Call for the Baron

by John Creasey

  ‘I don’t see the connection,’ Cecilie said.

  ‘You would if you tried,’ said Mannering cheerfully. ‘If a man will take money and jewels he might take anything he can sell. The police mustn’t take risks, and whether there had been robberies or not we would have been asked not to get in touch with anyone in town – or elsewhere,’ he added, taking her elbow and guiding her towards the dining-room.

  Cecilie looked slightly mollified. ‘If that’s the case, and the visits are so important, why don’t they go somewhere else now?’

  ‘Somewhere else could cause talk,’ said Mannering. ‘Anyone who learns Morency is at his sister’s house sees it in a normal enough visit, and there’s no apparent association with politics. None of which need concern you, Cecilie. Do lose the notion that you’re being singled out for special notice by Bristow.’

  They found Diana in the dining-room, and Hilda Markham, Vere, Morency, Armitage and Dryden. Dryden was sitting away from the others, looking intently out of the window as if searching for inspiration in the sun swept lawns and gardens. Diana was talking animatedly to Tommy. She appeared to Mannering to be too talkative – and nervous. Suddenly Hilda Markham’s voice broke sharply across Diana’s words.

  ‘Di, don’t try to pull the wool over our eyes, please. Even I can tell there’s something the matter, and when the police ask us not to leave the grounds, nor telephone unless it’s urgent, it’s obvious that it’s not all to do with Vicky. After all,’ she added, in a reasoning voice, ‘he’s not as important as all that.’

  ‘Thick soup or clear, Miss,’ Ransome was saying imperturbably to Lorna.

  ‘Clear, please.’

  ‘And for me,’ said Cecilie.

  Unabashed by unspoken criticism, Hilda ploughed on. ‘The point is, has a citizen rights of freedom and movement, or hasn’t he? If Di or Martin had asked me in confidence, to stay, I would have joined the conspiracy and thought no more about it. But that Inspector Bristow—’ She grimaced.

  Mannering said banteringly, ‘Perhaps you haven’t heard that extraordinarily original saying that’s going about? No, I can see you haven’t.’

  ‘And what’s that,’ said Hilda Markham, rubbing her spectacles vigorously.

  ‘Why that there’s a war on.’

  There was a general laugh, and under cover of it Hilda leaned forward and murmured to Diana: ‘Sorry, dear, I never have been noted for tact. But that Bristow man did rather get me on edge.’

  Harmony was restored, but beneath the surface there remained an unpleasant awareness of things that were not understood. Even Dryden seemed to have sensed it. He was the first to leave the table.

  Armitage, Morency and Vere stayed behind with Mannering, Armitage smiled.

  ‘Hilda does put her foot in it, doesn’t she?’

  ‘She means well, but she’s got a skin like a hide,’ Vere assured them. He blinked at Mannering. ‘That policeman fellow. Rather a decent chap, I thought.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with Bristow,’ said Mannering, ‘unless it’s too keen a devotion to routine. But he’s got us nicely where he wants us. Are questions taboo?’

  Morency looked up with a smile.

  ‘Answers might be.’

  ‘Would the precautions have been quite so stringent if it weren’t for the robberies?’ said Mannering wonderingly.

  ‘Well,’ Morency pursed his lips. ‘I don’t think so, Mannering, but I can’t be sure. It’s your country! You three know that I was to come here on a family visit, and the other callers were to be quite casual. It didn’t work out that way.’

  ‘Personally I’m getting a kick out of it, well worth what I’ve lost,’ Tommy said, ‘although I’d like those studs back. But doesn’t it seem a bit silly trying to keep things from Hilda and Dryden?’

  It was another of his unexpectedly shrewd remarks, and Mannering regarded him contemplatively, wondering how much he knew, and how much he suspected. That there was more depth to the man than most people realised grew increasingly clear.

  ‘It’s up to Bristow.’ Vere shrugged. ‘I’ve no say in it. And now I’m going to have a nap. I won’t last the strain if I don’t.’ He smiled and pushed his chair back, while the other walked across the hall to the drawing room.

  Mannering had expected Bristow to call for him after his talk with Lady Usk, but it appeared that the Yard man was determined to keep all he learned to himself.

  That Bristow was deliberately holding off from Logan was plain, and confirmed Mannering’s suspicion that the policeman’s policy was to allow Logan plenty of rope. It gave Mannering time, but once Bristow made a thorough interrogation, the story of the necklace would surely come out.

  ‘Do you always sleep with your eyes open?’ Armitage asked impishly, ‘or are you just not listening?’

  Mannering brought himself up with a jerk.

  ‘I wasn’t listening,’ he admitted amiably. ‘It probably wasn’t worth hearing, anyhow.’

  ‘After that,’ said Tommy severely, ‘I’m going upstairs. Head’s aching a bit,’ he added, ‘and Martin’s idea of a nap is a good one.’

  Tommy went out, and Morency, both hands deep in his pockets, looked down on Mannering, who was lounging back in an armchair.

  ‘Armitage can’t be quite what he appears, surely?’

  Mannering said lazily: ‘Few people are. But don’t make the mistake of thinking he’s not all there.’

  Morency regarded Mannering with his eyes half-narrowed and his lips pursed. ‘Say, if you had something that you wanted to keep really safe would you give it to Bristow?’

  Mannering considered for a moment, then said: ‘In the circumstances it might be wisest. Someone seems to be able to open the smaller safes. But there is a strong-room here, you know.’

  Morency eyed him oddly.

  ‘That may be, Mannering, but you’re forgetting one thing. There are keys to a strong-room. That someone might’—Morency hesitated, and then went on slowly—‘might be able to get past any guard without raising suspicion. I mustn’t take any chance,’ he continued. ‘Any chances. Maybe I had better talk to Bristow. It might be as well that he doesn’t know I asked you,’ he added.

  Mannering smiled grimly. ‘If any man here is reliable, Bristow is.’

  ‘You know him,’ Morency said. ‘But is any man reliable? I’ve been double-crossed before now by men I’d stake my life on.’ He shrugged and went towards the door, but it opened before he reached it. Mannering saw Bristow, and the overhanging fear that Logan had talked returned.

  ‘Ah, Mr Mannering.’ There was no informality about Bristow unless they were alone. ‘Can you spare me ten minutes?’

  ‘When you like,’ said Mannering, but his heart thudded.

  ‘And when you’ve finished,’ said Morency, ‘I’d like a word with you, Inspector.’

  Bristow looked at him sharply.

  ‘I’m at your service, sir. Mr Mannering won’t mind waiting, I’m sure.’

  ‘Ten minutes will make no difference,’ said Morency. ‘I’ll be in the study, if you’ll be good enough to come up.’ Bristow looked at the closing door before he turned to Mannering. There was no hint of a threat in his manner.

  ‘I’ve had a long talk with Lady Usk,’ he said. ‘Apart from these two notes, she says that she knows nothing. But to me, it doesn’t ring true. Did she tell you anything more?’

  ‘Nothing more at all.’

  ‘Blast the woman!’ exclaimed Bristow. ‘It’s a complication I didn’t want. How has the general order been taken?’ he added with a smile.

  ‘Reasonably well,’ said Mannering. ‘The ban on the telephone calls hasn’t been appreciated by everyone.’

  ‘It was unavoidable,’ said Bristow. He hesitated. ‘Do you know who’s coming?’

  Mannering shook his head, trying not to show his interest.

  ‘The Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Sir Eustace Defoe.’ Bristow paused to study the effect of his words but he had little satisfaction, for Mann
ering made no comment. Bristow smiled grimly. ‘They’re coming alone, thank God – except for secretaries. With Usk and Deverell that will be the lot. I’ll bet from now until Tuesday morning will be the longest weekend I’ve ever lived through.’

  Mannering stiffened.

  ‘Now what’s the matter?’ Bristow demanded suspiciously.

  Mannering said slowly: ‘I thought the Asks and the Deverells were a long way from being friends. What’s bringing Deverell?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Bristow, ‘but there was a wire just before lunch. He’s expected in the next half-hour or so. Probably he didn’t know who else was here, but why should there be anything between him and Lord Usk?’

  Mannering said: ‘It’s well known that they’re not on speaking terms.’ He shrugged. ‘I certainly agree with you that it’s likely to be a long weekend, I haven’t much doubt of that.’

  Both men looked out of the window at a car turning into the drive. Bristow moved to the door at once.

  ‘Well, keep your eyes open, and if you get a chance of finding out what’s worrying Miss Grey I wouldn’t be sorry to know.’ He disappeared.

  Mannering, continuing to stare out of the window, saw the short, square-shouldered figure of the Chancellor of the Exchequer step from a Rolls. He walked briskly up the steps, followed by Lord Marie and the Honourable Richard Grayson, both parliamentary under-secretaries. The car was driven away but was followed within a few minutes by a Daimler, and Sir Eustace Defoe, Governor of the Bank of England, followed in Gresham’s steps.

  That left Usk and Deverell to come, thought Mannering, and as he turned from the window he wondered again why Deverell had chosen that weekend to visit the Veres, whether there would be trouble between him and Lady Usk.

  Did he know the Usks would be present?

  Mannering shrugged, but felt uneasy. The silence upstairs did nothing to relieve the feeling of disquiet. Lorna was not in her room, and Cecilie was also out. Armitage was missing – he had not gone to rest, for Mannering could see him on the putting green not far from Mannering’s window.

  Ten minutes later Armitage tapped on his door, and came in boisterously.

  ‘I say, old man, this is the utter last word! Usk’s arrived – you’ll never guess who else!’

  ‘Deverell,’ said Mannering.

  ‘How the devil did—’ Armitage stared blankly, and then went on with a grin: ‘There you go, criminologising again. They came up the drive together, or nearly together. I thought Usk would drop dead when he saw Deverell climbing out on his heels. John, my son, this is going to be a weekend of weekends, and we’re in the stalls!’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mannering slowly. ‘I’m not sure that I don’t wish I were somewhere else.’

  ‘Gloomy old kill-joy,’ said Armitage lightly. ‘I’m all for fireworks. Care for a spot of tennis?’

  ‘With that hole in your head I wouldn’t take the responsibility,’ said Mannering. ‘Shouldn’t you be resting?’

  ‘Not now,’ said Armitage. ‘I might miss something. See you later, then. By the way, where’s Cecilie? I can’t find her.’

  ‘Somewhere with Lorna I think,’ said Mannering.

  He gazed pensively after Armitage’s back. Was his curiosity as naive as it appeared?

  Mannering sat back concentrating on the new situation created by the arrival of Usk and Deverell. He had been alone for ten minutes when he heard a door bang with such violence that it made him start. A shout followed. He stepped swiftly to the passage.

  He saw Lady Usk stepping towards the staircase, her face blazing and her hands clenched. She staggered against the balustrade, and Mannering thought she would fall. But she recovered and went unsteadily downstairs.

  Mannering followed.

  When he reached the landing he saw that her door was now open, and Usk was framed in it. On the Irish peer’s face there was an expression of such malevolence that Mannering was appalled.

  The hint which Cecilie had given him, and Lady Usk’s insistence that her husband should know nothing of her approach to the police, combined to show the fear which Usk caused his wife – a fear at least as great as that inspired by the pencilled notes.

  It was obvious to Mannering that Usk hated his wife; but had he threatened her?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Enter Death

  Whatever the feelings of those guests who had been at the house before the new arrivals, there was no outward sign of dissension or anxiety. Neither Defoe nor Gresham appeared at tea, and Morency was also missing. Their secretaries were in the drawing room, however, and of the others only Lady Usk kept to her room. There was a stiffness between Deverell and Usk which was not too noticeable.

  It would have been hard to meet two more dissimilar men.

  There was a burly heartiness about Mike Deverell which was reminiscent of Tommy Armitage. A man of forty-odd, he would have passed easily for thirty-five, while his youthful manner aided the deception. Mannering knew that he was on the Reserve of Officers, but after being called up in the early days of the war had been sent back for no apparent reason; when Mannering had last seen him he had been complaining bitterly about the red tape. Mannering, in a similar position, had been able to sympathise.

  Financially the war had hit Deverell badly, and his wife was well known for her extravagance – hence the sale of the necklace. But it was impossible to detect any sign of grievance or worry in Deverell’s bluff countenance, and his blue eyes were friendly and smiling.

  Usk was twenty years older, a small, wizened man with a Van Dyck beard. A colourless man, too, about whom little was known except that he had mended the family fortunes by marrying into millions, and that he specialised in revolver shooting. His manner, quick and abrupt, Mannering attributed to nerves.

  Deverell singled Mannering out.

  ‘Well, John, I’m glad to find you here. Are you staying long?’

  ‘For a few days,’ said Mannering. ‘And you?’

  Deverell smiled. ‘I felt like a weekend, and Di’s always ready to take pity on me. Elsie’s in Miami, but I’m damned if I’ll sun myself these days.’ It was the only reference he made to his wife, but Mannering felt that all was not well between them.

  ‘I—hallo, there’s Di calling, I’d better go. Funny how we all eat out of her hand, isn’t it? By the way, who’s the little woman with a sharp tongue?’

  ‘Hilda Markham,’ Mannering informed him. ‘Economics is her line, but she can laugh.’

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ said Deverell. ‘See you later.’

  It was not until dinner that the whole party re-assembled. Gresham and Defoe had brought five secretaries with them, so that the women were outnumbered by nearly four to one.

  Talk ebbed and flowed, and there was little sign of strain, although the two men from London doggedly stuck to trivialities, blandly ignoring Armitage’s eager, hopeful expression.

  Mannering touched his arm.

  ‘Forgotten your specs, Tommy?’

  ‘Don’t be a mug,’ said Tommy, but he coloured a little. ‘I can’t help feeling that we’re watching history, and all that kind of thing. Hasn’t it got you yet?’

  ‘No,’ said Mannering, ‘and if you’re not careful it will get you into difficulties. Everyone here is doing a mighty best to make it seem an informal weekend party.’

  ‘All right, I get the point,’ said Tommy huffily. He was silent for some minutes, but soon his bandaged head moved towards Mannering. ‘Dare I talk about the Usk?’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘I didn’t mean her, I meant him. Sour-visaged old beggar, isn’t he? Living with that by day and night would make anyone screech. For the first time I’m sorry for Lady U.’ Tommy glanced across the table.

  There was – as so often happened – something in Armitage’s suggestion. Usk was a man who could easily frighten; and Lady Usk was frightened.

  Her stepdaughter, Mannering noticed, appeared to be at her vivacious best. Defoe’s secretaries were
on either side of her, and although neither was young, Cecilie was obviously enjoying their attentions. A striking contrast to the silent, too-colourful face of Lady Usk, who sat, grim and expressionless, as if the events of the past day had aged her beyond recovery.

  As the ladies left the room, Mannering wondered whether Cecilie would go into the grounds again. No mention was made by the remaining men, of the robberies, nor of the political visitors. The usual jokes passed across the table, while Tommy’s laugh grew longer and louder. Nevertheless, Mannering noticed that he drank very little; perhaps because of Dr Brill’s orders.

  When they went into the drawing room, they all joined easily enough into the general chatter. Presently Lady Usk stood up and went out of the door leading to the front hall. Mannering saw Cecilie glance towards her, and Cecilie’s expression was difficult to understand.

  The girl murmured something to her companions, and followed her stepmother.

  Lord Usk and Gresham were talking, but Deverell’s eyes followed the movements of the older woman, his expression inscrutable.

  Mannering leaned towards Lorna.

  ‘I’m slipping out for a moment,’ he said. ‘Make sure who stays in the room, will you?’

  She nodded, and he went into the front hall, slipping quietly through to the garden.

  It was as dark as on the previous night, but now sultry and oppressive; a storm was likely to break before long.

  In the distance a flash of lightning sent a white streak across the sky. Before it faded however, Mannering saw fleetingly the upright figure of a man.

  His heart beat faster.

  It might be one of Bristow’s men, but there was an equal chance that it was one of the prowlers of the previous night.

  He waited for the next flash, but when it came the man had moved under cover of some bushes nearby: Mannering caught only a glimpse of him before he was out of sight. Then the silence was about him again, and the darkness – both to be broken when the front door opened.

  Mannering held his breath.

  The footsteps on the porch were too heavy for Cecilie. He peered closer, and caught the gleam of a white bandage.