I had finished the cigarette, and begun another, gazing from the window into the garden as I smoked it, when the door opened and Gleasure entered the room. He smiled warily.
‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, sir.’
‘No matter. How are you, Gleasure?’
‘Well, thank you, sir. And somewhat surprised, I won’t deny, to see you here.’
‘Because of my wife’s presence as a guest – or whatever she is – of Major Turnbull, you mean?’
‘I merely meant that, in all the circumstances, I did not expect you to visit us.’
‘In all the circumstances? That’s a coy way of putting it. But then I suppose a valet has to be something of a diplomat where his employer’s way of life is concerned.’
‘As you say, sir.’
‘You must see and hear many things which diplomacy obliges you to forget.’
He looked at me quizzically for a moment, then said: ‘What exactly did you want to discuss with me, sir?’
It was now, my instincts told me, or never. Further prevarication would achieve nothing. ‘I’m here, Gleasure, because I’m trying to save the life of an innocent woman. And I think you can help me.’
‘Me, sir? I really don’t—’
‘I’m talking about Mrs Caswell. Mrs Consuela Caswell. I take it you’re aware she’s due to hang on Thursday?’
‘Yes, sir.’ His face betrayed not the slightest reaction. ‘I’m aware of it.’
‘At her trial, you testified that you did not take any telephone calls for Victor on the afternoon of the poisoning.’
‘I believe I did, sir, yes.’
‘That wasn’t true, was it?’
‘Are you accusing me of perjury?’
I stubbed out my cigarette and moved towards him. ‘I’m giving you a chance to re-consider what you said in view of the appalling consequences of allowing a … misunderstanding … to go uncorrected.’
‘I’m not at all sure I take your meaning, sir.’
‘I think you do. Spencer’s told me exactly what you told him: that Grenville Peto telephoned Victor at least half an hour before Rosemary and her mother arrived and that Victor therefore knew they were on their way.’
‘Ah.’ Gleasure frowned thoughtfully. ‘He’s told you that, has he, sir? Not a gentleman to confide in, young master Spencer, I fear.’
‘Why did you, then?’
‘Drink, sir.’ He grinned. ‘In my cups, I’m not always as diplomatic as I should be.’
‘So, you admit it’s true? You took a call from Peto that afternoon?’
‘Oh, I admit nothing, sir. Nothing at all. I have my position to consider.’
‘Your position? You’re willing to let Consuela hang just so you can keep your job? For God’s sake, man, this is more important than your monthly salary!’
‘I’m not sure anything can be, sir. To a gentleman like yourself, who’s never had to wonder where the next crust’s coming from, a conscience probably seems indispensable. To me it’s a luxury. One I’ve never been able to afford.’
‘So, it all comes down to money, does it?’
‘Life generally does, in my experience.’
‘Very well. How much do you want?’
He narrowed his gaze. ‘Are you offering me a bribe?’
‘How much does Victor pay you? Seventy pounds a year? Eighty? Ninety? No more than a hundred, I’ll be bound.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I’ll pay you five hundred if you go to the authorities and make a sworn statement leading to Consuela’s reprieve.’
‘Really, sir? You’d pay as much as that?’
‘I doubt you’ll relish staying on after Victor marries Miss Roebuck. Watching a former servant enjoy the comfort and social status of a rich man’s wife could be a galling experience for somebody who values money as highly as you do.’
He nodded. ‘There you may have a point, sir. But not a sufficiently persuasive one for me to risk being charged with perjury. Five hundred pounds would be poor compensation for serving a term in prison.’
‘It would never come to that. Plead duress. Say Victor threatened to sack you if you spoke out. I assume that’s the truth anyway. I’ll back you up. The odds are that no charge will ever be brought.’
‘I’m not a betting man, sir. Odds don’t appeal to me.’
‘Then perhaps something else will.’ I fixed his eyes with mine. ‘You spun a tale to Mrs Caswell’s brother at Victor’s bidding, didn’t you? You laid the bait that led him to his death.’
‘I never—’
‘Thought it would come to that? Maybe you didn’t. But it did. And now her other brother is on his way to England. You met Rodrigo. You know what he was like. Well, Francisco’s no different, take my word for it. He’ll want revenge. If I tell him how you deceived Rodrigo, what do you think he’ll do?’
There was a fractional loss of confidence in Gleasure’s voice when he replied. ‘Are you threatening me?’
‘Only with the consequences of your own actions.’
‘If I do make a statement confirming Mr Peto telephoned that afternoon …’
‘Francisco will be none the wiser.’
‘And you’ll pay me five hundred pounds?’
‘If Consuela is reprieved, yes. Not otherwise.’
He thought for a moment, then said: ‘How could I be sure you’d honour such a bargain?’
‘I’d deposit the money with a solicitor of your choice, to be released as soon as my condition was fulfilled.’
‘Aha. Well, that would be good enough, certainly.’
‘What’s your answer?’
‘My answer? Well, I’d need to think about it. It’s not a simple matter, is it?’
‘It seems simple to me.’
‘Yes, but that’s because—’ Suddenly, he jerked his head round and held up a hand, straining, it seemed to hear something.
‘What is it?’
‘Major Turnbull’s Lanchester, coming up the drive.’ As I listened, the distant note of a car engine did indeed reach my ears, though far sooner than it would have done if I had not been warned. ‘They’re back earlier than expected. I don’t think we should be found together, do you, sir? Not in all the circumstances.’
‘I still haven’t had your answer.’
‘Where are you staying?’
‘The Hotel des Anglais in Beaulieu.’
‘I know it. I could see you there tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. I’ll have reached a decision by then.’
‘Time’s of the essence, Gleasure. I can’t afford to wait.’
‘You’ve left me little room for manoeuvre, sir. But I do have to make certain … dispositions. Give me until tomorrow morning. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.’
‘It still means—’
‘They’ll be with us any minute. It’d be best if I met them in the hall.’
I stared at him a second longer, then conceded. ‘Very well. Tomorrow at ten.’
‘I’ll be there, sir, never fear. Now, if you’ll excuse me …’
He bustled out, leaving the door open. I had, I knew, only a few minutes of leisure in which to consider whether he would be as good as his word and how, in the interim, I should deal with his master. Once I had discovered what Angela wanted to tell me, Gleasure’s evidence might become redundant, but I could not assume it would. So far, my plans were working well. But there was a long way to go.
I heard the front door open. Enrico’s greeting was drowned by a gush of competing voices in which Celia’s whine and Victor’s growl were uppermost. Then Turnbull’s booming tone swamped them all. It was followed by a pause. Gleasure must have spoken during this, because Turnbull suddenly bellowed my name in what sounded more like derision than anger. Then Angela cut in, though I could not hear what she said. Victor muttered something in response. The next thing I knew, footsteps were approaching the morning-room door.
‘What are you doing here, Geoffrey?’ Angela glared at me with what, but for the telegram, I would
have believed was a genuine mixture of fury and astonishment. She was wearing a long cream cashmere coat and a purple cloche decorated with bows. Her hair had been cut fashionably short and on the broad lapel of her coat there glistened the ruby-studded monkey brooch that numbered among the many gifts Turnbull had showered upon her.
‘Come in and close the door,’ I said quietly.
She frowned and, with a haughty little toss of the chin, did as I had asked her, leaning back against the door with one hand still clasping the knob.
‘They all think you’re surprised to see me, I suppose?’
‘What?’
‘We won’t be left alone for long, so tell me quickly: what have you found out?’
Her gaze intensified and acquired a tinge of incredulity. ‘Kindly explain yourself at once, Geoffrey. I understood from Clive that you were prepared to be reasonable. I do not regard this as reasonable.’
She was speaking loudly enough to be heard in the hall. Assuming this was some ploy to deceive Turnbull and Victor, I moved closer and lowered my voice. ‘If you’d prefer to talk elsewhere, we can meet at my hotel.’
‘I don’t want to talk to you – here or anywhere else,’ she hissed. ‘I don’t want to see you ever again.’ She brushed past me, moved towards the fire, then swung round and faced me. ‘If you don’t leave here immediately, I shall ask Royston to call the police and have you removed.’
‘But—’
‘I cannot imagine what you thought coming here would achieve.’
‘I came because you asked me to!’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘There’s no need to go on denying it. Whatever you’ve found out, just tell me and I’ll make sure you come to no harm.’
Her face was white with rage now, her lower lip trembling. And my confidence was ebbing fast. ‘I’ll only say this once, Geoffrey. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I’ve come in answer to your telegram. The one you sent from Beaulieu on Friday.’
‘I sent no telegram.’
‘“Have discovered disturbing information about Victor Caswell. Come at once. Angela.”’
‘You’re mad.’
‘Why should I lie about such a thing?’
‘Show me it, then.’
‘I don’t have it with me. I didn’t—’ I broke off and stared at her. She did not believe me. The truth – plain to see in her face the moment she had entered the room – could no longer be ignored. She had not asked me to come. She had not wanted me to come. To her, all that I had said must indeed have sounded like madness. ‘As God is my witness, Angela, I’m only here because I received a telegram, sent in your name, asking me to come at once.’
‘Rubbish! You’re here to cause trouble, using this preposterous story to justify it. Well, I won’t have it, do you hear? I won’t have it.’
‘Listen to me, for God’s sake! You don’t understand. It’s not—’
‘Staddon!’ barked Turnbull from the doorway. ‘Be silent!’ His chest was puffed out with indignation, his face dark with wrath. ‘You have a damned nerve, I must say.’ He smiled solicitously across at Angela. ‘Why don’t you join the others in the drawing-room, my dear? It would be best, I think, if I had a word with … our visitor … in private.’
With a nod of agreement and not so much as a glance in my direction, Angela swept from the room. Turnbull closed the door carefully behind her, then rounded on me.
‘Well, Staddon? What’s the meaning of this?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps you do.’ An idea had come into my mind. ‘Did you send the telegram?’
‘What telegram?’
‘Was it a way of ensuring Angela would go through with the divorce? Has she been having second thoughts? Is that it, Major? Did you reckon my character needed a little more blackening in her eyes?’
He stepped closer. ‘Have you gone quite mad, Staddon?’
‘No. But maybe you want Angela to think I have.’
‘If so, my wish has been granted, hasn’t it? This exhibition has blasted every last chance you had of winning her back.’
‘I don’t want her back. You’re welcome to her.’
Venom flared in his eyes. ‘To spare Angela’s feelings, I’ll let you walk out of here, provided you leave now, without further ado.’
‘What will you do if I don’t? Hire the same marksman you—’ Suddenly, the words died in my mouth. Turnbull’s eyebrows rose faintly in curiosity, his head moved slightly to one side, his gaze became instantly less aggressive and infinitely more menacing.
‘Don’t stop, Staddon. Finish what you were going to say. I hope – for your sake – it’s not what I think.’
Remember Consuela, the rational half of my brain shouted. She is all that matters. Not Malahide, not Turnbull, not Angela and, above all, not you. ‘You’re right, Major. I should go now – before we all say things we might regret.’
He fell back a pace, his expression softened. ‘I’m glad you’ve seen reason.’
‘Regard my visit as an unfortunate misunderstanding. I’ll leave straightaway.’
‘Do that.’ He stepped across to the door, laid his hand on the knob, then, before turning it, stared at me and said: ‘In your own interests, Staddon, ensure we don’t meet again. Ever.’ With that, he flung the door open and I stepped past him into the hall.
As I did so, I became visible to the occupants of the drawing-room and they to me. Angela and Celia were standing near the window, Victor and Clive side by side in front of the fire. Only Miss Roebuck was seated, in an armchair in the centre of the room. For an instant I was tempted to enter and remind them of the many reasons why they were all, collectively and individually, despicable. Clive and Celia had conspired at the fiction of my cruelty to suit Angela’s purpose. She had allowed Turnbull to entice her away from me with nothing more than oily charm and lavish generosity. He, for his part, was almost certainly a liar, a thief and a murderer. But Imogen Roebuck was, if possible, even worse. And Victor was either her dupe or her accomplice and probably both.
I looked from one to the other of them. Angela’s and Celia’s eyes were averted, busily engaged with each other’s in a charade of sororal sympathy. Clive’s slack-jawed gape was as blandly disapproving as I might have expected, Victor’s quivering glare of hostility equally predictable. As for Miss Roebuck, she regarded me with heavy-lidded bemusement only just conquering indifference. She was smoking a cigarette – something I had not seen her do before – and was wearing an elegant dark blue silk dress. She had crossed her legs and was sitting well back in the chair, one elbow propped up to hold the cigarette. There was, in her pose and her expression, an absolute confidence she had never declared before, a confidence that she would achieve and perfect the transition from humble governess to wealthy wife, a confidence indeed that she had already done so.
As I watched, Gleasure emerged into view from a corner of the room, carrying a tray of drinks. He approached Miss Roebuck and handed her a glass, then moved towards Clive and Victor. Before reaching them, he glanced fleetingly in my direction and, with the faintest inclination of his head, seemed to ally himself with my thoughts. They believe they are safe and secure, that they cannot be defeated. Be patient and you may yet surprise them.
‘Enrico!’ called Turnbull from behind me. ‘Mr Staddon is leaving.’
I looked along the hall and saw Enrico bustling forward to open the front door. I had to leave now, I knew. I had to accept the humiliation they had inflicted upon me. They all thought me a fool and it was best, for the moment, to let them go on believing I was one. If Turnbull had sent the telegram in order to lure me into a trap, he had made a grave mistake, for, in doing so, he had handed me an opportunity I was not about to let slip.
In the drawing-room, Victor swallowed some of his whisky. Angela turned away from the window and added her disgusted stare to the dismissive expressions of the rest. Miss Roebuck seemed almost about to smile – but did not. I lowered my head, forci
ng myself to believe that soon they would regret their convenient alliance. For Consuela’s sake, I would have to endure their contempt in silence. What they might say once I had gone I could not afford to care about, far less resent. Enrico was holding the front door open. Outside, the shadows were lengthening. Another day was failing. Biting back every word I might have spoken – every rebuke, every accusation – I hurried out into the dying light.
‘Arrivederci, Signor Staddon,’ said Enrico as I passed. But I did not answer.
The telephonic resources of the Hotel des Anglais succeeded, after several false starts, in connecting me with the North Western Hotel in Liverpool early that evening. Over a crackling line, I told Imry what had happened.
‘You think Turnbull sent the telegram?’
‘Probably, but it doesn’t matter. Once Gleasure agrees to alter his testimony, I shall have what I came for. And he will. I’m sure of it.’
‘What will you do – bring him back with you?’
‘Yes. But first I’ll go to the British Consul in Monte Carlo and have Gleasure sign a sworn statement in his presence. Armed with that, the Consul should feel obliged to contact the Home Office in London at once. Now, when are the Pombalhos due?’
‘Two o’clock. I’ll meet them off the ship and bring them back here.’
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