by Richard Hull
Indeed I think I may say that mine was the only evidence of any moment whatever.
I was able to show convincingly how Spencer and Latimer grated on each other and how both considered the other to be incompetent. I took care not to blacken their abilities too deeply since I had no wish to tell the world that NeO-aD (I am wondering by the way whether to change the name to something less foolish) was not competent. All the same a careful reader would see that the essential man in the agency was myself, and I, of course, still remain.
Nor did I neglect the interest of our clients. Both Henriques and Fletcher received a useful ‘puff’ and the subscription list for the shares of Greyfields Canners, when it comes out, will be the more easily subscribed since its name and objects will be known. All these three really owe me something for my efforts on their behalf but, unlike Tonescu, I doubt if they will consent to pay it. There is a certain amount of prejudice, I find, against taking advantage of such an opportunity and Fletcher of Flukil, in particular, was a friend of Spencer’s and is grieved at his death and seems to think that I should be too. In fact he has almost reproached me for a want of feeling, which is absurd.
When we came to the question of the afternoon on which they died and of what had actually happened, I had little difficulty. I had already shown the probability of their desiring to kill each other. It remained only to show the possibility and the method used.
Fortunately the procedure of a coroner’s court allows of ample latitude, the advantage of which I had never before realized, which indeed I had been apt to condemn, and so I was able to express my whole theory to them. It was, I think, fortunate for the coroner, otherwise Hoopington would have had to have explained, and I doubt whether he was capable of doing so.
In any case it would certainly have taken longer and not been so clear and convincing. Besides he would have confined himself to facts, whereas I allowed myself to indulge in speculation. It took a long time, but in a necessary cause I never grudge work.
After my evidence there was little more to be done. Hoopington was called, but he contented himself with confirming parts of my story and leaving the rest uncorroborated but unshaken. As a formality Thomas and his wife were both put in the box but they only succeeded in causing a slight confusion. Even allowing for the necessary formal witnesses, I was examined for a longer period than the rest put together.
Of course the jury could only come to the right conclusion—that Spencer and Latimer had murdered each other. I really forget whether they said they were temporarily insane or not. It is not of the slightest importance.
So then the whole thing is settled and over, and it only remains to tell that incompetent pair of their dismissal. I shall do it with particular relish as Miss Wyndham, or rather Mrs. Thomas, had the effrontery to contradict at the inquest one of my statements, namely, that a door in the directors’ part of the office had been opened once after she had taken round the tea and before she found Latimer’s body.
Yes, I shall part with the Thomases, and with them all recollection of the affair, with the greatest pleasure.
Part IV
Execution
Chapter One
I shall not start by making an unkind remark like Mr. Barraclough, although there are many things that I might say. But what I have always said is that I do think that it is up to any secretary to know all about the man she is managing. I mean I do not think that he ought to have any secrets really from her as far as his business is concerned. Of course, his private life is another matter.
Now there are a lot of things that a girl ought to know which perhaps it is not quite easy for her to be told. Well, anyone with a little imagination can see that. So I have always said that the proper thing to do is to find out, ever so quietly of course, and then one just knows without having to be told. That’s just good business sense, and I don’t think needs any apologies. Of course lots of girls think differently, I know. They think you ought never to look at anything, but I don’t agree.
Anyhow, right or wrong, that’s what my idea is, and that’s why when I saw Mr. Spencer writing away, I wanted to know what it was all about. But as Mr. Barraclough has said, all I saw was three words at the top of the page—‘I shall say’, and that didn’t tell me much, although afterwards it did seem to point to his being going to talk to Mr. Latimer, at least, that’s how Mr. Barraclough made it out, though at the time I didn’t really know quite what to think. It made me quite worried that I did not know what else he had said.
And so, when I found the drawer of Mr. Barraclough’s table unlocked at last and a long manuscript in it, of course I looked. Well, naturally any good secretary would. It might have been something that I ought to be typing. And when I saw that it ended up that he said he was going to part with me and Percy with the greatest pleasure, I was glad I had. You see, up to that minute, I had never thought of losing my post with NeO-aD; there was no reason why I should—it wasn’t as if I wasn’t doing the work properly—and it did come as a nasty shock. And as for anyone being glad to get rid of Percy, well, that I could not understand!
Of course, there were plenty of other positions I could get, and Percy could command his figure anywhere, being a really clever artist, and there aren’t so many of them, but still, even though we were paid shockingly little by Mr. Barraclough, it was a job, and it always takes a few weeks to find another place, and if Mr. Barraclough could think of dismissing us like that, he might not give me so good a reference as he ought to.
So what with one thing and another, and the instalments due on the hire purchase of the furniture, I thought something ought to be done about it.
Well, Mr. Barraclough had been disturbed that morning and was in an awful state—I shall come to that soon—and there would be a little while before he came back, so I thought there was time to look at this paper of his a little more carefully.
I wondered why I had not seen it before, for one thing, because I was sure it had not been in the office before, unless he kept it locked up, which was a mean trick he had to prevent me seeing things, but when I read a bit of it, I wondered how he had come to leave it about at all.
Then I saw that he had meant to lock the drawer but being so dreadfully flurried he had turned the catch before it was quite shut, and that a careful man like him should do a thing like that only just showed how upset he was.
Of course there had been a nasty business that morning, but it all seemed to be over, even if he had had to pay to get rid of the woman, and then he had telephoned to that Rumanian—at least he says he is a Rumanian, but Percy doesn’t believe he is—I shall come to that, too, soon—and I couldn’t quite hear what he said, because I don’t like to let the office boy see me listening in, it doesn’t seem dignified, but anyhow, he had run out in an awful stew, and I suppose he must have been terribly excited, or he wouldn’t ever have left it lying about, not even in the drawer.
Naturally I turned back to the beginning and started reading, and I got puzzled at once. It was half of it in Mr. Barraclough’s handwriting, but there were bits of it in Mr. Latimer’s, and of course actually Mr. Barraclough had written most of it himself, but after I read a bit I saw the words—‘got hold of Barraclough’, and that did not make sense if Mr. Barraclough was writing it himself. After a bit I saw that it was all supposed to be written by Mr. Latimer, and that made it funnier than ever.
So then I made up my mind to take it away and look at it fully. You see, I had seen that he was going to dismiss us without having any reason, and I knew perhaps I was giving him an excuse, but I couldn’t help that. Having these papers might make him change his mind, or at any rate we might be able to get better compensation for being sent away so suddenly, and at any rate he should not have it back until he wrote us both a proper reference.
Just at that moment, too, I happened to see that he thought he ought to give us a month’s wages, but was going to try to get off with less. Well, that was just like his meanness! I took it across and showed it to Pe
rcy.
Percy’s clever—oh, he is ever so clever! He saw at once that the first part was mainly written by Mr. Barraclough pretending to be Mr. Latimer and sticking in bits that Mr. Latimer had put in a diary.
“Why,” he said, “this is just Barraclough’s way of writing. No one who knew Latimer would ever have thought that this was written by him.”
“Well, I must say,” I answered, “I never should have thought Mr. Latimer would have taken all that trouble.”
“Nor given himself away so.” Of course, directly Percy said that, I saw how true it was.
Now that I have had time to read it over quietly I can see, too, how right Percy was when he said it wasn’t written at all in the way Mr. Latimer put things, and I ought to know, having taken down all their letters for years. When later on I came across the bit where Mr. Barraclough says that he prides himself on having written it just like Mr. Latimer, I fairly laughed out loud, I did really. But all that comes later.
The next thing that happened was that Percy came across several sheets of it written in Mr. Spencer’s handwriting, and ending up—‘I shall say!’.
Well, that was a surprise! Here was the paper which I had always said I had seen and which Mr. Barraclough had told the Inspector that he thought Mr. Spencer had thrown out of the window, and here it was all the time.
“Well, would you ever believe it!” I said to Percy.
He seemed quite excited too.
“I think you know, old girl”—I loved his calling me ‘old girl’—“that we ought to telephone to Hoopington.” Just quietly, like that! As if telephoning to Scotland Yard was quite an ordinary thing to do! I couldn’t help being ever so proud of Percy.
But I didn’t let on just then. It doesn’t do for a girl to let her husband know always how proud she is of him, so I just thought ‘I'll show I’m worthy of you’, and without letting him see how thrilled I was, I just picked up the receiver and dialed as if it were an ordinary number.
Percy told me afterwards that there wasn’t a tremor in my voice when I asked for Mr. Hoopington, and when I told him we had got what Mr. Spencer wrote, I could hear at once that he was excited too, although he never was one to show much what he was feeling. He said he would come round at once.
But before I say a word more, now that I have read all that Mr. Barraclough has written, let me put one or two things right.
First of all about Mother. I shall never forgive Mr. Barraclough for what he said about mother, never. Mother never talked that way. Why, you might think from what he says, that she stood gossiping on the doorstep like I don’t know what. Mother wouldn’t ever do a thing like that. She’s much too well-bred. I mean she is a very refined lady, and if it did happen to slip out when she was talking to the Inspector that I was married, well, why shouldn’t she say so? There was no secret about that, except that we didn’t think it was advisable to mention it in the office.
I should like now to say why we hadn’t told everyone. First of all Mr. Spencer would have his joke. Now I liked Mr. Spencer, but you never knew what he wouldn’t say next, and I must admit that I was rather afraid of what sort of jokes he would make. Mr. Spencer was always the gentleman, but I must say sometimes he thought things were funny which I thought were just the smallest trifle vulgar, but then, there’s no accounting for tastes, and well-brought up gentlemen like Mr. Spencer often have got a much lower standard than we have. I’ve never met a lord, but I shouldn’t be surprised if he were downright common.
But it wasn’t so much Mr. Spencer’s jokes that we were afraid of, as the other two. First of all there was Mr. Latimer, and you never could tell what he wouldn’t do.
Stuck-up pig, he was! Generally said very little, but when he did it was rude. I never could abide him, though Percy always said he was all right if you took him the right way, but I never found out what the way was, and even Percy was annoyed with him when he tore up those drawings for the Canning Company. Oh, they were ever so lovely! You could hardly believe how lovely they were!
Still the main difficulty really we felt would be Mr. Barraclough. Percy always said that he was so mean that he would say we wouldn’t work well if we were married, and you see Percy was quite right. But then Percy always is.
So you see Mr. Barraclough has given quite a wrong explanation as to why we said nothing and as to what people were like.
He was quite wrong, too, about the Inspector. Mr. Hoopington and I were great friends. I am sure he never would have thought for a moment that Percy and I could have done such a thing as Mr. Barraclough says Mr. Hoopington thought we might have done to Mr. Spencer and Mr. Latimer. Oh, dear, it is so involved! But anyhow, Mr. Hoopington is not that sort of man. He was always so quiet and kind. I looked on him quite like a father! And then he was so big and strong, and really rather good-looking, and ever so patient and gentle. I had a lot of long talks with him, and whatever Mr. Barraclough may say about what the Coroner thought, I know Mr. Hoopington thought a lot of what I said. He took it all down most carefully, and I could see he considered it most important. And so in the end it was—but I shall come to that later.
Mother liked him very much too, by the way. All that bit about her saying that he wasn’t a gentleman is most misleading. Well, you may let a word slip out edge-wise occasionally, and Mr. Hoopington did look better than an ordinary policeman, and of course he was. But he and mother got on beautifully. We went back that night to where I lived because he wanted to talk to Percy too, but that was the only reason.
And as for saying that Mr. Hoopington was angry with her, and so tried to fasten things on to us, why, he wouldn’t demean himself that way. Besides he wasn’t angry and he always knew we had nothing to do with it. I always felt that one could say whatever one wanted to him; besides, he had such a way with him that almost anyone would talk, even mother who is usually a most silent person. But when Mr. Hoopington is with one, one does get talking so!
So you see nearly everything Mr. Barraclough has said is wrong. But perhaps what is most unfair is when he said I didn’t work hard, and why he wanted to go on harping about my teeth I don’t know. If he had been a gentleman he wouldn’t have noticed them, but Mr. Spencer was the only one who was that, and didn’t the others just hate him if he reminded them about his education! Well, he could be a bit annoying, but still. ...
But to go back to me and my work. I should like to say that no girl could have worked harder than I did. There sharp at eight-forty-five in the morning, and never later than nine, and if I was, I always found Mr. Barraclough there before me and being sarcastic. And barely getting three-quarters of an hour for lunch and not leaving till after half-past six and often seven, and even later, and not getting any extra money for it, so that when Mr. Barraclough said, as he did to Mr. Hoopington, that I never did any overtime, it would have been more truthful to have said that I was not paid for any overtime. Well, really, it was something cruel.
Percy often spoke to me about it.
“Maud,” he said, “Maud, you'll wear yourself out if you go on like that.”
“Well,” I said, “what can one do? What with the shorthand and the typing for three people, and a little for you too, dear, sometimes, though I know you can’t help it, and then all the filing—well, someone’s got to do it.”
“There ought to be two people. You’re doing the work of two, Maud.”
“Well, and look how much you’re doing, dear! But I must say if someone would do the typing of all these accounts and estimates and schedules and the figures, I won’t say I wouldn’t be glad. Figures do take such a time to type.”
“I shall talk to Barraclough myself to-morrow.”
Percy was so brave that I thought he would, and I know Mr. Barraclough would never have done it. Why, even when all that Galatz-si work had to be done, he only thought of getting a second girl. But he didn’t do it. So I made Percy promise. “Don’t you ever do such a thing without my consent,” I said. And of course Percy said he wouldn’t. You can a
lways trust Percy.
But that reminds me of these two things at least that I was going to come to later, and one was Galatz-si. Well, in a way, they were both Galatz-si, and I think I'll take the other one first. Like Mr. Barraclough I'll stop and put a ‘Fig. II’ and start again. I mean I suppose that’s right and I ought to do things properly now that I have begun to go in for literature.
Chapter Two
Well, the other one is what happened first this morning, and most unpleasant it was just at first. Though afterwards I did have a bit of a laugh, and then things really did begin happening.
Very soon after I got in, an elderly person came in at the door and asked if this was NeO-aD. I said it was.
“Where the late Mr. Spencer used to work?” she asked.
I said “yes” of course. Quite a respectable looking person she was, with a bit of a cast in her left eye and a habit of folding her arms about her chest. But rather quarrelsome, I should think. I didn’t take to her exactly.
“I was his landlady,” she said. “He had my best room and I'll trouble you, young lady, to let me see whoever owns this business now, because compensation I will have or my name’s not Mrs. Higgins.”
“Compensation for what?” I said.
“That’s my business,” she says, really rude like.
Well, I don’t like being taken up like that. No one would like it. So I thought I had better be a bit haughty myself.
“Mr. Barraclough is a very busy man,” I told her, “and he never likes being disturbed unless it is something really important. I am his confidential secretary,” I went on, “and if I can assist you in any way–––”
“You can assist me, young woman, by letting me see this Mr. Barraclough, and pretty quick too.”