Dance to Your Daddy mb-42

by Gladys Mitchell

  'I can only be sure of the people who were in the house while I myself was there, of course.' She checked the list he handed over. 'That is correct, so far as I know.'

  'Good. Perhaps I could talk to-I shall have to call her Mrs Lestrange, I suppose-in your presence?'

  Rosamund appeared nervous. She was still wearing the clothes lent by Binnie, since there had been no time to get her fitted out, and Kirkby was confronted by a slim, fair-haired, innocent-eyed creature in an unfashionably long skirt-for she was shorter than Binnie-and a cardigan which was almost all-enveloping, since she did not possess Binnie's beautifully-moulded figure.

  Dame Beatrice presented the detective-inspector, who said at once:

  'I only want to ask you one or two questions which I think you will find easy enough to answer, Mrs Lestrange.'

  'No, please,' she said, 'that is not my name. I am Miss, not Mrs Lestrange. Romilly is my guardian, not my husband. I know what he told Dame Beatrice, but it simply isn't true. I'm not married, I'm not mad, I don't drown things and I haven't had a miscarriage. I've never been pregnant. I shall inherit a fortune on May 29th and I don't ever, ever want to go back to Galliard Hall.'

  'Well, that seems a pretty comprehensive summing-up, Miss Lestrange, but it isn't what I've come here to find out. When did you last go to Dancing Ledge?'

  'I can't remember the date. It would have been quite a long time ago. I was running away from Romilly, but he chased after me and brought me back. It was after that, that he and Judith wouldn't let me have proper clothes to wear. They took all my things away and left me only fancy dress-stage armour and a Georgian costume and that sort of thing-so that I couldn't go out.'

  'A Georgian costume, eh? With all the accessories, no doubt. Can you remember what you did last Sunday week?'

  'Yes. I read The Woman in White.'

  'All day long?'

  'Except for meal-times, yes.'

  'Then Mr Romilly was mistaken when he told us that you might have slipped out of the house. What about the next day?'

  'I went on reading my book.'

  'And on the Tuesday, a week ago today?'

  'Romilly told me he had sent for Dame Beatrice-only he called her Professor Beatrice Adler-and he said that she was a psychiatrist and would be examining me.'

  'Did that cause you alarm?'

  'Yes, of course. You see, if Romilly can prove, before I am twenty-five, that I'm not fit to manage my own affairs, my fortune will go to him, provided that he gives me a home and treats me kindly.'

  'I see. Well, we can go into that later, perhaps. What did you do for the remainder of the day?'

  'I wrote a long letter to Dame Beatrice, telling her all about myself.'

  'Did you give it to her?'

  'No. I thought I would find out first what she was like and whether she would be prepared to help me. I went to her room on the Wednesday evening, when I knew the others would be downstairs, and I found-I decided-that it wouldn't be necessary to show her the letter. She would be my friend, I felt sure of that. I have the utmost trust in her.'

  'And, apart from going to Swanage with Dame Beatrice, during that week you did not leave Galliard Hall until you had an outing to Shaftesbury and then came here?'

  'Only to go into an enclosed bit of garden they let me use when I needed fresh air and exercise, otherwise I never went out.'

  'Which of the invited guests had you known before they arrived at Galliard Hall?'

  'All of them, but only very slightly.'

  'I take it you also knew Hubert and Willoughby Lestrange, as they were related to you. Had you known them long?'

  'I knew Willoughby, because he was my grandfather's secretary. Hubert conducted my grandfather's funeral service. I did not know him before that.'

  'I thought you said you did not know him at all,' Dame Beatrice mildly interpolated.

  'Well, you couldn't call that knowing him!' protested the girl. Dame Beatrice let it pass.

  'And Willoughby?' went on Kirkby. 'What about him?'

  'I don't know what's happened to him. He lived in our hotel, so I knew him quite well, but, of course, he had nothing but his salary, so he had to get another post when grandfather died, and until I heard he was invited to Galliard Hall, I had never heard of him again.'

  'How did you know he had been invited?'

  'I didn't, at first. I wasn't told who had been invited until they came. It was Tancred who told me that Hubert and Willoughby had been invited and hadn't turned up. He told me so in bed on the second night of his stay. I asked him more about it when we were both in Dame Beatrice's car on our way to Shaftesbury. He recited a lot of his poetry to me on the journey, because, of course, we couldn't do anything but talk. I don't think I love Tancred, but he was sweet and kind, and such fun.'

  'How were you treated at Galliard Hall? You say Mrs Binnie Provost and Mr Tancred were kind. How did Mr Romilly treat you?'

  'Quite well, in lots of ways. I mean, I had plenty to eat, and the two maids were nice, and I had lots and lots of books. I love reading. I had a radio set, too, but they took that away just before Dame Beatrice came.'

  'You had freedom to move about the house?'

  'I suppose so. There wasn't much point. I had my meals by myself, but I liked it better that way. When I was with them they always treated me like a child who wasn't right in the head. It was dreadful to fight against that!'

  'It must have been. Let me get one thing clear. You knew Mr Hubert and Mr Willoughby when you were with your grandfather?'

  'Yes-if you call it knowing Hubert. I only saw him once.'

  'Have you ever met them at Galliard Hall?'

  'No, never, and I had only met the others once before.'

  'At Galliard Hall?'

  'Yes. Romilly gave a house-warming and they all turned up to it.'

  'Thank you, Miss Lestrange. I think that is all for the present.'

  He was turning to go when a thought seemed to strike him.

  'Just half a minute,' he said. He went into the hall and returned carrying an unsheathed sword. 'I suppose neither of you has seen this thing before?' he asked.

  'It's a rapier, isn't it?' asked Rosamund.

  'Could it have come from Galliard Hall?' asked Kirkby.

  'It could have done, I suppose. Romilly has a small collection of weapons, I believe, but I've never taken any interest in the things.'

  'You did not wear a sword as part of your Georgian costume, then, Miss Lestrange?'

  'There was nothing short enough for me, I imagine. Romilly and Judith provided the costumes, but I certainly was never given a sword.'

  'Only a horse-pistol,' said Dame Beatrice.

  Kirkby stood the weapon upright on its pommel, thoughtfully sparing Dame Beatrice's carpet, for the point of the sword was very sharp.

  'This thing is not a rapier,' he said. I am told that it is a small-sword, although, as you see, the blade is of a pretty fair length. It measures, as a matter of fact, thirty-two and a half inches, and, with the hilt, another six and a quarter inches, so, as you say, it would be too long for you to wear as part of your costume, although the date of it, according to my information, would be about right for Georgian dress. You're sure you've never seen it before?'

  'I'm perfectly sure. Anyway, oughtn't it to have a sheath? It looks very dangerous like that.'

  'We're still in hopes of finding the sheath, but it doesn't matter if we don't.'

  'I don't see why you've brought the sword here,' said Rosamund in an unusually spirited tone.

  'As I said, Miss Lestrange, to find out whether you could identify it. We're very anxious to know where it came from.'

  'Why-is it-is it...'

  'We don't know for certain, not yet, but Mr Romilly picked it up on the cliff-top not a long way from Dancing Ledge.'

  'By the way,' said Dame Beatrice, 'who identified the body?'

  'Mr Romilly Lestrange. We've questioned him about
finding the poor young gentleman and he told us that his nephews Hubert and Willoughby had not turned up at Galliard Hall, so we got him to make a formal identification, which, I may add, he was unwilling to do until we pointed out there was nothing to fear.'

  'Nothing to fear?' echoed Rosamund. 'When somebody has been killed, and a sword has been found with Romilly's fingerprints on it, and you're questioning everybody who was at Galliard Hall last week? How can there be nothing to fear?'

  'Now, now, miss,' said Kirkby. 'Nothing to fear, and nothing to get excited about, so long as you're an innocent party. Now you seem to be in Mr Tancred's confidence to a certain extent, and you went in the car with him and Dame Beatrice to Shaftesbury. It's not where he lives-at least, it's not his permanent address as given by Mr Romilly Lestrange-so do you know how long he intends to stay there?'

  'I don't know anything about it. We left him outside a church...'

  'St Peter's,' said Dame Beatrice, 'in Shaftesbury.'

  'He didn't mention his plans, miss?'

  'Not to me.'

  'Right. Thank you, Miss Lestrange. I'll have to find him, of course.'

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CORANTO-FELIX NAPOLEON'S FANCY

  'Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Burgomask dance between two of our company?'

  A Midsummer Night's Dream.

  (1)

  Tancred was tracked down without the slightest difficulty. Accompanied by Dame Beatrice (her companionship sufficiently accounted for on the score that she knew the people concerned), Kirkby went straight to the police station in Shaftesbury.

  'Provost?' said the desk-sergeant. 'Why, yes, sir. He's on bail, on his own recognisances. Charged with causing a breach of the peace- to wit, getting drunk, insisting on reciting poetry and assaulting the landlord when requested to leave. His case comes up tomorrow morning.'

  'I'm investigating that case of the clergyman found dead on Dancing Ledge. This man Provost may be able to help me.'

  'Well, you'll find him in his caravan on Fuddy's Farm Fields, about four miles from here. He's living there, as usual, with a friend.' He gave concise directions. The friend's a female,' he added.

  'Is she also a lover of poetry?' Dame Beatrice enquired.

  'She'll have to be, ma'am, with that one. He writes it. Let's hope, for his own sake, he doesn't start reciting to the magistrates. Sir Bentham will send him down without the option if he does.'

  'Show me on the map where this place is,' said Kirkby. The sergeant pin-pointed Fuddy's Farm Fields on the large-scale wall-map. 'I see. The Blandford road, and branch off at the foot of Melbury Hill. Doesn't look much like farming country.'

  'The farm itself is more than three miles away.'

  'Oh, yes, I see. Thanks, Sergeant. Well, I think I can find my way.'

  'Anything else I can do, sir?'

  'Might be-later on.'

  (2)

  The caravan was sheltered not only from the north by the noble, beacon-topped hill, but from the south-west by a small wood. They found Tancred, in a sheepskin jacket, jeans and fur-lined boots, seated on the steps of his caravan, engaged, apparently, with his Muse, for he had a large scribbling-tablet on his knees and a pencil in his hand.

  'Oh, Lord!' he said, looking up, as, the car having come to a bumping halt on the wheel-rutted turf, he saw Dame Beatrice. 'So you've tracked me down, have you? Trust the blasted police to give me away!'

  'I am the police,' said Kirkby. 'I am conducting an investigation into the death of the Reverend Hubert Lestrange, whose body was found below the cliff's on Dancing Ledge.'

  'So that's who it was,' said Tancred.

  'Sir?'

  'Oh, I spotted it, you know, last-when would that have been?-last Tuesday. Yes, that's right. Day after I'd accepted my invitation to old Romilly's place, Galliard Hall. I wrote a ballad about it. You know-four-line stanzas with a b c b rhymes. Martha set a tune to it, and we have it as one of our fireside songs. Would you care to hear it?'

  'You saw the body last Tuesday? What time would that have been, sir?'

  'Let's see, now. We'd come up here from London the day before. Martha drove me to Blandford for her weekly shopping, and we got there at ten and had loaded up the boot of her car by about eleven, I suppose. We'd planned to get lunch out, but it was much too early to have it then, so I said, 'Why don't we stick old Romilly up? Save our money, and give me a chance to find out what sort of ideas he's got, because he's holding a family pow-wow and I wouldn't mind having a shot at finding out why.' Well, Martha wouldn't wear it, so I said, 'Well, it wouldn't hurt for you to have a look at the outside of it. It's crumbling a bit, but it's a fine old place. We'll have lunch in Wareham and go on from there.'

  'And did you lunch in Wareham, sir?'

  'Well, no-at least, not table d'hôte. More à la carte, if you know what I mean. We bought rolls and ham and cheese and apples and beer, and had an al fresco in the car.'

  'Whereabouts, sir?'

  'There's a rather jolly little parking-place on the quay. All right this time of year, but the hell of a place to get out of in the holiday season because of the two-way traffic on the Swanage road.'

  'And then, sir?'

  'Well, then we came out and drove over the bridge, and we were all right until we got to Langton Matravers, but it appeared we'd missed some sort of turning and had come too far south or east or something. The post-office people directed us, but it sounded so horribly complicated that, after we'd looked at the map, when we got back into the car, Martha said, "Let's pack it in, and go and have a look at the sea. The cliffs are marvellous this side of Swanage." So, of course, that's how I came to spot the body, but I hadn't a clue who it was.'

  'You did not examine it, sir?'

  'Good Lord, no! I'm a poet, not a blasted bloodhound! It gave me the idea for this ballad, though. That's the main thing.'

  'It did not occur to you that the gentleman might not be dead, and that maybe you could help him?'

  'He was dead enough! The waves were gently rolling him about.'

  'And you did not report what you had seen?'

  'Why should I? It never occurred to me. Martha was a bit chastened, so I piloted her to the car and comforted her, and then we drove back to Wareham and had tea in that jolly bow-window place where they have lashings of cream and always do you so well.'

  'May I have the young lady's address, sir?'

  'Well, for the present, she's living here. You're not going to bully her, I hope? She can't tell you any more than I can, and, anyway, at present, she's out.'

  'When do you expect her back, sir?'

  'God knows! She's gone in to Shaftesbury to have her hair done.'

  'We'll wait, sir. Have you anywhere for Dame Beatrice to sit down?'

  'Why, yes, of course. Come in, both of you. Martha cleared up before she went, so there's plenty of room. By the way, just as a matter of interest, who says the body was Hubert's?'

  'Mr Romilly Lestrange, of course, sir,' replied Kirkby, giving him a long stare.

  (3)

  Martha was a very pretty girl, small-boned, well-groomed, supremely mistress of herself and, in both senses, mistress of Tancred.

  'Go and sit in the car,' she said to him, when Kirkby had stated his business, 'and don't come back until I tell you. If you want something to do, you can peel the potatoes. We're having Irish stew tonight.'

  Having got rid of him, she turned to Kirkby and asked:

  'Have you come about the court-case? Is it worse than he told me? I hope he hasn't done anything really silly. He never does behave himself in pubs. Thank goodness I wasn't with him.'

  'But you were with him on the day he went to Dancing Ledge.'

  'Oh, dear! Don't remind me of that! There was nothing we could do, you know. The poor man was hideously dead.'

  'You could have reported finding the body.'

  'I told Tancred that, but he wouldn't, and he begged me not to. H
e's such a baby, you know. He always runs away from anything awkward. To stifle my curiosity, do tell me whether he seduced all the women at Galliard Hall-or only one of them. There were three possibles, he told me. He always runs into trouble when I can't keep him under my eye. I suppose he takes after that naughty old great-uncle of his, don't you? You know-the one with all that lovely money. Tancred hoped the Provosts would come in for something, but it's all been left to one of the Lestrange girls. It seems he took a fancy to her and adopted her. Disappointing, don't you think?'

  'I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about.'

  'Old Felix Napoleon, the old horror who's caused all this mix-up.'

  'Do you refer to the death of the Reverend Hubert Lestrange, miss?'

  'Not that, so much. I really meant the old Bluebeard's Will. Tancred went to bed with the heiress while he was staying at Galliard Hall, and she seems to have told him her troubles.'

  'I wonder whether his version was the same as mine?' asked Dame Beatrice. 'Did he confide it to you?'

  'Yes. He's quite a tender-hearted idiot where girls are concerned-a lot too tender-hearted for me to dream of going steady with him-and this girl seems to have given him quite a story. Seems she's out of the frying-pan into the fire. She'd been adopted by this old rip...'

  'Felix Napoleon Lestrange,' interpolated Dame Beatrice.

  '...and all went merrily until the old boy introduced a chorus girl, or some such, into the menage, and went such a bust on this female that for a long time-a couple of years, at least-the poor girl thought her inheritance was in danger, and that Felix the tomcat would marry this buskined beauty and she would cop the kitty when he died.

  'Fortunately, this didn't happen. He gave the floosie the air when he found himself sinking, and the Will, so far as it goes, is as it should be, except for one small but all-important proviso. If the heiress goes cuckoo, or if she dies, Romilly Lestrange cops the lot. Well, of course, she's bound to die sooner or later-we all are-but, naturally, she doesn't want it to be sooner and she doesn't want it to be assisted.'

  'You mean she doesn't want to be murdered by Mr Romilly,' said Kirkby unemotionally. 'Anything more, miss?'