‘In itself that might not have been significant. You weren’t the only person to jump to the conclusion that it was Grame who was dead. Ernest Lorring undoubtedly did, and I’m pretty sure that so did most of the others. In fact, apart from Lucia Tristam—we know now that she had her own reasons for it—the only person who didn’t assume that it was Benedict Grame and who saw at once that it was Jeremy Rainer was Denys Arden.
‘The explanation, of course, is that Denys Arden’s mind, unlike the minds of the other people in the room, was unclouded by previous knowledge. She did not know anything of the blackmail that was going on. She did not know, as the others did, that there was a very good reason why Benedict Grame might have been murdered.
‘I imagine that it was that knowledge that made Lorring take the risk of stealing the last present. The blackmail in his case was only just beginning. It was his first visit, and although he knew that it was connected in some way with the tree he didn’t know exactly how, and he took that present because he wanted to find out before the police arrived.
‘Incidentally, another little point that gave you away was the manner in which you drew attention to the fact that there was one present on the tree. Everyone else was too concerned with the fact of the murder itself to notice it. But you weren’t. You weren’t because you knew it was there and because it was part of your plan that it should be seen.
‘They were only small things individually, but taken together they became significant. And once I was certain that it was Benedict Grame who should have died they began to fall into place. There were four marks on the wooden flooring in front of the tree that might have been made by the step-ladder. I asked Grame to hand me the bracket with Rainer’s name on it and he used the step-ladder to reach it. I was sure then that my theory was the right one, and that he’d done the same thing on Christmas Eve and so saved himself from death.’
Mordecai Tremaine’s voice was remorseless now. There was no trace about him of the kindly sentimentalist.
‘It must have been a ghastly moment for you when you saw that the dead man was Jeremy Rainer. You knew that your plans had gone awry in some terrible fashion, but you couldn’t tell why or how. You knew that your neck was in peril and that you had to think of a way out. You had to adjust yourself to the new situation without betraying yourself.
‘But you did betray yourself. It was because your mind had become accustomed to the thought that Benedict Grame would be dead that you didn’t do the obvious thing and look for him at once. It was a suspiciously long time before you seemed to realize that he hadn’t come down. You didn’t miss him because the part you’d so carefully mapped out for yourself was based upon the assumption that he would be already there in the person of the victim.
‘What a feeling of panic you must have known. You’d prepared every move in advance and now the whole careful edifice had been endangered because something you hadn’t foreseen and hadn’t guarded against had undermined it. That was why you tried to question Charlotte so urgently about what had happened. That was why you appeared to give up all interest in whether I tried to find the murderer or not, despite your rather extravagant exhibition when you came into the room.
‘Then you began to recover your nerve. You saw that if you hadn’t been able to get rid of Benedict Grame in one way you might be able to do it in another—by accusing him of the murder. You pretended to be shocked at the idea that Grame might be guilty, but all your protestations had one object—to keep drawing attention to all the things that made it appear that he was.
‘You protested so much that you gave away your real intentions. As a matter of fact it was your own attitude that convinced me that you knew all about Benedict Grame’s blackmailing activities. When we were talking about possible suspects you affected to laugh at the suggestion that any of the people in the house might possess secrets they wouldn’t be anxious to have revealed—but you proceeded to name the very persons I was already confident did have such secrets.
‘Just recently you’ve changed again. You’ve been genuinely doing your best to convince me of Grame’s innocence. I suppose the truth is that he’s realized that you must have killed Rainer in mistake for himself, and he’s been making you dance to his tune. It’s ironic, isn’t it? You tried to murder Benedict Grame in order to take over the power of blackmail he exercised, and instead you found yourself among his victims. And you delivered into his hands the greatest power of all—the power of life and death, the power to send you to the gallows!’
Nicholas Blaise had moved gradually nearer so that now he was standing close up against Mordecai Tremaine. His dark eyes had a madness in them.
‘You’re quite right,’ he said. ‘He did find out. He’s been cracking the whip over me. Just as he did over Jeremy when he was alive, and just as he’s been doing over Beechley, and Delamere and Lorring. Benedict loves power. It amused him to make Gerald do all those stupid things, and to prevent Charlotte getting married, and to compel Jeremy to adopt an unreasonable attitude towards Roger Wynton.
‘All that was Benedict’s doing, of course. Jeremy liked Wynton, and he knew that he was hurting Denys by behaving objectionably towards him. But he daren’t disobey because Benedict could have got him hanged. It was over something that happened in South Africa. Besides, he couldn’t risk Benedict’s telling Denys that he’d been responsible for ruining her father and had caused his death. He really did love her as though she was his own child.
‘I found it all out gradually—just as you said. All about the Christmas parties and about the Christmas tree. I found out that Benedict wasn’t a lovable character at all, but just a sadistic, leering devil who liked playing with people. So I decided to kill him and run things in my way. Of course, I wasn’t an altruist. I was after the money all right. But it would have been better for the victims themselves in the long run. They’d have known where they stood. They’d have known how much they had to pay and there’d have been none of the refinements of torture Benedict liked to inflict.’
A note of hatred crept into his voice. It vibrated harshly.
‘He knows how to put the screw on,’ he said viciously. ‘All those damned parlour games the other afternoon. They were for my benefit. He knew I was helpless and he wanted to watch me squirm.
‘I thought it all out—the best time to choose, the way to do it. I went over it a thousand times. I even practised on Jeremy beforehand to make sure he’d obey any instructions I gave him in Benedict’s name. I left the notes in his room like Benedict himself would have done. I got him to type out a whole lot of stuff from the Financial Times and send it to an address in London. He did it without a murmur.
‘I thought that nothing could go wrong. Especially when I hit upon the idea of getting you down and using you to influence the police and to act as my eyes and ears so that I’d learn all that was going on.’
Blaise’s hands went out to grip Mordecai Tremaine’s shoulders. They moved slowly towards his throat.
‘You’ve been clever,’ he said softly. ‘So very, very clever. You’ve reasoned it all out just as it happened. But you must realize that I wouldn’t have admitted it if I hadn’t a reason. This is the room where they kept the Lady Isabel. She flung herself out of the window and was killed on the terrace down below. I shall say that you climbed out to the balustrade to examine something on the roof and that you slipped on the melting snow. I tried to save you but I was too late. I shall be distracted with grief, of course. Everybody will say that it was a tragic accident—and no one will ever know what you’ve just said to me.’
Mordecai Tremaine swallowed hard. His heart was hammering and he felt himself succumbing to the hypnotic glare in the dark eyes staring into his own. But he said shakily:
‘You’re wrong. Someone will know. You see, there was a witness.’
The pressure of the hands relaxed. Nicholas Blaise said sharply, suspiciously:
‘You’re lying! You’re trying to trick me! There couldn’t have been!’
‘But there was. It was Latimer. He was in the hide. He saw you put the gun in the tree. He waited, not daring to come out because there were still people about, and he saw you come back after the murder and take the gun away.’
Mordecai Tremaine’s voice was steadier now. He knew from Nicholas Blaise’s face that he had shaken his assurance. He added:
‘I wasn’t foolish enough to come up here alone.’
There was a sudden sound from beyond the door. Nicholas Blaise drew back. His hands fell away. A snarling exclamation broke from his lips, and then, like an animal, he made a leap for the window. He forced himself through the opening and crouched against the stone balustrade, facing back into the room, and now there was a gun in his hand.
Superintendent Cannock said:
‘The game’s up. Better come without making a fuss. This won’t do you any good, you know.’
Blaise was still breathing heavily after his exertion. But now that the crisis was upon him he had regained his self-control.
‘A very pretty little plot, Superintendent. So you were listening outside all the time. Stupid of me not to have guessed it.’
Cannock moved a pace nearer.
‘You needn’t say anything,’ he said. ‘Not unless you want to.’
Nicholas Blaise smiled sardonically.
‘Is this where you give the official warning? You needn’t trouble, Superintendent. I’m afraid I’ve left you a rather unpleasant mess to clear up, although I dare say you’ll be able to prevent quite a lot of it from getting into the newspapers. Gerald will be able to return the necklace and I don’t suppose Benedict will want the scandal of prosecuting him. As for Benedict himself, he’ll have to cry a halt to his blackmailing, but I doubt if you’ll be able to prove anything against him. The victims will be too scared to talk.
‘He might even marry Lucia. He’s been using a hold over her, of course, but now he’s really in love with her. That’s why he made the Napiers take her for so long. It’s odd, isn’t it! The magnificent Lucia, falling in love like a schoolgirl!’
‘Come down,’ said Mordecai Tremaine. ‘Put that gun away and come down.’
‘And be hanged by the neck until I’m dead?’ There was a smile twisting Blaise’s lips. ‘I don’t think I’d care for it somehow. Give my love to Denys,’ he added. ‘Tell her I hope she’ll be happy with that young man of hers.’
Before they realized what he intended he had climbed up on to the balustrade. He stood looking down at them, his tall figure dark against the hard blue sky with its drifting clouds.
‘What a pity I didn’t provide myself with one of those fashionable cyanide phials. It would have been so much neater. Good-bye, Mordecai. I was a fool to ask you here.’
With a sudden gesture he flung the gun from him and he laughed softly at their instinctive defensive movements.
‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘It isn’t loaded. I’m not desperate enough to make a good murderer!’
Superintendent Cannock divined what was going to happen. He flung himself desperately forward. But his outflung hand closed upon air. Nicholas Blaise had stepped backward.
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First published by Vintage in 2015
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