Sock took the young man out of the room and Mrs Pole wiped her eyes again, preparatory to retiring from human ken behind her monstrous veil.
‘You’ve all been very kind, I’ll say that,’ she said in the tone of one conveying an unexpected compliment. ‘There’s no hard feeling, Mr Sutane. You couldn’t have pulled up in time and if you had it wouldn’t have been any use. She was dead already. The old doctor made that clear. He’s a friend of yours, I suppose?’
‘No, not at all. We hadn’t met him before. His partner attends the servants and we have our own man in town.’ Linda refuted the implied accusation guiltily.
Mrs Pole, who now looked like some monstrous black toadstool, nodded.
‘He seemed a nice honest old chap,’ she said. ‘Is that Bobby down with the bags? How are we going to get to the station from here?’
‘My man’s waiting with the car.’ Sutane came forward resolutely.
She shook hands all round, very nearly speechless with an emotion which appeared to be quite genuine.
‘You’ll all get cards,’ she said from the doorway. ‘Give me any names and addresses you can think of. Good night and God bless you all.’
Sock and her son escorted her to the waiting car. When the purr of the engine had died away down the drive Mrs Geodrake rose to go, albeit somewhat reluctantly.
‘I’m so glad to have made friends with you all at last,’ she said with an honesty which was unanswerable. ‘I hope you’ll all come and see us as soon as you’ve got over all this. So trying for you! Good-bye, Mrs Sutane, good-bye.’
She glanced brightly at Konrad, who avoided her.
‘I’m sure there’s a mystery about you,’ she said happily. ‘I’m sure you had some secret reason for not wanting to be seen in the lane. Say we’re friends.’
She held out her hand and he took it grudgingly.
Sutane laughed. To the woman who did not know him it was a natural and delightful sound, but to the others who were familiar with his moods it was a danger signal.
‘Let’s get this straight,’ he said. ‘It was pretty dark, wasn’t it?’
‘No, not very. He’s a distinctive person, you know.’ Mrs Geodrake was only too delighted to continue the discussion. ‘I saw him quite distinctly as I came back from the post. I was on the lower road and he was in the mouth of the lane.’
Konrad stared at her, violent colour replacing his pallor.
‘It wasn’t me,’ he said thickly. ‘That’s all I can say. You’re mistaken. Some other evening perhaps.’
‘No, it was last night.’ Mrs Geodrake was laughingly insistent. ‘I won’t be bullied. I’m a good witness. What were you up to, you naughty person?’
Konrad began to shake a little and seemed to be about to speak. Sutane took the visitor gently by the elbow.
‘Charming of you to have called on us at last,’ he murmured and directed her gracefully out into the hall.
With their going the room remained in silence for a moment and Konrad, with his head down, strode for the doorway. Eve stepped in front of him. She looked very young with her dark hair standing out round her face and her eyes vivid.
‘What were you doing?’ she demanded. ‘Were you creeping about watching?’
Konrad paused. The direct attack seemed to give him just the resistance necessary for him to compose himself. He laughed easily and Campion remembered suddenly that he was an actor.
‘The good woman is potty, my dear,’ he said. ‘I was not in the lane last night. She saw me some other time and is trying to make herself interesting. There’s no point in you getting so excited about nothing. I’ve got to go and change now. Don’t be childish.’
He was very convincing and she stepped aside, allowing him to pass her.
Looking back on the scene afterwards Campion wondered whether, if she had been less precipitate then, the other deaths would have occurred.
11
MERCER’S attack upon Mrs Pole was all the more startling because of its singular unfairness and because it came from such an unexpected source.
‘What a woman!’ he said. ‘What an unmitigated, incredible, utterly loathsome piece of vulgar female muck! Didn’t you want to vomit every moment she was in the room? Don’t you hope the car’ll crash while she’s wallowing in unaccustomed luxury, and she’ll break her revolting and scaly neck?’
The rest of the gathering regarded him with mild astonishment, a reaction which he appeared to resent intensely. His dark-skinned face became suffused with blood and his light eyes were honest in their hatred.
‘You think what you like,’ he said, planting his slightly unwieldy body on the arm of a chair. ‘But – I mean to say, did you listen to her? Did you see her? – that awful mourning! That filthy unctuous weeping, with one predatory eye on anything her blasted relation might conceivably have left! Can’t you see her going over old clothes, turning out linen-baskets, opening up old portmanteaux, trying on dirty half-worn rags that wouldn’t fit her, grovelling under beds, searching down the sides of upholstered chairs?’
‘My dear –!’ Linda sounded shocked. ‘She was all right. A bit ordinary, perhaps.’
‘Ordinary! My God, if I thought that I’d cut my throat …’ He laughed derisively and appeared for the moment to have transferred his sudden dislike to his hostess. Linda coloured.
‘You’re so intolerant,’ she complained. ‘She means well and anyway she’s got to be herself.’
‘That’s what disgusts me,’ said Mercer in the tone of one settling an argument finally. ‘I wonder if she’s told the undertaker to preserve the bathing-dress. Well darned it might suit little Evelyn – one never knows.’
‘Don’t, please dear! You’re disgusting.’ Linda turned her head away. ‘It was very kind of her to take Chloe’s things. It saves me from sending them on afterwards.’
‘I wonder if she’s got everything. There was a handbag somewhere about.’
‘Yes. I saw that.’ Eve spoke languidly. So far she had taken no part in the discussion, but had watched the scene with scornful amusement. ‘It was on the piano in the breakfast room.’
‘Was it? I’ll get it.’ Mercer heaved himself to his feet. ‘There’s probably the return half of her rail ticket in there. We don’t want to lose that.’ He flung the words at them contemptuously and went into the other room, leaving everyone with the sense of personal insult all the deeper because it was so utterly undeserved.
There was an ominous silence for some little time and presently he came back with the red kerchief and Chloe’s book.
‘No bag,’ he said. ‘Sure she had one?’
‘Of course she had one. Besides, I saw it.’ Eve spoke briskly. ‘It must be there. It’s one of those fold-over things, white with a gilt snap.’
They all drifted into the other room and the search began in that curious desultory fashion typical of a mass activity of which the majority does not quite approve.
Mercer alone was eager. His sudden and violent dislike of Mrs Pole seemed to have given him an unwonted energy. He searched as a child might, looking in the most unlikely places and leaving chaos in his wake. Eve and Linda came behind him, tidying.
‘It’s not here.’ He made the announcement as if he were stating a highly suspicious and significant circumstance. ‘Where is it? If she had a bag it hasn’t vanished into space. It hasn’t burst. Where is it? Call the servants.’
‘It doesn’t matter. It’ll turn up.’ Linda spoke hastily. ‘It may even have been packed with her other things.’
Mercer thrust his hands into his pockets.
‘I think it ought to be found,’ he said obstinately. ‘That woman would suggest anything. It may even have a bob or two in it. That’d worry her. That’d give her something to squawk about. I’ll ring the bell.’
‘Oh, please don’t.’ Linda put out a hand involuntarily and as Sutane came swinging in, with Sock behind him, she looked at him with appeal.
‘Chloe’s handbag?’ Sutane stood glanci
ng about him, a certain caution in his manner suddenly becoming apparent. ‘Yes, that’s right, Mercer, we ought to find it. Eve, look in the other room and when you’ve got it bring it to me.’
The search began again, with Mercer leaning on the piano, irritable and impatient.
‘We’ve been all over this room,’ he said bitterly. ‘It’s been moved. Call the servants.’
Sutane pressed a bell at once and when Hughes arrived questioned him brusquely. The nervous vigour of the man was astonishingly evident and Mr Campion watched the performance with growing interest. Hughes bridled at his employer’s tone and went off to find the parlourmaid responsible for the room.
The girl who came was startled but informative. The bag had been on the piano that morning and she thought she had seen it there when she had come to tidy up the newspapers during lunch. It was a white bag. She had not moved it.
With his pale face pink with indignation, Hughes reaffirmed that he had not moved it either and condescended to make inquiries in the kitchen, although he was certain that no other servant had been into the room all day. He went off, his feathers ruffled.
‘It’s because it’s a handbag, dear,’ explained Linda in response to Sutane’s raised eyebrows. ‘It suggests money, you see. He’s insulted.’
‘Damn fool,’ said Sock unhelpfully. ‘Well, it’s gone anyway. You hang on to it when you find it, Linda. I shouldn’t – shouldn’t open it.’
‘That’s all very well.’ Mercer was querulous. ‘It was on there and now it’s gone. Who moved it? Has the nurse been in here, or the kid? Where is it?’
Linda gaped at them.
‘You’re all very excited,’ she said. ‘What does it matter? This is absurd.’
‘What’s absurd, my dear lady?’ Konrad came bustling in, resplendent in a dinner jacket. His cleanliness and general air of satisfaction seemed to add to Sutane’s growing savagery.
‘Someone’s taken a handbag,’ he said without preamble. ‘A white handbag with a gilt clasp. It belonged to Chloe Pye. Have you seen it?’
Konrad smiled.
‘Yes, I think so,’ he said. ‘A little suède pochette, was it? I’ll get it.’
He went out of the room, Mercer at his heels.
They were back almost immediately, Konrad passing the composer on the stairs as he came down again.
‘This is it, isn’t it?’ he said brightly, turning the small scented bag over in his hands. ‘Has the sorrowing sister-in-law phoned for it?’
Sutane took it from him and hesitated, his fingers on the flap. Campion intercepted the glance he shot at Sock and was further enlightened.
‘Where was it, Konnie?’
‘On the table in the upper hall. I noticed it as I came down just now.’ The young man was nonchalant and clearly very pleased with himself.
‘That’s a lie. I saw him coming out of his room with it – or at least I heard him shut his door, which is the same thing.’ Mercer’s eyes were snapping with excitement.
Konrad looked him up and down.
‘You’re mistaken,’ he said coolly. ‘I picked it up off the table outside my door. Why the anxiety?’
Mercer shrugged his shoulders.
‘Why did you take it upstairs to your room?’ he said. ‘I’ve been pretty bored with all this business so far, but now I’m beginning to be interested. I’ve never liked you, Konrad. You’ve always seemed to me to be a fishy little person. And now it’s dawning on me that you’re damned fishy. You were the last man to see Chloe alive. You were creeping about in the lane just before she died, and now you’re hiding her handbag.’
‘I say, old boy –’ Sock laid a hand on his arm, ‘– you’re a bit forthright, aren’t you? Forget it, Konrad. The general excitement’s getting the lad down.’
Mercer wrenched himself away and went over to the piano, on whose polished top Sutane had shaken the contents of the bag. He stood looking at the small roll of notes, the lipstick, the compendium and the black moiré card case. There was also a small amount of loose change and a tube of aspirin tablets.
Sutane showed him the bag was empty.
With Squire Mercer the stimulating effect of Mrs Pole still persisted. He stood by the piano, presenting a back view to the rest of the room. His hands remained in his trouser pockets so that his jacket was wrunkled over his heavy buttocks and his short legs looked springy and alert. His shoulders were enormous and his untidy head on its short neck was bent a little. He seemed to be enjoying his unusual burst of energy.
Presently he opened the card case, which, however, yielded nothing but its legitimate contents. He turned on Konrad.
‘What did you take out of here?’ he demanded. ‘It’s no good bleating at me like a tenth-rate stage parson. You’ve pinched something. What was it?’
Mr Campion, who had attended many family quarrels in his time, was puzzled. Mercer was behaving in a typically irresponsible fashion, but neither Sock nor Sutane showed the least inclination to curb him. Both of them stood looking at Konrad fixedly and Eve, too, kept her angry eyes on the young man.
Konrad was very pale and Campion, glancing at his petulant face, was suddenly aware that his eyes were venomous.
‘I told you I didn’t open the thing,’ he said, his voice squeaky with passion. ‘If I had it wouldn’t be any affair of yours, Mercer, so keep out of this. I know how you all feel about me and I don’t care, I tell you, I don’t care. But I’ll make you all pay for it in the end. This is a warning. I may hold my tongue for a day or two until my rally’s over, but after that you can look out, all of you – and I mean that.’
He remained glaring at them, a weak, spiteful, but in the circumstances extremely comic figure. Yet no one, Mr Campion was interested to note, seemed in the least amused by him.
Konrad hesitated. He was beside himself with fury and, although aware that his exit-line had been spoken, yet could not tear himself away from the stage.
‘You’ve always hated me,’ he repeated feebly, and added with inspirational triteness, ‘now you’re darned well going to be sorry.’
He turned and went out, slamming the door behind him.
Sock listened.
‘Uncle Vanya has fallen downstairs,’ he remarked pleasantly if inaccurately. But there was no smile on his lips and his eyes were solemn.
Mercer turned back to the piano.
‘Now all this muck can go to that ghastly woman,’ he said, laughing as he shovelled the odds and ends back into the bag again.
Sutane glanced at him and then at Sock and finally eyed Campion speculatively. The hall door slammed, a phenomenon in itself since in summer it was always kept open. Linda flushed.
‘We can’t let him go like this,’ she said. ‘He’s a visitor here. Besides, it’s so incredibly silly.’
She hurried out of the room and Sutane stood looking down at the toes of his shoes and whistling idly. Presently he took two or three little dancing steps, keeping his feet within an inch or two of their original position. The occupation appeared to absorb him. Mercer watched and Sock put his arm round Eve, who did not appear to notice or resent the familiarity. Nobody spoke.
Hughes came in, still pink and very much on his dignity.
‘Mr Konrad has just gone off in his car, sir, but he appears to have left his bicycle, the silver-plated one. It’s in the cloakroom.’
‘Who the hell cares?’ said Sock briefly, while Sutane turned on the servant the full force of his personality behind the outburst.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘Don’t stand there goggling. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter in the least. Go away.’
Hughes looked aghast. He opened his mouth to speak, changed his mind, and went out, closing the door softly but firmly behind him. Sutane began to whistle again. The atmosphere of the room had become oppressive. Eve threw off Sock’s arm and, leaning across the piano top, began to play with the bag. With her sombre eyes and vivid, unhappy face she looked like an incarnation of the brooding spirit
of the gathering.
‘He’s done that so that he can come down again and pick it up,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Gutless little tick, isn’t he?’ No one answered her, but her voice broke the spell of silence.
‘I shall take Finny up to town tonight,’ Sutane remarked, looking up. ‘Henry needs guidance. Tell her to get her hat on, will you, Sock? Then I must go. What’s the matter. Linda?’
The girl had come in quietly, but her expression had betrayed her.
‘Hughes is going,’ she said blankly. ‘He waylaid me in the hall. He seems to think that things are too difficult and he’s going tonight. He says he’s ill. What did you say to him?’
‘Nothing, absolutely nothing.’ Sutane was exasperated. ‘My God, these people ought to be on the stage. Still, it doesn’t matter, does it? The maids can carry on.’
She stood watching him helplessly and he turned to the door.
‘I must go. Dinner when we come back, then. Finny’s coming up with me. I may bring Dick Poyser back tonight and I want Campion and Uncle William to stay here if they will. I don’t think there’s anything else. I’m rather glad Hughes is going. He doesn’t really suit us.’
His last words were delivered over his shoulder as he went out. Linda turned away and Campion, who had developed a keen understanding where she was concerned, realised some of the sense of despair which descends upon a housewife when the mainstay of her staff deserts her in a time of upheaval. An idea occurred to him.
‘I’ve got a man,’ he said. ‘Not a very polished soul, I’m afraid, but he’d do anything you told him and he’d tide you over the next day or so until you can get someone suitable. Shall I get him down?’
Her relief was so heartfelt that he was seized by momentary misgivings. Magersfontein Lugg was not everybody’s idea of the perfect butler, and in his impulse to be of service to her Campion had not stopped to visualise that lush personality in the Sutane household. However, it was done. Linda had seized the suggestion.
‘I’ll go and fetch him,’ he said gallantly.
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