by Clara Benson
‘Then he was a hero after all.’
‘I suppose he was, in a manner of speaking,’ said Freddy. He turned to Gertie. ‘You look tired, old girl,’ he said. ‘Let’s go home.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Two weeks later Freddy went to tea with Lois Westray at the Georgian restaurant in Harrods again. She was dressed more soberly than usual, and was looking pale and careworn, but was doing her best to appear her usual self.
‘It’s been a bad couple of weeks, all told,’ she said. ‘We had no idea Leslie had been up to anything of the kind. He just didn’t seem the type. And poor old Hector Finkley! He was a gentle soul—lived in his own little world, but terribly enthusiastic about his work, and only too glad to give a younger inventor a helping hand. And to think that’s how he was repaid! It must have come as a terrible shock to him when he found out what Leslie was really like.’
‘I don’t suppose he had much time to think about it,’ said Freddy. ‘His death was quick, as I understand it. One hard shove and it was all over.’
She winced.
‘And then for Leslie to run down poor, unsuspecting Mrs. Finkley, too—and she didn’t even have anything to do with it!’
‘Yes,’ said Freddy. ‘I feel rather bad about that. After all, he only did it because he thought she’d been telling me something that would compromise him—which, as it happens, she had, but if he’d left well alone and not tried to run me over I’d never have given the matter a second thought.’
‘The police have been looking into Frank, by the way,’ said Lois. ‘It seems he wasn’t quite as bad as he was made out to be. It all started a few years ago when he accidentally passed on some information to Salmanov which seemed unimportant at the time. He wasn’t paid for it, or anything—just let it slip in conversation, as anyone might. But after that, Salmanov threatened to expose him for that mistake if he didn’t keep on doing it, so he felt forced to go along with it. It was weakness rather than dishonesty for the most part. He was terribly weak in some ways, but terribly brave in others. He really did deserve his reputation as a war hero. It’s just a shame it all went wrong afterwards.’
Freddy thought that Lois was trying to convince herself that Dauncey had not been as dishonest as he had seemed. He did not quite agree, but said nothing. If that was what she wanted to believe then who was he to stop her?
‘Well, he did redeem himself in the end,’ he said. ‘He could have shot us at any time, you know. Penbrigg certainly wanted to, but Dauncey got the gun off him and, I think, saved our lives deliberately. I shall always be grateful to him for that.’
‘I’m glad.’ She gave him a sad little smile, then said briskly, ‘By the way, I’ve confessed to Stanley about the wing slot plans and thrown myself on his mercy.’
‘Good Lord! How did he take it?’
She threw him a wry look.
‘Not too well, as you can imagine, but I hope he’ll forgive me. He’s upset about lots of other things at the moment, and I mean to be awfully good to him and look after him. The whole business with Doug has upset him dreadfully, especially since it turned out it wasn’t suicide at all. But one good thing has come out of it at least: it seems Walter had no idea that Nugent Corporation had won the Woodville Prize from a stolen design, so he came to visit the other day and beg pardon. Then Stanley begged pardon in turn for what happened to the Nuthatch, and then they got talking and found they have more in common than they thought. Stanley brought out Finkley’s old notebook, and when I left them they’d put their heads together and were talking about forming a partnership to develop some of Finkley’s ideas.’
‘That sounds like a splendid plan.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s just a pity Finkley won’t be here to see them.’
Everything about this case was a pity, Freddy thought. His next stop was Badenoch House. Lady Browncliffe and Tatty were in. Lady Browncliffe stayed to talk for a few minutes, then went off to speak to Sally about something. Tatty was also putting a brave face on things. She remarked brightly on Freddy’s recent adventure, and was careful to say that she had read about it in the Clarion, then went on:
‘Did you know Tom and Irene got married yesterday? His father isn’t happy at all, but Tom doesn’t care, he says. They’re going out to Kenya to take up farming.’
‘Is that so? Ah, yes, I seem to remember he mentioned something of the sort, once. I don’t think he’s very interested in aeroplanes.’
‘No, he’s not. He mentioned Kenya to me, too, and I didn’t like the sound of it at all. But I don’t need to worry about it now that he’s married someone else. He came to apologize the other day, but I said it was quite all right and we’d rushed into it anyway and I wished him every happiness.’
‘And do you?’
‘Yes. It would have been a mistake to marry him when I was still thinking about Doug.’ There were tears in her eyes. ‘I miss Doug terribly, but it’s been such a relief to have it proved that I didn’t drive him to suicide. It would have been an awful burden of guilt to live with, and at least I can comfort myself with the thought that he died trying to do the right thing.’
‘That’s true enough. I’m only sorry I didn’t see sooner that it was Penbrigg. I’d never noticed his ruthless streak before, although I really ought to have. After all, he broke enough of my things at school and never paid me back for them. Still, it wouldn’t have helped Douglas. I suppose Alida must be upset, too, is she?’
‘Oh, she’s not too bad. She liked Leslie, but she found his shyness rather exasperating. She’s a little down, but we’re going to pick ourselves up and get on with things. Mother and Lois have been conspiring together and we’re all going abroad for the winter—I don’t know where. Somewhere a long way from machines and inventions and air shows, with lots of nice hotels and places to go dancing and enjoy oneself in the sunshine.’
‘Well, I wish you the best of it,’ he said.
He took his leave and went out, then glanced at his watch. It was a quarter to six, and London glowed warm in the evening sunshine. He strolled the mile or so to Grosvenor Square and stood at the corner, leaning against a lamp-post and smoking. At length he saw a figure approaching. Gertie was looking very pretty in a flower-patterned frock, and she flashed him a mischievous grin as she arrived.
‘Give me a cigarette, will you?’ she said. ‘I’ve been gasping for one all day.’
Freddy supplied her with the requested article and lit it for her.
‘Have they given you your latch-key back yet?’ he said.
‘No such luck! I’ve had to promise to be back by ten,’ she said gloomily. ‘It’s too bad, being a woman. I’ll bet nobody’s ever threatened to stop your allowance for staying out all night. I pointed out that I’d been doing my civic duty and catching a murderer, but it cut no ice at all. They said I wasn’t to be trusted, which is rot, of course. By the way, you’d better not tell Father I’m meeting you. He thinks you’re a bad influence on me.’
‘I’m a bad influence on you? That’s rich! I should rather say it was the other way round.’
‘Nonsense. I am a paragon of good behaviour at all times. Now, where can we go and get a drink? I haven’t had a cocktail in two weeks at least.’
‘Plenty of time for that later. Let’s go for a walk,’ said Freddy.
They headed for Hyde Park and walked as far as the band-stand, where a brass band was just concluding an afternoon concert. They stood among the crowd and watched, then Freddy became aware of a familiar presence at his shoulder, and turned to see Corky Beckwith, wearing his usual ingratiating smile.
‘Is there to be no peace?’ said Freddy wearily.
‘Can’t a man watch a public performance of music without being harangued?’ said Corky, affecting an expression of deep hurt. ‘After a day spent in dauntless battle with the intricacies of the English language and those who would seek to shun the light of truth, one wants nothing more than to allow the dulcet notes of the slide trombone to dr
ift gently into one’s consciousness, and yet all you do is hurl unwarranted abuse at me.’
‘Rot,’ said Freddy.
‘Evidently its charms haven’t soothed your savage breast, at any rate,’ said Corky.
‘Can’t you just leave us alone? The story’s over and done with, we brought your car back in perfect condition, and there’s nothing else we have to say that you could possibly be interested in.’
‘Hmph. Think yourself lucky I didn’t have you charged with theft. But as a matter of fact, the car episode fitted in perfectly with my story. You know, plucky reporter wins over against overwhelming odds, and all that.’
‘Ah yes, that sensational work of fiction you published in which you turned up, wrestled heroically with the would-be murderers and saved my life and the life of the helpless Lady Gertrude McAloon.’
‘Well, what of it?’ said Corky, as Gertie snorted at the very idea of being considered helpless.
‘That’s not how I remember it happening. As I recall, Dauncey hauled you in then clipped you one over the ear and made you cry like a girl.’
‘Your memory fails you once again, young Freddy. And anyway, I still beat you to the original Dauncey story.’
‘Oh, stop it,’ said Gertie, seeing that they were about to begin bickering interminably. She tugged at Freddy’s arm. ‘Come on—it’s too nice an evening for this sort of thing. Let’s leave him to his savage trombone, or whatever it is.’
They wandered off and down a path towards the Serpentine. The grass was parched and yellow after the hot summer, but the trees were lush and green, and there was the scent of flowers in the air. People were walking to and fro, enjoying the warmth of the evening, and the sounds of the city could be heard in the distance. They found a bench by the Serpentine and sat down. Freddy was not the sort of man to look too far ahead, but Gertie was good company and he was enjoying being with her for the moment. They talked for a while, then she looked up at him and smiled, and he put his arm round her and kissed her. It was all very easy and pleasant.
‘Look here, I have a deadline to meet. Are you engaged or not?’ said a voice just behind them. It was Corky.
Freddy raised his eyes to heaven. Gertie giggled and turned.
‘Not yet, but you never know!’ she said.
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Books by Clara Benson
THE ANGELA MARCHMONT MYSTERIES
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1. The Murder at Sissingham Hall
2. The Mystery at Underwood House
3. The Treasure at Poldarrow Point
4. The Riddle at Gipsy’s Mile
5. The Incident at Fives Castle
6. The Imbroglio at the Villa Pozzi
7. The Problem at Two Tithes
8. The Trouble at Wakeley Court
9. The Scandal at 23 Mount Street
10. The Shadow at Greystone Chase
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THE FREDDY PILKINGTON-SOAMES ADVENTURES
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1. A Case of Blackmail in Belgravia
2. A Case of Murder in Mayfair
3. A Case of Conspiracy in Clerkenwell
4. A Case of Duplicity in Dorset
5. A Case of Suicide in St. James’s
* * *
SHORT STORIES
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Angela’s Christmas Adventure
The Man on the Train
A Question of Hats
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COLLECTIONS
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Angela Marchmont Mysteries Books 1-3
Angela Marchmont Mysteries Books 4-6
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OTHER
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The Lucases of Lucas Lodge