‘I’m afraid we shall have to be going, Jill,’ she said, curtly.
‘No,’ said Vanessa, suddenly. ‘No, I’m not going.’
‘What do you mean, Vanessa?’ demanded Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys.
‘I’m not going,’ said the girl defiantly. ‘Mr. Gale, there’s something I want to tell you.’
‘Vanessa!’ said Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys, warningly.
‘It’s no good, auntie, I can’t…’ There was a dangerous edge to her voice.
‘Vanessa, will you be quiet?’
‘No, no, no!’ Vanessa’s voice rose, shrilly, hysterically. ‘I won’t be quiet any longer. I’m going to tell them the truth. ’
‘Vanessa, I’m ashamed of you,’ said Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys, sternly, as the girl broke into a fit of uncontrollable sobs. ‘Stop that crying immediately and behave yourself!’
‘Please don’t interfere,’ said Gale.
‘I shall certainly interfere,’ snapped Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys. ‘My niece is overwrought and hysterical. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.’
‘I do,’ said Vanessa, through her sobs.
‘Vanessa,’ said Martin, soothingly.
‘Come along, Vanessa, I’m going to take you home,’ broke in Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys.
‘Well, really,’ said Miss Ginch. ‘If Miss Lane has anything to say, I do think she should be allowed to do so.’
‘I’ve no doubt you do, Miss Ginch,’ said Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys, sarcastically, ‘in the hope that it would provide you with a tit-bit of scandal to retell.’
‘I consider that remark most insulting,’ said Miss Ginch. ‘I—’
‘Jill,’ interrupted Gale, ‘take Vanessa into the study. She can tell me anything she wants to in private.’
‘All right, Simon.’
‘Mr. Gale,’ said Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys, ‘I insist—’
‘You will stay in here with the others,’ said Gale, curtly.
‘I shall do nothing of the kind.’
‘Oh, be quiet!’ said Vanessa, recovering a little. ‘I’m going to tell them and nothing will stop me.’
‘Doctor Evershed’ — Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys appealed to him — ‘you can see that my niece is not in a fit state to—’
‘It’s useless appealing to me,’ he replied shortly.
‘I’m perfectly all right,’ said Vanessa, dabbing at her eyes with Martin’s handkerchief.
‘We’ll go into the other room, Vanessa,’ said Gale. ‘Come on, Jill.’
He opened the door for them.
‘Vanessa — Vanessa, listen…’
Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys’ voice was cut off abruptly as Gale shut the door.
‘Whatever you tell me need go no further, Vanessa,’ he said as they crossed the hall. ‘Unless it’s absolutely necessary.’
‘I’ve been … so worried … wondering what I ought to do,’ she said.
Jill opened the study door and switched on the light.
‘You’re shaking, Vanessa,’ she said, when they had entered the room and closed the door. ‘Sit down here.’
The girl shrank back.
‘No — no, I won’t sit there,’ she cried. ‘That’s where — he sat.’
‘Do you mean — Hallam?’ asked Gale. She nodded.
‘But I never knew you’d been in here before,’ said Jill. ‘When did you come?’
‘It was — quite a long time ago,’ said Vanessa. ‘After he told us that he — knew…’
‘What did he know, Vanessa?’ asked Gale.
‘I don’t know how he found out, but he did,’ she replied in a voice that shook a little, ‘and — and he was beastly about it … to both of us … I thought, when he died … nobody would ever know — and then I got that letter from Rigg … and he knew too…’
The door was thrown open and Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys burst into the room.
‘Vanessa,’ she exclaimed agitatedly. ‘You haven’t said anything? You haven’t told them?’
‘Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys,’ snapped Gale, angrily, ‘will you let your niece—’
‘That’s it,’ cried Vanessa, ‘that’s what everyone thinks, but it isn’t true.’
‘Vanessa—’
‘I’m not her niece,’ Vanessa went on rapidly. ‘Oh, don’t you understand? She’s not my aunt as we’ve always pretended. She’s my mother.’
It was a quarter to nine on the following morning when Inspector Frost was shown into the drawing-room. Simon Gale was alone — pacing up and down and smoking furiously.
‘Good morning, Mr. Gale,’ said Frost. ‘I hope I’m not too early for you.’
‘No, I had breakfast an hour ago,’ answered Gale. ‘Sit down.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ The Inspector pulled forward a chair. ‘Well, your little party last night wasn’t altogether a waste of time, an’ that’s a fact.’
‘A ha’porth of bread to an intolerable deal of sack,’ said Gale.
‘Eh?’ Frost looked slightly bewildered.
‘Rather an apt quotation — Shakespeare,’ said Gale.
‘Oh, I see, sir. You know I’d never have thought anything like that about Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys. Flabbergasted me, it did, when you told me.’
‘It’s not a very new thing,’ grunted Gale. ‘A marriage arranged by the family — a brief romance, and the consequences. Lane died two years after Vanessa was born. His sister looked after the child until that hunting accident to Langdon-Humphreys made it possible for Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys to have her daughter with her.’
‘It’s understandable why she was so anxious it shouldn’t come out,’ said Frost. ‘There’d ’ave been a first-class scandal in a place like this, an’ that’s a fact.’
‘Yes … a pretty strong motive, that, Inspector,’ said Gale.
‘That’s what I’ve been thinkin’, sir.’
‘But we’ve got to remember the letter — the one that was supposed to have come from Rigg,’ said Gale. ‘Vanessa didn’t lose it. She couldn’t show it before because it mentioned her real relationship to Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys. But I’ve got it now. Here it is.’ He took a letter from his pocket and held it out to Frost. ‘You see it’s printed in capitals with a pencil — misspelt and illiterate — just as Rigg might have written it.’
‘But didn’t, sir … H’m, yes … I see.’
‘That’s just the point, Inspector. Rigg didn’t write this — we know that, because he couldn’t write. But somebody wrote it, knowing that it would bring Vanessa to the caravan that night — and the person who wrote it knew what Hallam knew — that Vanessa was Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys’ daughter.’
‘Unless Mrs. Langdon-Humphreys, or Miss Lane wrote it themselves, sir.’
‘Yes, that could be. You mean to provide an excuse for Vanessa coming to the caravan? She had to think up something quickly when she found us there to account for her presence?’
‘Yes.’
‘If that’s the case, it can only mean one thing,’ said Gale gravely.
‘That one or other of ’em murdered Mr. ’Allam an’ Rigg, sir.’
‘Yes … but if they did why hand us the motive on a plate? Vanessa needn’t have said anything last night.’
‘You’re right there, sir,’ agreed Frost. ‘I wonder if ’Allam knew anything about anybody else?’
‘I’m quite sure there was something he’d found out about Upcott,’ said Gale. ‘It’s obvious from the man’s whole manner.’
‘An’ he’s not givin’ anything away,’ declared Frost with conviction. ‘You won’t find ’im comin’ forward an’ tellin’ you what it was.’
‘Or Miss Ginch, either,’ said Gale.
‘Do you think she was another one, sir?’
‘Yes, I do. She was much too eager to insist that nobody could know anything to her detriment.’
‘Well,’ said Frost shaking his head, ‘It’s a proper mix up, an’ that’s a fact. An’ we ’aven’t much time to straighten it out. Today’s Wednesday, sir. We’ve got to find the right perso
n, an’ prove they did it, before tomorrow night — if it’s goin’ to do Mrs. ‘Allam any good.’
‘I think we shall,’ said Simon Gale. ‘I’m beginning to get a glimpse of the pattern behind it all. It’s very hazy, but it’s coming clear.’
‘What is, sir?’
‘A portrait of the murderer, Frost,’ answered Gale, seriously. ‘Not the portrait of a face, but the portrait of a mind — a mind that thinks and acts in a certain definite way.’
‘You’re gettin’ a little beyond me, there, sir,’ said the Inspector.
‘Don’t you see? When you know what the mind of the murderer is really like,’ said Gale. ‘You’ve got a personality, and it won’t be difficult to fit that personality with a face — and a name.’
*
‘If you’re going to call on Doctor Evershed, Simon,’ said Jill, two hours later, as they walked down the High Street, ‘I’d better meet you afterwards. I must go into the grocer’s and order some things for the house.’
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Meet me in the pub. I don’t expect I’ll be very long.’
‘I suppose Martin has gone chasing after Vanessa again?’ she said.
‘Not this time, he hasn’t,’ said Gale. ‘He’s doing a little job for me … Hell’s bells! Here’s the Ginch woman.’
Miss Ginch had spotted them from the other side of the road and, altering her course, came tripping over.
‘I’m just going in here,’ said Jill, hurriedly. ‘You can have her all to yourself, Simon.’
She dived into a shop.
‘Good morning, Mr. Gale,’ said Miss Ginch, ‘isn’t it lucky that I should run into you like this?’
‘Is it, Miss Ginch?’ said Simon, without any marked degree of enthusiasm.
‘Yes, indeed. I was on my way to Easton Knoll to see you.’
‘What about?’ he asked.
‘I was so impressed by what you said last night, Mr. Gale,’ she said, ‘I felt I just had to tell you.’
‘So Hallam did know something about you, Miss Ginch?’ he said.
She looked shocked.
‘Oh, no — not about me,’ she answered, hastily. ‘What I wanted to tell you is about Doctor Evershed.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Gale.
‘Of course,’ said Miss Ginch rapidly. ‘I wouldn’t dream of saying anything if you hadn’t pointed out how important it is that everyone should tell what they know.’
‘And what do you know about Doctor Evershed?’ he asked.
Miss Ginch looked quickly up and down the street and leaned towards him.
‘Only that there was something that poor Mr. Hallam knew about him,’ she said, confidentially. ‘I’ve no doubt that Doctor Evershed will deny it, but I know there was.’
‘How do you know?’
‘You must promise that you won’t mention me in the matter, Mr. Gale,’ she said. ‘People are so peculiar, you know. They always credit you with entirely the wrong motive.’
‘Most unfortunate, Miss Ginch, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘What did Hallam know about Doctor Evershed?’
‘Well, I don’t really know what it was,’ she confessed. ‘But there was something. Yes indeed. You see, I overheard them quarrelling one night.’
‘When?’ he demanded.
‘It was a few weeks before Mr. Hallam was killed,’ said Miss Ginch, warming to her story. ‘I was on my way home from the Vicarage — the choir boys’ outing, I think it was — yes, that was it, or was it the Christian Mothers’ Guild? I’m not quite sure.’
‘Does it matter?’ said Gale impatiently. ‘Well, no — not really. But I like to be accurate in all things.’
‘The important thing is what happened,’ said Gale.
‘Well, there’s a short cut from the Vicarage to my little cottage,’ Miss Ginch went on, ‘a lane that skirts the grounds of Easton Knoll. Very few people use it, and I was most surprised to hear voices, just beyond a sharp bend in the lane. I want you to understand that I had no intention of eavesdropping, Mr. Gale.’
‘No, no, of course — that’s the last thing you would do, Miss Ginch.’
‘They were men’s voices, you see, and it’s a very lonely place. I was a woman and you hear of such dreadful things, don’t you? I hid in the hedge, hoping that they would go away, and then I recognized the voices — they belonged to Doctor Evershed and Mr. Hallam.’
She paused to see what impression this information had made, but Gale’s face was expressionless.
‘Go on, Miss Ginch,’ he said.
‘I was afraid to venture too near, so I couldn’t hear all that was said, but I did hear Doctor Evershed say: “Unless you keep quiet, I won’t answer for the consequences.” I don’t know what Mr. Hallam replied to this, his voice was too low, but Doctor Evershed answered: “You can do as you please, but, remember, I’ve warned you…”’
‘What happened then?’ asked Gale.
‘They both walked away, and I couldn’t hear anymore,’ Miss Ginch sounded disappointed. ‘But they were both very angry. I could tell by the tone of their voices.’
‘It’s very kind of you to have passed this information on to me,’ said Gale.
‘I felt that it was my duty,’ said Miss Ginch, virtuously. ‘I did so agree with all you said last night. I can only hope that my poor contribution will be helpful. I never imagined, of course, that what I heard could be of any consequence, until you said.’
‘Naturally, Miss Ginch,’ Simon tried to keep the disgust he felt out of his voice.
‘I should have spoken last night,’ she said, ‘only you were so occupied with Miss Lane. I cannot conceive what she could possibly have to tell you.’
‘I’m quite sure you’d never guess, Miss Ginch,’ he said.
‘Of course,’ said Miss Ginch, in eager invitation, ‘I would never dream of repeating anything you told me in confidence, Mr. Gale.’
‘Can I absolutely rely on that, Miss Ginch?’ asked Simon.
‘Yes — yes indeed,’ she declared, almost licking her lips in expectation.
‘I’m so glad,’ he answered. ‘It’s always a help to know there is someone who is absolutely reliable, Miss Ginch. Good morning.’
He nodded and walked quickly away leaving her standing staring after him in furious disappointment.
‘Oh!’ she muttered to herself, ‘Oh! Well, really … really!’
*
Doctor Evershed came to the door himself in answer to Gale’s ring.
‘Oh, hello,’ he said. ‘Come in.’
He led the way into his surgery and indicated a chair.
‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘Cigarette?’
‘No, thanks,’ said Gale. ‘I always smoke a pipe.’
‘Carry on then,’ said Evershed. He took a cigarette from a box and lit it. ‘What did you wish to see me about?’
‘Fergusson,’ answered Gale, stuffing tobacco into his pipe.
‘What about Fergusson?’
‘He’s been one of your patients for some time, hasn’t he?’
‘Yes.’
‘I know this is all wrong,’ said Simon, ‘doctors are not supposed to talk about their patients — but in view of the circumstances, I’m hoping you’ll stretch a point…’
‘That depends on what you want to know,’ said Evershed.
‘What are the general effects of those head wounds?’
‘Oh, I see,’ Evershed nodded. ‘H’m … well, I can’t see why I shouldn’t tell you that. I take it you don’t want the medical terms?’
‘No, I don’t suppose I should understand them.’
‘Well, the main symptom is intermittent headaches — pretty violent while they last.’
‘And — what else?’ said Gale.
Evershed gave him a sharp glance.
‘Look here,’ he said. ‘What’s at the back of your mind?’
Simon struck a match and began to light his pipe.
‘Would there,’ he said between puffs, ‘be — lapses? Periods when
Fergusson was not quite sure what he was doing — or had done?’
‘Thought that was what you were getting at … ’
‘Well?’
‘There could be,’ said Evershed, thoughtfully.
‘Has such a thing happened to Fergusson — to your knowledge?’
‘No … no, I don’t know of any instance of the kind … ’
‘But it’s possible? He might do something that he wouldn’t remember anything about — afterwards?’
‘Yes, that could happen.’ Evershed stubbed out his cigarette. ‘Are you suggesting that Fergusson murdered Hallam during a mental blackout, and doesn’t know he’s done it?’
‘I’m just wondering if it’s possible … ?’
‘Oh, it’s possible enough. But — I doubt it. He’d have had to have had another mental blackout to kill Rigg, wouldn’t he?’
‘You think it’s far-fetched?’
‘Yes. It’s absurd … ’
‘But — if he was subject to these — lapses — wouldn’t any sudden excitement, or strong emotional upheaval, be likely to bring one on?’
‘That’s true. Candidly though, I think you’re on the wrong track … ’
‘I’m not on any track, Evershed,’ said Gale. ‘I’m just shunting about until I find one. By the way, did you ever threaten Hallam?’
‘Threaten Hallam?’ Evershed shook his head. ‘Good lord, no!’
‘Are you — quite sure of that?’
‘Of course I’m sure — why should I threaten Hallam?’
‘I don’t know — I was hoping you might tell me … ’
‘Out with it, Gale,’ said Evershed, curtly. ‘What’s the idea … ?’
‘You were overheard quarrelling with Hallam … ’
‘Nonsense,’ said Evershed, testily. ‘I never quarrelled with Hallam in my life. Don’t know what the devil you’re talking about. Who said so?’
‘It was in a lane — near Easton Knoll,’ said Simon Gale. ‘You’re supposed to have said to Hallam: “Unless you keep quiet, I won’t answer for the consequences.” It was a few weeks before the murder … ’
‘I never,’ began Evershed, and then he suddenly burst out laughing. He laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks. ‘Excuse me Gale, but it’s really funny.’ He wiped his eyes. ‘I remember now. I wasn’t threatening Hallam. I was prescribing for him. He’d been out of sorts, running a slight temperature, nothing serious, but there was an epidemic of influenza about. He wouldn’t do what I told him, stay indoors and rest. I met him out that evening, and told him just what I thought about it. We both got a bit angry.’
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