The More Deceived

by David Roberts

  ‘True. So that lets you out?’

  ‘Hard to say. I don’t remember being left alone in his office. I mean, it would be quite difficult to engineer. It might happen that Lyall would slip out to fetch something from Miss Hawkins’s room but you wouldn’t have known when that would happen. After all, he would normally use the buzzer to summon Miss Hawkins if he wanted anything.’

  ‘What about Younger? Was he ever alone in Lyall’s office?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know. You’d have to ask him that but, I say, who is likely to tell you the truth? You’re hardly going to admit you had the opportunity of murdering him, are you? And what about visitors? As I say, he didn’t have many, ours being a secret operation and all that, but he had some.’

  ‘There’s no record of his having had visitors in the two days before he was killed.’

  ‘Apart from his son, of course.’

  ‘Apart from James, yes. Did you meet him?’

  ‘Never met the boy, I’m afraid. Can’t help you there but people say they weren’t on good terms.’ He coughed. ‘Not that I’m saying he murdered his father but, look here, Corinth, what motive could either of us – Younger or me – have had for killing Lyall? I don’t suppose either of us liked him much but that didn’t mean we were going to kill him.’

  ‘Quite true! And I wasn’t suggesting any such thing. It might have been, as you say, some visitor from outside the department we don’t know about.’ Edward put on a ‘chummy’ voice. ‘McCloud, you’re a bright fellow. I’m sure you’ve been turning all this over in your mind. Does nothing suggest itself?’

  ‘About who murdered Lyall? I don’t know that it does. I suppose the only person who had every excuse for being alone in his office was his secretary but the idea of Miss Hawkins murdering Lyall is absurd. Marrying him, possibly – I always thought she had a tendresse for him – but not murder.’

  Jane Williams was delighted to be questioned by Edward again. He had a nasty feeling anything he said to her would be repeated throughout the office and beyond but he could hardly blame her. She must find it exciting to be involved in a murder investigation and be questioned by Lord Edward Corinth.

  ‘Miss Williams, or may I call you Jane . . . ?’

  ‘Call me Jane, my lord, if you wish. I am sure Mervyn would understand.’

  ‘Mervyn?’

  ‘Since we last met, my lord, I have become engaged . . . to Mervyn Last. He’s in the RAF,’ she said proudly.

  Edward kicked himself. Jane had indicated to him last time they met that she might become engaged to an RAF pilot and he had dismissed it as fantasy. In fact – he would have to look up his notes – hadn’t she admitted it was a fantasy?

  ‘Is Mervyn a pilot?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘He’s an engineer. He works on the engines, you know.’

  Her eyes pleaded with him for reassurance and he gave it to her gladly. ‘Well, that’s very good news. Where would the RAF be without engineers – a vital job. You must be very proud.’

  ‘I am, my lord.’

  ‘So this happened before Mr Lyall was found murdered?’

  ‘Such a shock it was. As it happened, we got engaged the day Miss Hawkins . . . you know . . . found the body. Miss Hawkins was kind enough to give me an afternoon off as Mervyn only had a day free before he went back to the base.’

  ‘Where is that?’

  ‘He says it’s a secret, my lord. He’s not allowed to tell me.’ She opened her eyes wide to signify that she understood how important it was to keep a secret.

  ‘Have you seen him in his uniform?’

  ‘Not yet, my lord.’ She seemed to find some comfort in intoning ‘my lord’ whenever possible. ‘He says it’s a surprise for the wedding. I thought that was ever so romantic.’

  ‘Has he been to the office?’

  ‘Oh no, my lord.’ The girl sounded shocked. ‘Miss Hawkins doesn’t allow us to bring . . . friends to the office.’

  Edward had a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach. Could it be that Jane was being taken for a ride? Was Mervyn not quite what he pretended to be? Not to have told his fiancée where he was based . . . that did not smell right. He would ask Ferguson to check up on him.

  ‘So what did you do on your afternoon off?’

  ‘We went to Kew. I had never been. Miss Hawkins recommended it. She said Kew was very respectable and it was.’

  Edward thought he detected a note of disappointment in her voice but he was mistaken. She was merely battling with herself about how much to tell him about the day’s events. She surrendered to her desire to share her pleasure. ‘I shouldn’t really tell you, my lord but at Kew he gave me this ring.’

  Edward peered at a piece of what he was almost certain was coloured glass. ‘Very nice, Jane.’

  But she had not finished. She blushed and the words came tumbling out.

  ‘It was in the tropical pavilion. He was perspiring so I said, “Is it too hot for you, Mervyn?” and he said no, he was just nervous because he had something special to say. Then, right there, in front of . . . oh, I don’t know how many people, he got down on one knee and put the ring on my finger. I went all weak at the knees and people started to clap. The ring . . . But there I go chattering on, my lord. You ought to have stopped me. My dad says I’m worse than the wireless, the way I talk.’

  ‘The ring is perfectly splendid,’ Edward said at his most avuncular. ‘What did you do for the rest of the afternoon?’

  ‘We went to a Palais de Dance he knew at Hammersmith and then Mervyn had to go back to base.’

  ‘He took you home first?’

  ‘Oh yes. He’s very much the gentleman. It was very late, almost eleven. He had to rush to catch the last train.’

  ‘Well, that’s very good news. Do your parents know about your engagement?’ He felt a cad asking. Jane looked uneasy.

  ‘Not yet. They’re rather old-fashioned. I couldn’t say I was engaged to a man they had never met.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said hurriedly. ‘I quite understand.’ Jane smiled at him uncertainly and he saw how very young she was. ‘Have you told them about Mr Lyall being killed? ’

  ‘I did and my mother was horrified. She said I ought to resign at once and that it wasn’t suitable for her daughter to work in a place where people got murdered all the time and might I not be next, and I said, “Oh, mum!” because who would ever want to kill me?’

  ‘And your father?’

  ‘He was quite excited – upset, of course. He knew Mr Lyall – I told you, didn’t I? When I was looking for a job – after I had left school and taken my Pitman course – my dad wrote to Mr Lyall and he very kindly gave me an interview.’

  ‘How had your father met Mr Lyall?’

  ‘At one time my father was a messenger at the Foreign Office. That was years ago. He’s been retired for ten years at least.’

  ‘So your father wasn’t worried you might be working in the same office as a murderer?’

  ‘Ooh! If you put it like that . . . But I can’t believe anyone here would . . .’

  ‘No,’ Edward said, wishing he had not alarmed her. ‘I’m sure you have nothing to worry about, Jane. So, your father was excited when you told him Mr Lyall had been murdered? That seems odd.’

  ‘You don’t know my dad. He reads a lot of detective stories and thrillers – Rex Stout’s his favourite. He gave me one to read and I said, “Dad, this is rubbish. I can’t think why you bother with such stuff.” He asked me if Mr Lyall had any enemies. I said, “Not unless you mean Mr Westmacott.”’

  ‘Mr Westmacott and Mr Lyall were enemies?’ Edward interrupted the flow.

  ‘Not enemies, exactly,’ she said hastily. ‘I just remember hearing them one evening going hammer and tongs. I was passing the door to Mr Lyall’s office and I couldn’t avoid hearing. Mr Westmacott was shouting – so unlike him. He was a perfect gentleman. I had never heard him raise his voice before.’

  ‘Did you happen to hear what they were
quarrelling about?’

  ‘Not really,’ she admitted. ‘Mr Lyall was asking him to lower his voice and Mr Westmacott said, “Why should I? What you are telling me to do is wrong . . . quite wrong and I won’t stand for it.” Then Miss Hawkins came and I went back to my desk.’

  ‘When was this, Jane?’

  ‘About a month ago. No, six weeks. I remember because it was the only time I ever heard raised voices in the office.’

  ‘You have been most helpful. Now, I want you to promise me that you won’t talk about what we have discussed even to your father and mother.’ Though I know that’s asking too much, he added silently.

  ‘Oh, I won’t, I promise you. When Mr Lyall interviewed me for my job he said he wanted to impress on me that the work I was doing was top secret and that I was to discuss it with no one, and of course I don’t,’ she added virtuously.

  ‘Oh, that reminds me, Jane. You remember when we first talked, before we knew Mr Westmacott had been killed?’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  Edward tried to sound casual. ‘You said returned files would sometimes lie in Miss Hawkins’s in-tray until she had time to put them away. Do you remember ever seeing the Bawdsey Manor file in her tray?’

  ‘Bawdsey Manor? Now why does that ring a bell? It can’t have been because I saw the file in Miss Hawkins’s in-tray because the files – at least on the outside – don’t have a name on them. They’re just marked Secret in red.’

  ‘But you saw it at some point?’ Edward said, trying not to sound over-eager.

  ‘Yes, I know! In Mr Westmacott’s office! I saw it lying open on his desk, the day before he disappeared. I saw a letter or a report marked Bawdsey Manor.’

  ‘Are you quite sure?’

  ‘Yes, because when he disappeared and Miss Hawkins was checking to see if there were any files missing, I said, “Have you got the Bawdsey Manor file?” And she bit my head off. She said there was no such file. I said I had seen it on Mr Westmacott’s desk but she told me I was a silly girl and I wasn’t to tell fibs.’

  ‘So you didn’t tell Chief Inspector Pride?’

  ‘No, why should I? He never asked. I didn’t think it was important and Miss Hawkins said I had made a mistake. Anyway, what is Bawdsey Manor? Is it important?’

  Edward thought Lyall must have been mad to employ such an empty-headed gossip but perhaps he reckoned she would do her work and not understand the significance of the documents she was typing. But supposing she had been got at by someone and made an innocent dupe?

  ‘It might be important,’ he said thoughtfully and then, pulling himself together, added, ‘Now this really is secret, Jane. You have to promise me on your word of honour that you won’t mention what you have told me – especially the name Bawdsey Manor – to anyone, and I mean anyone. Do you understand? Not to your parents, not to Mervyn, not to anyone.’

  Miss Hawkins, when Edward asked her about Jane’s story of overhearing a quarrel between Lyall and Westmacott, was predictably dismissive.

  ‘I believe Mr Lyall had questioned the basis on which he – Mr Westmacott – had worked out certain figures. You see, the arms merchants we considered friendly were asked to make their own reports on what deals had been struck and so on. Mr Lyall was beginning to feel that this was not adequate. For instance, Sir Vida Chandra had provided us with a list of arms deals he had been involved in during 1935. Mr Lyall was convinced the department was being hoodwinked and that many deals were not being reported and the records of those that were, were incomplete.’

  ‘Incomplete?’

  ‘Sir Vida would inform us he had sold so many anti-tank weapons to a French arms dealer and we would be reasonably certain that the dealer was just the middle man and that the weapons were really destined for Germany. Mr Lyall thought Sir Robert Vansittart might have to ask Parliament for new powers to make arms dealers co-operate with us. I am sure Sir Robert himself can inform you more fully.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Hawkins, that is most useful.’ Edward was unpersuaded by her fluent account of the disagreement between the two men. He did not doubt that Vansittart would confirm these issues were under discussion but if Jane was right – and she did not appear to be the type of girl to invent an overheard conversation – Miss Hawkins’s account could not explain why Westmacott would have used the words, ‘Why should I? What you are telling me to do is wrong.’

  To pursue her on this point would, he was sure, be counterproductive. Much better for her to think her answer had satisfied him. She would, he hoped, be more relaxed when she answered some other questions he wanted to put to her.

  ‘You remember the ring Mr Lyall wore?’

  ‘The signet ring with the dolphin design?’

  ‘Yes. Was it a family crest or anything like that?’

  ‘Oh no, I don’t think so. I believe it was a present from his wife. He always wore it.’

  ‘The odd thing is that this was discovered close to where Mr Westmacott was found hanging.’

  He passed her the powder compact. ‘Open it.’

  Miss Hawkins did so, her fingers fumbling at the catch. When she saw the dolphin design inside, she went quite white and dropped the compact. Edward picked it up.

  ‘What is this?’ she asked, her voice strangulated by emotion. ‘Are you trying to trap me in some way, Lord Edward?’

  ‘Not at all but you must admit it seems odd to find Mr Lyall’s wife’s compact near Westmacott’s body. It would seem to implicate him, would it not?’

  ‘Chief Inspector Pride never mentioned this when he interviewed me.’

  ‘He did not know I had found it,’ he answered truthfully. ‘Have you seen this before?’

  ‘I may have,’ she said at last. ‘I remember at the Christmas party – the year before last – she and I were both powdering our noses in the cloakroom. I may have seen it then.’

  ‘You have a good memory, Miss Hawkins.’ She was lying, he was sure of it. ‘But you could not say how the compact got where it did?’

  ‘No, I cannot but Desmond Lyall was not a . . . not a murderer, if that’s what you are trying to tell me.’

  ‘I’m not trying to tell you anything,’ he replied mildly.

  ‘Have you got any more questions for me? I have a great deal of work to do and we are very short-staffed.’

  ‘I quite understand, Miss Hawkins, and I won’t keep you for very much longer. Miss Williams said you very kindly gave her time off the afternoon Mr Lyall was killed.’

  ‘I happened to know from what she told me that her young man was going back to his base – apparently he’s in the RAF.’

  ‘Apparently in the RAF? You don’t believe her?’

  ‘You must have noticed that she never stops talking about her private affairs, Lord Edward. I got the feeling he might be leading her on or he might be . . .’

  ‘Not what he pretended?’

  ‘Yes. I suggested they went to Kew. It’s a favourite place of mine and I thought she might get to know a bit more about him.‘

  ‘He gave her an engagement ring.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said shortly.

  ‘I can’t help finding it odd that a girl like Jane should be employed in a department like this. As you say, she is a gossip. Surely it would not do if she were to talk about the work that goes on here?’

  ‘She is a gossip but, to be frank, I don’t think she understands what we do here. She’s not stupid but she is little more than a typist. She is not involved in anything else. In any case, Mr Lyall knew her father and wanted to help the girl.’

  ‘Do you think she said anything to her young man about the work the department does? She might have been tempted to show off?’

  ‘No, I don’t. She knows what we do here is secret but I agree she has a wagging tongue. I’ll talk to Mr Caddick about it when he takes over properly next week.’

  ‘Still, I suppose you could say that the department does not in fact deal with secrets which, if they got out, would damage the country’s def
ence. Am I right?’

  Miss Hawkins visibly relaxed. ‘No, indeed. There are things in the files . . . information about rearmament and about arms deals which might embarrass Sir Robert and the government if it got into the press but nothing vital.’

  ‘So neither Mr Lyall nor you had access to very secret documents?’

  ‘I don’t, certainly, but Mr Lyall has . . . had files in the cabinet in his room which are Most Secret. I suppose he would also have seen certain documents from other departments which would be top secret – at heads of department meetings, for instance.’

  ‘I remember you said you did not have keys to the cabinet in Mr Lyall’s office?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What happened to Mr Lyall’s keys when you found him dead?’

  Miss Hawkins went pale and Edward wondered if he was being too brutal.

  ‘The police took them,’ she said shortly.

  ‘How do you explain that Jane says she saw a file about Bawdsey Manor on Mr Westmacott’s desk the day before he disappeared?’

  Miss Hawkins blanched. ‘Bawdsey . . . ? She must have been mistaken. We don’t have any such file.’

  Edward looked at her and she met his eye. He decided it was better to leave things as they were.

  ‘Thank you, Miss Hawkins. You have been most helpful and I apologize if I may have seemed to be asking you too many questions but I know you are as anxious as the rest of us to get to the bottom of these two deaths. And you effectively run the department, do you not?’

  ‘Certainly not, Lord Edward. Mr Lyall ran the department and, from Monday, Mr Caddick does. I am merely an administrative secretary.’

  He thought he might manage to leave the Foreign Office without seeing Vansittart but, as luck would have it, he bumped into him on the stairs.

  ‘Were you looking for me?’ Sir Robert said, putting his arm round Edward’s shoulders.

  ‘I was going to . . .’

  ‘Well, come up to my office. I’ve got ten minutes before my next appointment. Much rather talk to you than go through my red boxes.’

  Unwillingly, Edward found himself following the great man into his room. Vansittart’s secretary tried to buttonhole him as he strode through the outer office but he waved her away, saying, ‘I must have ten minutes with Lord Edward. The world crisis can go hang itself. I want to hear about that ghastly business in Guernica. You seem to have a knack of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.’