by Clara Benson
‘Naturally, if Lord Strathmerrick were ever to find out about this, then he would certainly not allow the wedding to go ahead; moreover, there was no chance of Burford’s being able to stand for Parliament as a bankrupt. It looked very much as though all his ambitions were at an end. For some weeks he kept his troubles to himself, but one day he happened to be in company with Stephen Golovin, who had not yet come under suspicion for his spying activities, and accidentally mentioned that he had money difficulties, although he did not confess their extent. Golovin was sympathetic and they became friends—or so Burford believed. Of course, it is more likely that this was a calculated move on the part of Golovin, who presumably wanted to recruit more people to his cause.
‘One day Golovin took Burford aside and said he knew of a way in which Burford could pay off his debts with very little effort. According to Burford, he had that very morning received a final demand for payment from one of his creditors, and so was in a somewhat desperate state of mind. He had only a week in which to find the money, or all would be revealed and his ambitions and his engagement would be at an end. Naturally, therefore, he jumped at the opportunity. It was very easy: all he had to do was to make a copy of some minutes to a confidential meeting that was due to take place between the Home Secretary and his American counterpart that day, and hand it to Golovin. He did so, and the next day received through the post an anonymous letter containing a cheque for almost half the sum of his debts.
‘A month or so later, he was again approached by Golovin and asked if he would like to make some more money. Another creditor had begun to press for payment, so Burford said yes. This time the documents related to a secret meeting about overland trade routes on the Continent. Again, he received in return an anonymous letter containing a cheque.
‘After two or three more incidents of this kind, Burford was back on a sound footing financially and had no need to hand over any more information in return for payment, so the next time Golovin asked for his help he declined. Shortly afterwards, Golovin was arrested and sent to prison. As we all know, the ensuing scandal ended in Ogilvy’s resignation as Home Secretary and the end of his career in Parliament. Burford then stood for election in Ogilvy’s seat and won. With Golovin safe in gaol and all debts paid off, he believed he was safe. After a few months, however, he was horrified to receive an anonymous letter of the type in which the cheques had arrived. The writer of the letter politely requested that Burford send a copy of certain Government documents to a particular address, in return for which he would receive generous remuneration as he had done in the past. However, if he refused to do so, then the writer of the letter would have no choice but to report the fact of his previous spying activities to the proper authorities.
‘Naturally, this put Burford in something of a tricky position, but after reflecting on the matter he realized that he was now involved too deeply and that there was no way out for him, so he did as the letter demanded and supplied the documents in question.’
‘Good God,’ exclaimed Lord Strathmerrick. ‘Do you mean to say the fellow has been passing information to foreign powers ever since he was elected to Parliament?’
‘And before that, too,’ said Jameson. ‘According to him, the whole thing started as a regrettable error but swiftly descended into an agonizing and shameful torture from which he could see no escape. Apparently, he has been beating his breast in misery for the past year and a half at least, and has been suffering from the most unbearable guilt.’
‘He didn’t feel guilty enough to turn down the money though, I guess,’ said Aubrey dryly.
‘No,’ agreed Henry. ‘His little—er—side-line appears to have been rather remunerative. At any rate,’ he went on, ‘the anonymous letters continued to arrive—not too frequently, of course; too often would have aroused suspicion—and each time Burford saw no choice but to do as he was told.’
Here the Earl snorted. Henry ignored him and went on:
‘Now we come to our little incident here. Burford says that last week he received another letter, telling him that Professor Klausen would be bringing some important papers to Fives Castle, and that he was to get hold of them. As we all know, Klausen never turned up—alive, at least—and Burford started to get worried. What would happen if he couldn’t get the documents? Would he be exposed? Fortunately for him, the Foreign Secretary then revealed that he had another copy, and so he determined to get that one instead and thereby save his skin—although, of course, he was unaware that the two sets of documents were not the same. He knew Mrs. Buchanan’s real identity, although he had kept quiet up until then for reasons best known to himself—perhaps he was hoping to make use of her in some way—’
‘He did that all right,’ said Sandy Buchanan bitterly.
Henry cast him a sympathetic glance and went on:
‘—so he approached her and blackmailed her in turn, threatening to reveal who she really was if she did not get the papers for him, which she duly did after the dance on New Year’s Eve. Luckily, because of the snow, he couldn’t pass them on to his correspondent and so here they are, back in our possession, thanks to some quick thinking on the part of Mrs. Marchmont and Mr. Pilkington-Soames. Had they not spotted Burford trying to escape, he might have got clean away. It was by the merest chance that I happened to glance out of the window and see them heading after him. It took Bradley and me a little while to catch up, although young Freddy seemed to have the situation well in hand by the time we arrived.’
‘So he stole one set of documents, but claims he didn’t steal the other one,’ said Aubrey Nash. ‘Can that be true? He can’t possibly deny having killed Klausen too, can he?’
‘One would imagine not, and yet that is what he says,’ said Henry. ‘This is where the story becomes even stranger. According to Burford, after Mrs. Buchanan gave him the documents he put them in his pocket and went into the library, with some intention of finding a temporary hiding-place for them in case the alarm was raised and a search instituted. He initially saw nothing untoward, but after a few minutes of looking about him for a suitable place of concealment, he spotted what looked like a foot sticking out from behind the large ornamental globe in the corner. On further investigation he discovered to his astonishment that it was the body of Professor Klausen, who had evidently been shot.
‘Burford then claims to have lost his head. He immediately assumed that somebody was trying to pin the murder on him and determined to hide the body so that it should never be found. He intended to bury it somewhere on the Fives estate once the snow had melted, but in the meantime hid it in what he considered to be the nearest safe place—the wooden chest in the billiard-room next door. The room is generally cold, and so he judged that there was little risk of anyone noticing a smell for some days at least. Naturally, he had no idea that six people were hiding in a cupboard there while he did it. I imagine it must have come as the most awful shock to him when he found out.’
‘It did,’ said Gabe. ‘I remember it distinctly. He looked at me as though he’d seen a ghost.’
‘Does he admit to having searched Klausen’s pockets?’ said Aubrey. ‘He must have done, or he’s even more of an idiot than I thought.’
‘Yes,’ replied Henry. ‘He searched them as soon as he had got over the surprise of finding the body, but found nothing, he says.’
‘Look here, this is all nonsense,’ said Lord Strathmerrick. ‘Why is he bothering to deny having murdered Klausen? Of course he did it. What you ought to be doing now, Jameson, is searching for the gun and the other set of papers.’
‘I have the gun already,’ said Henry. ‘Mrs. Marchmont found it planted in her handbag last night.’
‘Is that what she said?’ said the Earl. ‘Then why didn’t she tell you before?’
‘She didn’t have the opportunity,’ said Henry. ‘She took it out with her this afternoon, intending to use it as a means of bringing back Burford, but has now given it to me.’
‘Are you sure it’s the mu
rder weapon?’
‘I believe so,’ said Henry, ‘although we won’t be able to tell for certain until we’ve examined it properly and got the bullet out of Professor Klausen for comparison.’
Sandy Buchanan rubbed his eyes. The day had been a hard one for him.
‘So, then, leaving aside the small matter of the murder, this is where we stand,’ he said. ‘We have the documents that were stolen from my trunk, but we are still missing the ones that Klausen was carrying. We don’t know which documents are the right ones, so we need both copies in order to make sure Klausen’s research doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. How can we find the second set, if Burford won’t admit to having taken them?’
‘Do you want me to beat it out of him, sir?’ said Gabe eagerly.
The Foreign Secretary’s mouth twitched in amusement.
‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘but we prefer gentler methods over here—and besides, I think he’s taken enough of a drubbing for one day, don’t you? I shall speak to him tomorrow, when he’s had a chance to recover a little, and see if I can get anything out of him.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I suppose we ought to be thinking about dressing for dinner,’ he said.
Aubrey was thoughtfully shuffling the documents that lay in front of him.
‘If Burford is telling the truth, then I wonder how his anonymous correspondent knew that Professor Klausen was coming here with the papers,’ he said. ‘Presumably that means Claude is lying about the whole thing.’
‘Unless, of course, another one of us has been passing on secrets,’ said Henry lightly.
TWENTY-NINE
In the drawing-room Lady Strathmerrick was suffering in a similar manner to her husband. Coming as it did on top of the shocks of the past day or two, the discovery that Claude Burford (whom she had not in truth liked much despite his ostensible suitability as a son-in-law) had been rampaging around the house, shooting her guests, had proved almost too much for her. Although she wished for nothing more than to go and lie down in her room for several hours, the ingrained manners of a lifetime prevented her from seeking that succour, and she was forced by the demands of her own upbringing to sit with the rest of the guests—although to make polite conversation was impossible. Instead she sat, pale-faced and staring straight ahead, while Miss Foster flapped about ineffectually and tried to rally her. Meanwhile Gertie, who deep down was very fond of her mother, sat by her, holding her hand and gazing at her in concern. Eventually Gertie jumped up, poured a large glass of brandy and forced the Countess to drink it.
‘Thank you, dear,’ said Lady Strathmerrick, as the colour slowly began to return to her cheeks. She looked about her as some semblance of awareness returned, and was relieved to find that nobody appeared to require her attention at that moment. Priss and Clemmie were sitting with their heads together, whispering in agitation—although in truth, Priss looked more surprised and angry than upset, while Eleanor Buchanan was talking to Mrs. Marchmont, and Mrs. Nash was clucking in concern over Freddy Pilkington-Soames, who appeared to be bleeding from one ear all over the cushions. Gus and Bobby were staring at Freddy in fascination, and Mr. Bagshawe was gazing pathetically at Gertie as usual.
‘Have some more,’ said Gertie, pouring another slug into the glass.
‘Oh, no, I mustn’t,’ said the Countess. ‘I shall never stay awake until dinner. No, I am quite recovered now, thank you.’
‘Then I shall drink it,’ said Gertie, swallowing it in one gulp. ‘I think I need some brandy too, after the events of this afternoon. I must get hold of Angela once she’s stopped talking to the Buchanan woman. I want to know exactly what happened.’
Over in the corner, Angela was listening to what Eleanor Buchanan had to say. Naturally, her husband had been shocked when she had confessed to him her secret and told him about Claude’s blackmail.
‘Was he very angry with you?’ said Angela.
‘Yes,’ said Eleanor. ‘At least, he was at first. But then he started blaming himself for having let me fall prey to a blackmailer and asked me to forgive him. That made me feel even worse, of course, because naturally he has been completely blameless throughout the whole affair. Now he is going to suffer, and all because of me. Oh, Angela, I’ve been such a coward. I ought never to have kept the secret from him—ought never to have married him, in fact,’ she added sadly. ‘He would have been much better off without me.’
‘Is that what he said?’
‘Oh, no,’ said Eleanor. ‘He said he still loved me and was quite determined to stand by me. But how can I live with the guilt? I can’t help thinking that the best thing I could do would be to leave.’
‘And betray him again, after he has placed his trust in you a second time?’ said Angela gently. ‘I hardly think that would be a just reward to him, do you?’
Eleanor gave her a startled glance.
‘I hadn’t thought of it like that,’ she said after a moment. ‘Oh, Angela, all I want to do is the right thing—what’s best for Sandy.’
‘If that is the case then you must stay with him and face up to the consequences of what you have done,’ said Angela. ‘It is up to him to decide whether or not he can live with it—and from what you say, he has already made his decision.’ She smiled. ‘He obviously loves you very much.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Of course—why, anyone can see it,’ said Angela.
‘And I love him so very much too,’ said Eleanor. She straightened up and set her jaw. ‘You’re right again, of course. Very well, I shall stick with him for as long as he wants me, and if he should decide in the end that what I have done is unforgivable—well then, I shall accept his decision and try to live with it.’
‘I hope it will never come to that,’ said Angela. ‘At any rate, I am glad you told him the truth. To continue with the lie would have been impossible.’
‘In a funny way it was quite a relief,’ said Mrs. Buchanan. ‘Now there are no secrets between us, and if we can only get over this present difficulty then I almost feel as though we can start afresh. If only there were some way to hush up all this scandal—or at least suppress some part of the truth.’
‘I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if Mr. Jameson and Lord Strathmerrick manage something of the sort between them,’ said Angela. ‘All may not yet be lost.’
‘I hope so,’ said Eleanor. She glanced at the clock. ‘And now I had better go and dress for dinner. I am on my best behaviour now, so I mustn’t be late.’
She went out, and Angela was immediately joined by Gus and Bobby, who in a flurry of breathless whispers clamoured to know what exactly had been going on that afternoon, since nobody else would tell them. Angela gave them an expurgated summary of events, and they gaped at her in speechless excitement, then Bobby suppressed a whoop and tried not to caper about.
‘Serves him right,’ he said in a low voice, ‘after the telling-off he gave us yesterday. We never liked him.’
‘Yes, he was an awful sneak,’ agreed Gus. ‘If you ask me, we’re well rid of him. Now Priss can get married to someone nicer.’
‘Gabe,’ said Bobby, nodding. ‘Let’s have him. I like him. He’s jolly good at making snowmen. And I’ll bet he’s the sort who will play pick-a-back without worrying about getting shoe-marks on his clothes. Not like Claude.’
This seemed to be the summit of their wishes with regard to a prospective brother-in-law, and Angela readily admitted that in that respect at least Gabe Bradley was an eminently suitable candidate, being big and tall enough to carry either of them on his back if required. They bounced up and down in excitement, then ran off to chew over the new information among themselves.
Angela smiled, then decided to follow Eleanor’s example and dress for dinner. When she reached the top of the stairs she encountered Henry Jameson coming out of his room, frowning. He had almost walked past her before he noticed her and brought himself up short.
‘Is everything quite all right?’ said Angela, noticing his abstraction.
‘Mrs. Marchmont, perhaps I am getting old and losing my memory, but I am right in thinking that you gave me the second gun, aren’t I?’ he said.
‘Yes,’ said Angela. ‘I handed it to you in the hall when Freddy and I came in, don’t you remember?’
‘Yes, I thought you did,’ said Henry. ‘And I’m pretty sure I put it in the drawer in my room.’
‘Are you telling me you’ve lost it?’ said Angela.
‘Either that or someone has taken it,’ said Henry soberly.
They stared at each other.
‘Ought I to look and see whether it has been planted in my handbag again?’ said Angela, in a vain attempt to make light of the matter.
He did not reply, so she tried again.
‘Who could have taken it?’ she said.
‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘And I don’t know why, either.’
‘Who knew you had it?’
‘Why, almost everyone, I should think,’ he said. ‘The whole house has been in an uproar since we all found out what Burford had been getting up to. I don’t suppose there’s one person who doesn’t know the entire story by now.’
‘Might Claude have taken it?’
Henry shook his head.
‘No,’ he said. ‘We questioned him then locked him in a bedroom upstairs, and it was only after that that I went and put the gun in my drawer.’
‘Perhaps someone took it as a joke,’ said Angela, although it did not sound likely, even to her. ‘At any rate,’ she went on practically, ‘surely it doesn’t matter now that you’ve caught Claude. After all, he’s the only murderer in the house—isn’t he?’