“I shan’t come back this afternoon,” she said, at the end of the morning. “You can tell the other three.”
“Four, Miss Topas,” said Miss Priest.
“Yes, four,” said Miss Topas.
“I wish I could have you for that wretched Nature lesson tomorrow, instead of Miss Mount,” continued the student, gazing raptly at the mark upon her notebook.
“Well, you can’t,” said Miss Topas. “I don’t know a single natural order—except fools,” she added irritably. Miss Priest looked slightly taken aback. “And you must remember that you’ve got a class of forty, not a class of six. You talk to nobody but the middle of the front row, you know.”
“Oh, do I? Oh, thanks, Miss Topas. Now that I remember, I do do that, and you’re quite right. It’s a jolly good tip. Thanks ever so!”
“Go and have your lunch,” said Miss Topas, “and for God’s sake don’t bolt it.” She went out to her car and raced back to college, determined to suborn Deborah and make her spend the afternoon in the car on the moorland roads.
CHAPTER 9
EVIDENCE OF THE SUBMERGED TENTH
DEBORAH, however, was not available. The police were in possession of Athelstan, for the dead person proved to be the cook whom Mrs. Bradley had dismissed. Why she should have been walking by the river-side, either by dark or by daylight, was not yet clear. The police were anxious to get it clear.
Miss Topas, disgruntled, went back to Columba, got out the manuscript of a textbook for schools which she had been threatening (her own word) to finish and publish whilst she was at Cartaret, and, settling down to work, soon became quite cheerful and forgot all about the body, the police, School Practice, Deborah, and the afternoon’s outing.
Deborah cursed her own decision to return to the college for lunch. If she had had lunch in the town she would have missed the major part of the police proceedings, she decided, for the police cleared off at half-past three and did not show up again for the rest of the week. As it was, they insisted upon interviewing her, although she could tell them nothing which seemed to her of the slightest importance. They also interviewed Miss Cartwright, who had to leave her Practice School in the middle of a geography lesson because she was requested, over the telephone, to report at Hall forthwith.
Mrs. Bradley’s first intimation that the police were in the front passage and were seeking an interview was from the newly-returned Lulu, who had remained two days and one night in her new service, and then had come back by motor-coach, explaining that she “didn’t like dem strange victuals down thar”—a statement which Mrs. Bradley could scarcely credit. The following dialogue ensued.
“Well, Lulu, I’m very glad to see you back, and the other maid will be very glad to see her own mistress again.”
“Sho’, sho’, Mis’ Bradley.”
“But, Lulu, I ought to tell you that since you went two things have happened which you won’t like at all.”
“Mis’ Cloud been run home away from you?”
“No. I’m not as cruel as that!”
“Ah knows dat, Mis’ Bradley. Dem gentlemen from Wattsdown College done some’un foolish? Just like boys!”
“Well, it might be that. The fact is, Lulu, we have begun to hear peculiar noises at night.”
“Noises?”
“Noises.”
“Lor, Mis’ Bradley, what kind ob noises?”
“Ghostly noises. Furthermore, I have had to dismiss Cook.”
“For making noises?”
“No. Just for the ordinary reasons.”
“Sho’, sho’. I know. Sass. Dat cook sho’ is po’ trash!”
“That is correct. Well, now, if you stay, and you hear any noises, you mustn’t let them frighten you, that’s all.”
“Won’t frighten me, Mis’ Bradley. Ah ain’t an ignorant pusson. No, sir! Walk under a ladder don’t frighten me, break my mirror, see de moon t’rough a window, spill de salt—don’t turn a single har!”
“Well, that seems very satisfactory. This noise sounds rather like a lot of whistling. It is very difficult to tell where it comes from.”
“Dat’s all right wid me, Mis’ Bradley. Ah reckon ain’t no ghosts nor devils neither, care to meet you face to face!”
With this dubious compliment and a happy chuckle, she went downstairs to release the Cambridge maid and send her up to Mrs. Bradley for her fare.
It was at about half-past nine that the police arrived at college. They came in by way of the gate near the Chief Engineer’s house, and obtained the information they wanted from his wife, who was washing up after breakfast.
They went over to the main college building, and interviewed the secretary. She went in to the Principal.
“The police are outside, Miss du Mugne,” she said. “There has been an accident—drowning—the river—and they seem to think that the woman is one of the college servants.”
“I’d better see them,” said Miss du Mugne. “You might go through the rest of these, and you might let Mr. Carter know that I can’t ask the students to do Play-Centre activities during School Practice.”
“Very well, Miss du Mugne. Will you have the inspector in here?”
“Yes, in here.”
The inspector came straight to the point in a hearty manner which disconcerted Miss du Mugne considerably. She felt that she was being invited to confess all.
“I am Inspector Bingham, of the County Police, madam. We were given information of a body in the river, and we dragged it out this morning at half-past eight. I can depend on you to see this goes no further, madam, but it looks like—well, not an accident. I can’t go into details, as you will appreciate. Now from letters in a waterproof packet found on the body, it seems that the woman had some connexion with this college. The letters are all addressed to the same party, Mrs. Castle, Athelstan Hall, Cartaret College. Would the name convey anything to you?”
“No, but I can have you directed to Athelstan Hall, which is one of the hostels for students, and you can pursue your inquiries there, Inspector. It sounds like one of the college servants, but each Hall is a self-contained unit, and the servants are the business of the Warden-in-charge.”
“Thank you, madam.” He rose as Miss du Mugne rang the bell. “Get someone to take the inspector over to Athelstan Hall, Miss Rosewell, please.”
Miss Rosewell, whose neat, adult appearance and sophisticated, finished manner concealed the average share of childish curiosity, took him herself, and adroitly learned the facts which he had just committed to the Principal’s guardianship. As all the newspapers would have them in the morning, this signified very little.
The sight of Lulu’s black face and happy grin seemed to surprise the inspector, but, reassured by his companion’s unperturbed explanation of his business, he took off his hat, and, carefully wiping his boots, followed her into the hall, where both females immediately deserted him, Lulu to find Mrs. Bradley, the secretary to return to college.
“The police?” said Mrs. Bradley. “Very well. Show them in.”
“Him, Mis’ Bradley.”
“Him, then.”
“Mrs. Castle was cook at this establishment until last Saturday morning,” she told the inspector. “She left, at my request, with a week’s wages in lieu of notice and a good reference.”
“We found the reference, madam. That’s why, to be frank, and knowing of you from up above, so to speak, we suspect murder, and not suicide.”
“Dear me! That was very careless of somebody,” said Mrs. Bradley. “No question of accident, Inspector?”
“Well, it might be, madam. But what would she have been doing, wandering down there at night? Time of death proves quite a lot, you see. She went in off Caddy Old Bridge, we reckon. It comes as a kind of a funny business after the disappearance of the other lady who was in charge here before the holidays. You’ve heard about that, of course?”
Mrs. Bradley said that she had, but added no comment, so the inspector set to work on his “check-up,”
as he called it, requiring minute details as to the reasons for Cook’s having been dismissed, the time she had left the house, her probable destination, and any other information which could be supplied.
It was at the end of this interview, and whilst the inspector was questioning the servants, one by one, that Mrs. Bradley telephoned Miss Cartwright.
“Golly,” said that lady, when she was sent for to receive the message, “the balloon’s gone up at last!”
Mrs. Bradley received her very kindly.
“Ah, Miss Cartwright! Now, dear child, that bath you took on the night the ghost walked. You remember?”
Miss Cartwright gurgled, blushed slightly, and replied that she remembered.
“Good. Who suggested that you should have it?”
“Nobody. That’s to say, I often have one down there after hours.”
“In Miss Murchan’s time, too?”
“Oh, yes. I—I had a key cut.”
“Have you ever had reason to suppose that the maids entertained nocturnal visitors without the knowledge of the head of the house?”
“No, of course not. Anyway, I shouldn’t give away the maids.”
“None of that nonsense,” said Mrs. Bradley firmly. “Your answer is no, is it?”
“Certainly.”
“And it is the truth? Don’t bluff me.”
“Yes, it’s the truth—except for this last time.”
“That’s better. Listen, student.” Miss Cartwright flinched before the brilliant black eyes and nervously crossed her fingers. “Cook is dead—drowned. The police are here. They are anxious to hear about this bath of yours. Take my advice, and be perfectly frank. Don’t hide anything. I may say that there is no breach of the rules of this Hall, so far as I am aware, in your choosing to take a bath at two o’clock in the morning, or at any other time, so do not hesitate upon that score. Authority is not involved. On the other hand, Cook’s death is a very serious affair indeed. How much noise does the water make, running out of those downstair baths?”
Mrs. Bradley did not wait for a reply. She patted Miss Cartwright kindly upon the shoulder, picked up the house telephone, and informed Bella, the head maid, since promoted to cook, that she was at liberty whenever the inspector was ready, and also that she had another witness for him.
“I don’t—I don’t know anything except about having the baths, you know,” said Miss Cartwright, now thoroughly cowed and frightened.
“That is all the inspector will want to know about,” said Mrs. Bradley gently. “Now, sit down, my dear child, and we will get Lulu to bring us some coffee and a biscuit.”
Deborah’s share in the inquiry was limited to two answers. Where had she been, the inspector inquired, on the nights of the previous Sunday and Monday, and had she seen or spoken to Mrs. Castle after the cook had left college employment?
Deborah, astonished by both questions, answered composedly that (a) she supposed she had been in bed and (b) that certainly she had not.
The inspector appeared to be satisfied by these replies, and then consented to interview Miss Cartwright.
“Baths at two in the morning, miss? Was that allowed?”
“Yes, apparently. I mean, nobody objected!”
“But why in the servants’ bathroom, miss?”
“Because I should wake the other students if I had a bath upstairs.”
“Didn’t you wake the servants, miss?”
“They didn’t seem to mind. They’d soon have complained if they had minded, I should think.”
“Very good, miss. Now, did you see or speak to Mrs. Castle, the last time you had one of these late baths?”
“Yes.”
“Did you usually see her on these occasions, miss?”
“No.”
“Were you surprised to see her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Well, without meaning any—anything, I’m bound to say she was a miserable old blighter—luckily as deaf as a post, or she’d have heard me before.”
“Oh, she was deaf, miss, was she?”
“Good Lord, yes. Everyone knew that.”
The inspector picked up the house telephone and asked for Mrs. Bradley.
“Did you know Mrs. Castle was deaf, madam?”
“Yes. Everybody knew that.”
“Thank you, madam…You were saying, miss, that you saw Mrs. Castle?”
“Yes. She—she kind of popped out on me, and said she’d draw the bath while I got warm by the kitchen fire. She felt my hands and said I was cold and that it wasn’t a good thing to get into a boiling hot bath if you were cold. Then she shoved me into the kitchen, where there was still quite a bit of fire—burning out, you know, but the room was warm—and shut the door. Then I heard the bath water rushing in, so I toasted myself until she came and lugged me out and told me the bath was ready. All very odd. She was a crotchety old thing as a rule. Bella was my pal down there.”
“And did you see any unauthorized person on the premises while you were down there, miss?”
“Did Mrs. Bradley tip you off about that?”
“If you would kindly answer the question, miss.”
“I didn’t see anybody, but I heard someone. At least, I don’t know about unauthorized. I thought it was another student, and later on I was sure it was, only it seems it really couldn’t have been.”
“Explain that statement, please, miss.”
“Oh, didn’t they tell you we had a ghost in the place that night? Yes, I’d just got out of the water, and it was making the—making a noise running out, so that you couldn’t hear much else, you know, when I heard a most frightful sort of screeching, wailing whistle—most weird. So I shoved the plug in the bath and listened again, and really it was most grisly. And then I heard this person whispering, and decided it must be a rag. So I shoved my wet feet into tennis shoes, wrapped my bath sheet round me, and floated upstairs, because I thought if there was a rag in progress, I’d better be among those present in case they counted heads. They did, too. Roll-call in the Common Room. But I was there with them, answering up with the best.”
“Can you add anything more to that statement, miss? We should find it very helpful, I may tell you, if you could.”
“No, I don’t think I can tell you any more. How awful, though. Do they really think Cook was—”
“Now, miss,” said the inspector, cutting her short. “I’ve not used that word, and you mustn’t, not until after the inquest. And then perhaps we shan’t need to.”
He asked to see Mrs. Bradley again before he left.
“Of course,” he said, “we’ve got nothing really to go on, nothing at all. But it’s suggestive about this visitor in the kitchen regions while the young lady was having her bath. But what would be the object of anybody alarming the house by whistling like that hi the dead of the night, do you think, madam?”
Mrs. Bradley shrugged.
“There is a school of thought which is determined to get me out of Athelstan,” she said. “This is not surprising, considering the reason for my presence. I seem to be endangering somebody’s peace of mind. So far, the incidents have been slight, silly, and spiteful. The death of Mrs. Castle marks a more ambitious stage.”
To what extent the inspector accepted this interpretation of the facts she could not tell. He asked for details, and she gave them. If he thought them negligible he did not say so, and he and Mrs. Bradley parted with great cordiality, Mrs. Bradley asking only one question.
“Have you finished down by the river? Is the road open now?” she inquired.
“Oh, yes. The young ladies can get along that way this afternoon, if they want to,” said he.
“Ah,” said Mrs. Bradley.
“Are you prepared to come along and identify the body, madam? The only letters on her were addressed to the college. It would be easier than trying to find her relations.”
“Oh, I can give you the address she left with me for holidays, but I’ll come along, by all mean
s.”
She was, in fact, particularly anxious to see the body, although not for the sole purpose of identifying it.
Cook had certainly met her death by drowning. It needed less than Mrs. Bradley’s expert knowledge to determine that. She was permitted, upon production of her credentials, to examine the body. It showed no marks of a struggle.
“One can deduce accident or suicide; scarcely murder,” she said. The inspector nodded.
“All the same, murder it was, madam,” he said. “We’re pretty sure of it. But what did she know, that somebody had to do her in? And another thing, madam. Where was it done? Because it wasn’t done on the river bank. That seems clear. I didn’t tell you before, but the body, although clothed to some extent, wasn’t fully clothed. No corsets on it, madam.”
“Miss Cartwright’s baths may have a clear significance, I presume,” said Mrs. Bradley.
“That young lady could do with an eye kept on her, you think?” said the inspector.
“Miss Cartwright? Good gracious, no! But her habit of taking these nocturnal baths in the servants’ quarters may have put an idea into somebody’s head, that’s all. Now, I want you to come back to college with me, Inspector. The place will be fairly quiet, and quite denuded of students, since all are out on School Practice.”
George drove them back in Mrs. Bradley’s car. The inspector was as interested as Mrs. Bradley had thought he would be in the passage that ran from end to end of the hostel buildings, and spent an hour and a half examining it.
“I’d advocate a burglar alarm on this door and a mortice lock, madam,” he said, “although it’s a case of shutting the door when the horse is stolen, I suppose. And now, if you’ve no objection, I’m going to have another talk with some of your maids. One of ’em surely must know what Mrs. Castle was up to, to get herself into such a mess as this.”
The maids, however, were either guiltless of knowledge or obstinate in retaining it. Bella was again questioned closely by Mrs. Bradley after the inspector had interrogated her, along with the other servants. When he had gone Mrs. Bradley said: “Bella, I want you to tell me exactly what happened on the night we heard the ghost.”
Laurels are Poison (Mrs. Bradley) Page 12