by Dawn Harris
The door opened and the sergeant came in full of apologies for interrupting. 'There’s a Mr. Arthur Carmichael here, sir. He wishes to speak to Mrs. York urgently.’
The Inspector looked up and threw the pencil onto the desk in exasperation. ‘Really? Well, you’d better show him in then, sergeant.’
Arthur walked in and greeted the Inspector like an old friend. Looking from one to the other, I said, ‘You know each other?’
‘Our paths have crossed on occasion,’ Arthur told me. And teased, ‘I half expected to find you in irons, Liddy.’
‘Not yet. But it could happen.’ And unable to help myself, I asked, ‘Is there any news of Johnny?’
He shook his head at me. ‘But I’m meeting him in the office at ten tomorrow.’ The Inspector offered him a chair, and once seated, he talked about the robbery. ‘Superintendent Burns informed me that you and Al had been arrested. When I warned him he was barking up the wrong tree, the stupid man refused to listen. So I came over to talk some sense into him, but the sergeant says he’s been recalled to London.’ He looked across at Inspector Nabber. ‘Now they’ve put a sensible man in charge, perhaps we’ll find the real culprits.’
'He already has, Arthur,’ I said.
The inspector told him how the Greenes had carried out the robbery and added, ‘The son is under lock and key here, but I’m afraid the father had a heart attack when he was arrested. He died about an hour ago. I believe we’ve recovered all the jewellery though.’
‘That was fast work,’ Arthur said, congratulating the Inspector.
‘It’s Mrs. York and her chauffeur you should thank, sir.’ And he explained briefly how we’d seen the robbers and gone after them. ‘But for them, the villains would have got clean away.’
Arthur began to thank me but I quickly brushed it aside. ‘Inspector Nabber is being too modest.’ Before he could go on, I said, ‘It was kind of you to rush over, especially now this dreadful business has ruined your celebrations.’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘That’s life, Liddy. Unfortunately, the bad news doesn’t end there. The first person to telephone, once our line had been fixed, was Monica. Her father’s trial has been brought forward to this Tuesday.’
‘Wha-a-t?’
‘The case that was scheduled to be heard was postponed last Friday when the chief prosecution witness was rushed to hospital with appendicitis. It happened to be one of Superintendant Burns’ cases, and he managed to get Mr. Taverner’s trial brought forward in its place. Jean means to return to London later today to be with Monica --- you know how close they are.’
I started to say I would go back straightaway too, then I remembered my car had an oil leak. 'I forgot - my car’s not roadworthy.’
'That’s been taken care of,’ he assured me. ‘The local garage promised to have it fixed by lunchtime today.’
‘On a Sunday?’ I exclaimed in surprise.
‘As a special favour.’ Brushing aside my thanks, he went on, ‘If you and Al would like to come back with me, my chauffeur is waiting at Lymington.‘ I accepted gratefully, and grabbing the chance to keep Jean’s secret a little longer, I hurried off to find Al who, as I expected, was looking at the yachts.
The journey back to Kelfield Hall was fast and uneventful. I didn’t say much, being too busy working out how I could speak to Jean alone in the short time I would be at their house. I came up with a plan of sorts, but luckily I didn’t need it as Arthur had barely finished telling Jean that the robbers had been arrested, and all the jewellery had been recovered, when he was called to the telephone.
Once we were alone Jean began to thank me for chasing after the robbers, but I quickly cut her short. Not knowing how much time I had, I didn’t even tell her Ginger was one of the robbers. ‘Jean, I must speak to you before Arthur comes back. Does Mosley know you’ve stopped sending him letters?’
‘Not yet. I’ve been too busy.‘
‘Good,’ I said, relieved. ‘That means you can help us catch Peter’s killer.’
She stared at me. ‘Of course. I’ll do anything.’
‘It means writing one final letter to Mosley.’
‘But --- why? I don’t understand.’
I reminded myself that Mr. Taverner would be in court on Tuesday, fighting for his life. I tried not to think of the trial that would inevitably await her, and forced out the words. 'The information you passed on was top secret, Jean.’
She waved a hand in airy dismissal. 'Oh, that ridiculous. Arthur never talks about anything secret. It only concerned Oswald, the BUF, and the government’s views on the German situation.’
I took a very deep breath. 'The messenger who collected your letters – well, he passed them on to another man.’
She was still only slightly alarmed. 'That’s nonsense, Liddy. I know Oswald got my letters. He thanked me himself only the other week.’
I closed my eyes briefly before saying, ‘Jean, I wish to God I didn’t have to say this..........’
She looked at me, utterly bewildered. ‘Say what?’
'The other man did deliver the letters to Mosley, but I believe he made copies first.’
‘Copies,’ she repeated, puzzled. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘To send to Berlin. To Hitler himself.’
CHAPTER TWENTYFIVE
Jean’s face turned so white I thought she was going to faint. Without a word she got up, poured herself a large gin and tonic, and drained the glass in one go. Refilling it, she sat down again and in a barely audible voice, beseeched me to tell her if Mosley knew where her letters had gone.
‘Unlikely, I think. He used two messengers to ensure there wasn’t a direct link between you and him. To protect your reputation, and his own. But I believe the second messenger is a Nazi spy. All he had to do was open the letter, copy it, give the original to Mosley and send the copy to Berlin.’
Closing her eyes momentarily, she wrapped both hands round her glass. They shook so violently that, when she raised the glass to her lips, some liquid slopped over the side onto her beautiful new pink carpet. And she didn’t even notice. As she drank, her teeth clattered against the glass, yet incredibly, the instant she put it down again, her social manners instinctively came to the fore. ‘Sorry, I didn’t offer you a drink.’
I refused in much the same tone, and she sat staring at the glass for some time before whispering, ‘Arthur told me a while ago that someone at work was passing low grade information to the Germans, and they had to catch the culprit before any real damage was done. That’s what he meant, isn’t it? It’s my letters to Oswald?’ Her tone begged me to tell her she was wrong, but I had no choice except to agree. ‘Oh God ---what am I going to do? Arthur said it was treason.’
Downing the rest of her drink, she put the glass on the small table between us, her eyes stretching wider and wider as the full enormity of what being found guilty of treason could mean. ‘Nothing he told me sounded important. I mean, everyone knows what the government thinks of Hitler.’ She looked across at me. ‘They’ll never believe I didn’t know my letters were going to Germany.’ Her voice went up another notch as another awful thought struck her. ‘They hang traitors, don’t they?’
I couldn’t think of what to say, or do, and she burst out, ‘Oh, God, what am I going to tell Arthur?’ She didn’t cry. Like Al said, Jean was a tough cookie. I’d never seen her cry, not even when her father was ruined, or when he died.
Determined to be positive, I urged her to do everything possible to help the police arrest the second messenger. ‘Yes,’ she said, clutching at any chance to make amends. ‘You’re right. That’s what I ought to do. I’ve been very foolish, I see that now. Should I go straight to the police? Or what?’
Jean had always been sensible. When her father was ruined, she’d married Arthur, knowing she’d never be short of money again. I was convinced she’d do what I asked, but I couldn’t go on without explaining who had stolen the jewellery.
When I did, it made her gasp.
‘Not that ginger-haired idiot?’
‘His father was the brains, Jean. I’ll tell you all about it later. I can’t do it now. Arthur might be back at any minute, and I have to explain what the police want you to do.’
‘Yes, of course.’ She calmed herself and urged, ‘Go on.’
‘Well, the police know Ginger collects the letters, and he told them he’s expected in Hyde Park on Tuesday.’
‘That’s right.’ And suddenly she understood. ‘That’s why you want me to write another letter.’
‘Yes. The police will allow Ginger to pick it up, as usual. And when he passes it to the second man – the one who copies them - the police will arrest him.’
‘All right.’ I saw faint hope return to her eyes. ‘What should I say in the letter?’
I’d given this a lot of thought on the way home, for it was an opportunity not to be missed. ‘Remind Mosley he’d sworn the newspapers were exaggerating, and the Blackshirts were not beating people up. And you’d believed him. But when Emily was attacked, you realised he’d lied to you, and the newspapers weren’t exaggerating. You will never forgive him for the distress and injuries Emily suffered, and you don’t want to see him again. Ever.’
‘That is exactly how I feel. Truly. What happened to Emily and her family made me feel sick. Until then I pretended I didn’t really know what was going on, but I did know, Liddy. I did. I just turned a blind eye to it. All because of that awful man who ruined my father and caused his death. I feel so ashamed, and I’ll do anything I can to put things right.’
‘I’m glad.’ I put a comforting hand on her arm. ‘When the police arrest this man they’ll open your letter, and see how you were fooled into helping Mosley.’
‘Do the police know I’m the one leaving the letters, Liddy?’
‘Not yet. But I can’t keep it from them much longer.’ They would find out on Tuesday in Hyde Park, but I had to tell the Inspector before that.
Jean was calmer now she had a purpose. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.’
‘I know that. But don’t tell anyone what you’re doing. Not even Arthur. If the second messenger escapes now, then I’m afraid Mr. Taverner-----’
‘Will hang. I quite understand. I’ll be there, I promise.’
‘I’ll see you in London tomorrow then.’
Determinedly she raised her chin. ‘You needn’t worry about me. I’ll do exactly what you say. If this villain is caught, then it might not look so bad.’ As I stood up, she suddenly grabbed my hand. ‘What about Arthur? He’ll have to resign. They won’t put him in prison, will they?’
‘I’m sure they won’t,’ I said, praying I was right.
‘He couldn’t stand that.’ As I left, I passed the open door of Arthur’s study and saw he was still on the telephone.
As Arthur had promised, my car had been repaired, but before going back to London I went to see Tim. Having to act as if nothing unusual had occurred was not easy, but the sight of Tim racing towards me, filled my heart with joy. I caught him to me and buried my face in his soft flaxen hair. Connie watched with a smile on her face, and I suggested she went to see Al. She didn’t need telling twice, I noticed. So much had happened in the past week it must have seemed an eternity to her too.
Tim clung to me, bubbling over with excitement. ‘Mummy --- mummy-----mummy. Come and see....’ He tugged at my hand and I went with him happily to the lake, where a brood of ducklings were following their mother across the water. After that I was taken to admire the latest chicks, and three gorgeous young puppies.
Uncle Freddie, who had been outside talking to his head gardener when we arrived, caught up with us here. He kissed me on the cheek, and I thanked him for looking after Tim. ‘Don’t thank me,’ he said. ‘Connie’s done all the work.’ And he gave a sad sigh. ‘I suppose you’re taking him home now.’
‘Well, actually, I rather hoped he could stay here another day or two.’
‘Nothing simpler, my dear.’ And he beamed with pleasure. ‘I’d be delighted. He’s such a happy little chap.’ He patted my shoulder. ‘Takes after you, Liddy. It’s a great joy to me to know that Easing House will be in safe hands when my time comes.’
‘That won’t be for many years yet.’ I prayed that was true; I adored the man.
‘Well, naturally I hope so. But you never can tell. So best to be prepared.’ While Tim ran about playing with the puppies, he threw me a sideways glance. ‘I trust you mean to tell me how you and Al became wanted criminals, with your face plastered across the front page of my Sunday newspaper.’
I spent some time explaining it all to him, and answering his questions. I’d only meant to stay an hour but, in the end, I put Tim to bed, read him a story, had dinner with Uncle Freddie, and didn’t arrive back in London until well after ten. By this time I was utterly exhausted; it had been a very long day, but the servants were so eager to hear the story of the robbery that I didn’t have the heart to make them wait until the morning to satisfy their curiosity. Shocked though they were by the robbery, the incident with the tandem had them laughing, and when I’d eventually finished answering all their questions it was close on midnight. Going up to my bedroom I fell into bed and slept for nine solid hours.
When I did eventually wake, I took a long leisurely bath before settling down to a very late breakfast. I had almost finished when Lang came in and said Arthur wished to see me.
‘You’d better show him in here,’ I said, and as he went to do so, I thought of the appalling shock that awaited Arthur tomorrow when Inspector Nabber arrested the Nazi spy at the Lyons Corner House. I wished with every fibre of my being that there was some other way out of this situation. Arthur was such a kind man, with the most generous nature, and what Jean had done would ruin his career and make him deeply unhappy. He did not deserve that. Jean hadn’t known her letters were going to Germany, but she had still been very foolish.
It was impossible for me to warn him, though I longed to with all my heart. Not that he would run away from it. He believed in facing up to things, however bad. I wished I could put it right, but that wasn’t possible. Jean had made the worst mistake of her life; her judgement affected by the man who’d ruined her father. A man who just happened to be Jewish, who’d escaped justice by fleeing the country and who was probably living it up abroad on her father’s money. Mosley persuaded her that all Jews were the same, and the BUF’s persecution of the Jews gave her the opportunity for vengeance. Lang showed Arthur in, and as my butler left, I asked, ‘Coffee, Arthur?’
‘No thanks.’ He sat down opposite me and said, ‘I had to come, Liddy. Didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else.’
Arthur’s face never gave much away, but what I could see in his eyes made my stomach churn with dread. ‘It’s Johnny, isn’t it? What’s happened to him? Tell me, Arthur, please.’
He did as I asked, starting by saying, ‘If you remember, I had a telephone call just after we got back to Kelfield Hall yesterday.’ I nodded, that call had given me time to ask Jean to write that last letter to Mosley. ‘Well, I was told Johnny hadn’t been seen, or heard of, since Friday morning. He was due back in the office at four on Friday for a meeting, but didn’t turn up or telephone to explain his absence. And, this morning, he should have met me at work. Only...’
‘He wasn’t there?’ I whispered, dry-mouthed.
He shook his head. 'There is no agent more reliable than Johnny. Always on time, always where he’s supposed to be. He---’
‘There’s something you should know,’ I cut in, and told him what the King and Mrs. Simpson had said about Johnny getting into a car with a redhead.
He gazed at me in astonishment. ‘That’s utter nonsense. The King probably saw someone of similar appearance. Johnny’s head over heels in love with you. Always has been.’
I felt the colour rise in my cheeks, and I wondered why I hadn’t realised, when clearly other people had. ‘What if he thought I was about to turn him down?’
His e
yebrows rose in sharp concern. ‘Were you?’
‘No, but I’m afraid something I said may have given him that impression.’
‘My dear Liddy, even that wouldn’t drive him into the arms of some trollop. For him, it’s you or no-one.’
‘You can’t know that.’
‘On the contrary, I do know it. He told me so himself. He took this job in London in the hope that you’d marry him. That’s what he wants more than anything else in the world.’ I gazed at him utterly dumfounded, and he said, ‘Didn’t you know?’
Finding my voice, I mumbled, ‘He – he did say there was something he wanted in London, and if he couldn’t get it he’d go away again.’
‘Yes, well, that’s what he meant, Liddy.’ And I’d assumed Johnny had been talking about work. He hesitated a moment, then said carefully, ‘He isn’t like Archie -- put that idea out....’
I gasped. ‘How do you know what Archie was like?’
‘I saw him with other women,’ he said, his voice full of understanding. ‘Johnny isn’t that kind of man.’ I knew, deep in my heart, that he was right. Johnny would never do such a thing. He was an honourable man. Archie had been brave and charming, but far from honourable, and I had been too naive to see the difference. Arthur went on, ‘The costume Johnny was to wear at our fancy dress ball is still in his flat.’
I’d forgotten about the ball. Sunday at Kelfield Hall ought to have been great fun. Tennis, archery, croquet, a picnic in the afternoon, and the fancy dress ball in the evening. Right now all that seemed a world away. His words sent an icy shiver up and down my spine, and I shuddered. ‘He meant to be there then.’ Arthur inclined his head and I began to search for answers. ‘Could he have had an accident?’ I asked fearfully.
‘His car’s in the garage, unmarked. And we’ve checked the hospitals.’
‘Then perhaps he has gone off with a redhead,’ I said painfully.