The Incident at Fives Castle (An Angela Marchmont Mystery #5)

by Clara Benson

  ‘You think Bagshawe may have been sent here, then?’ said Strathmerrick. ‘I must say, it’s damned odd the way he just happened to be found today, hiding in a barn. He says he was here on a walking-tour. Apparently he decided at the last minute to come and see Gertie, got lost in the snow and ended up inside the castle during the dance, but it sounds like a thin story to me—and that reminds me, I really must speak to the servants about taking more care. We can’t have just anyone walking into the place whenever they feel like it.’

  ‘It does sound rather unconvincing,’ agreed Henry. ‘Once he was inside the castle why didn’t he join the dance, or at the very least tell someone he was here?’

  ‘He says he fell asleep and didn’t wake up until it was nearly finished,’ said the Earl, ‘but then why go running about in the snow afterwards, in the middle of the night, when he might have stayed? It all sounds damned fishy to me. I think we may have found our murderer, Jameson.’

  ‘I think it’s possible, yes.’

  ‘A hot-head who sympathizes with the other side, and who was here uninvited in the castle at the fatal hour last night?’ exclaimed the Earl. ‘Why, it’s more than possible—it’s practically certain, I should say. As soon as we can get through to the village, we’ll have him arrested. In the meantime, we’ll just have to keep an eye on him. I don’t suppose he can get very far for now.’

  ‘But don’t you think it looks rather too good to be true?’ said Henry. ‘Yes, he has the right political sympathies and was in the right place at the right time, and it’s certainly a pretty big coincidence that he happened to turn up today, but there are one or two things that point to his being innocent—of murder, at any rate.’

  ‘Such as?’ demanded Strathmerrick.

  ‘Well, to start with he doesn’t seem to have been carrying a gun—or at least if he was, he didn’t think to use it against Lady Gertrude and Mrs. Marchmont this afternoon.’

  ‘Pfft!’ said the Earl. ‘A gun’s easy enough to get rid of. It’s probably at the bottom of a pond or a stream somewhere. We shall have to conduct a proper search for it once the snow starts to melt.’

  ‘It’s not so easy to get rid of a dead body, though,’ said Henry. ‘If Bagshawe did shoot Klausen then presumably he also put the body in the chest.’

  ‘Yes, and what of it?’ said Lord Strathmerrick.

  ‘Well, how did he know where to put it?’ said Henry. ‘Lady Gertrude has admitted the man is a friend of hers but you have said yourself that he has never been invited to Fives before. If that is the case, how did he so conveniently know where to put Klausen after he’d shot him?’

  ‘I don’t suppose he did,’ replied the Earl. ‘He probably came across the chest by chance.’

  But Henry was shaking his head.

  ‘Hardly,’ he said. ‘What, do you really suppose Bagshawe just happened to be wandering around the castle, a dead body in his arms, and just happened to go into the billiard-room, which just happened to contain a chest big enough to hold a corpse? It’s most unlikely. Dead bodies are heavy, and tend to draw attention to themselves, and there were a lot of people about last night. It would have been foolish in the extreme—not to mention almost physically impossible—for the murderer to haul the thing about while he looked for a hiding-place. No: whoever dumped the body in the chest must have known the chest was there, and since Bagshawe has never been here before, that is a point in his favour.’

  ‘Someone might have told him where to find it,’ said the Earl. ‘One of our other suspects, for example.’

  ‘You mean Mrs. Marchmont or Freddy Pilkington-Soames? It’s possible,’ conceded Henry, ‘but when did it happen? It must have been after they arrived, since neither of them has been to Fives before either, so they wouldn’t have known about the chest until they’d had a chance to explore the place. No, I’m not convinced of that theory. First of all, it supposes that the professor’s murder was premeditated, since why else would Bagshawe need to know about possible hiding-places for a body, if he were not already planning to kill Klausen? Secondly, when was the information passed on to him? By all accounts, Bagshawe spent most of yesterday getting lost in the snow. How did he arrange to meet his associate or accomplice if they were unable to communicate with each other beforehand? Remember, the telephone lines came down on Friday night.’

  ‘True,’ said Lord Strathmerrick. ‘I dare say a means could be found, however.’

  ‘By the way,’ said Henry, ‘I don’t know if there’s any significance to this, but a few minutes ago I bumped into Freddy Pilkington-Soames, and he told me that Bagshawe didn’t have the brains to murder anyone. I asked him why he was telling me this and he looked uncomfortable and said he thought Bagshawe was unlikely to make a good impression when we questioned him, and it would be a shame if the chap got hanged merely for being an ass.’

  ‘Do you suppose he was being sincere?’

  ‘It’s difficult to tell with that young man, but I had no reason to doubt him,’ said Henry.

  ‘He’s a slippery fellow,’ said the Earl. Henry correctly deduced he was referring to Freddy.

  ‘Something else has been bothering me, too,’ he went on, ‘and that is that we still don’t know at what time Klausen arrived.’

  ‘Does it matter?’ said Strathmerrick. ‘The first we knew of his arrival was when he was found dead, by which time it hardly seemed relevant.’

  ‘Of course it matters. If we can trace the professor’s movements, then we can get a better idea of who killed him. If he turned up at one o’clock, for example, then you are in the clear—as am I, since we can confirm each other’s alibis from before that time until the body was found.’

  ‘What do you mean, I am in the clear?’ said the Earl, spluttering slightly. ‘I take it that is your idea of a joke, Jameson. Why, even the very thought of—’

  ‘Of course I’m not being entirely serious, sir,’ said Henry hastily. ‘I was merely pointing out that the time of the professor’s arrival might prove to be of vital importance in establishing who killed him.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Strathmerrick suspiciously. ‘I suppose you’re right. We shall have to look into that more carefully.’ He fell silent, deep in reflection. Suddenly, a thought struck him. ‘But what of the documents?’ he said. ‘Jameson, while everybody is at dinner you must have this Bagshawe fellow’s things searched for the missing papers. I can’t believe that Klausen turned up without them, so whoever killed him must have taken them from his body.’

  ‘I’ve already searched his things myself,’ Henry assured him. ‘He doesn’t have them.’

  ‘How provoking,’ said the Earl. ‘Then where on earth can they be? They can’t simply have disappeared into thin air.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Henry, ‘but that’s another thing: St. John Bagshawe might have shot the professor and taken his copy of the documents, but who took the Foreign Secretary’s? It can’t have been Bagshawe, since he couldn’t possibly have known about the second copy.’

  ‘No,’ said Strathmerrick. ‘I assume the papers were stolen by an accomplice.’

  ‘But who?’ said Henry. ‘Who knew that Buchanan had the second set of documents?’

  He waited for the Earl to consider this and reach the inevitable and uncomfortable conclusion. The Earl did so and his face darkened.

  ‘Why, no-one,’ he said. ‘Except us, of course.’

  ‘Quite,’ said Henry. ‘That is, you, myself, Buchanan, Burford, the Ambassador and Gabe Bradley. We are the only people who knew that the Foreign Secretary was carrying a copy of Klausen’s plans. So, then, who stole them?’

  EIGHTEEN

  Mrs. Marchmont sat before the glass at her dressing-table, holding her head still as Marthe carefully fastened a jewelled head-dress to her hair. When the girl had finished the task to her satisfaction she stood back to regard her handiwork and gave a little sound of approval.

  ‘Shall I do, do you think?’ said Angela, turning her head this way and that to judge
the effect.

  ‘Yes, madame, you look very chic,’ said Marthe.

  ‘You don’t think it’s a little too daring, perhaps? Lord and Lady Strathmerrick are rather old-fashioned.’

  ‘Yes, but they have three daughters of their own, madame. They are surely accustomed to the modern style of dress. Be assured, there is nothing about your person that could possibly offend anyone.’

  ‘You are right, of course,’ said Angela. ‘I am just a little wary after the events of the last day or two. I believe the Countess does not approve of my conduct with respect to the men of the house.’

  ‘Why, what have you been doing?’ said Marthe with sudden interest.

  ‘Nothing at all,’ said Angela.

  ‘Oh,’ said Marthe, disappointed.

  ‘But Lady Strathmerrick has rather unfortunately misinterpreted one or two—er—incidents.’

  ‘With the American Ambassador, yes?’ said Marthe, then as Angela looked up in surprise, she continued, ‘I have seen the way he looks at you.’

  ‘Does he look at me? Dear me. This is all becoming rather awkward. Selma is supposed to be my friend.’

  ‘Oh, do not worry,’ said Marthe. ‘She knows all about it and does not care.’

  ‘All about it? There is no “it,” Marthe—at least, not as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘A pity,’ said the girl. ‘A woman ought to have lovers. You have been on your own for too long.’

  ‘I like it,’ said Angela. ‘I can go where I please and do as I please. I can have second helpings of pudding without having to worry about what it will do to my hips. I can spend thirty guineas on a frock and another thirty on a diamond necklace to match it. I can ask Freddy to take me out dancing and let him flirt with me as much as he likes. I can sit in a cupboard drinking whisky out of the bottle and then stay in bed until eleven o’clock the next day if I choose. I can play at investigating murders without the fear that someone will disapprove of me for being unladylike. I can do anything I want.’

  ‘That is why you ought to take a married man as your lover. He will have no hold over you and you may continue to live as you choose.’

  ‘I thank you for your concern, Marthe,’ said Angela, ‘but I broke off the engagement with Aubrey for very good reasons and I have no wish to revisit the past. Now, let’s talk about something else. I want to know what you have found out about Eleanor Buchanan.’

  Marthe grimaced.

  ‘I am sorry, madame, but I have not been able to find out very much at all. Her maid keeps her mouth tightly closed. All she would tell me is that Mrs. Buchanan met her husband at Baden-Baden, where they were both staying, and that she is the daughter of a doctor who is now dead.’

  ‘Dear me, a discreet lady’s maid,’ said Angela. ‘How inconvenient.’

  ‘I am also very discreet,’ Marthe assured her.

  ‘I have no doubt of it,’ said Angela. ‘Very well, then, I shall have to think of something else.’ She rose and adjusted her dress. ‘Don’t wait up, Marthe,’ she said, and went out.

  Downstairs in the hall she met Henry Jameson as he emerged from the passage that led to the study.

  ‘Ah, Mrs. Marchmont,’ he said. ‘Might I speak to you for a moment?’

  ‘Why, of course,’ replied Angela.

  Henry glanced about him. They were quite alone. He coughed and lowered his voice.

  ‘I have spoken to St. John Bagshawe, who informs me that when you and Lady Gertrude chased him through the woods, you pointed a gun at his head and told him to—er—“put ‘em up.”’

  ‘I did no such thing!’ exclaimed Angela. ‘What do you take me for?’

  ‘Then he was lying?’ he said.

  ‘Oh, I pointed a gun at his head all right,’ said Angela, ‘but I should never dream of saying anything so vulgar. I believe what I actually said was, “Don’t move.”’

  Henry seemed to be trying not to smile.

  ‘Mrs. Marchmont,’ he said, ‘you know what I am about to say next, don’t you?’

  Angela sighed.

  ‘I suppose you want the gun,’ she said.

  He nodded.

  ‘I have no reason to suppose you shot the professor,’ he said, ‘but the fact remains that we have a dead body and a missing weapon, and I should be neglecting my duty if I did not at least take a look at yours, if only to eliminate it from the inquiry. I’m sure you understand.’

  ‘Oh, very well, then,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I’ll give it to you, but I want it back. It’s not the same gun that killed the professor, I promise you.’

  ‘How can you be so certain?’

  ‘Because I brought it with me fully loaded and there are no bullets missing,’ she replied.

  ‘Where is it now?’

  ‘My chauffeur has it. I thought that you—or some of the others, at least—might jump to the wrong conclusion if you found it in my suitcase, so to save you and myself any unnecessary worry I decided to give it to someone else to look after. Very well, then, take it if you must. Go to the servants’ hall and ask for William. You may tell him I sent you.’

  ‘Thank you. If it turns out that it was not used as the murder weapon, you shall have it back as soon as possible.’

  ‘Just as I’m about to leave, I imagine,’ said Angela under her breath, as Henry went off shaking his head.

  ‘Angela!’ said a voice just then, and she turned. It was Selma Nash, who was descending the stairs with difficulty, dressed in a long sheath dress that was quite dazzling and far more daring than Angela’s frock. ‘You look quite divine! Where have you been hiding all day? I’ve been dying to talk to you.’

  Angela was seized with a sudden urge to run away, but she merely stood and waited until Selma reached the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘I don’t know what possessed me to wear this,’ said Mrs. Nash with a rueful smile. ‘I can barely walk in it.’

  ‘You look quite stunning,’ said Angela. ‘Where did you find it?’

  ‘Oh, the most awful little woman, darling,’ said Selma, taking Angela’s arm as they proceeded towards the drawing-room. ‘Do you know Madame Estelle? Ghastly old witch with fingers like bird’s claws and a voice that quite goes through one, but she makes the most gorgeous gowns, so I can’t bear to leave her. Did you see Edrys Lawrence’s outfit at Ascot this year? It caused quite a stir. That was by Estelle.’ She went on in this vein for some minutes, and then said, ‘But, darling, that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I want to know what exactly is bothering Aubrey. He won’t tell me, but I’ll just bet you know all about it.’

  ‘Is something bothering him?’ said Angela rather feebly. ‘And why should I know what it is?’

  ‘Because I happen to know that the two of you were seen having a very intimate conversation in the breakfast-room this morning.’

  Angela inwardly cursed the loose tongues of the Fives servants, but merely said cautiously, ‘Yes, I believe he did come into the breakfast-room while I was there, but I don’t remember what we talked about.’

  Selma snorted delicately.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Angela. You were holding hands and talking with your heads close together—practically kissing, in fact.’

  Angela reddened.

  ‘Look here,’ she said, ‘that’s how it may have looked, but I can assure you—’

  ‘Oh, I’m not interested in that,’ said Selma with a wave of the hand. ‘All I want to know is: what is this secret that everybody seems to know about except me? Of course, I knew there was something afoot when we came here—we were all set to start for the Riviera on Friday, but then right at the last minute Aubrey said we had to come to Scotland instead, so I had to repack my trunks in a hurry, since naturally the clothes I’d packed for Cap Ferrat would have been no good at all up here at the North Pole.’

  ‘Naturally,’ said Angela.

  ‘So I knew there was something going on, but I thought it was the usual kind of thing—you know, an unexpected visit to Fives by the King, who’d dec
ided it was a matter of urgency to summon the Ambassador and ask him some stupid question or other.’

  ‘Does that happen often?’ said Angela.

  ‘You’d be surprised,’ said Selma darkly. ‘Anyhow, it was obvious when we arrived that there was some kind of political discussion going on, and Aubrey was his normal self—except maybe a little more excited than usual—but of course, that might have been because you were here—’

  Angela disclaimed all credit for this with a shake of the head.

  ‘—but now something’s happened, hasn’t it? I know it has, because Aubrey’s manner has changed completely. He’s gone all quiet and brooding, and will hardly speak to me. And he and Gabe have been rushing around looking like thunder and ignoring me all day.’ She laughed. ‘In fact, I was so lonely I spent a whole hour this afternoon making polite conversation with Lady Strathmerrick, although I’m pretty sure she disapproves of my behaviour.’

  ‘Really?’ said Angela.

  ‘Well, I guess I may have been just a little obvious with Freddy,’ said Selma, considering. ‘But anyway, whatever this thing is, it must have happened last night or early this morning, I’m certain of it. What was it, Angela?’

  Angela hesitated. Although the secret could hardly be called a secret any more, she was still uncertain as to what she was allowed to say, and to whom. Fortunately, her dilemma was resolved by Clemmie, who just then rushed up to the two women and said to Angela breathlessly:

  ‘I say, Angela, is it true what they’re saying about Professor Klausen? Has he really been murdered?’

  ‘Well I’ll be—’ said Selma in astonishment. ‘Is that what it is?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Clemmie. ‘They’re saying he was shot through the heart last night while we were all at the dance. All the servants are talking about it. Someone broke into the castle and killed him, then dumped him in the billiard-room. He’s still in there now and nobody is allowed in until they have taken him away. Is it true?’