'Do please to set down, ma'am,' she said, when she had conducted me into a small, airless room which smelt, although less attractively, like one of the hothouses at Kew Gardens. 'You well be the lady as es stayen up the hell weth the lady of the manor, and very glad she es of your company, Oi'll be bound.'
'Yes, Mrs Kempson and I are good friends,' I said, 'but it is not of her that I have come to speak.'
'Oi see you goen up the road with them cheldren of Messus Landgrave's. Dear little souls they be, and knows how to behave themselves, as there's others as don't. Ben to see Messus Honour, Oi reckon, and bought the cheldren some sweeties, as Oi seen them weth sherbet dabs and a bag what could have ben toffee. Oi knows you never went to Mess Summers, because her leves opposyte and Oi would have seen you go en there, wouldn't Oi? So ef the keddies had sweets et was from Messus Honour's, not as she could tell ee much, Oi'll lay. But et pays to be koind to lettle cheldren, don't et, ma'am? The good Lord's lambs they be, when all's said and done. Oi ded hear as et was them as got that poor Poachy Leng to deg up that poor Mester Ward. What an experience for innocent cheldren! Enough to sour their loives on 'em, Oi do declare!'
'I do not think they saw the actual body, you know. They appear to have fled to their grandfather as soon as they realised what Mr Ling was digging up,' I said. 'It seems that the little girl had found one of Mr Ward's elastic-sided boots in the garden of that hideous cottage and jumped to the right conclusion as soon as Mr Ling uncovered the first signs of clothing on the cadaver.'
'To thenk of that, now! And Poachy Leng, as es hes mother's cross en loife-not but what Oi suppose we've all got one of them to trouble us-goen about the vellage as pleased weth hesself as ef he'd found a crock of gold instead of a poor murdered man!'
'Crocks of gold are only found at the foot of the rainbow, I believe,' I said.
She looked at me with a kind of ghoulish craftiness and observed,
'Oi reckon Mester Ward found a crock of gold, all roight, though not en that there old cottage.'
'How do you mean?' I enquired.
'Getten money out of Messus Kempson loike that! Ben en Mother Honour's, Oi have, when Oi see her push hem twenty pounds across her counter, and Oi was en Mess Summers' shop another toime when Oi see Messus Landgrave change a pound for a couple of loaves and a quarter of tea. Oi says to moiself as that must be some of the money as Mester Ward brengs en. Oi see the manor servant come to Messus Landgrave's proud as a lord on one of the carriage horses. Come every Froiday he ded, regular as clockwork, and et was on a Froiday, after he ben, as Oi was en Mess Summers' that toime. Oi knows as Arthur Landgrave, when he's en work, whech ent always, hem be'en a plasterer, gets paid of a Saturday, not a Froiday, so when Oi sees her change a pound on a Froiday, well, you know what to thenk, don't ee?'
'How do you know a servant comes to Mrs Landgrave's house on Fridays?' I asked.
'Her front railings stands a long way further out nor moine. Oi can't see her front door, but Oi can see who comes to her front gate. Oi see you and them cheldren go en a whoile ago.'
'So I suppose you could see Mr Ward leave her house when he went into the village to obtain his money. How did you know it came from Mrs Kempson?'
Told ee of the servant what used to roide down to Landgrave's. He's the Lettlemore's fourth boy and Oi was en Mess Summers' when hes mother come en and Oi made a remark and she stared me down and called me a nosey old busybody, ef ever you heard the loike, and said p'raps Oi'd loike to know who posted a letter every month to Mester Ward and whether they posted et up on the London road or where. So then Oi knowed as sommat funny was goen on.'
'I suppose Mr Ward was an object of curiosity in the village,' I said. 'I know what he was wearing when he was found. Did he always wear elastic-sided boots?'
She launched herself into a full description of Mr Ward's appearance and I memorised it carefully so that I could repeat it to Mrs Kempson, although I did not think it would be of much help for purposes of comparison, since it was five years or more since she had seen what I had begun to believe was the real Mr Ward.
When I returned to Hill House I had to admit to her that I was as far off as ever from being able to elucidate the mystery of Mr Ward's death and burial, and then I asked whether she had been called upon to identify the body. She said that the Landgraves were to do that and would be called at the inquest which would be held on the following day, but that she also proposed to attend it, as it was known that she had been responsible for Mr Ward's support while he had been lodging with the Landgraves.
'You mean that the police know it?' I asked.
'Yes. I knew they would question the Landgraves, so I thought it better to come out with it,' she said. 'I did not want them to think there was any hole and corner business about the matter, since, of course, there was nothing of the sort. It was simply that I would not have Ward in this house.'
'What did Mr Ward look like when you met him?' I asked. 'Can you add anything to what you told me before?'
'Look like? I hardly remember. I suppose he was of average height, not noticeably tall or particularly short. He appeared to be of late middle-age, but I did not receive the impression that he was elderly. Apart from that, my memory fails me. He did not recall my brother to my mind and at first I doubted his claim. In fact, I still do, but it seemed so difficult and probably so expensive to prove him to be an impostor that I took the advice of my lawyers and did not attempt it. Besides, I will admit that something-his voice, I think-did stir some chord in my memory.'
'I think, you know, that it would be as well if you viewed the body. I could easily arrange with the authorities for you to do so,' I told her.
'Quite unnecessary,' she said, very firmly indeed. 'I have not set eyes on Ward since the day he made his impudent claim and should hardly recognise him again. Besides, if he has been residing with the Landgraves all this time, it must be the same man. I do not understand your questioning it.'
'Oh, I am not questioning it,' I said. 'You told me, when first we corresponded on the subject, that you had doubts of the man's true identity and that you had expressed those doubts to your lawyers. I suppose they are a reliable firm?'
'Reliable? Whatever do you mean? They are Price, Price, Whitstable and Price of County Street. They have been our family lawyers for years.'
'Ah, yes,' I said, having gained my objective, which was to find out the name of the firm without having to put a direct question to her. 'I have heard of them. No doubt they gave you the right advice.'
'It was the only advice they could give, considering the circumstances. It has saved me some thousands of pounds in costs, most likely. I was thankful to settle with Ward for his keep and his five pounds a week.'
'Surely a very modest claim for him to have made?'
'Oh, he wanted ten, but I beat him down.'
'But I thought you told me that this estate is entailed in the male line and that he was the rightful heir.'
'He did not wish to inherit. He could not have kept up the place or paid the servants. I received the impression that he was destitute or very nearly so.'
All this, of course, my dear Sir Walter, I had been told before, as you know, but it was helpful to hear it stated categorically all over again and it reinforced my resolution to contact Price, Price, Whitstable and Price and attempt to persuade one of the partners who had seen Mr Ward, when he visited them five years before, to come down and view the body so as to clear up any doubt as to whether their and Mrs Kempson's Mr Ward was also Mrs Landgrave's Mr Ward. It was the Widow Winter's attitude as well as the discrepancies in the attitudes and behaviour of the two, as described by Mrs Kempson and Mrs Landgrave which interested me. It was quite likely that Mr Ward's mental state had deteriorated over five years, but the self-confident individual who had challenged Mrs Kempson and a reputable firm of London lawyers to prove he was not her brother scarcely approximated to what I had been told in the village of the silent, snuff-taking, idiosyncratic stranger who had lived
with the Landgraves during the five years which preceded his death.
The next thing which happened, dear Sir Walter, was very curious indeed. In spite of my suggestion-made more than once-that I was trespassing overlong on her hospitality and that there was nothing I could do for her except to advise her to stay with her daughter and son-in-law in London for a bit if she felt lonely and nervous at the manor house, Mrs Kempson had repeatedly told me that she was glad of and grateful for my company. On the morning following my visit to Mrs Landgrave and the others in the village, however, she appeared to be excited by a letter which she had opened at the breakfast table.
'Oh, how very nice!' she exclaimed. 'It is from Nigel. He is able to spend a day or two with me and is coming tomorrow. Oh!' Her expression changed. 'He wonders whether he can have me all to himself, as he has much to discuss with me. Now that is a little tiresome of him. He knows I have you staying with me.'
I was glad enough of an excuse to take my departure from Hill House in order to obtain more freedom of movement than I could enjoy as Mrs Kempson's guest, so I agreed at once that it was only to be expected that when Mr Nigel had the opportunity to visit her, and as they saw so little of one another in the ordinary way, they should wish to be alone together. I suggested that I should take my leave of her immediately, so that the servants could tidy my room and have everything in apple-pie order for Mr Nigel's arrival on the morrow. She seemed greatly relieved and attempted explanations which I thought it better to cut short.
I am writing this letter, therefore, from Mrs Landgrave's pleasant, semi-detached villa residence, where I have arranged to take over (temporarily) Mr Ward's two rooms.
Chapter 16
The Wrongful Heir
Living in Mr Ward's quarters is a revealing and pleasant experience. The Clifton children have been summoned home and, although I miss their company, it is a relief to be alone and untrammelled. This is no place for infants who know as much as Margaret and Kenneth do, and I am also keeping an eye open on my own account, for matters are coming to a head.
You will hardly need to ask why I say this when I tell you of the latest developments in this murder-ridden village. As I mentioned in my last letter, the strange discrepancies between the account Mrs Kempson gave me of Mr Ward and the descriptions of him which I have had from the children and Mrs Landgrave suggested that I should bring in an outside witness to look at the body before the inquest on it was held.
I hoped to persuade Mrs Kempson to collaborate with me in getting her lawyers to appoint one of their number to come down. I even thought that curiosity might induce her to visit the town mortuary herself to assist in the identification, and this proved to be the case.
Fortunately my official standing with the Home Office meant that no obstacles were put in my way by the local people, and yesterday the three of us, Mrs Kempson, Mr Iowerth Price and myself were able to visit the town mortuary and inspect the features of the deceased.
They meant nothing to me, of course, so far as identifying them was concerned, as I had never met the living Mr Ward, but the effect on my companions was instantaneous and, to me, gratifying. My hunch, if you care to call it that, although I prefer to have it thought that I had based it on sound psychological evidence, has proved to be correct. Neither the lawyer nor Mrs Kempson had any hesitation in declaring that the body they were shown was not that of the person who had introduced himself to them five years previously as Mrs Kempson's brother.
'No resemblance at all,' said Mrs Kempson firmly, and Mr Price agreed with her.
And a man past middle age doesn't change all that much in appearance in five years,' he said. Yet, strangely enough, when Mrs Landgrave had been taken to view the body, without hesitation she had identified it, as her husband had already done-for they were taken separately to view it-as that of her late lodger.
That is Mr Ward,' she said. Later, I asked Mrs Kempson, who was now both puzzled and shocked, which of the two men was more like what she remembered of her brother. I reminded her that she had said she did not recognise the first Mr Ward as such, and at their first meeting she had decided, until her lawyers advised against it, to contest his claim.
'So far as I remember my brother before he went to America,' she said, 'neither of them reminded me of Ward. I am beginning to think that neither of them was Ward, that the news of his death was correct and that these two men must have been friends or, more likely, fellow-prisoners of his. But how strange that they should both have conceived this idea of impersonating him, particularly as neither seems to have been prepared to claim the inheritance. Perhaps they dared not go so far as that.'
I suggested to her that she and Mr Price should give the police as full a description of the first Mr Ward as their memories would allow them to do. You will have come to the same conclusion as I did, I think, dear Sir Walter. Whoever had murdered Merle Patterson, there was no doubt in my own mind that the first Mr Ward had dramatically reappeared after five years and, for some reason known only to himself, had killed Mrs Landgrave's lodger, the second Mr Ward.
The verdict at the inquest was the anticipated one. Murder by person or persons unknown was a certainty, and so here we are, the police and I, with two unsolved crimes on our hands and a minor mystery to unravel as well.
As you will appreciate, it is difficult to envisage two murderers living in this small, obscure village, and yet there seems so little connexion between the two deaths as to suggest that they are entirely unrelated. The only link appears to be Mrs Kempson herself, but it is so weak that it hardly merits serious examination.
My first theory was that Mr Ward was murdered because he had been an involuntary witness of the slaughter of Merle Patterson, but what we learned at this second inquest has disposed of any such idea. The medical evidence now insists that Mr Ward was killed first, probably one or two days earlier than the young woman. This coincides, of course, with the Landgraves' assertion that Mr Ward had not slept in their house on either the Friday or the Saturday night.
Apart, therefore, from another theory of mine that Mr Ward himself (mentally unstable, as Mrs Landgrave had shown him to be) had murdered Miss Patterson wantonly and for no reason which would be entertained by a sane person, it is now clear that neither could he have been a witness to her death.
It seems reasonable to proceed, therefore, on the assumption either that there are two murderers living, if not actually in or near the village, at least with access to and knowledge of it, or that there is some connexion, most unlikely though it seems, between the two deaths. Otherwise there is a homicidal maniac in this neighbourhood, a most unwelcome idea.
Mrs Landgrave tells me that people are careful to lock their doors and fasten their windows at night, and to keep their children indoors in the evenings (although these are still long and light), and the gypsies are spoken of with more than the usual mistrust and suspicion.
There are two reasons why I am anxious to test my theory that the first Mr Ward is a murderer. First, I cannot think why he has waited for more than five years before killing the second Mr Ward; second, and connected with it, I wonder why he permitted the second Mr Ward to live in comfortable lodgings (which I can assure you these most certainly are) with good food and five pounds a week to spend as he pleased, when he himself might have been enjoying these benefits. One is forced to the conclusion that he had to be seen and known in haunts other than the village street and public house, and that his plans required a substitute in Mrs Landgrave's reputable home.
I should be grateful to have the benefit of your thoughts upon all this, as the experience of a great advocate would be most valuable in such a puzzling case. The explanation of its mysteries may be staring me in the face and is probably perfectly simple, but at the moment it is baffling the police as well as myself and there is talk of calling in Scotland Yard. For more reasons than one, such a proceeding would be quite in order, especially as the dead girl was a Londoner and so the solution of one of our problems may well lie in L
ondon and not in this village.
It might be worth while to remember that on the night of Merle Patterson's murder five persons, not including little Lionel, have no alibi, so far as we know, for the time of that crime. Doctor Tassall was called out to a confinement, Nigel Kempson went into the town to pick up the photographer, Mrs Kempson went upstairs (she says) to bed and Mr and Mrs Conyers retired (they say) to their own quarters.
I am grateful to note, dear Sir Walter, that your mind marches with mine. Since my last letter there have been some interesting developments. Scotland Yard have been in touch with New York and there seems no doubt now that the woman who wrote to Mrs Kempson was right and that the real (or shall we call him, for the sake of clarity, the third) Mr Ward died out there as the woman stated.
I have decided, therefore, to drop the enquiry into Mr Ward's death (I mean, by this, the murdered Mr Ward) and to concentrate on the death of Merle Patterson. The problem here, as you point out, is to determine whether she was killed in her own right, so to speak, or whether she was mistaken, as we have suggested, for Lionel Kempson-Conyers.
I obtained the Pattersons' address from Mrs Kempson, who had issued the invitation to the birthday party to Merle's brother, and went to see them at their London home. It was obvious they have not recovered from the shock of their daughter's death but were anxious to do anything in their power to bring her murderer to book.
From them I obtained the address of the school where their son is a junior master and here, my dear Sir Walter, the story takes a most unhelpful turn. The young man is as anxious as his parents are to have his sister's killer apprehended. Unfortunately his evidence has blown what I thought was my case completely to pieces.
He states that it was quite untrue that he had received an injury on the cricket field which had left him temporarily incapacitated. He had accepted the invitation to the party and had fully intended to drive his three young female friends to Hill House when he received a letter from his sister. In it she begged him to think of some way in which she could get herself invited to the party. Not to weary you with unnecessary details, the fact was that she had been engaged to young Doctor Tassall before he met and fell in love with Amabel Kempson-Conyers.
[Mrs Bradley 50] - Late, Late in the Evening Page 15