by J F Straker
‘James was pestering Anne,’ said Colin, before Anne could stop him.
‘Did you hit him?’
Anne spoke quickly. ‘I don’t think we ought to discuss it, Diana. I’m sorry but you do understand, don’t you?’
‘Okay, we won’t discuss it.’ Diana laughed. ‘So Colin hit him, eh? Good for you, Colin. But I wonder what our Joseph will have to say about it.’
‘Goodbye, I imagine,’ answered Colin. ‘Only I intend to say it first.’
The headmaster had obviously reviewed the matter well before Colin spoke to him the next morning. ‘I am not greatly concerned with the rights or wrongs of this unfortunate incident,’ he said, his voice cool and unfriendly. ‘I have now heard both James’s version and your own, and it seems probable to me that neither of you is without blame. But I cannot tolerate such sharp discord between members of the staff; obviously one of you must go. I hope you will absolve me from undue favouritism when I say that that can hardly be James.’
‘I appreciate that, sir. That is why I offered you my resignation.’
‘Thank you. I can in all honesty give you an excellent testimonial. This antagonism between you and James will not affect it, and you have carried out your duties here satisfactorily.’ Mr Latimer sighed. ‘I hope you will both manage to control and, if possible, conceal your dislike of each other for the rest of the term. We cannot have a recurrence of last night.’
‘It won’t happen again, sir,’ Colin assured him, voicing a confidence he did not feel. James, he knew, would be out for revenge. That knock-down in front of Anne was an affront to his dignity that James would neither forgive nor forget.
The headmaster stood up.
‘James tells me that you and Miss Connaught are engaged to be married,’ he said. ‘It seems rather hasty — you have not known each other long. But I hope you will be happy. Miss Connaught is a charming girl — and, of course, a wealthy one,’ he added drily.
Colin flushed, and muttered his thanks for the good wishes. He did not like the final crack, but he had a firm grip on his temper that morning.
‘Shall we be losing Miss Connaught also?’ asked Latimer.
Colin said he did not know. He would have to talk it over with Anne.
‘I should like to know as soon as possible. We are nearly half-way through the term, and it is not always easy these days to find new staff.’ He cleared his throat noisily. ‘Oh — one more point, Russell. About J.C.’s death. I don’t know whether you have thought any more about this, but under the circumstances you will, of course, drop any further exploration of your absurd hypothesis.’
Now for the fireworks, thought Colin. But with the loss of his job much of his former dread of his employer had vanished. The old boy can’t do me much harm now, he told himself. Even a testimonial isn’t all that important with ...
He flushed guiltily. Was he already counting on Anne’s new wealth to keep him in idleness? But his voice was firm as he answered.
‘No, sir, I can’t do that. There’s nothing vindictive about it, you understand. It’s purely a matter of conscience.’
The heavy eyebrows wobbled ominously.
‘Are you sure of that, Russell? It seems to me —’
Colin interrupted him before he could get fully into his stride.
‘There’s new evidence, sir. I think you’ll agree that makes a difference.’
He had considered very carefully what he should say, and now he rattled it off concisely and clearly. It was, he thought smugly, a masterpiece of deductive reasoning. Even the headmaster must be impressed by its logic.
But Mr Latimer, although his look grew more baleful and his frown deepened, did not appear at all impressed.
‘Very clever,’ he said, with heavy sarcasm. ‘But what you fail to appreciate, Russell, is that in nine cases out of ten it would be possible to twist the details surrounding an accidental death such as this to give it the superficial appearance of murder. Provided, of course, that you had the necessary imagination — and time to spare. You, unfortunately, appear to have plenty of both.’
‘I haven’t done any twisting,’ said Colin, unabashed.
‘You have not accounted for all the facts, either. You suggest that this identity-disc — I must accept your word that it exists, although this is the first I have heard of it — you suggest that it somehow hooked itself on to the murderer during his struggle with J.C., and then dropped on to the bank as he was climbing out of the water. But tell me exactly what is there in a bathing costume to which it could have attached itself?’
Trust the old man to put his finger on the weak link, thought Colin. But he refused to be discouraged. He was no longer drifting aimlessly, waiting for a light to guide him. Now he knew — or thought he knew — where he was going.
‘Search me,’ he said cheerfully. ‘It depends on the costume, I suppose.’
His ready acceptance of criticism disconcerted the headmaster. Mr Latimer, alarmed at the other’s self-assurance, descended from his pinnacle and abandoned sarcasm for persuasion. He did it awkwardly and with obvious reluctance and to no avail.
Colin, happily aware that he was being wooed, refused to budge. He had no wish to bring harm or discredit to Redways, he said sententiously, but personal considerations could not be allowed to interfere with justice. All he would promise was to take no drastic step, such as consulting the police, without first informing his employer.
At this declaration of independence, and with the hateful word ‘police’ ringing loud in his ear, Mr Latimer played his trump card.
‘In that case, Russell, you allow me no alternative but to terminate your engagement forthwith,’ he said haughtily, back on the familiar pinnacle. ‘I should be glad if you would leave tomorrow. You will receive half a term’s salary in lieu of notice — although I doubt whether your behaviour entitles you to such consideration.’
And that, as Colin ruefully admitted later to Anne, left him high and dry. However certain he might be that murder had been committed, there was little he could hope to accomplish in the few hours left to him. ‘And I can’t hang around the district indefinitely,’ he said. ‘I can’t afford to.’
‘I’m not staying here without you,’ she said nervously, near to tears. ‘I’d go crazy, wondering which of them had killed J. C. and knowing I could never hope to find out. I’d be terrified someone might try to murder me. If you go I go.’
‘That would fox the old man good and proper,’ Colin said, with a relish of which he felt a little ashamed. ‘How on earth would he manage for the rest of the term?’
That was the thought uppermost in the minds of the rest of the staff when they heard the news, which neither Colin nor Anne saw any reason to hide. Despite the anger which had previously been aroused by Colin’s talk of murder, there were few who had taken him seriously. This new announcement hit them harder, for the consequences were only too plain to all. There would be larger classes to cope with, duty-days would come round more often, free periods and long weekends would become only a memory.
‘I’ve met some outsize bounders in my time, Russell, but you beat the lot,’ said Smelton, discarding his attitude of silent scorn in favour of an all-out attack. It was the short interval before lunch, when most of the staff were gathered in the common room. ‘Life was reasonably smooth here until you erupted with this tomfoolery about murder, blast you!’
Colin eyed him speculatively. That identity-disc — why had not Smelton handed it over to Latimer? According to the latter, Smelton had not even mentioned it. Or had Latimer been lying? Colin disliked them both, and it irritated him almost beyond endurance to know that if either of them had murdered J.C. he was going to get away with it. After tomorrow all talk of murder would vanish from Redways; the murderer could again breathe freely, and even the innocent would feel relief at the easing of tension. And he had less than twenty-four hours in which to accomplish what seemed to him at that moment like a small miracle.
And then, only a few
moments later, it was no longer a miracle but a very real possibility. It was as quick as that.
‘Well, I’m off tomorrow. You can go back to your smooth life — if it ever was smooth in this dump, which I take leave to doubt.’ He spoke slowly, spinning out the idle, stupid words so that he might gain time for thought, time in which to make a decision. ‘You can all live happily for ever and ever, amen.’
‘Can we hell! We’ll have your damned work to do as well as our own,’ growled Smelton.
‘And Anne’s,’ Diana put in blandly. The extra work would not fall on her, but she saw no reason why Anne should escape the brick-bats being thrown at Colin. Colin had been sacked, but Anne was leaving of her own choice. That made her desertion the more heinous. ‘I can just see you teaching the babes to read, Mr Smelton.’
The senior master glowered at her, and turned away in disgust.
‘Yes, I’m afraid you are all going to be rather busy for the rest of the term,’ Colin agreed cheerfully. ‘No time for early-morning murders and other sporting pastimes. But then you can’t have it both ways, can you? It’s either me or work.’
James Latimer eyed him sourly, suspicious of his good humour.
‘It won’t seem quite so funny to you when you’re out of a job,’ he said. ‘You won’t find headmasters falling over themselves to engage a man who has been sent packing halfway through the term.’
‘Nice of you to worry,’ said Colin. ‘The memory of it will help to comfort me when I’m drawing the dole.’
Like James, Anne was surprised at his mood. He had been angry and despondent at having to abandon his self-appointed task, he had railed at Joseph Latimer for his refusal to co-operate. But there was no sign of despondency now, and he had not hitherto exhibited a talent for acting. What was behind his sudden change of front?
Diana wondered too. ‘You seem in remarkably good spirits, Colin,’ she said. ‘What’s up? Of course, we know you are engaged to Anne and that you will have J.C.’s money to keep you in idleness. Is that it? Or have you by any chance decided which of us murdered the old man?’
‘As a matter of fact, Diana, I have,’ Colin said lightly.
They were all, Anne included, startled into silence. No one questioned him. They just stared — incredulous, frightened, angry. Colin watched them, noting their reactions, savouring his moment of triumph.
‘Don’t expect the police to make an arrest right away,’ he went on, with a cheerful assurance that irritated more than one of his listeners. ‘There’s a bit of routine spade-work to do first — by them, thank goodness, not by me. I’ll just hand them my report in the morning, and then it’s up to them. I’m out of it.’ He sighed extravagantly. ‘It’s a pity I can’t see my way to include a few words of gratitude to the staff for their co-operation,’ he concluded, shaking his head in reproof. ‘It would have looked well on paper.’
Smelton was the first to recover.
‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ he said loudly, defiantly. ‘It’s merely another of your blasted attempts to cause trouble. Well, it won’t work this time.’
‘Won’t it? I shouldn’t hank on that if I were you, Smelton,’ Colin said with emphasis.
The other flushed. Chris Moull, who had so far taken no part in the conversation, asked quietly, ‘Who are you accusing, Colin?’
Colin hesitated. Then he said slowly, his voice serious again, ‘I can’t tell you that, Chris. I’m sorry — but it wouldn’t be right for me to do so.’
‘Have you written this report of yours?’ asked James.
‘Not yet. I’ll do it this evening.’
‘And does my father know what you’re up to?’
‘No. But he will.’ Colin faced them, his expression grim yet somehow boyishly appealing. ‘Oh, I know you all think I’m the last word in cads — but why? What’s wrong with you? I’ve only done what I imagine any one of you would have done had he or she felt the way I feel. You think J.C.’s death was an accident, you’re mad at me because I can’t let well alone. But I know it was murder, I tell you. I don’t think, I know.’ He paused for effect. ‘All right, then. Do you expect me to sit tight and let the murderer get away with it? I’m sorry for the rest of you; it won’t be much fun having the police around, poking their noses into your private affairs. But I can’t help that. I’m not going to stand aside and allow a murderer to escape just because his arrest may cause some people a little inconvenience. And if you weren’t such a pack of moral cowards you’d back me up instead of looking down your noses at me,’ he ended emphatically, his voice rising above the clangour of the lunch bell.
‘Famous last words, I shouldn’t wonder,’ Diana murmured to no one in particular, as she led the way out of the room. None of them had much to say at lunch, for the proximity of the boys forbade conversation on the topic uppermost in their minds. Colin was relieved that neither Mr nor Mrs Latimer was present. If the headmaster knew what was afoot he would probably order him to leave Redways that very hour, and that would wreck everything he had planned. James would spill the beans as soon as his father returned, of course; but by that time Colin hoped to be out of Mr Latimer’s reach. It was his free afternoon; he intended to clear off after lunch and to stay away from the school until it was too late in the day for the headmaster to take action.
Anne found him unusually evasive when she tackled him outside the common room after lunch.
‘What are you playing at now?’ she demanded. ‘You’re not really going to the police tomorrow, are you?’
‘I certainly am.’
‘But why? Only this morning you were complaining that you hadn’t enough evidence to do that. What has happened to make you change your mind?’
Colin shook his head, smiling at her.
‘Sorry, ducks, but I’m not telling. Not even you.’ He bent to give her a hasty kiss, but she turned her head impatiently away. ‘Sore, eh? Well, I don’t blame you. I suppose it does seem a trifle mean, my holding out on you like this. But I can’t help that, I’m afraid. This is something I must keep to myself.’
Anne lost her temper. She had had a trying twenty-four hours, and her nerves were on edge.
‘For Heaven’s sake, stop being so mysterious and smug; it may impress the others, but it’s wasted on me. You are behaving like an overgrown schoolboy, Colin; you’re so puffed up with conceit that you’ve no time now for anyone but your own stupid self. All right, go ahead without me. I don’t care. Only don’t come running to me for advice when you discover that you’re not as clever as you thought you were.’
Taken aback by this violent outburst, Colin caught her arm as she made to leave him. ‘That’s damned unfair!’ he said indignantly. ‘You know perfectly well that —’
He fell silent as Diana emerged from the common room. Anne took advantage of the moment to break away and run up the stairs.
Diana gazed after her thoughtfully. Then she turned to Colin.
‘So Anne’s annoyed with you too, is she? You are making yourself unpopular today, aren’t you? Well, it’s none of my business, but if I were you I’d go after her and apologize for whatever it is you’ve done or said.’
Colin, to whom the same thought had occurred, promptly changed his mind.
‘I imagine you’re trying to help, Diana, but I wish to blazes you wouldn’t interfere,’ he said stiffly. ‘As you say, it’s none of your business.’
‘Damn all women, eh?’ Diana laughed. ‘What I admire in you, Colin, is your subtle tact. I expect that is what endears you to Anne. How are you spending your free afternoon? Compiling someone’s death warrant?’
‘If you mean my statement for the police I shall do that this evening. This afternoon I’m going out.’ It occurred to him that Anne might be listening at the top of the stairs, and he raised his voice. ‘I’ve got a date with a girlfriend in Wisselbury, so I’ll probably be late back.’
‘I’ll tell Anne,’ Diana said. ‘She’ll be delighted.’
Anne was listening. She knew tha
t Colin’s friend at Wisselbury was the science mistress at the college there and nearly twice his age, so no pangs of jealousy assailed her. But she became increasingly miserable as the afternoon wore on and Colin did not return, and began to reproach herself for having been childish and petty enough to pick a quarrel with him. Maybe he had been annoying and smug, but men were like that. Particularly Colin. She should have made allowances. And had he only followed her up the stairs instead of rushing off in a tantrum she would, in her own time, have been perfectly content to allow him his stupid little secret — it could not really be important; there had been no time or opportunity for further developments — in return for his company. This was their last day together at the school, and when they left on the morrow it would be to go in opposite directions. It was stupid of them both to have wasted precious hours by behaving so childishly.
She was in the First Form room, correcting work while the boys were at tea, when James Latimer joined her. He was wearing a raincoat, and Anne idly wondered where he had been. Only Colin had free periods on a Thursday afternoon.
‘You must think me an awful bounder,’ James said, without preamble.
Anne was surprised. It was most unlike James to belittle himself. And this apologetic, almost penitent air was even more unlike him.
‘Don’t be silly, James,’ she said, uncertain how to treat him in this unfamiliar mood. ‘You know I don’t think anything of the sort. Let’s forget it, shall we?’
He looked at her searchingly.
‘I want to, of course. But I’d like to thank you first, Anne, for being so sporting over this. It’s damned decent of you.’
Anne blushed, wondering in what way she had been sporting but reluctant to dispute the fact.
‘All I want is for the three of us to be friends,’ she said sweetly, involuntarily warming towards him. ‘I don’t harbour any ill feelings on account of last night, and I hope you don’t either. Colin was wrong to hit you, and I told him so; but there was nothing personal in it, James — I mean, it wasn’t just because it was you. He would have treated any other man the same way under those circumstances.’