by Clara Benson
‘Just be careful,’ said Henry. ‘I feel bad enough about Dyer already. I don’t want to lose another man.’
‘Don’t worry, you won’t,’ said Freddy.
In the little kitchen of Clerkenwell Central Hall, the Temperance ladies were wondering among themselves at the latest developments in the case.
‘I knew it!’ said Mrs. Belcher. ‘Didn’t I always say, Nerissa, that that young man was up to no good? I could see it in his eyes. There was a sort of evil light in them. I never trusted him, and I said so, didn’t I?’
‘Really? I can’t say I remember your mentioning it,’ said Mrs. Starkweather doubtfully. ‘And I’m afraid you have the advantage of me. I always thought him a very polite young man, if a little inclined towards rowdy jokes.’
‘Drink!’ exclaimed Mrs. Belcher. ‘That is what it always comes back to. I have no doubt Dyer had been drinking before he killed poor Miss Stapleton.’
‘He seemed sober enough to me that night,’ said Mildred.
‘They know how to hide it,’ said Mrs. Belcher ominously. ‘Oh, yes, they learn all the tricks. I am quite sure that while Dyer was greeting you all so politely, his belly was full of the demon, and his eyes were darting this way and that, avidly seeking a weapon with which to dispatch our poor Miss Stapleton. I expect all that evening he was rubbing his hands together with glee at the idea of wreaking chaos and misery among our virtuous little family. How he must have cackled as he drove the knife home!’
Miss Hodges, counting teaspoons, jumped and squeaked in distress.
‘Such a pity I was struck down by one of my heads that evening,’ went on Mrs. Belcher, unheeding. ‘I wish I had been there, as I am sure I should have noticed what Dyer was about. I know the signs to look out for, you see. They are quite unmistakable. A man under the influence has rolling eyes and a tendency to slaver. If he is practised enough, then he will be able to suppress the compulsion in company for the most part, but I have many years’ experience in battling the scourge, and can spot it with ease.’
‘Oh, my goodness!’ said Miss Hodges. ‘But—but are they sure Mr. Dyer did it? What is it that makes them suspect him?’
‘Why, the confession, of course,’ said Mrs. Belcher. ‘He left a note saying he was sorry for what he had done, then made his escape. I imagine he has gone to the Continent—France, perhaps. If that is the case, then I dare say he will never be caught. The French are hardened drinkers themselves, and think nothing of killing people who happen to offend them, so they will not be interested in bringing Dyer to justice.’
‘But are they really sure?’ said Miss Hodges. ‘I should hate to think they had got the wrong person.’
‘Well, since he has disappeared, I think we must assume that he did it,’ said Mr. Bottle, who had been watching the ladies work. ‘Who else could it have been? None of us, naturally. And if he has any sense, then he won’t return. Murder is an ugly business, and whoever did it will certainly be hanged for it, don’t you agree, Miss Hodges?’
Miss Hodges went white and said, ‘Oh, my goodness!’ again.
‘Ah, good evening, Mr. Pilkington-Soames,’ said Mrs. Belcher, as Freddy arrived. ‘I expect you’ve heard the news.’
‘What’s that?’ said Freddy. ‘Do you mean about Ronald Dyer? Has he turned up yet?’
‘No,’ said Mildred. ‘And I don’t suppose he will, either.’
‘I tell you now, he’s innocent,’ came a voice, and they turned to see the elderly Miss Flowers standing in the doorway of the kitchen, wearing a sober expression that was quite unlike her normal cheerful demeanour.
‘Oh, I didn’t see you there, Miss Flowers,’ said Mrs. Starkweather. ‘It’s all very dreadful, of course, but one doesn’t know what to think. I mean to say, his disappearance looks so very suspicious.’
‘Suspicious or not, it’s ridiculous,’ said Miss Flowers with a snort. ‘Why, you might as well accuse me of having done it.’
‘The police didn’t say anything for certain,’ said Mildred. ‘You know they never like to give anything away, but they hinted at it pretty strongly. It seems he’d been taking money from your lot for months.’
‘Well, I won’t believe it,’ said Miss Flowers. ‘I knew his mother, you see. He’s not the type.’
‘Now, do we have everything?’ said Mrs. Belcher, who had not heard the exchange. ‘Miss Hodges, take the teacups through to the hall, please.’
‘Allow me,’ said Freddy, for Miss Hodges was looking even more distressed than usual, and he feared for the safety of so much crockery in her hands all at once. He picked up a tray and Mildred took another, and they went through into the minor hall. When they came out they found that Ruth Chudderley had arrived, in company with Ivor Trevett. Ruth threw Mildred a look of disdainful amusement.
‘Back on duty today, Mildred?’ she said. ‘I must say, I had no idea Temperance was a part-time undertaking. Perhaps you might teach your friends how to play “Hobbes and Descartes Took the ’Bus” at your meeting this evening. It’s much easier to remember things when you’re sober.’
She passed on, and Mildred flushed.
‘Horrid cat!’ she said. ‘I don’t know what St. John sees in her. She’s beastly superior and unkind.’
‘Hmm?’ said Freddy, who was staring absent-mindedly after Ruth. ‘Now, what the devil—?’
‘She’ll only make him unhappy—that is, if she ever accepts him. I don’t suppose she will, now. Lucky for him, I say.’
Freddy glanced at Mildred. She was looking hot and cross, and he nudged her in friendly fashion.
‘Buck up, old girl,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t waste time worrying about the Chudderley if I were you. You’re worth ten of her.’
‘Do you think so?’ said Mildred. ‘That’s very kind of you.’
‘Not kind at all,’ said Freddy. ‘I abhor the very name of kindness and never speak anything but the plain, unvarnished truth, regardless of the consequences. Remind me to tell you what I said to the Prince of Wales when I bumped into him at Ascot last year. It nearly ended in my arrest, but you’ll notice he’s been wearing purple and parting his hair on the left ever since.’
‘Idiot,’ said Mildred more cheerfully.
‘No, but look,’ said Freddy.
St. John had just arrived, and they watched as he spotted Ruth and Trevett standing together and stopped dead. His brows lowered and a furious look descended upon his features. For a second it looked as though he were about to pass them by without speaking, but then he seemed to change his mind and went up to talk to them. An unmistakable froideur had developed between the three of them, and the conversation was a short one, then Ruth and Trevett smiled stiffly and went into the main hall, while St. John came across to where Freddy and Mildred were standing.
‘Hallo, St. John,’ said Mildred in some trepidation. ‘Are you all right? You look a little cross this evening.’
‘Why do you say that? I’m not cross at all,’ said St. John crossly, and stalked off. Freddy and Mildred glanced at one another.
‘Oh dear,’ said Mildred. ‘He must have found out what’s been going on.’
‘Looks like it, doesn’t it?’ said Freddy.
‘I hate it when everyone’s out of sorts,’ said Mildred. ‘Our ladies are all in a bad mood at the moment too. I suppose it’s only to be expected, after what’s happened. Mrs. Belcher has been complaining that she can’t get the girls to do what she tells them, because they were used to Miss Stapleton. Miss Hodges is upset because she feels guilty that she forgot to take the takings box home with her that evening, and she thinks Miss Stapleton wouldn’t have been killed if she’d remembered. And Mummy is even vaguer than usual—but I’m used to that.’
The Temperance meeting was about to begin, and Mildred disappeared into the minor hall, leaving Freddy frowning in thought. After a moment he shook himself and went to join the
Communists in the main hall. He had intended to take his usual seat by Miss Flowers, but she was standing at the front of the room, talking to Sidney Bishop and Leonard Peacock, so he sat down on a seat at the back and prepared to observe proceedings closely. However, there was little to observe this week. Much of the meeting was dedicated once again to preparations for the march and rally that was to take place in Hyde Park the coming Saturday. Leaflets were handed out showing the expected order of events, and there was a call for volunteers to man the Communist Alliance stall throughout the day. There was an air of excitement about the whole thing, and it appeared as though everybody was expecting to enjoy themselves. Nobody mentioned Ronald Dyer or his disappearance. Presumably the leaders of the Alliance had decided to pretend nothing was wrong—perhaps so as not to divert attention away from this most important event. Freddy looked around the hall. There was no sign of the Schusters today, and he wondered where they were.
At last the meeting broke up, and everybody filed out slowly. In the lobby Freddy bumped into Sidney Bishop.
‘Hallo, hallo,’ said Bishop, with an attempt at his usual cheery manner, but Freddy could see that something was bothering him, and remembered that Bishop was the group’s treasurer.
‘I hear one of your members has skipped with the cash,’ he said, not unsympathetically.
‘Everybody’s heard about it, it seems,’ said Bishop with a sigh. ‘I don’t mind saying I feel a fool, Mr. Pilkington-Soames. I can’t think how I didn’t spot what he was doing, but I let him take it as easy as winking. I trusted him, you see. Didn’t see any reason not to. One doesn’t expect that kind of behaviour from your sort.’
‘Oh, our sort are the worst,’ said Freddy. ‘I don’t even leave any money lying around if my family are in the house. I had an aunt who used to steal half the silver whenever she came to visit. Naturally, it wasn’t the done thing to mention it, but she positively clanked as she kissed us goodbye, and one had much ado to pretend not to hear it.’
‘I wish I could laugh about it,’ said Bishop glumly. ‘The money was my responsibility and I failed in my duty. Why, I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if they voted me off the Committee as soon as may be. They won’t do it just now, with the rally coming up, but I expect someone will put forward a motion soon enough, and then I’ll be out on my ear.’
He went off, shaking his head. Freddy watched him go and wondered what had happened to the Alliance’s money. Had Dyer taken it? If not he, then who? Freddy wanted to find out more, and so offered his services in the matter of tidying up.
‘Hallo, are you here again?’ said Peacock jovially. ‘Yes, help if you like.’
They stacked chairs for a few minutes, then Freddy said:
‘I understand you’ve lost a member.’
‘Oh, is that it? I thought you couldn’t be here for the fun of it. You’re sniffing about for a story again. Well, don’t look at me,’ said Peacock in his usual careless manner. ‘That ass ought to have been more careful if he didn’t want to be caught with his hand in the money-box. But once you start stabbing old ladies—well, then there’s an end to it. The police don’t look too kindly on that sort of thing, as I expect you know.’
‘Was he really stealing money from you too?’
‘Pots of the stuff, it seems. I don’t know why Bishop didn’t notice, as a matter of fact. You’d think as treasurer he might have kept at least half an eye on the goods. But you’ll have to ask him about all that. I don’t know anything.’
‘Where do you think Dyer has gone?’ said Freddy.
‘I couldn’t tell you,’ said Peacock, with an easy shrug. ‘And I don’t care much, either. It’s good riddance, as far as I’m concerned. I don’t suppose he’ll dare show his face here again.’
‘But aren’t you worried he might have come to harm?’
‘Not particularly. As I think I told you, I never liked him much, and if he’s been going around murdering people, then he deserves everything he gets.’
‘But you shared rooms, didn’t you?’
‘Only because it was cheaper that way, and I was a little short of the ready,’ said Peacock. ‘If I’d had a choice, I should never have agreed to it.’
He strolled off, looking quite at ease with himself and the world, and Freddy watched him go thoughtfully. To look at him and Dyer only two weeks ago, one would have thought they had been the best of friends, but now Peacock was insisting that there had been no friendship at all, even though they had lived together, and was doing his best to dissociate himself from his old Oxford pal. But where had Dyer disappeared to? Whether he had taken the money or not, he had certainly been playing a dangerous game, and it looked rather as though he had paid the price for it.
Freddy was recalled from his musings by the sound of raised voices out in the lobby. He went out to see what was going on, and was confronted by the sight of St. John and Trevett standing nose to nose—or as near as possible, given the disparity in their heights—glaring at one another, while various ladies looked on with hands clasped and eyes wide. Ruth Chudderley was one of them.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Trevett, eyeing St. John loftily. ‘Ruth is perfectly entitled to do as she pleases.’
‘I know your sort,’ said St. John. He was breathing heavily through his nostrils, and looked not unlike an angry bull. ‘You talk and talk until a woman doesn’t know which way is up and which way is down, and she’s so blinded she falls for your rot. You oughtn’t to take advantage like that.’
‘Nobody has taken advantage of me, St. John,’ said Ruth with dignity. ‘That’s just like you, to assume a woman has no brain of her own or ability to think. I assure you I’m quite as rational as you are, and I know my ups from my downs perfectly well.’
‘But you let this—this—bearded caperer—’ (he spat out the phrase) ‘—talk you into who knows what. You can’t possibly be thinking straight.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ replied Ruth. ‘I will not be accused of lacking reason. My actions are based upon wholly logical foundations. I find Ivor’s company more congenial than yours, and his mental endowments more worthy of my admiration. Furthermore, Ivor has the good manners to listen to what I have to say, and to engage me in vigorous debate, instead of regarding me as though I were some kind of performing animal—a sort of trick to show off to people—just because I am a woman who happens to be interested in politics. Ivor and I have been talking about starting our own newspaper together, and he has assured me that I won’t be confined to the women’s page this time. I shall get to write pieces more befitting my intellectual capacity, and be treated as an equal.’
‘But I do treat you as an equal,’ said St. John. ‘And what’s wrong with the women’s page? I can hardly write that myself, can I? What do I know about croup and that sort of thing?’
‘About as much as I do, I imagine,’ said Ruth. ‘Or possibly more, since I grew up an only child and have spent little time in the company of babies.’
‘But—’ said St. John, but Ruth was not listening. She went on calmly:
‘Why should you assume that I have any more interest in the subject than you, just because I am a woman? It is precisely this sort of fallacy which has prevented the development of the truly egalitarian society towards which we are all supposed to be working. Perhaps my ideas are more revolutionary than yours, St. John, as I see you have trouble in accepting them. However, Ivor has no such difficulty. He is as committed to the concepts of equality between the sexes and free love as I am, and as such I believe is more deserving of my affection.’
At the mention of free love, Trevett directed a leer of the utmost complacency at St. John which Ruth did not see. Its meaning was unmistakable, and it provoked St. John beyond measure. With a roar, he lunged at Trevett’s throat, and there was a chorus of shrieks as the ladies all fell over themselves to get out of the way. The two men grappled for a f
ew moments, then Trevett managed to shove St. John away from him. The two of them glared at one another, panting.
‘What?’ said Trevett. ‘You don’t think I’m going to fight you, do you? Why, I should as soon fight my grandmother. And I expect she’d put up a better show than you anyway,’ he added.
‘We’ll see about that,’ said St. John. He began dancing about, fists in the air. ‘Your grandmother’s not here to protect you now, you weaselly Welsh poltroon. You don’t want to fight because it will spoil your hair. Why, you’re nothing but a coward!’
‘Oh, a coward, am I?’ snapped Trevett, and threw a punch unexpectedly which glanced off St. John’s jaw. St. John staggered back briefly, then landed a blow in Trevett’s midriff that caused him to double up. After that the real fight began. The two men backed into the main hall and squared up to each other. From his stance, it looked as though Trevett had done some boxing in his time, and he certainly had the advantage of height; however, St. John was stockier and more compact, and by now was in a fine temper. They circled around one another warily, then began to exchange blows.
‘Oh, goodness, what shall we do?’ said Mrs. Starkweather, looking about her. Ruth was shouting at the two men to stop, while Mildred watched, rapt, her fists held up unconsciously, as St. John and Trevett continued their fight, oblivious to everybody and everything around them. It seemed they would not stop until one of them had beaten the other to a pulp—and it was very soon clear which of them would come off worst. St. John’s rage had served him well up to now, but he was evidently unused to fighting, and his method was undisciplined, while Trevett’s height and superior technique gave him a distinct advantage. Freddy could see that this was unlikely to end well for St. John.
‘Now, look here—’ he began, but nobody was listening, for St. John had now given up any idea of fighting with his fists, and had launched himself at Trevett and begun to wrestle with him. The two men fell to the floor and started rolling around. Trevett grabbed hold of St. John’s nose and began to twist it. St. John gave an agonized cry.