"Ah, not now!" the Prince said. "If I can be of use to Mrs. Carter, who is left without a protector, be assured that I shall remain! She asks me, in fact."
"No doubt that would be best, sir," agreed the Inspector.
He left the house, shortly after his interview with the Prince, feeling that he had amassed sufficient evidence to keep him busy for some time. Returning to the Dower House, he was met in the drive by the Sergeant he had left in charge of investigations there. The Sergeant greeted him with an air of considerable satisfaction. "We've got the gun, sir!" he said.
"Got the gun, have you? Where did. you find it?"
"Down there in the shrubbery," replied the Sergeant, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "Wright's been over it for fingerprints, but there aren't any. That makes it murder all right, I reckon. Not a doubt but that the bloke who did this took his shot, dropped the gun, and slipped off through them bushes to the road. Nice, neat job, if you ask me."
"Find any footprints?"
"No, sir. Ground's baked hard, you know. I'll show you."
He led the Inspector to the lawn that ran down to the stream, but instead of going to the bridge, he plunged into the thicket at a point where a clump of azaleas jutted out beyond the dark mass of rhododendrons. Worming his way between the bushes, and holding back stray branches so that his superior's face should not be scratched by them, he conducted him to a place in the centre of the shrubbery where the bushes grew less thickly. "This is where I found the rifle," he said. "Now, you take a look, sir! Beautiful, easy shot, wouldn't it be?"
The Inspector dropped on to his knee, and found that he was looking down at the bridge some twenty yards away, and clearly visible between an azalea and a towering rhododendron. "Yes," he said slowly. "Easy enough. He must have stayed quiet, though, till Mr. White, and the other two, had run down to the bridge, or they'd have heard him."
"That's all right," replied the Sergeant. "Plenty of time for him to make his getaway while they was on the bridge. I reckon this is the way he went." He pushed on through the thicket, demonstrating to his chief, as he went, why the unknown murderer must, in his opinion, have struck up towards the carriage-drive, which was at the side of the house. "The stream bends right round, as you know, sir. There's a bit of a pool on the other side of that bank, so it stands to reason he didn't go that way. No, the way I look at it is, he fired his shot, waited till the, people by the house had run down to the bridge, dropped the rifle, and slunk off the way he came, either taking a chance of being seen from the house, and coming out on the drive just by the gate, or, more likely, climbing over the wall and walking off down the road. Anyone could get over that wall, as you'll see for yourself in a minute, sir."
"Hold on a moment! I'll take a look at the lie of the land," said the Inspector, surmounting the slight, sandy bank which the Sergeant had pointed out to him.
The stream, taking a bend to the south, widened, below the bank, into a pool, narrowed again, and meandered on until it ran under a bridge in the highway not far from one of the drive-gates. The Inspector gazed at the pool in ruminative silence until the Sergeant, unable to discover what was holding his interest, ventured to ask him.
"I was thinking," said the Inspector, "that no one could jump over that pool."
"Well, they wouldn't want to, would they?" said the Sergeant, a little impatiently. "The getaway must have been the way I told you, sir. Stands to reason!"
"Nor," said the Inspector, "could they jump the stream above it without being seen by anyone standing on the bridge between the two houses."
"But, sir '
Just a moment, if you please!" said the Inspector, moving along the bank. "Didn't happen to notice that below the pool the stream's a sight narrower, did you?"
"Well, I'm bound to say I don't get what you're after, sir!" protested the Sergeant. "Are you telling me the murderer got away through the Palings' grounds?"
"I'm not telling you anything as yet," replied the Inspector. "I'm not leaving a possibility out of my calculations, either."
The Sergeant looked at the stream running below him, and then glanced across at the opposite bank. "I suppose it would be easy enough to jump," he said. "I'd expect to find a footmark or so, though. Ground's bound to be soft, not to say boggy, down by the water."
"Take a look," said the Inspector briefly, and went off to explore the other way of escape.
The Sergeant rejoined him later by the police-car in the drive. There was mud on his boots, and he was looking rather sulky. "I didn't find any trace of footmarks," he said.
"Ah well!" replied the Inspector. "Maybe I'm wrong. Nothing more to be done here: we'll get back to the station."
As the police-car reached the gate, it had to wait to allow another car, on the road, to go past. The Sergeant remarked that it was Dr Chester's Rover. "Dashing off to Palings, I wouldn't wonder. By all accounts, Mrs. Carter sends for him to hold her hand every time her little finger aches. I don't envy him his job today."
"No," agreed the Inspector. "Nor me."
"It wasn't him called in when Carter was shot, was it?"
"No. Hinchcliffe. Chester was out on a case."
"I'll bet he's thanking his stars for it!" said the Sergeant. "Fancy having to tell Mrs. C. how he found her husband!"
The Sergeant was quite right in thinking that the car was the doctor's, and that the doctor was bound for Palings. A few minutes later he drew up outside the porch, and got out, stripping off the gloves he wore for driving, and tossing them into the car. The front door was still standing open, and he walked into the hall, encountering there Mary, who had just come down the stairs. She was looking pale, and worried, but her eyes lit up when she saw Chester, and she went quickly towards him, holding out her hands.
"Oh, Maurice, I'm so glad you've come!"
He took her hands, holding them firmly in his for a moment. "I couldn't come sooner. I was in the middle of my surgery when Hinchcliffe rang up to tell me. How's Ermyntrude?"
"Awful!" said Mary, with a shudder. "Lyceum stage. It's no use frowning at me. You'll see."
He looked critically at her. "You look as though you're in need of my professional services yourself. I prescribe a stiff whisky-and-soda. See you take it!"
"It's not such a bad idea," she admitted. "I don't seem to have had time to collect myself. I can't even quite grasp what's happened. It doesn't seem, possible!"
"What did happen?" he asked. "Hinchcliffe merely told me that White sent for him, and that he found Carter dead - shot on the bridge. Is anything known?"
"No, nothing. There are only the most nightmarish possibilities. We had a Police Inspector here until a short time ago. It was - pretty ghastly. I always thought I was a level-headed sort of person, but I didn't seem able to think things out a bit, and I'm afraid I made a perfect fool of myself. Hugh keeps on drumming it into me that I must tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, but you know what a hopelessly wrong impression one can give by telling some truths!"
"Hugh Dering? Is he here?"
"No, not now. He.was here when it happened, and he stayed, like the angel he is, until the Inspector left. Do you want to see Ermyntrude?"
"Yes, where is she?"
"Receiving consolation from the Prince in the drawing-room," she replied.
"That fellow!" Chester said, in a tone of disgust. "All right, show me in!"
Ermyntrude was once more reclining on a couch, but by this time she had put on her corsets again, and, following her daughter's example, a black tea-gown. A shaded lamp stood behind the couch, and beside her the Prince sat, upon a low chair, holding one of her hands in his, and talking to her in his soft, caressing way. When Mary opened the door, Ermyntrude sighed: "Oh, can't I be left in peace ever?" But when she saw Chester walk in, she exclaimed in a much more robust tone: "Oh, Maurice, if it's not you! Oh, come in, come in! You're the very person I want!"
The Prince got up. If he was annoyed, he did not show it, but smiled and bowed
, and said that he gladly relinquished his place to the doctor.
Ermyntrude sat up, extending her hand towards Chester. "Oh, Maurice, I wish it had been you!" she said. "Somehow it seems to make it worse, Hinchcliffe being sent for, for you know I've never liked him, nor poor Wally either!"
Chester took her hand, but glanced over his shoulder, addressing himself impartially both to Mary and to the Prince. "Too many people in this room," he said. "Prince, take Miss Cliffe into the dining-room, and give her a whisky-and-soda, will you? See she drinks it, too."
"But with the greatest pleasure on earth!" the Prince said. "We have indeed neglected Miss Cliffe, who is all the time so thoughtful for the welfare of others!"
He held open the door for Mary, but instead of permitting her to go with him to the dining-room, he insisted on her sitting down in one of the big leather armchairs that stood in the hall, while he went to mix a drink for her.
He had just brought it to her when Vicky wandered downstairs. "Oh, hallo! Bottle party?" she inquired.
"Poor Miss Cliffe is exhausted," explained the Prince. "I am commanded by Dr Chester to give her whisky, and to be sure she drinks it. I warn you, I shall obey my orders, Miss Cliffe, so do not make a face at your whisky! I am here to make myself useful, and this is my first task."
Mary pressed her hand to her forehead. "Vicky, what about dinner?" she asked. "It must be nearly time. I hope Mrs. Peake hasn't taken it into her head that it won't be wanted."
"Ah no, for Peake is even now setting the table!" the Prince assured her. He smiled at Vicky. "Sit down, duchinka: you have had so great a shock! You are pale, my little one; you, too, need Alexis to take care of you, I think."
"Not if it means whisky," replied Vicky. "I've already had three cocktails, so I shouldn't think whisky would agree with me much. Is Maurice here, Mary?"
"Yes, with your mother."
"Oh, good! Perhaps he'll make her go to bed." She turned to the Prince, and said prettily: "We're so sorry this should have happened during your visit, Alexis. I'm afraid you'll take a perfectly ghoulish memory of Palings away with you tomorrow."
"I do not go tomorrow," he replied. "You do not suppose that I would run from you when you are in such trouble! No, no, while that poor Trudinka has need of me, I stay!"
"Oh, Alexis, I do think that's so sweet and sacrificing of you!" said Vicky. "Only, do you feel it's wise of you?"
"Wise of me? I do not understand!"
"I rather suspect that the police will think it's a bit odd of you. That Inspector asked the most unnerving questions about you, and he's so dumb that I wouldn't be at all surprised if he's cast you for the part of the murderer."
"But it is ridiculous!" exclaimed the Prince. "You are joking, surely!"
"Oh, Alexis, joking at such a time! Oh, how could you think I'd be so frightful?"
"You are overwrought, then. As for your Police Inspector, I snap my fingers at him, so! Do not trouble your so lovely little head on my account, my Vicky!"
A telephone-bell had rung in the distance a minute or two before, and Peake now came into the hall to tell Mary that Mr. Steel wished to speak to her.
She pulled herself out of her chair. "All right, Peake; I'll take it in the library," she said.
Steel's voice, at the other end of the wire, sounded deeper even than usual. He said: "That you, Mary? I've just heard the most incredible It isn't true, is it?"
"If you mean Wally's death, yes, it's true."
There was a slight pause. "Mary, you don't mean he was actually murdered, do you?"
"I'm afraid so. How did you hear of it?"
"One of my men's just come in with the news. He says it's all over the village. Good God, I couldn't believe it! Mary, how's Ermyntrude?"
"She's upset, naturally. We hope to get her to bed."
"I'll come over at once. We can't talk on the telephone."
"Oh no, you will not come over!" said Mary. "Dr Chester's with her now, and she doesn't want any visitors tonight. Besides, the more you stay out of this the better it'll be, Robert. Peake heard what you said to me this morning, and he told the police."
"Hell, what do you think I care for that?"
"I don't know, and I'm past minding, but if you come over here you won't see Aunt Ermy, I promise you."
There was another pause. "All right. I'll wait till the morning. Tell her I rang up, won't you?"
"Oh yes, I'll tell her!" said Mary, glancing round as the door opened, and Vicky came into the room. "Sorry, I can't stay any longer. Good-bye!" She put down the receiver. "What have you done with the Prince, Vicky? He hasn't gone back into the drawing-room, has he?"
"No, upstairs. That was one time I didn't strike on the box, wasn't it?"
"Did you think you were going to?"
"Well, I thought there was just a chance. Did Robert ring up to condole?"
"He rang up to know if it was true. He wanted to come round, but I stopped him."
Vicky lit a cigarette, and flicked the match into the hearth. "Oh, I think you were frightfully right! I shouldn't be at all taken aback if we discovered he did it, would you?"
"Don't!" implored Mary. "Yes, of course I should. It isn't possible!"
"Darling, I'm simply dripping with sympathy for you, but don't suddenly be a dewy innocent, because I don't feel I can bear it. If Percy didn't do it, Alexis or Robert must have. There isn't anybody else."
"Vicky, don't say things like that! You don't know: there may have been others we've never heard of. What would you think if Robert or the Prince said it must be you, because you happened to be in the shrubbery at the time?"
Vicky blew a cloud of smoke. "But, Mary, dear pet, how could I possibly? I practically never hit anything when I take a gun out."
"That isn't the impression you generally try to put across," said Mary dryly. "Anyone listening to you would imagine you were a pretty good shot."
"Yes, but when I give that impression, I'm just putting on an act," explained Vicky. "Actually, I'm rather a lousy shot, I think."
"I'll remember to tell the Inspector so, if he asks me," promised Mary.
Chapter Nine
By the next morning, nearly everyone connected with the case, instead of having been soothed by a night's repose, was in a state either of exasperation or of foreboding. The Inspector found himself bogged in a quagmire of evidence; Mary foresaw endless days of strain; the Prince had, apparently, realised his own position, and was feeling it acutely; and Ermyntrude had discovered a fresh grievance against Harold White. Only Vicky came down to breakfast with her usual serenity.
Ermyntrude had been persuaded to breakfast in her room, but not in solitude. She held a sort of court, sitting up in bed against such a background of silk, and laceedged pillows, and in such an exotic wrapper, that she reminded her visitors irresistibly of a sultan's favourite wife. The morning's post had brought her a certain measure of comfort, for the news of Wally's death had spread quickly over the countryside, and she was able to say with mournful pride that all the best people had written to her. Letters strewed the coverlet of her bed, and whenever she opened one that particularly gratified her, she summoned Mary or Vicky to her side to hear about it. In the intervals of reading the letters of condolence, and absentmindedly consuming a quantity of toast and marmalade, she issued general orders for the day, directed her maid what clothes to lay out for her, and discussed exhaustively the mourning raiment that must instantly be bought for her. Breakfast for those in the dining-room became an unquiet meal, disturbed continuously by the ringing of Ermyntrude's bell, and the constant appearances of housemaids bearing urgent, and very often contradictory, messages from the widow.
It had occurred to Ermyntrude, in the night watches, that not only had her husband met his death on his way to keep an assignation which she had known nothing about, but that no one had so far explained to her why he had gone over to see that Harold White. A note from Lady Dering, delivered by hand, took her mind off this problem for a little while
, but she remembered it again when she rang for her breakfast, and at once sent for Mary and commanded her instantly to ring up the Dower House, and to summon White to her presence.
"You mark my words, dearie, whatever it was that took poor Wally there, that White wasn't up to any good!" she said. "And considering my position, and Wally being shott practically in his garden, I should have thought the least he could do would be to have come right over to apologise - well, no, I don't mean that exactly, but, anyway, he ought to have come."
By this time, Mary had been connected with the Dower House. Janet's voice hurried into distressful speech, and for quite a few moments Mary had no opportunity of delivering Ermyntrude's message. However, when she saw Ermyntrude stretch out a hand to wrest the pink enamel receiver away from her, she broke in on the flood of Janet's condolences, and said that Ermyntrude was anxious to see White, and would be grateful if he could spare the time to call on her on his way to the colliery offices.
"Grateful!" ejaculated Ermyntrude. "Don't talk so silly to her, Mary! Tell her I say he is to come!"
Mary did not pass on this peremptory message, because Janet was explaining that her father had left for the collieries.
Mary covered the mouthpiece with her hand. "He's gone to work. Janet wants to know if you'd like him to look in this evening."
"Oh, he's gone to work, has he?" said Ermyntrude wrathfully. "And no more thought for me lying here in the dark than that bed-post! Not so much as a note, or a message, either!"
Janet says he told her she was to call this morning, and leave cards."
"What's the good of cards?" demanded Ermyntrude. "I don't want her cards! I don't want her either, if it comes to that, for though I'm sure I've nothing against the girl, she frets me to death, and if there is a time when I might expect to have my nerves considered, it's now!"
Mary made frantic signs to her to be quiet, and tried to tell Janet that Ermyntrude was not up to receiving visitors. Janet said: "I thought as I was the last person who saw him alive, she'd like me to come and tell her just how he died."
"No, I don't think that would be very desirable," said Mary.
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