that it is not enough merely to say that you murdered a man. You must prove that you did so, if you wish me to believe you."

  "Isn't that for you to do?" she said. "Why should I convict myself?"

  "Don't be silly!" said Sally. "You've confessed to a murder, so presumably you want to be convicted. All right, let's hear some more! How did you do it? Why weren't there any bloodstains on your frock? I should have thought you must have been splashed with blood."

  Helen turned a ghastly colour and groped her way to a chair. "For God's sake, be quiet! I can't stand this!"

  Glass, standing by the wall like a statue of disapproval, suddenly exclaimed: "Woman, thou shalt not raise a false report!"

  "Be quiet!" snapped Hannasyde.

  The Constable's glacial blue eyes seemed to scorn him, and turned towards Helen, who had raised her head, and was staring at him in fright and doubt. He said to her in a milder tone: "Deceit is in the heart of them that imagine evil. The fear of man bringeth a snare: but whoso putteth his trust in the Lord shall be safe."

  Hannasyde said angrily: "Another word from you, and -'

  "Hold on!" interrupted Sally. "He has my vote. What he says is absolutely right."

  "That is as may be," responded Hannasyde. "But he will nevertheless hold his tongue! Mrs. North, if you killed Ernest Fletcher, perhapss you will tell me what was the implement you used, and what you did with it?"

  There was a brief silence. Helen's eyes travelled from one sceptical face to another. An interruption occurred, in the shape of Mr. Neville Fletcher who at that moment appeared at the open window, a cup and saucer in one hand, and a slice of toast in the other. "Don't mind me," he said, with his sweet smile. "I heard your last pregnant words, Superintendent, and I'm all agog to hear the answer. Why, there's Malachi!" He waved the piece of toast to the unresponsive Constable, and seated himself on the low window-sill. "Do go on!" he said invitingly to Helen.

  Hannasyde looked consideringly at him for an instant, and then turned back to Helen. "Yes, go on, Mrs. North. What was the implement, and what did you do with it?"

  "I'll tell you," Helen said breathlessly. "You've seen the - the implement. A heavy bronze paper-weight surmounted by a statuette. It was on Mr. Fletcher's desk. I caught it up, and struck him with it, several times. Then I escaped by way of the front door, as I told you. I hid the paper-weight under my cloak. When I reached home I - washed it, and later, when - when Mr. Neville Fletcher visited me, I - I gave it to him, and he restored it, as you know!"

  Her eyes were fixed imploringly on Neville, who was staring at her with his mouth open. He blinked, shut his mouth, swallowed, and said faintly: "Oh, give Malachi permission to speak! He'll say it all so much better than I can. Something about one's sins finding one out. Now I don't fancy this piece of toast any more. God give me strength!"

  Sally found her tongue, "Helen! You can't do that! Good Lord, you're trying to make Neville an accessary after the fact! It's too thick!"

  "Thank you, darling!" said Neville brokenly. "Take this cup and saucer away from me. My hand shakes like a reed. Women!"

  "Well, Mr. Fletcher?" said Hannasyde. "What have you to say to Mrs. North's accusation?"

  "Don't worry!" said Neville. "Chivalry has practically no appeal for me whatsoever. It's a wicked lie. I produced the paper-weight to create a little diversion. I suppose Miss Drew told her sister about it. That's all."

  "Yes, I did," admitted Sally. "And I'm very sorry, Neville. I never dreamed Helen would use the story like this!"

  "The ruthlessness of the so-called gentle sex!" he said. "But I can disprove it. The paper-weight was never on Ernie's desk. It came from the billiard-room. Ask any of the servants. You might even ask my aunt."

  "It's true!" Helen said, in a strained, unnatural voice. "Neville had nothing to do with the murder, but he replaced the paper-weight for me. Neville, it isn't as though anyone suspects you of killing Ernie! Just -just to have put a paper-weight back isn't such an awful thing to admit to!"

  "Nothing doing!" said Neville firmly. "I've no doubt you think I should look noble as a sacrifice, but I've never wanted to look noble, and I won't be made to."

  "Neville -'

  "Now, don't waste your breath in arguing with me!" he begged. "I know I ought to be falling over myself with desire to save your husband from arrest, but, strange as it may seem to you, I'm not. In fact, if it's to be his arrest for murder, or mine for being an accessary, I'd a lot rather it was his."

  "You are hardly to be blamed," said a cool voice from the doorway. "But may I know upon what grounds I am to be arrested for murder?"

  Chapter Twelve

  At the sound of her husband's voice, Helen had started to her feet, turning an anguished face of warning towards him. He looked at her, slightly frowning, then with deliberation shut the door and came forward into the room.

  "You've timed your entry excellently, John," said Sally.

  "So it seems," he replied. His glance took in Glass, and Hannasyde, and Neville. "Perhaps you will tell me why my house has been invaded at this singularly inappropriate hour of the day?"

  John!" The faint cry came from Helen. "I'll tell you. Don't ask them! Oh, won't you let me speak to him alone? Superintendent, I beg of you - you must realise - give me five minutes, only five minutes!"

  "No, Mrs. North."

  "You're inhuman! You can't expect me to break such news to him in public - like this! I can't do it! I won't do it!"

  " If your sister and Mr. Fletcher choose to withdraw they may do so," said Hannasyde.

  "You too! Oh, please! I won't run away! You can guard the door and the window!"

  "No, Mrs. North."

  "Gently, Helen." North walked across the room to where she was standing, and held out his hand. "You needn't be afraid to tell me," he said. "Come, what is it?"

  She clasped his hand with both of hers, looking up into his face with dilated eyes full of entreaty. "No. I'm not afraid. Only of what you'll think! Don't say anything! Please don't say anything! You see, I've just confessed to the Superintendent that it was I - that it was I who killed Ernie Fletcher!"

  A silence succeeded her words. North's hold on her hand tightened a little; he was looking down at her, his own face rather pale, and set in grim lines. "No," he said suddenly. "It's not true!"

  Her fingers dug into his hand. "It is true. You don't know. You weren't there. You couldn't know! I struck him with a heavy paper-weight that stood on his desk. There was a reason -'

  His free hand came up quickly to cover her mouth. "Be quiet!" he said harshly. "You're demented! Helen, I order you to be quiet!" He turned his head towards Hannasyde. "My wife doesn't know what she's saying! There's not a word of truth in her story!"

  "I need more than your assurance to convince me of that, Mr. North," replied Hannasyde, watching him.

  "If you think she did it you must be insane!" North said. "What evidence have you? What possible grounds for suspecting her?"

  "Your wife, Mr. North, was the last person to see Ernest Fletcher alive."

  "Nonsense! My wife left the garden of Greystones while an unknown man was in Fletcher's study with him."

  "I'm afraid you are labouring under a misapprehension," said Hannasyde. "Mrs. North, on her own confession, did not leave the garden while that man was with Ernest Fletcher."

  North's eyelids flickered. "On her own confession!" he repeated. He glanced down at Helen, but her head was bowed. He led her to a chair, and pressed her gently down into it, himself taking up a position behind her, with one hand on her shoulder. Just keep quiet, Helen. I should like the facts, please, Superintendent."

  "Yes, Mr. North. But I, too, should like some facts. At my previous interview with you, you informed me that you spent the evening of
the 17th at your flat. I have discovered this to have been untrue. Where were you between the hours of 9.00 p.m. and 11.45 p.m.?"

  "I must decline to answer that question, Superintendent."

  Hannasyde nodded, as though he had been expecting this response. "And yesterday evening, Mr. North? Where were you between the hours of 9.15 and 10.00?"

  North was regarding him watchfully. "What is the purpose of that question?"

  "Never mind the purpose," said Hannasyde. "Do you choose to answer me?"

  "Certainly, if you insist. I was in Oxford."

  "Can you prove that, Mr. North?"

  "Are my whereabouts last night of such paramount importance? Haven't we wandered a little from the point? I've asked you for the facts of the case against my wife. You seem curiously disinclined to state them."

  Sally, who had retreated to the big bay window, and was listening intently, became aware of Neville's soft voice at her elbow. "What a lovely situation! Shall you use it?"

  Hannasyde took a minute to reply to North. When he at last spoke it was in his most expressionless voice. "I think perhaps it would be as well if you were put in possession of the facts, Mr. North. Your wife has stated that at 9.58, on the night of the murder, Ernest Fletcher escorted this unknown visitor to the garden-gate. While he was doing this Mrs. North re-entered the study, with the object of obtaining possession of certain IOUs of hers which were in Fletcher's possession. According to her story, Fletcher returned to find her there. A quarrel took place, which terminated in Mrs. North's striking Fletcher with the paper-weight which, she informs me, stood upon the desk. She then escaped from the study by the door that leads into the hall, leaving her finger-prints on one of the panels. The time was then one minute past ten. At five minutes past ten Constable Glass here discovered the body of Ernest Fletcher."

  From the window, Sally spoke swiftly. "Leaving out something, aren't you? What about the man whom Glass saw leaving the garden at 10.02?"

  "I have not forgotten him, Miss Drew. But if either of your sister's stories is to be believed he can hardly have had anything to do with Fletcher's murder."