Dead to the World

by Francis Durbridge

  ‘Exactly!’ Holt confirmed. ‘When I showed it to Julie in the restaurant she promptly reported the fact to Vance, and they thought up the idea of getting me to put it in the Professor’s pencil-jar.’

  ‘Who beat up Dalesford then? Was it Legere?’

  ‘Yes. He overheard the plan; he happened to be in the next telephone cubicle when she was phoning from The Golden Peacock.’

  ‘But none of them realised,’ Hyde pointed out dramatically, ‘that in the meantime Milton had stolen the ring from Mr Holt!’

  ‘Oh, so it was Milton who stole it!’ Ruth looked doubtful. ‘In that case why give it to the police?’

  ‘Well, as soon as he heard about Dunant’s impending arrest he got scared and thought the wisest thing to do was to get rid of it again quickly. He got Jimmy Wade to take it to the Inspector and managed to throw suspicion onto him in the process.’

  ‘Then what was that ridiculous little man up to?’ Ruth said hotly. ‘If he was so concerned about Julie, how come he didn’t tell her the police had the ring? The girl was running round in circles trying to help Vance to get it!’

  ‘I think Mr Wade was more sinned against than sinning,’ the Inspector said leniently. ‘He didn’t realise what was going on. He knew Julie was terribly upset over Vance’s death – or disappearance – and he was trying to be kind to her, but he didn’t really know the half of it. I don’t think she took him into her confidence very much.’

  Ruth was silent whilst she worked it out, but she soon had the picture clear in her mind. ‘Vance knew nothing about the police having the ring and was still desperately trying to get hold of it, is that it?’

  ‘Absolutely! And Milton took advantage of the situation. He’d already decided that Vance would have to be eliminated; things were getting out of control.’

  ‘Milton arranged – through Julie, of course – to meet Vance at Pevensey. Vance agreed because he fully expected to be in possession of the ring by then and he was hoping to bring the whole thing to a conclusion. But Milton turned up before I did – and you know what happened.’ Holt stood up and casually sampled a grape from the fruit bowl.

  ‘You said Milton had an accomplice with him when he shot Vance,’ Ruth reminded him. ‘Who was that?’

  ‘It was Legere,’ he said, busy dealing with the pips. ‘He’d had to … break his date with Antoinette in order to … help Milton with the plan. So it was quite true what Jimmy Wade told us about stepping in and taking her to the theatre … M’m, these are pretty good, Ruth.’

  Ruth smiled and indicated the fruit, inviting both visitors to help themselves.

  ‘Well, perhaps just one,’ Hyde said, leaning forward and gingerly plucking a grape from its stem.

  ‘Go on – take a few,’ Ruth urged.

  ‘Oh, well … if you insist.’

  ‘We really mustn’t eat all your grapes, Ruth,’ Holt said unconvincingly, scooping up a handful and munching them as he went on with the, story.

  ‘What about Curly?’ Ruth enquired. ‘How does he come into it?’

  ‘Curly,’ said Hyde, ‘first met Legere at the races. It was Curly whose help was enlisted to find a crew to man the Sunset – hence the old lags on board.’

  ‘I still don’t see why he should have been killed.’

  ‘Yes – well … You tell her about that, Holt.’

  ‘You see, Ruth,’ Holt said quietly, ‘Robert Scranton made one big mistake. When he arrived in London and heard Vance was dead he thought it was true. He’d no reason to disbelieve it at that stage. He and Mrs Scranton were genuinely upset – inscensed, in fact – and they asked me to help track down his killer.’

  ‘Go on, Philip …’

  ‘Later on, when Mrs Scranton had actually seen her son near the Savoy and they’d had a chance to talk to Milton down in Eastbourne, Scranton learned the truth and realised that you and I were a threat to the organisation and that our investigations must be stopped at all costs. The attempt to force us over the Brighton cliffs failed, so when Robert Scranton received a phone call from his son—’

  Ruth said, ‘If Vance wanted to get away from his father why did he phone him?’

  ‘He wanted money – quickly – so he let Scranton think he had the ring and promised to do a deal.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘Well, when the father got his call he saw a golden opportunity to fix us for good and all. He asked us both along to Lewisham, intending to kill us as soon as we got to the house. The plan misfired because Scranton felt ill.’

  ‘And yet he gave us the money to take to his son … Why?’ Ruth looked completely bewildered.

  ‘He gave us the money because he had an accomplice waiting there, and he reckoned that even if he didn’t go himself this accomplice would take care of us, as well as get the ring from Vance.’

  ‘But he didn’t even try, did he?’

  ‘No. You see, that accomplice was Curly, and he was dead by the time we arrived.’

  ‘Curly!’

  ‘He’d been scared to hell over the Brighton job, and it was easy for Scranton to threaten him into doing what he wanted. When Vance got there, there was a quarrel and a nasty skirmish. Curly’d had a big win at the races, and Vance decided not to wait for his father to show up. He took Curly’s cash and made off. We appeared on the scene shortly afterwards.’

  ‘Oh … now it all begins to fall into place,’ Ruth agreed. ‘But it beats me how you know all this! Robert Scranton’s dead – Vance is dead – Curly’s dead …’

  ‘You’re forgetting Julie Benson,’ said Hyde. ‘She was in touch with Vance all along. And we’ve also got Milton and Legere in the bag. Between them we’ve got pretty well all sides of the picture.’

  ‘Then do you think I could ask you one or two questions?’ she asked with a disarming smile.

  ‘You’ve been asking questions non-stop ever since we came in!’ Holt declared, throwing back his head and laughing good-humouredly as he dipped into the fruit bowl again.

  ‘Ruth’s really enjoying herself,’ chuckled the Inspector. ‘Come on, Ruth – let’s have it!’

  ‘I don’t understand why Vance gave the ring to Antoinette when he was planning to disappear. If he’d simply put it on Graham Brown’s finger it would have avoided all the commotion.’

  ‘He did that because he thought it would be bound to lead the police to Antoinette sooner or later. And once they’d reached her they’d connect her wonderful talent for copying with the Christopher set-up. You see, it was a sort of double revenge – against his father because he wouldn’t let him quit, and against Antoinette because she’d rejected him. As people have been constantly pointing out, Vance wasn’t possessed of a very charming nature.’

  ‘And Antoinette? Was she trying to clear herself? Is that why she got friendly with Jimmy Wade and played detectives?’

  ‘Partly. And because she felt sorry for the little man. She also told me she wanted to pull off something spectacular in the hope that she might gain esteem in my eyes.’

  ‘Mr Holt was apparently next on her list of conquests,’ Hyde said with a twinkle in his eye.

  Ruth did not voice her thoughts on the subject. Instead she enquired about the Christopher postcards.

  ‘They all came from Milton,’ Holt said. ‘The first one was genuine, sent quite legitimately in Christopher’s name, before Vance’s disappearance. The second one, and the letter, were intended to divert suspicion from the right quarters and confuse the police.’

  Eventually Holt and the Inspector said they must be getting along.

  ‘Hurry up and get better, Ruth,’ Hyde said. ‘You’ve shown outstanding courage and no little enterprise in this whole affair. I’ll see that the Commissioner gets to hear about it.’

  As he closed the door behind him and the two men paused for a moment in the corridor outside, Ruth overheard Hyde say, ‘You’ve got a remarkable secretary there, Holt. I don’t think you fully appreciate her. She’s really quite a girl!’

 
‘Yes, I was just beginning to get that idea myself,’ Holt replied. ‘Hyde – you’re right! Ruth is quite a girl! I think maybe I should raise her salary.’

  ‘You do that. And I should get her some more grapes whilst you’re about it, old boy.’

  As their laughter receded down the corridor Ruth gave a huge grin. From ‘Secretary’ to ‘Private Eye’ – and now a rise in salary … Perhaps she was making some progress after all …

  She reached out towards the fruit bowl and started to peel an orange.

  The Ventriloquist’s Doll

  Paul Temple was in his study finishing off a chapter of the new novel he was writing, when Steve, his wife, opened the door.

  ‘You’ve got a visitor, Paul,’ she announced. ‘And he looks very distracted about something. I told him you were working, but he said it was most urgent.’

  ‘Who is he?’ asked Temple.

  ‘Ivor Mount, the famous ventriloquist.’

  Temple looked surprised.

  ‘What does he want to see me about?’ he asked.

  ‘He’s lost Marmaduke Bailey.’

  ‘The doll that’s insured for £10,000!’ exclaimed Temple. ‘All right, ask him to come in, will you Steve?’

  When Ivor Mount came in, he seemed very agitated indeed. He was a short, dark man in the late forties, with bushy hair turning grey at the temples. He still held his broad-brimmed black hat, which he twisted nervously in his fingers.

  ‘I don’t know which way to turn, Mr Temple, and that’s a fact,’ he began. ‘I can’t do anything without Marmaduke.’

  ‘You’ve been to the police, of course,’ said Temple.

  ‘Oh yes, but they haven’t been able to do very much so far. I wonder if they realise how much Marmaduke means to me.’

  ‘When did this happen?’ enquired Temple.

  ‘Yesterday, on the train to Fordbridge. I was playing there in pantomime. I went to the restaurant-car for lunch, leaving Marmaduke in his box in my compartment. When I came back, the box had gone.’

  ‘Was there anyone else in the compartment?

  ‘No one at that particular time.’

  ‘Did you have the train searched?’

  ‘Not till I got to Fordbridge. It stopped, at Townleigh first, and a lot of people got out there. I’m certain one of them must have had the box.’

  ‘Had you missed it by then?’

  ‘Yes, but the train was packed with youngsters coming back from their holidays, so there was some confusion, and it wasn’t easy to get along the corridors.’

  Paul Temple nodded.

  ‘They’d be boys from the Four Elms School,’ he said. ‘It’s near Townleigh. Go on, Mr Mount.’

  ‘Well, the railway people called in the police, of course, and they are making enquiries, but so far nothing has turned up. I have tried to keep it out of the papers, but I expect it will be in this evening’s editions.’

  ‘Couldn’t you carry on with another doll?’ asked Temple.

  ‘I could, after a fashion. But the managements of the theatres wouldn’t accept it. They stipulate Marmaduke specifically in all my contracts. You’ve got to help me, Mr Temple. The insurance company is offering £500 reward, and I’d give twice as much to get Marmaduke back.’

  Temple could not help feeling sorry for the little man, though he did not altogether relish the idea of breaking off his writing to take on what seemed to be a fairly straightforward case of theft.

  ‘All right, I’ll do what I can for you, Mr Mount,’ he promised at length. ‘If you care to look in sometime tomorrow, there may be some developments.’

  When the ventriloquist had left, Temple telephoned New Scotland Yard and spoke to Inspector Vosper.

  ‘Vosper, could you do me a favour? Find out from your local police station at Townleigh if any boy happens to be missing from Four Elms School.’

  Vosper rang back ten minutes later.

  ‘How did you get on to this, Temple?’ he asked. ‘There is a boy missing. His name is Clive Wayman, of 15 Dorset Road, East Kensington. His mother swears he caught the train all right, but he hasn’t turned up at the school. Have you got a line on him at all?’

  ‘Nothing definite as yet, Vosper,’ replied Temple, taking a rapid note of the address on his writing pad. ‘I may have some news a bit later on.’

  He took a taxi to the address in East Kensington, and found Mrs Wayman looking very worried.

  ‘Clive’s been getting quite a handful lately,’ she told Temple. ‘I haven’t been able to do much with him these holidays. He’s obsessed with the idea of being an impersonator on the stage. I kept telling him he’s too young – he’s only fifteen – and must pass his exams first, but he takes no notice. Only last week he went in for a competition at some cinema in Chelsea, and he’s been upset ever since because he didn’t get a prize.’

  ‘Did you have much difficulty in getting him to go back to school?’ asked Temple.

  ‘Yes, he kept saying he’d run away and join a theatrical company of some sort. But surely they’d never want a boy of his age.’

  ‘You are sure he went on that train?’

  ‘Yes, I saw him off myself at Waterloo, but he never arrived at the school. The Headmaster telephoned the same evening, because apparently two boys said they had seen Clive on the train.’

  Promising to keep in touch with the distracted Mrs Wayman, Temple returned to his flat. Some time later he picked up an evening paper, and a headline caught his eye.

  MARMADUKE BAILEY IS MISSING

  VENTRILOQUIST CONSULTS PAUL TEMPLE

  Temple flung down the paper with an exclamation of annoyance. He wondered how the news could have leaked out. Probably Ivor Mount had mentioned it casually to some actor friend or perhaps a journalist he had met at his Club.

  An hour later, the telephone rang, and after Temple had said ‘Hello’ twice, a squeaky little voice came over the line.

  ‘Is that Mr Paul Temple?’

  ‘Speaking. Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Marmaduke Bailey.’

  Temple frowned. Obviously, he thought, this was someone’s idea of a joke.

  ‘Where are you speaking from?’ he asked.

  ‘Never mind that, Mr Temple. Will you tell the boss that I’ll be back on Saturday for certain? Tell him I’m just having a bit of a holiday.’

  Temple looked puzzled. The voice was obviously very like that of the celebrated dummy, as known to millions of radio listeners and TV viewers.

  ‘You can’t be Marmaduke Bailey,’ he said; ‘what’s your real name?

  There was a characteristic little chuckle from the other end. ‘That would be telling, Mr Temple! That would be telling!’

  There was a click as the receiver was replaced. Temple immediately flashed the operator and asked for the call to be traced. After a few minutes’ wait he was told that it came from a call-box in Bickerton, a small town in Sussex.

  Temple went to his bookshelves and found a guide to Sussex, which informed him that Bickerton had two cinemas, the Regal and the Luxor. Taking a chance, he telephoned the latter and asked if by any chance they had a talent contest on the stage that week.

  ‘No, sir,’ came the prompt reply, ‘but they hold one every Wednesday at the Regal.’

  Temple thanked his informant politely and replaced his receiver.

  He thought for a few moments, then dialled the number of Ivor Mount’s flat. When the ventriloquist came to the telephone. Temple said:

  ‘I think I’m on the trail of your doll. But I want you to give me your word that if I recover it for you, you won’t take any action against the person who stole it. And I think I can guarantee you won’t lose by the bargain.’

  ‘All right, Mr Temple, whatever you say,’ agreed Ivor Mount at once. ‘As long as I get Marmaduke back, that’s all I’m really worried about.’

  ‘Splendid.’ said Temple. ‘Then keep tomorrow evening free and call for me here at about six o’clock.’

  They found the Regal Cinema,
Bickerton, packed with an eager audience.

  ‘Talent contests seem to be popular,’ said Temple. Ivor Mount shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘I went in for them myself once,’ he recalled. ‘That’s the hard way of getting on the stage.’

  He seemed very bored with the proceedings, until the compère suddenly came on and announced:

  ‘The next act will be Master Clive Wayman, presenting an impersonation of Ivor Mount, the well-known ventriloquist, and his celebrated doll, Marmaduke Bailey!’

  Mount sat bolt upright in his seat, and Temple had to restrain him when the curtains opened to reveal Clive Wayman holding what was unmistakably the genuine Marmaduke Bailey.

  ‘It’s all right,’ whispered Temple. ‘He won’t run away.’

  Indeed, Master Wayman obviously had every intention of remaining right in the centre of the stage, where he proceeded to retail Ivor Mount’s ‘patter’ with all the assurance of a veteran. He was obviously too young to give more than a sketchy imitation of Mount’s normal voice, but his mimicry of Marmaduke was quite uncanny, and he was presently adjudged second prize-winner on the strength of the audience’s applause. As he came off, clutching an electric toaster, Temple and Mount were waiting for him at the side of the stage. He recognised the ventriloquist immediately, and his eyes bulged.

  ‘I haven’t hurt Marmaduke, Mr Mount, honest I haven’t,’ he gasped before they could say a word.

  Temple steered the boy into a convenient corner, while Mount took possession of his doll and examined it.

  ‘What made you do this, Clive?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, I went in for that competition at Chelsea and did an impersonation with an imaginary doll. But the audience didn’t like me. I was feeling very fed up about it when I saw Mr Mount on the train. Then it suddenly came over me that if only I had a real doll I could do the act properly. I waited at the corner of the corridor till I saw Mr Mount go into the restaurant-car, then I took the box and put it with my own luggage. All the boys had stacks of stuff, so it wasn’t noticed. I’d read about this competition being held here every week, so I caught the next train to Bickerton.’