Fletchers End (Bel Lamington Book 2)

by D. E. Stevenson

  Bel was appalled. She said, “I can scarcely believe it!”

  “I could scarcely believe it myself—even when I had all the evidence before my eyes. I trusted him completely. It’s an awful shock when somebody you’ve trusted lets you down like that. I thought Campbell was absolutely faithful to ‘Drummond’s’, I thought he was heart and soul in the business. To tell the truth I thought ‘Drummond’s’ meant more to him than it did to me. Now I’ve discovered that he’d been embezzling the funds for years. Not just small sums but chunks of capital——”

  “Alec, how frightful!”

  “No wonder he didn’t want a partnership,” said Alec bitterly. “The firm is on its beam ends.”

  Bel was too horrified to speak.

  “Well, there you are,” said Alec after a short silence. “Now you know. It was good of you to listen——”

  “Alec, where is he? Campbell, I mean.”

  “Oh gone, of course! Vamoosed, vanished from the face of the earth! He’s probably somewhere in South America, living on his ill-gotten gains. Anyway he can’t be found.”

  “You told the police?”

  “Yes. They can’t trace him. Oh, Bel!” cried Alec. “You don’t know what an awful time I’ve had. It’s been too ghastly for words. I was fishing at Loch Boisdale when I got a wire from one of the clerks in the office telling me to come at once, and when I got home Campbell had gone. He simply walked out of the office one evening and never returned. Everything was in the most frightful muddle and it was some time before I realised the truth. I couldn’t believe Campbell was a thief—I just couldn’t believe it. So by the time I got the police it was too late to catch him. They’ll never catch him, I’m sure of that. He’s much too clever.”

  Bel tried to think of something helpful to say but could find nothing.

  After a few moments Alec continued. “I knew so little about the business that I was helpless, so I got a firm of chartered accountants to tackle it. They got on to it at once, but it took them days and days to get to the bottom of it and clear up the muddle. Campbell had altered figures and juggled about with returns in a most amazing way. The chartered accountants told me that they had never tackled such a difficult job before; they said Campbell must have been brilliantly clever . . .” Alec’s voice died away and he was silent.

  “Alec,” said Bel earnestly, “I’ve worked in an office, you know, and I can’t understand how he managed to get away with it. I mean some of the clerks must have known what he was doing.”

  “I’m certain that the head clerk was in it up to the neck. He says not, of course, and I’ve no proof; I can’t bring it home to him. I expect he got a good rake-off from Campbell to keep his mouth shut. I sacked him, of course. There was nothing else I could do.”

  “Surely some of the others must have suspected.”

  “Well, I don’t know,” said Alec thoughtfully. “You see Campbell had full control of the office and none of the clerks stayed long. Campbell could sack whom he pleased and he made good use of his prerogative; there were new faces in the office whenever I went to the place.”

  “You never had the slightest suspicion of Campbell?” asked Bel incredulously.

  “It seems strange,” admitted Alec. “But you see I’d known the man for years—ever since I was a child—and I trusted him completely. As a matter of fact one rather curious thing happened; I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but I’ve thought about it since.” He paused and looked at Bel. “You’re not bored with all this?” he asked.

  “No, of course not. Tell me about it, Alec.”

  “There was a queer old fellow called Bates. He was a clerk and came to the office just before Christmas—last Christmas I mean. One morning when I happened to be in my room he brought in a letter for me to sign. I can see him now—a wizened little creature with a yellow face and a wee thin neck like a drawn chicken. I said I hadn’t seen him before and he said he had only been in ‘Drummond’s’ for six weeks. Then he asked if I were interested in history and I said I was—what else could I say? Then he said in a low voice, ‘Mr. Drummond, did you ever read about the massacre of Glencoe?’ Of course I thought the fellow was a bit mad, but there was something nice about him, too. I couldn’t help liking him—if you know what I mean. ‘Listen, Mr. Drummond,’ he said earnestly. ‘You’ll no doubt remember what the Campbells did that night. The MacDonalds took the Campbells into their homes and gave them hospitality, and in the night when it was dark—black as pitch—the Campbells rose up and killed the MacDonalds—every one of them, man, woman and child! Was that not an awful thing, Mr. Drummond?’

  “I said that it was a terrible thing.

  “‘It was a traitorous thing,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘My mother was a MacDonald and she used to tell us about it when we were children, so it made a great impression on my mind . . . but the MacDonalds were to blame. They had only themselves to thank for what happened.’

  “I asked him what on earth he meant and he came nearer and said in a whisper, ‘You should never trust a Campbell.’

  “He said it in such a queer way that it gave me the creeps. I don’t know what I might have said—I was struck dumb for a moment—and then the telephone-bell rang and interrupted the extraordinary conversation and he went away. As I told you I thought he was queer in the head. Afterwards I mentioned it to Campbell as a joke. I said, ‘Old Bates has a down on you. His mother was a MacDonald. He’s been telling me about the massacre of Glencoe.’ I thought Campbell would be amused but he was not amused at all. He looked quite taken aback. I said, ‘It’s a good joke, isn’t it?’ Then he pulled himself together and laughed, but all the same I could see he didn’t like it. I never saw Bates again.”

  “Alec, what do you mean!” exclaimed Bel in dismay.

  “I mean he was sacked, that’s all,” said Alec with a wan smile. “You didn’t suppose there was another massacre, did you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “I believe you did, I believe you thought Campbell rose up in the night when it was dark—black as pitch—and slit his throat. Well, anyway it didn’t happen like that. Bates just disappeared and when I asked Campbell what had become of him he replied that the man was a silly old fool, always half-asleep, so he had paid him up and dismissed him. Campbell had the right to do it of course. He had complete control of the office. I told you that, didn’t I?”

  *

  4

  There was a short silence. Then Bel said, “What are you going to do, Alec? Will you be able to carry on?”

  He nodded. “I think so,” he replied. “At first it seemed absolutely hopeless. I thought ‘Drummond’s’ was completely bust. Then I got a letter from a friend of my father’s asking me to come to London and see him. That’s the reason I came to London. I saw him yesterday and he has offered to lend me enough money to tide me over the next few months. I shall sell the house in Buckingham Terrace and go into cheap lodgings and try to get things straight. Fortunately Jean is all right—she has money of her own—so I don’t need to worry about her.”

  “Couldn’t she help you?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of asking her,” declared Alec. “No, I’ll see it through myself. ‘Drummond’s’ is my responsibility, it has nothing to do with Jean. She’s in New Zealand at the moment staying with some friends, so she doesn’t know anything about it and I don’t intend to tell her. She’ll have to know sooner or later, but I’ll put it off as long as I can.”

  He hesitated for a moment and then continued thoughtfully, “It’s a funny thing; I never cared for the business before, I thought it was dull; it didn’t mean anything to me, but now, quite suddenly, it has begun to mean a lot. My grandfather started ‘Drummond’s’ and my father built it up and I’ve wrecked it. That’s not a pretty thought, is it? I lie awake at night and think about it. You can understand, can’t you?”

  Bel nodded.

  “But that’s all past,” declared Alec, sitting up and squaring his shoulders. “It�
��s no use crying over spilt milk. I’ve made up my mind to work night and day and put ‘Drummond’s’ on its feet. ‘Drummond’s’ is going to be bigger and better than ever before.”

  “Good!” cried Bel, clapping her hands. “That’s the spirit I Splendid, Alec! You’ll do it—I know you will.”

  “Oh, Bel!” he said in a choked voice.

  She looked at him and saw that his eyes were shining with tears. She held out her hand and he took it and gave it a little squeeze.

  “Bel, you’re a dear,” he said huskily. “Forgive me for being so silly but I’ve had such a wretched time—I’ve been so miserable. When I came to London I felt absolutely down and out. I felt like chucking myself out of the train. Then yesterday I saw Sir Arthur and he made his wonderful offer, and to-night there’s you—both of you believing in me! It’s put new life into me and I shall go home to-morrow feeling a different man.”

  “I’m glad,” she whispered. “I’m awfully glad.”

  “Do you think I could talk to your husband about it?”

  “Yes, do talk to Ellis. I’m sure he would help you.”

  “I should like his advice,” Alex explained. “You see I’ve been wondering how to cut down office expenses. I shall have as few clerks as possible and do most of the work myself.”

  “You must have one thoroughly reliable man.”

  “I’m a bit chary of ‘thoroughly reliable’ men.”

  “But you must, Alec. You might be ill or something. There simply must be someone in the office upon whom you can depend.”

  “Yes, I see that,” agreed Alec. “But the only thing is——”

  “I wonder,” said Bel thoughtfully. “What about that queer little man you were telling me about? I mean the one who talked to you about Glencoe.”

  “You mean Bates?” asked Alec in surprise. “He wouldn’t be any good at all. He was a bit queer in the head; he was incompetent and half-asleep all the time.”

  “But was he really? Was he incompetent and half-asleep? Perhaps he was too clever. Perhaps he was too wide awake.”

  Alec looked at her doubtfully. “You mean that was the reason Campbell got rid of him?”

  “Yes, of course. He had discovered there was something wrong.”

  “But why didn’t he warn me?”

  “He did warn you. He said you should never trust a Campbell. What more could he have said? You didn’t take his warning, Alec.”

  “All that talk about the massacre!”

  “It was clever,” said Bel earnestly. “The man was a clerk and had only been with you for a few weeks. Could he have walked into your room and said, ‘Campbell is robbing you?’ Don’t you see, Alec? The man had to lead up to it and from what you’ve told me he seems to have led up to it very cleverly.”

  “That’s true,” admitted Alec in a thoughtful tone. “Perhaps he suspected that there was something fishy going on.”

  “Yes, he tried to give you a hint.”

  Alec sighed. He said, “I can see now that it was a pretty broad hint. If I hadn’t been so besotted with Campbell I might have taken it.”

  “I’m sure that man is clever and honest,” declared Bel. “If he hadn’t been honest he could have gone to Campbell and threatened him, couldn’t he?”

  “You mean blackmail?” asked Alec looking at her in astonishment. “Goodness, Bel, what an extraordinary idea for you to have! You—of all people!”

  Bel smiled; she could not help smiling at Alec’s horrified expression. She said, “Call it that if you like. At any rate he didn’t try to get money out of Campbell; he came straight to you. He risked a great deal by doing so. He risked losing his job, and that’s a big risk for a man in his position. I know, because I’ve been in that position myself—when the mere idea of losing my job gave me cold shivers up my spine.”

  “You’ve made a good case for Bates.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I think Bates would be useful to you.”

  “I believe you’re right. It would be worth trying at any rate. I wonder if I could find him.”

  “Do you know his other name?”

  “Yes, Wilkie. I don’t know why I should remember it, but that was what it was.”

  “Wilkie Bates—I like it,” said Bel. “Try to find him, Alec.”

  “Yes, I’ll try. I’ll start inquiries the moment I get home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Having settled this problem—as much as it could be settled—Bel changed the subject. She said, “Alec, you spoke of going home to-morrow. You didn’t mean it, did you? We were hoping to have you here for several days at least.”

  “It’s very kind of you, but I must go home. If I could get a train from here in the morning I could go north by the midday Scot. I really must go home, I’ve got such a lot to do. You understand, don’t you?”

  “But Alec, you’re going to Coombe House to lunch!”

  “I’ve decided not to go.”

  “But Louise is expecting you! It’s all arranged. She said she would fetch you in her car to-morrow morning.”

  “I mustn’t go,” said Alec in a low miserable voice. “It wouldn’t be right. I can’t think why I said I would go. I suppose it was because I wanted to see her for the last time.”

  “For the last time?”

  He nodded. “You know what I feel about her, don’t you? I made an ass of myself that night at Drumburly so—so you know what I feel. I loved Louise the moment I saw her and I shall go on loving her until I die, but I can’t marry her. I can’t marry her now.”

  “Alec, don’t you think——” began Bel.

  He took no notice. “I’ve asked her twice,” he continued. “I was quite hopeful the second time—it was when I was in London last January and she came up and had lunch with me. She had written me such a nice letter and I was so hopeful that I bought a ring and had it all ready in my pocket to slip on to her dear little finger. Wasn’t I a fool?” He paused and shook his head. “Well, I asked her and she said no. She said she liked me very much and she wanted me to be her friend but she couldn’t marry me. ‘Never, never, never,’ she said. She was so firm about it that I thought perhaps she loved somebody else—I was silly enough to ask. She said, ‘Yes, I love Daddy. I love him better than anyone else in the world’. At the time I was nearly demented but I see now it was all for the best. Supposing we had been married—and this had happened! Just think how awful it would have been!”

  Bel did not know how to answer this. She said, “Louise will be disappointed if you don’t go over to Coombe House to-morrow.”

  “She won’t be very disappointed. She just likes me in a friendly sort of way, that’s all. It’s better not to see her again. It’s quite hopeless. I’m a pauper. I shall have to toil and moil and economise in every possible way. I couldn’t afford to marry—even if Louise would have me. I’ve told you that I’ve asked her and she has refused me quite definitely. Oh, it’s no use talking about it,” he added in a desperate sort of voice. “I keep on saying the same thing. You’re a perfect saint to listen to all this drivel.”

  “I’m terribly sorry. I wish I could do something to help you.”

  “I was going to ask you to do something for me,” he replied. “That’s really why I came. I’ve written a little note to Louise—just a few lines to say I can’t come to lunch—she’ll get it to-morrow morning. I tried to write her a letter telling her what had happened but it was too difficult to explain. I thought perhaps you would give her a message for me.”

  “Yes, of course I will.”

  “Just tell her that my business is in ruins and I’ve got to set to work and build it up. That’s all. She won’t want to see me again.”

  “She won’t want to see you again!” echoed Bel in astonishment.

  “No, it will put her off completely. It would put anybody off to know what a fool I’ve been. Louise was always a bit scornful about the way I amused myself instead of attending to my business. You know that, don’t you.”

  “
She thought you were a little too keen on fishing,” admitted Bel.

  “How right she was!” Alec exclaimed. “How—right—she—was! Well, anyway, I’ve had my lesson. I never want to see a fishing-rod again. I shall sell my tackle—it’s pretty good so I ought to get a decent price for it. Perhaps I’ll get enough to buy a new jacket,” he added with a feeble sort of smile.

  Bel was glad he could smile, however feebly. She said, “You’ll get a lot more than that. Enough to buy a couple of jackets and a really good suit as well. You mustn’t go about looking shabby.”

  “No, I mustn’t,” agreed Alec. “You’re right. It wouldn’t be a good advertisement for the firm.”

  “I’ll go over to Ernleigh and see Louise to-morrow.”

  “Yes, that will be very kind of you, Bel. It will be ever so much better than writing. I tried to write but the letter was just one long moan—so I tore it up. You understand, don’t you?” he added. “I don’t want you to tell her the whole story. She wouldn’t be interested.”

  Bel was silent for a few moments and then she said, “But, Alec, she’ll ask me about it.”

  “Oh well, if she asks you about it you must use your own discretion, but I don’t want her to be bored with a long recital of all my woes—see?”

  “Yes, I see, but——” she hesitated.

  “What were you going to say?” Alec inquired.

  “Nothing special. You might put another log on the fire for me. I expect Ellis will have finished his work and will be coming in soon. I’ll just go off to bed and leave you to have a good talk. That will be the best way.”

  “Yes—if you don’t think he’ll be bored.”

  “He won’t be bored,” said Bel with conviction.

  *

  2

  On her way up to bed Bel went into the study and found Ellis gathering up his papers.

  “Off to bed?” he asked.

  “M’m,” said Bel, putting her arms round his neck and kissing the tip of his ear. “Alec wants to talk to you about something important.”