Noose for a Lady

by Gerald Verner

  ‘Chance?’ he replied. ‘There’s more than a chance. Don’t worry — everything’s going to be all right.’

  She looked at him searchingly. ‘Do you really mean that?’ she said, ‘or are you — just saying it to — to…?’

  ‘I mean it, Maggie,’ he answered, gravely.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she said. ‘Tell me all about it — you must tell me, Simon.’

  ‘I can’t now, Maggie,’ he said. ‘I haven’t got very long — and there’s quite a lot I want to talk about … Did you know a man named Rigg?’

  ‘Jonas Rigg?’ she said. ‘Yes, he’s a poacher.’

  ‘He was a poacher,’ corrected Gale. ‘He’s dead — he was poisoned. Somebody put a large dose of barbitone in his beer.’

  ‘Barbitone?’

  ‘Yes. He was going to tell me something he saw on the night Hallam was killed. He was murdered before he had a chance.’

  ‘But, Simon,’ she exclaimed, excitedly, ‘that means that I … if you tell the police they’ll have to do something about me, surely? Doesn’t it prove that I couldn’t have…?’

  ‘No, it’s not enough on its own,’ he said. ‘The police already know all about it, naturally. Inspector Frost is convinced, now, that there’s been a mistake about you, and he’s working with me to prove it. We’ll have something definite soon.’

  ‘It’ll have to be very soon, Simon,’ she said. ‘If it’s to do any good.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that, Maggie,’ he said. ‘Leave it to me. Now, listen … did you know that Hallam amused himself by finding out things about people — things they didn’t want known — and held it over their heads? A sort of profitless blackmail?’

  ‘No — did he do that?’

  ‘Yes, there was no money about it — he did it purely for the pleasure of seeing them suffer.’

  ‘I can imagine that,’ she said. ‘It would have appealed to John. He liked to see people suffer.’

  ‘I’m sure that that was the motive behind his murder,’ declared Gale. ‘I think he stumbled on something really serious about somebody — something criminal — so that it was absolutely essential, for the safety of the person concerned, that he should die before he had a chance of revealing what he knew — the same as Rigg had to die for a similar reason.’

  ‘But who…?’

  ‘That’s the question — who?’ Gale ran his fingers through his beard. ‘I believe it was one of seven people — Robert Upcott, Mrs Langdon-Humphreys, Miss Ginch, Vanessa Lane, Major Fergusson, Doctor Evershed, or Mrs. Barrett.’

  ‘Mrs. Barrett? Oh, no … that’s absurd.’

  ‘It’s not so absurd as it sounds,’ he replied. ‘She had the best opportunity of anybody. Never mind that for the moment — you know all these people intimately, Maggie. Have you any idea at all — even the vaguest — what it was that Hallam could have found out about them? You needn’t bother with Fergusson — I know what it was in his case.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, Simon. I’m afraid I can’t help you.’

  ‘You’ve remembered something?’ he said, quickly.

  ‘No, I haven’t … not really. I was just wondering if…’

  ‘Go on, Maggie,’ he urged as she paused. ‘What?’

  ‘Robert Upcott’s wife — she…’

  ‘Ran away with some man or other.’

  ‘Oh, you know about that?’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘but what do you know about it?’

  ‘Nothing … only nobody knew who it was … I wondered if there was something about that … John might have found out?’

  ‘The whole thing was rather mysterious, wasn’t it?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes … It could be that — with Upcott — couldn’t it? I can’t think of anything about any of the others…’

  ‘Nothing concerning Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys or Vanessa Lane?’ he persisted.

  Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys least of all,’ answered Margaret. ‘She always seemed to me rather formidable. I can’t imagine there could be anything in her life that she’d be afraid of becoming known…’

  ‘I’m quite sure there is something, all the same,’ said Gale. ‘Her husband broke his neck hunting, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, but it was all perfectly straightforward, Simon. There couldn’t be anything in that … Vanessa’s a different matter. I’ve always felt there was something strange about her.’

  ‘How?’ asked Gale sharply.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Margaret looked troubled. ‘It’s difficult to put into words … It’s just an impression.’

  He nodded. ‘I think I know what you mean,’ he said, ‘a sort of guardedness … as though she were afraid of giving something away?’

  ‘Yes, partly, Simon. She’s pretending all the time. She wants you to think she’s one kind of person, while, in reality, she’s something quite different…’

  Simon Gale stared at her. Into his eyes came a queer expression — they seemed suddenly vacant and dead.

  ‘Hell’s bells,’ he whispered softly. ‘Hell’s bells

  ‘What’s the matter, Simon?’ asked Margaret.

  ‘Maggie — do you remember that box of conjuring tricks my father gave me for a birthday present?’ he asked.

  ‘Simon,’ said Margaret in bewilderment. ‘What on earth?’

  ‘It’s all right, I’m quite sane,’ he said. ‘There was a book of instructions that we pored over together — remember?’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  ‘It said,’ Gale went on rapidly. ‘The secret of successful conjuring is the art of misdirection. You must make your audience think they’ve seen one thing, when actually they’ve seen something else. You pretend something is there when it isn’t there at all?’

  ‘Simon,’ said Margaret, ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I believe that the same principles have been applied to the murder of John Hallam, Maggie — very successfully applied.’

  *

  Jill was in the drawing-room reading a magazine when Simon got back to Easton Knoll.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, as he came in. ‘Where on earth have you been to?’

  ‘I’ve been to see Maggie,’ he said.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, throwing down the magazine. ‘Is that where you went to? We were wondering, weren’t we, Martin?’

  Martin nodded. He was sprawling in an easy chair, staring at nothing.

  ‘How is Margaret?’ asked Jill.

  ‘She’s as well as you could expect in the circumstances,’ said Simon. ‘She sent her love to you, and asked me to thank you for your letter.’

  ‘Poor Margaret,’ said Jill.

  ‘She’s being very brave.’ said Gale, ‘but you can see the strain she’s under … Fergusson’s coming tonight. I’ve just seen him.’

  ‘All of them are,’ said Jill. ‘Vanessa’s just rung up to say that she and her aunt will come.’

  ‘What’s the idea, Simon?’ asked

  Martin. ‘Why do you want all these people here tonight?’

  ‘You’ll see, Martin,’ said Gale. ‘What time are they coming, Jill?’

  ‘Half-past nine.’ She looked at the clock. ‘They should be here any minute now.’

  ‘And here’s the first arrival,’ said Martin, getting up.

  They heard the knock on the front door and the footsteps of the housekeeper as she crossed the hall.

  ‘I wish I knew what you were going to do, Simon,’ said Jill apprehensively.

  ‘So do I,’ muttered Martin.

  ‘Miss Ginch,’ announced Mrs. Barrett.

  Miss Ginch came tripping into the room, her thin nose thrust forward and her small eyes darting inquisitively from one to the other.

  ‘Come and sit over here by the fire, Miss Ginch,’ said Jill. ‘It’s rather chilly this evening, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes indeed,’ said Miss Ginch. ‘Such a nasty cold wind. I’m afraid my poor nose must be quite blue.’

  ‘Not quite, Miss Ginch,’ said Gale.
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  She looked at him suspiciously but his face was expressionless. There was another knock from the hall and they heard the front door opened.

  ‘Here’s somebody else,’ said Martin.

  ‘Dear me, are you expecting many people, Miss Hallam,’ asked Miss Ginch. ‘I’m so anxious to know why you asked me to come.’

  ‘You’ll know all in good time,’ said Gale.

  Mrs. Barrett ushered in Doctor Ever-shed, Robert Upcott, and Inspector Frost.

  ‘We all met on the doorstep,’ said Upcott. ‘Quite a coincidence, isn’t it? You know, I’m terribly intrigued to know why you’ve invited us here this evening, Miss Hallam. Tell me — do tell me?’

  ‘I’ve just been asking the same thing, Mr. Upcott,’ said Miss Ginch.

  ‘You must ask Simon,’ said Jill. ‘He suggested it.’

  ‘What’s the idea, Gale?’ asked Doctor Evershed.

  ‘I’ll tell you when the party’s complete,’ answered Simon.

  ‘Do you know, Inspector Frost?’ said Miss Ginch.

  Frost shook his head.

  ‘I know no more than you do, an’ that’s a fact.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ said Miss Ginch, ‘it all sounds most exciting.’

  ‘I hope we shan’t be kept too long in suspense,’ said Upcott. ‘I don’t think I could bear it.’

  ‘Who else are coming?’ asked Ever-shed.

  ‘Major Fergusson, Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys, and Vanessa,’ said Jill.

  ‘And Mrs. Barrett,’ put in Gale, quietly.

  ‘Mrs. Barrett?’ Miss Ginch raised questioning eyebrows. ‘Oh, do you mean the housekeeper? Really, I can’t think what can be in your mind, Mr. Gale.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s just as well, Miss Ginch,’ remarked Doctor Evershed pointedly.

  ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean by that remark, Doctor Evershed,’ said Miss Ginch, her eyes sparkling angrily.

  Have you discovered anything further about the death of that poor man, Rigg, Inspector?’ inquired Upcott hastily. ‘Such a dreadful thing — even though, of course, he was quite beyond the pale … quite, quite, beyond.’

  ‘No, sir,’ answered Frost, ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing definite as yet.’

  ‘I do hope I’m no longer among your suspects,’ said Upcott. He turned to Evershed. ‘Do you know, Evershed, Inspector Frost actually thought that I might have used those tablets, you prepared for my insomnia, to kill Rigg. Incredible, isn’t it? You agree — I’m sure you agree?’

  ‘Oh, come now, Mr. Upcott,’ protested Frost, ‘that’s not quite right, you know. I was only checkin’ up in the normal course of routine, as you might say.’

  ‘It must be very difficult, Inspector,’ said Miss Ginch, ‘to make certain about the source of these things — especially’ — she shot a malignant glance at Evershed — ‘in the case of medical men. It’s so easy for them to obtain drugs of any kind.’

  ‘The dangerous drugs have to be accounted for, Miss Ginch,’ said Ever-shed. ‘A doctor has to keep records of such things.’

  Mrs. Barrett appeared at the door. ‘Major Fergusson,’ she announced.

  Fergusson came in quickly. He gave a sharp look round, nodded in a general greeting, and went over to Jill.

  ‘Good evening, Major Fergusson,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad you were able to come. I think you know everybody, don’t you?’

  ‘Pretty well everybody,’ he said.

  ‘Evening, Fergusson,’ said Evershed.

  ‘So unusual, Major Fergusson, to see you at any of our little functions,’ said Miss Ginch.

  ‘But how sensible,’ remarked Upcott. ‘They’re nearly all so appallingly boring.’

  ‘Come over here, Fergusson,’ said Gale.

  ‘Shall I bring the coffee and sandwiches now, Miss Jill?’ asked Mrs. Barrett.

  ‘I think we’ll wait for Mrs. Langdon-Hum…’ began Jill, and broke off as there came a knocking on the door.

  ‘They’re here now,’ said Martin. ‘I’ll go, Mrs. Barrett.’

  He hurried out of the room. Jill looked after him and gave a little twitch to her shoulders.

  ‘Now we shall know what we’re all here for, shan’t we?’ said Upcott. ‘I must confess I’m feeling terribly curious.’

  Mrs. Landon-Humphreys sailed into the room majestically. Vanessa followed rather nervously with Martin.

  ‘I’m afraid we’re rather late, Jill,’ said Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys. ‘We didn’t make up our minds to come at all until almost the last minute, as you know.’

  ‘You’re not very late,’ said Jill. ‘Major Fergusson’s only just arrived.’

  ‘Sit over here, Vanessa,’ said Martin, dragging forward a chair. ‘Here’s a chair for you, Mrs Langdon-Humphreys.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys sat down and looked about her. ‘I can’t imagine why you’ve asked us here this evening, Jill,’ she said.

  ‘Yes indeed,’ said Miss Ginch. ‘We’re all wondering that, Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys. I understand it was Mr. Gale’s idea.’

  ‘Oh, was it?’ Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys’ face hardened.

  ‘Now that everyone’s here,’ said Simon Gale, walking over to the fireplace and facing them, ‘there’s no reason why your curiosity shouldn’t be satisfied … Put down that tray, Mrs Barrett, and please don’t go. This concerns you just as much as anybody else.’

  The housekeeper, who had come in with a tray of coffee and sandwiches looked at Jill. ‘You wish me to stop, Miss Jill?’ she asked.

  ‘You heard what Mr. Gale said,’ said Jill.

  Mrs. Barrett set the tray down and quietly effaced herself behind her mistress.

  ‘I asked Jill to invite you all here this evening for a special purpose,’ said Gale. ‘You know the reason I came here in the first instance? To find out the truth about the murder of John Hallam. The case against Mrs. Hallam was so strong, and appeared so obvious, that the police did not consider it necessary to carry their inquiries any further. That’s right, isn’t it, Inspector?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I’m afraid it is,’ agreed Frost. ‘You can’t altogether blame us.’

  ‘I’m not,’ said Gale. ‘I’m just stating a fact. But I was certain that Maggie hadn’t poisoned her husband. I’ve known her since childhood, and I know that she is absolutely incapable of killing anyone that way. If Hallam had been stabbed, or shot, anything but poisoned, I could have believed that she might have done it. But the poisoner’s mentality is of a special kind, and it’s not Maggie’s. There’s nothing underhand or secretive in her character.’

  ‘How very fond of Mrs. Hallam you must be, Mr. Gale,’ said Miss Ginch, with unmistakable innuendo in her tone.

  ‘It’s not a question of fondness, Miss Ginch,’ retorted Gale. ‘It’s a question of knowing a person.’

  ‘All that may be true,’ broke in Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys, ‘but I cannot see why you asked us here this evening to tell us.’

  ‘It was not for that,’ said Gale. ‘I asked you here — all of you — to make an appeal.’

  ‘I don’t quite understand…’ said Evershed. ‘An appeal?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Simon Gale. ‘Each one of you is hiding something.’

  There were murmurs of protest.

  ‘Oh, yes, you are,’ he went on. ‘John Hallam knew something about each one of you which you are trying to conceal.’

  ‘In my case you’re absolutely wrong,’ bleated Upcott. ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘I thought we had gone into all that this morning?’ said Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys, acidly.

  ‘You’re quite right,’ agreed Gale, ‘but we didn’t go into it far enough! There’s no time for consideration of people’s feelings. This is Tuesday evening — on Friday morning Margaret Hallam will be hanged by the neck until she is dead … ’

  ‘Oh!’ It was Miss Ginch who uttered the cry.

  ‘It’s not very pleasant to remember that, is it?’ said Gale, looking from one to the other. ‘But it will happen unless we can find out the t
ruth in time.’

  ‘But, my dear sir,’ said Upcott, ‘how can we help?’

  ‘By every one of you telling the truth,’ answered Gale. ‘What was it that Hallam knew about each individual one of you that you are so frightened might become known?’

  ‘So far as I am concerned,’ said Miss Ginch, with conscious rectitude, ‘I’ve nothing whatever to conceal.’

  ‘Neither have I,’ asserted Upcott.

  ‘Are you including me in this?’ asked Doctor Evershed.

  ‘I’m including all of you,’ said Simon Gale.

  ‘It’s fantastic — quite fantastic,’ declared Upcott.

  ‘Yes indeed,’ agreed Miss Ginch. ‘It might apply to others but certainly not to me. My life is quite open.’

  ‘Absolute nonsense!’ said Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys, angrily. ‘Had I known that this was what you wanted to see us about, Mr. Gale, I should not have come.’

  ‘I think you should heed what Mr. Gale has said — all of you.’ It was Major Fergusson who spoke. ‘If by withholding anything you know, Mrs. Hallam has to suffer, it would be a terrible tragedy.’

  ‘I cannot see how this concerns you, Major Fergusson,’ said Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys.

  ‘It concerns me to this extent,’ answered Fergusson, and his face had gone a shade whiter and there was a strained look about his eyes. ‘Hallam found out something about me, and made my life a hell.’

  ‘Good for you, Fergusson,’ muttered Simon Gale.

  Miss Ginch’s eyes glistened.

  ‘Dear me, how interesting,’ she said. ‘Whatever was it, Major Fergusson?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s necessary that you should be told that, Miss Ginch,’ said Fergusson quietly, but in a tone that sent the red into her thin cheeks. ‘I have told Mr. Gale, and that’s all that matters.’ There was a pause — an uneasy silence.

  ‘Well, what about the rest of you?’ said Gale. ‘Are you going to follow Major

  Fergusson’s example?’

  Still silence. Somebody cleared their throat.

  ‘Understand this,’ he went on. ‘I mean to know, and I shall know — even though the knowledge may be too late.’

  ‘Too late!’ It was like an echo and it came from Vanessa.

  Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys rose to her feet.