The Layton Court Mystery

by Anthony Berkeley

  Alec, now that the prospect of tea and shade was definitely before him, was ready to discuss the matter rather more amicably.

  ‘You’re quite sure now that he is a stranger, then?’ he asked. ‘You’ve given up the idea that it’s anybody actually in this neighbourhood?’

  ‘I’m nothing of the sort,’ Roger retorted. ‘I’m not sure of any blessed thing about him, except that he wears large boots, is strong, and is no ordinary criminal; and that he corresponds closely with the quite distinct mental picture I had formed of the late lamented Mr John Prince. He may be a stranger to the neighbourhood, and he may not. We know that he was still in it during the morning, because he managed to communicate with the occupants of the household. But as for anything more definite than that, we simply can’t say, not knowing his motive. By Jove, I do wish we could discover that! It would narrow things down immensely.’

  ‘I tell you something that never seems to have occurred to us,’ Alec remarked suddenly. ‘Why shouldn’t it have been just an ordinary burglar, who got so panic-stricken when he found he’d actually killed his householder that he hadn’t the nerve to complete what he came for and simply hurried off? That seems to me as probable as anything, and it fits the facts perfectly.’

  ‘Ye-es; we did rather touch on the burglar idea at the very beginning, didn’t we? Do you realise that it was only five hours ago, by the way? It seems more like five weeks. But that was before the curious behaviour of all these other people impressed itself upon us.’

  ‘Upon you, you mean. I still think you’re making ever so much too much of that side of it. There’s probably some perfectly simple explanation, if we only knew it. I suppose you mean Jefferson and Mrs Plant?’

  ‘And Lady Stanworth!’

  ‘And Lady Stanworth, then. Well, dash it all, you can’t expect them to take us into their confidence, can you? And that is the only way in which their part can be cleared up. Not that it seems to me in the least worth clearing up. I don’t see that it could possibly have anything to do with the murder. Good Lord, it’s practically the same thing as accusing them of the murder itself! I ask you, my dear chap, can you imagine either Mrs Plant or Lady Stanworth – we’ll leave Jefferson out for the moment – actually plotting old Stanworth’s murder! It’s really too ludicrous. You ought to have more sense.’

  ‘This particular topic always seems to excite you, Alexander,’ observed Roger mildly.

  ‘Well, I mean, it’s so dashed absurd. You can’t really believe anything of the sort.’

  ‘Perhaps I don’t. Anyhow, we’ll shelve it till something more definite crops up. It’s quite hot enough already, without making each other still more heated. Look here, let’s give the whole thing a rest till we get back. It will clear our brains. I’ll give you a short lecture on the influence of the Platonic ethics on Hegelian philosophy instead, with a few sidelights on neo-Platonism.’ Which, in spite of Alec’s spirited protests, he at once proceeded to do.

  In this way the time passed pleasantly and instructively till they had passed the lodge gates once more.

  ‘So you see,’ concluded Roger happily, ‘that while in medieval philosophy this mysticism is in powerful and ultimately successful opposition to rationalistic dogmatism, with its contemptuous disregard for all experience, the embryonic science of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries was actually in itself a logical development of neo-Platonism in this same opposition to barren rationalism.’

  ‘Was it?’ said Alec gloomily, registering a secret but none the less fervent prayer that he might never hear the word neo-Platonism again as long as he lived. ‘I see.’

  ‘You do? Good. Then let us seek out and have speech with friend William.’

  ‘Are you going to give him a short lecture on rationalistic dogmatism?’ Alec asked carefully. ‘Because if so, I’m going indoors.’

  ‘I’m afraid it would be wasted on William,’ Roger replied seriously. ‘William, I feel sure, is a dogmatist of the most bigoted type if ever there was one; and to lecture to him on the futility of dogma would be as ineffective as to harangue a hippopotamus on the subject of drawing-room etiquette. No, I just want to sound William a little. Not that I think it will really be of much help to us, but just at present I’m turning every stone I can see.’

  In due course William was run to earth in a large greenhouse. He was mounted unhappily on an exceedingly rickety pair of steps and engaged in tying up a vine. On seeing Roger he hastily descended to firm ground. William did not believe in taking chances.

  ‘Good afternoon, William,’ said Roger brightly.

  ‘Arternoon, sir,’ William responded suspiciously.

  ‘I’ve just been having a chat with your wife, William.’

  William grunted noncommittally.

  ‘I was telling her that a friend of mine, whom I expected to come up to the house to see me last night, never turned up; and I was wondering if you’d seen anything of him down at the lodge.’

  William ostentatiously busied himself with a small plant.

  ‘Never see’d no one,’ he observed with decision.

  ‘No? Never mind, then. It doesn’t really matter. That’s an interesting job you’ve got on hand, William. You take a plant out of its pot, sniff its roots and put it back again; is that it? Now what operation do you call that in the science of horticulture?’

  William hastily relinquished the plant and glowered at his interlocutor.

  ‘Some folks mayn’t have no work to do,’ he remarked darkly; ‘but other folks ‘ave.’

  ‘Meaning yourself, I take it?’ Roger said approvingly. ‘That’s right. Work away. Nothing like it, is there? Keeps you cheerful and bright and contented. Great thing, work, I agree with you.’

  A flicker of interest passed across William’s countenance. ‘What did that there Mr Stanworth want to shoot hisself for, eh?’ he demanded suddenly.

  ‘I don’t know, to tell you the truth,’ said Roger, somewhat taken aback at the unexpectedness of this query. ‘Why, have you got any ideas about it?’

  ‘I don’t ‘old with it meself,’ said William primly. ‘Not with sooeycide.’

  ‘You’re absolutely right, William,’ Roger replied warmly. ‘If more people were like you, there’d be – there’d be less suicides, undoubtedly. It’s an untidy habit, to say the least.’

  ‘It ain’t acting right,’ William pursued firmly. ‘That’s what it ain’t.’

  ‘You put it in a nutshell, William; it isn’t. In fact, it’s acting all wrong. By the way, William, somebody or other was telling me that a stranger had been seen about the grounds during the last day or two. You noticed him by any chance?’

  ‘Stranger? What sort of a stranger?’

  ‘Oh, the usual sort; a head and four pairs of fingers, you know. This particular one, they said, was a rather large man.

  Have you seen a rather large strange man round the house lately?’

  William cogitated deeply.

  ‘I ‘ave an’ all.’

  ‘Have you, though? When?’

  William cogitated again. ‘It ‘ud be a matter of ha’-past eight last night,’ he announced at last. ‘Ha’-past eight it ‘ud be, as near as anything. I was a-settin’ out in front o’ the lodge, an’ up he walks, bold as brass, an’ nods at me an’ goes on up the drive.’

  Roger exchanged glances with Alec.

  ‘Yes, William?’ he said warmly. ‘A man you’d never seen before? A fairly large man?’

  ‘A very large man,’ William corrected meticulously.

  ‘A very large man. Excellent! Go on. What happened?’

  ‘Well, I says to the missus, “Oo’s that?” I says. “A-walkin’ up the drive as if he owned the place.” ’ William pondered.

  ‘ “As if he owned the place,” I says,’ he repeated firmly.

  ‘And a very good thing to say, too. Well?’

  ‘ “Oh, ‘im?” she says. “ ‘E’s the cook’s brother,” she says. “I was interjuiced to ‘im at Helchester the o
ther day,” she says. “At least, she says ‘e’s ‘er brother,” she says.’ A strange rasping noise in his throat appeared to indicate that William was amused. ‘ “At least, she says ‘e’s ‘er brother,” she says,’ he repeated with much enjoyment.

  ‘Oh!’ Roger exclaimed, somewhat dashed. ‘Oh, did she? And did you see him again, William?’

  ‘That I did. Back ‘e come nigh on a quarter of a hower later, an’ cook with ‘im, a-hangin’ on ‘is arm like what she ought to have known better not to ‘ave done,’ William rejoined, suddenly stern. ‘I don’t ‘old with it meself, I don’t,’ added this severe moralist. ‘Not at ‘er age, I don’t.’ His expression relaxed reminiscently. ‘ “At least, she says ‘e’s ‘er brother,” she says,’ he added, with a sudden rasp.

  ‘I see,’ said Roger. ‘Thank you, William. Well, I suppose we mustn’t interrupt you any more. Come on, Alec.’

  Slowly and sadly they made their way back to the house.

  ‘William got his own back then, if he only knew it,’ Roger said with a wry smile. ‘I did think for a moment that we might be getting at something at last.’

  ‘You really are a hell of an optimist, Roger,’ Alec observed wonderingly.

  Their path took them past the library, and as they reached the bed in which the footprints had been discovered Roger instinctively paused. The next moment he darted forward and stared with incredulous eyes at the bed.

  ‘Good Lord!’ he exclaimed, clutching Alec’s arm and pointing with an excited finger. ‘Look! They’ve gone, both of them! They’ve been smoothed out!’

  ‘Great Scott, so they have!’

  The two gazed at each other with wide eyes.

  ‘So Jefferson did hear what we were talking about!’ Roger almost whispered. ‘I have an idea that things are going to get rather exciting very soon, after all.’

  chapter seventeen

  Mr Grierson Becomes Heated

  But however much Jefferson might guess of their activities, certainly nothing was visible in his manner as Roger and Alec entered the drawing room, twenty minutes late for tea. He greeted them in his usual curt, rather brusque way, and asked casually how they had managed to amuse themselves. Lady Stanworth was not present, and Mrs Plant was seated behind the tea tray.

  ‘Oh, we went for a stroll through the village; but it was too hot to be pleasant. Thanks, Mrs Plant. Yes, milk and sugar, please. Two lumps. You got through your business in Elchester all right? I saw you starting.’

  ‘Yes. Got off infernally late. Had to rush things. However, I managed to get everything done all right.’

  ‘Have they arranged about the inquest yet, by the way?’ Alec asked suddenly.

  ‘Yes. Tomorrow morning at eleven, here.’

  ‘Oh, they’re going to hold it here, are they?’ said Roger. ‘Which room will you put them in? The library?’

  ‘No. I think the morning room’s better.’

  ‘Yes, I think it is.’

  ‘Oh, I do wish it were over!’ Mrs Plant remarked with an involuntary sigh.

  ‘You don’t seem to be looking forward to the ordeal,’ Roger said quickly, with a slight smile.

  ‘I hate the idea of giving evidence,’ Mrs Plant replied, almost passionately. ‘It’s horrible!’

  ‘Oh, come. It isn’t as bad as all that. It’s not like a law case, you know. There’ll be no cross-examination or anything like that. The proceedings will be purely formal, I take it, eh, Jefferson?’

  ‘Purely,’ Jefferson said, lighting a cigarette with deliberation. ‘Don’t suppose the whole thing will last more than twenty minutes.’

  ‘So you see there won’t be anything very dreadful in it, Mrs Plant, May I have another cup of tea, please?’

  ‘Well, I wish it were over; that’s all,’ Mrs Plant said with a nervous little laugh, and Roger noticed that the hand which held his cup shook slightly.

  Jefferson rose to his feet.

  ‘Afraid I shall have to leave you chaps to your own resources again,’ he remarked abruptly. ‘Lady Stanworth hopes you’ll do whatever you like. Sorry to appear so inhospitable, but you know what things are like at this sort of time.’

  He walked out of the room.

  Roger decided to put out a small feeler.

  ‘Jefferson doesn’t seem extraordinarily upset really, does he?’ he said to Mrs Plant. ‘Yet it must be rather a shock to lose an employer, with whom one’s been so many years, in this tragic way.’

  Mrs Plant glanced at him, as if rather questioning the good taste of this remark. ‘I don’t think Major Jefferson is the sort of man to show his real feelings before comparative strangers, do you, Mr Sheringham?’ she replied a little stiffly.

  ‘Probably not,’ Roger replied easily. ‘But he seems singularly unperturbed about it all.’

  ‘He is a very imperturbable sort of person, I imagine.’

  Roger tried another tack. ‘Had you known Mr Stanworth long, Mrs Plant?’ he asked conversationally, leaning back in his chair and pulling his pipe out of his pocket. ‘You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?’

  ‘Please do. Oh, no; not very long. My – my husband knew him, you know.’

  ‘I see. A curious habit that of his, asking comparative, or, in my case at any rate, complete strangers down to these little gatherings, wasn’t it?’

  ‘I think Mr Stanworth was a very hospitable man,’ Mrs Plant replied tonelessly.

  ‘Very! A most excellent fellow in every way, didn’t you think?’ Roger asked with enthusiasm.

  ‘Oh, most,’ said Mrs Plant in a curiously flat voice.

  Roger glanced at her shrewdly. ‘You don’t agree with me, Mrs Plant?’ he said suddenly.

  Mrs Plant started.

  ‘I?’ she said hurriedly. ‘Why, of course I do. I thought Mr Stanworth a – a very nice man indeed. Charming! Of course I agree with you.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I thought for the moment that you didn’t seem very enthusiastic about him. No earthly reason why you should be, of course. Everybody has their likes and dislikes, don’t they?’

  Mrs Plant glanced quickly at Roger, and then looked out of the window. ‘I was simply thinking how – how tragic the whole thing is,’ she said in a low voice.

  There was a short silence.

  ‘Lady Stanworth didn’t seem to be on very good terms with him, though, did she?’ Roger remarked carelessly, prodding at the tobacco in his pipe with a match-stalk.

  ‘Do you think so?’ Mrs Plant returned guardedly.

  ‘She certainly gave me that impression. In fact, I should have gone farther. I should have said that she positively disliked him.’

  Mrs Plant looked at the speaker with distaste. ‘There are secrets in every household, I suppose,’ she said shortly. ‘Don’t you think that it is a little impertinent for outsiders to probe into them? Especially under circumstances like these.’

  ‘That’s one for me,’ Roger smiled, quite unabashed. ‘Yes, I suppose it is, Mrs Plant. The trouble is, you see, that I simply can’t help it. I’m the most curious person alive. Everything interests me, especially every human thing, and I’ve just got to get to the bottom of it. And you must admit that the relations between Lady Stanworth, of all people, and the – shall we say? – somewhat plebeian Mr Stanworth, are uncommonly interesting to a novelist.’

  ‘Everything is “copy” to you, you mean?’ Mrs Plant retorted, though less uncompromisingly. ‘Well, if you put it like that I suppose you may have a certain amount of reason; though I don’t admit the justification for all that. Yes, I believe Lady Stanworth did not get on very well with her brother-in-law. After all, it’s only to be expected, isn’t it?’

  ‘Is it?’ asked Roger quickly. ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, because of the circumstances of – ’ Mrs Plant broke off abruptly and bit her lip. ‘Because of the blood and water idea, I suppose. They were utterly unlike each other in every way.’

  ‘That isn’t what you were going to say. What had you got in mind when you corrected y
ourself?’

  Mrs Plant flushed slightly.

  ‘Really, Mr Sheringham, I – ’

  Alec rose suddenly from his chair. ‘I say, it’s awfully hot in this room,’ he remarked abruptly. ‘Come into the garden and get some air, Roger, I’m sure Mrs Plant will excuse us.’

  Mrs Plant flashed a grateful look at him.

  ‘Certainly,’ she said, in somewhat agitated tones. ‘I – I think I shall go upstairs and lie down for a little myself. I have rather a headache.’

  The two men watched her go out of the room in silence. Then Alec turned to Roger.

  ‘Look here,’ he said heatedly, ‘I’m not going to let you bully that poor little woman like this. It’s a bit too thick. You get a lot of damned silly notions into your head about her, and then you try to bully her into confirming them. I’m not going to stand for it.’

  Roger shook his head in mock despair.

  ‘Really, Alexander,’ he said tragically, ‘you are a difficult person, you know. Extraordinarily difficult.’

  ‘Well, it’s getting past a joke,’ Alec retorted a little more calmly, though his face was still flushed with anger. ‘We can do what we want without bullying women.’

  ‘And just when I was getting along so nicely!’ Roger mourned. ‘You make a rotten Watson, Alec. I can’t think why I ever took you on in the part.’

  ‘A jolly good thing for you that you did,’ Alec said grimly. ‘I can see fair play, at any rate. And trying to trick a woman who’s got nothing to do with the thing at all into a lot of silly admissions is not playing the game.’

  Roger took the other’s arm and led him gently into the garden.

  ‘All right, all right,’ he said in the tones of one soothing a fractious child. ‘We’ll try other tactics, if you’re so set on it. In any case, there’s no need to get excited. The trouble is that you’ve mistaken your century, Alec. You ought to have lived four or five hundred years ago. As a heavy-weight succourer of ladies in distress you could have challenged all corners with one lance tied behind your back. There, there!’

  ‘Oh, it’s all very well for you to laugh,’ returned the slightly mollified Alec, ‘but I’m perfectly right, and you know it. If we’re going on with this thing, we’re not going to make use of any dashed underhand sneaky little detective tricks. If it comes to that, why don’t you tackle Jefferson, if you’re so jolly keen on tackling someone?’