‘That’s one of their uses.’
‘That kind of stuff ’ud take a fair time to act, wouldn’t it?’
‘Do you mean before death ensued?’
‘Yes — ’ow long would ’e live after swallowin’ the stuff?’
‘That would depend on the drug and the quantity taken.’
‘I’m tryin’ to get some idea of the time ’e must ’ave taken it, doctor,’ explained Frost.
‘Can’t help you until I know how much he took,’ said Evershed.
‘Would you say,’ asked Gale, ‘that Rigg died from the same kind of poison as John Hallam?’
‘It’s possible. The symptoms are very similar.’
‘So is the method,’ said Gale significantly. ‘Whisky and milk in one case — beer in the other.’
‘Now, just a minute, sir,’ broke in Frost, ‘you’re going too fast, an’ that’s a fact. There’s no evidence to show that Rigg was murdered. It could’ve been suicide.’
‘It could — but do you think it’s likely?’ demanded Simon Gale. ‘Rigg had made an appointment to see me. He was going to tell me something that he knew about the murder of Hallam, and he expected to be well paid for the information. Why should he suddenly decide to kill himself? It’s all wrong.’
‘Are you suggesting that he was killed to stop him talking,’ asked Evershed.
‘Yes — by the same person who killed Hallam.’
‘That’d mean that Mrs. ‘Allam is innocent,’ interpreted Frost.
‘Hell’s bells,’ cried Simon, ‘that’s the whole point — of course she is.’
‘Doesn’t this prove it?’ asked Jill. ‘Surely this will be sufficient to make them postpone the execution while the police make further inquiries?’
‘No, Miss ’Allam,’ said the Inspector. ‘I’m afraid it won’t. You see, there’s nothing to connect this with Mr. ’Allam’s murder.’
‘But that’s ridiculous,’ exclaimed Martin. ‘Rigg was going to tell us something about Hallam’s murder.’
‘Yes,’ said Jill, ‘and he was killed in the same way — with the same poison.’
‘Maybe, but there’s still no real evidence, miss,’ said Frost. ‘Rigg was goin’ to tell you somethin’? All right — what? You think it was somethin’ to do with ’Allam’s murder. You think ’e saw someone at Easton Knoll that night … ’
‘I’m convinced he did,’ said Gale.
‘An’ I’m prepared to agree with you, sir. I think there may be a lot in what you’ve told me, but it don’t rest with me, an’ that’s a fact. It’s the ’Ome Office that’s got to be convinced, an’ they’d pooh-pooh the whole thing.’
‘They can’t pooh-pooh Rigg’s death. That’s a fact.’
‘Yes, sir, but they’ll say that Rigg copied the way Mr. ’Allam ’ad been killed in order to kill himself, or that somebody had copied it in order to kill ’im.’
‘You’re right,’ said Evershed. ‘He’s right you know.’
‘We can’t tell ’em anythin’ that ’ud help Mrs. Hallam, an’ that’s a fact,’ declared Frost.
‘If only Rigg had told us what he knew,’ said Martin.
‘I blame myself for that,’ grunted Simon. ‘I should have stuck to him until I’d got it out of him. I ought to have foreseen that something like this would happen.’
‘Oh, come now, sir,’ said the Inspector, ‘I don’t see ’ow you could’ve done that.’
‘Because I knew there was a murderer at large,’ said Gale, ‘that’s why. A clever, cunning murderer who’ll do anything to keep hidden and — safe.’
‘It’s frightening,’ said Jill, ‘to think that somebody we know … is like that.’
‘I say,’ cried Martin suddenly, ‘what about Fergusson. What was he doing round here tonight?’
‘Major Fergusson, sir?’ said Frost sharply. ‘What was he doing ‘ere, sir?’
‘We met him on the way here,’ said Gale.
‘And he said we’d have our trouble for nothing if we were going to see Rigg,’ said Martin, ‘do you remember?’
‘’E said that, sir?’
‘Yes, but he was referring to the fact that there was no light,’ said Gale. ‘He thought Rigg was out.’
‘That’s what he said,’ said Martin.
‘Fergusson’s a strange chap,’ said Evershed, ‘always seems as if he had something on his mind.’
‘’E was very badly wounded.’
‘Yes,’ Evershed nodded, ‘serious head injuries — but I don’t think they would account for what I mean. It’s a deep-seated worry of some kind.’
‘I noticed the same thing,’ said Simon Gale, ‘when we met him on Sunday.’
‘At one time,’ said Doctor Evershed, ‘I thought he was going to have a breakdown. He’s been better lately…’
‘Since the death of Hallam?’ asked Gale.
Evershed frowned. ‘It never struck me that way before, but — well, yes, you’re right.’
‘Quite a number of people seem relieved that Hallam’s dead,’ remarked Gale. ‘You can sense it whenever his name is mentioned … Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys, Vanessa, Mrs. Barrett, Upcott…’
‘Upcott — by Jupiter!’ exclaimed Martin excitedly. ‘Doctor Evershed — you gave Upcott a prescription for barbitone this morning?’
‘Did you, doctor?’ asked Frost sharply.
‘Yes — for insomnia.’
‘Well, now,’ said the Inspector, drawing a deep breath, ‘that might be somethin’ worth lookin’ into.’
‘Listen!’ broke in Jill suddenly.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Simon Gale.
‘There’s somebody outside,’ she said. ‘I heard them.’
They listened. It was quite silent within the caravan, and in the silence they heard footsteps — hesitating footsteps on the rough ground outside.
‘There is somebody out there,’ whispered Gale. He moved cautiously nearer the closed door.
The footsteps came nearer, stopped, and then somebody began to mount the steps without.
‘Who is it?’ breathed Martin.
There was a gentle tapping on the door. After a moment it was repeated and a voice, a woman’s voice, called softly: ‘Rigg … are you there, Rigg?’
‘It’s Vanessa!’ said Jill.
Simon Gale pulled the door open suddenly and Vanessa stared into the dimly lighted caravan in shocked and startled surprise.
‘Oh…’ she said, ‘oh…’
‘Come in, Vanessa,’ said Gale.
But she stayed, framed in the open doorway.
‘I — I don’t understand,’ she said faintly, ‘what are you all doing here? Where’s Rigg?’
‘Rigg’s dead,’ said Simon Gale, and then: ‘Did you come to bring him a wreath, Miss Lane?’
Simon Gale paced up and down the long drawing-room at Easton Knoll. A pipe, that had long since gone out, was gripped between his teeth, and his sensitive fingers twisted and tugged at his beard. Jill, sitting uncomfortably on the edge of an easy chair, watched him and felt that any moment she would scream. At last her nerves would stand it no longer and she said irritably:
‘For God’s sake, Simon, stop prowling about like that!’
‘I’m waiting to hear from Frost,’ he grunted without pausing in his ceaseless perambulation.
‘Can’t you wait sitting down?’ she said, desperately. ‘You’ve been walking backwards and forwards for hours.’
‘Hell’s bells, what’s the matter with you?’ he demanded.
‘Nothing,’ she retorted, but there was an edge to her voice that belied her words. ‘There’s nothing the matter with me.’
He resumed his pacing, sucking on the empty pipe.
It was the morning following the discovery of the dead body of Rigg in the caravan — the Tuesday morning. Simon had been morose and silent for the rest of the Monday night and had said very little during the morning. For a little while longer Jill stuck it and then she said: ‘Simon — how is it going to
help Margaret if Rigg was poisoned with barbitone? Inspector Frost says himself it won’t make any difference. They won’t stop the execution. What are we going to do? This is Tuesday morning.’
‘I know that, Jill.’ Simon stopped and looked at her. ‘Look here, you’d better get a grip on your nerves.’
‘Oh, never mind my nerves!’ snapped Jill crossly. ‘There’s so little time left and we’re not getting anywhere. Why did Rigg have to die before he told us what he knew?’
‘That was why…’
‘And Margaret will die too … It’s hopeless, Simon … Can’t you see it’s hopeless?’
‘What’s wrong with you this morning, Jill? You’re all strung up … It’s not hopeless.’
‘I didn’t think so until — we found Rigg—’
‘You had high hopes of what he might have told us, hadn’t you?’ Gale nodded understandingly. ‘So had I. It’s the reaction that’s making you feel like this.’
‘I’m feeling all right, I tell you!’ She broke out angrily.
‘Stop being damned irritable!’ bellowed Simon. ‘You’re not the only one this is affecting, you know? We’re all feeling the strain.’
‘I’m sorry, Simon,’ she muttered.
‘I know this sense of frustration is very nerve racking, but it’s no good letting it get a hold of you.’
‘Do you believe Vanessa’s story?’ Jill changed the subject abruptly. ‘Why she came to Rigg’s caravan last night?’
‘I don’t know,’ he grunted.
‘I don’t believe it,’ she declared. ‘Is it likely Rigg would have sent her a note asking her to come? And do you suppose she would have come if he had — Vanessa?’
‘It rather depends what was in the note, doesn’t it? It said her aunt was in great danger.’
‘That’s what Vanessa told you,’ said Jill suspiciously. ‘There’s no proof there ever was a note. She can’t produce it.’
‘She can’t find it.’
‘If there wasn’t a note, she’d have to say that, wouldn’t she?’
‘Why do you think she came to the caravan, then?’ he demanded.
‘I think she came to make sure.’
‘That the poison had worked — is that what you mean?’
‘Yes.’
‘You know what that implies?’ said Gale, seriously.
‘Well, why not?’ she answered. ‘Oh, I know Martin thinks she’s wonderful — perhaps you do, too … but, it’s got to be someone, hasn’t it? How did Vanessa know that Doctor Wall teapot was in father’s study?’
Before he could reply there was a tap on the door and Mrs. Barrett came in.
‘Excuse me, Miss Jill,’ she said. ‘Major Fergusson’s called. He wants to see Mr. Gale.’
‘Oh, ask him to come in,’ said Jill.
The housekeeper withdrew.
‘I wonder what Fergusson wants?’ muttered Gale.
‘It must be something important,’ said Jill. ‘Major Fergusson doesn’t usually pay social calls.’
‘Ssh,’ warned Gale, as Mrs. Barrett ushered Major Fergusson into the room.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you like this,’ said Fergusson, ‘but the matter is very important.’
‘That’s all right, Major Fergusson,’ said Jill. ‘Do sit down . ’
‘Thank you.’ He hesitated, looking from one to the other.
‘What did you wish to see me about?’ prompted Gale.
Fergusson’s confusion deepened. He cleared his throat.
‘Well, I wanted … that is I’d rather…’ he stopped, and then said hurriedly: ‘Could I see you, alone, Mr. Gale?’
‘Do you mind, Jill?’ asked Simon.
‘Of course not,’ she got up, ‘I’ve got to see Mrs. Barrett about lunch.’
‘I hope you’ll not think me rude, Miss Hallam,’ said Fergusson apologetically, ‘but the matter’s rather a difficult one.’
‘There’s no need to apologize,’ said Jill. ‘See you later, Simon.’
When she had gone and the door was shut Gale said:
‘Now, what is it, Major Fergusson?’
Fergusson fumbled nervously with his gloves.
‘It’s not very easy for me to — to speak of this, you understand, Mr. Gale?’
‘Does it concern Hallam’s death?’ asked Simon.
‘It may have a bearing on it indirectly. I don’t know. You see, until you came here, it never occurred to me to doubt that Mrs. Hallam was guilty. There was no reason to suppose that it could have been anyone else. But now there seems to be every reason for believing that Mrs. Hallam is innocent — particularly after the death of this man Rigg.’
‘You’ve heard about that?’
‘That’s what made me make up my mind, Mr. Gale. However difficult and unpleasant it may be for me, I feel that it’s my duty to acquaint you with the type of man Hallam was. It may help you a great deal. I cannot believe that my own case is an isolated one.’
‘Your own case, Major Fergusson?’
‘Aye … You would not think to look at me that I was a murderer, would you, Mr. Gale?’
Gale was startled. He had not expected this. Was Fergusson going to confess? The man’s face was white and strained and dewed with sweat. He said: ‘A murderer. Major Fergusson, do you realize what…’
‘I did not kill Hallam, if that’s what’s in your mind,’ said Fergusson. ‘The murder I’m guilty of is worse than that.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘I murdered nearly two thousand men — murdered them in cold blood.’
‘I don’t think I understand.’ Fergusson took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. His hands were shaking.
‘It was during the war,’ he said. ‘I’ll not go into details — even now I cannot think of it without a shuddering horror for what I did.’
‘Major Fergusson, don’t distress yourself/’
‘I’m — I’m all right … It — it all comes back to me, you see — all the horror of it…’
‘How did it happen?’
‘I issued — the wrong order … the men were killed…’
‘I see…’
‘It was terrible … all those lives…’
‘But, of course, it was a mistake?’
‘The result was the same … Mistakes like that shouldn’t be made. I shall never cease to blame myself for the death of those men … I don’t want to say any more about that. I’ve told you enough for the purpose.’
‘To offer you my sympathy seems a little futile.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t … it would do no good.’
‘What has this to do with Hallam?’ asked Gale.
‘Hallam found out,’ said Fergusson. ‘You’ll understand that only a few people — my superior officers and a handful of men who survived — knew what I did. Nobody round here knew. I was trying to forget — I couldn’t, I don’t think I ever shall — but I was trying. Hallam met one of the people concerned and they told him … ’ Again he wiped his face. It was obviously causing him acute distress to talk about the tragedy that had ruined his life … After a pause he went on:
‘Hallam sent for me one day and told me that he knew. After that he used to make me tell him exactly what happened … with all the details … over and over again until I felt I was going mad.’
‘Hell’s bells,’ exclaimed Simon Gale. ‘What a devilish thing to do.’
‘He’d threatened to make the story public … he never did, but I was never sure when he might … It was like a nightmare.’
‘Yes — yes, I can understand.’
‘It was such a relief when I heard he was dead — you can have no conception what a relief.’
‘It must have been. He never attempted blackmail?’
‘No, no — there was no question of that,’ Fergusson got up and began to walk up and down. ‘It was just for the pleasure it gave him.’
‘There are people like that,’ Gale spoke quietly and unemotionally. He wanted to calm this man’s nerves which were raw and tortured
. ‘It’s a mental kink. What makes you think that you weren’t the only one to suffer from this unpleasant hobby of Hallam’s?’
‘Something he said to me once. He said: ‘Nearly everybody’s got something to hide, Fergusson. You’d be surprised how many of the people round here have … ”
‘He never mentioned any — names?’
‘No, he wouldn’t do that. Once he’d given anybody’s secret away, all the fun would have gone. It was taunting them with the possibility that he might, and watching them squirm, that amused him.’
‘I guessed there was something like this, Major Fergusson, but I couldn’t be sure. I’m very grateful to you for—’
‘You’ve no need to be. Maybe I should have spoken before, but I couldn’t see that any good purpose would be served. It’s only that it may be of help to Mrs. Hallam that brought me here this morning. I’ve no desire, otherwise, to assist in finding the person who killed Hallam.’
‘The murderer, in this case, deserves no mercy, Major Fergusson. He is quite prepared to let an innocent woman suffer for his crime unless we can prevent it.’
‘Aye, I see that. Well, I hope you’ll not have to divulge what I’ve told you.’
‘I promise you it will go no further than ourselves, and possibly Inspector Frost. It may be necessary to tell him.’
‘You must do as you see fit, Mr. Gale, about that. You understand my position?’
‘Yes. I don’t want to sound interfering, Fergusson, but if you could only bring yourself to see this thing in its proper perspective.’
With a heralding tap the door opened and Mrs. Barrett came in.
‘Doctor Evershed and Inspector Frost are here, sir,’ she said. ‘Shall I show them in?’
‘Please, Mrs. Barrett,’ said Gale.
Fergusson caught him by the arm as the housekeeper withdrew.
‘I’d rather not meet them just now.’ he said. ‘Is there any—?’
‘Yes, go out by the window. There’s a path that leads round to the drive.’
‘Thanks. Goodbye.’
‘Goodbye — and thank you,’ said Gale.
He had barely gone before Frost and Evershed were shown in. They were followed by Jill.
‘Can I come in now, Simon?’ she asked. ‘Oh, where’s Major Fergusson?’
‘He’s gone,’ said Gale. ‘Well, what’s the news, Inspector?’
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