Suicide Excepted

by Cyril Hare

  “ ‘No. 10. Mr. Stewart Davitt, of 42 Hawk Street, London, W.C. Arrived the 10th August, by train and hotel conveyance; left on the 14th by the same. This gentleman was described to me by one of the staff as “the mystery man.” It appears that from the time of his arrival up to his departure he did not go outside the hotel, and, indeed, only rarely left his room. He is said to have explained that he was engaged upon work of a vitally important character and needed absolute rest and quiet. All his meals were served in his room. I was told that he was “a nice-looking young man,” but could obtain no further particulars of his appearance. On the evening of the 13th, he asked for his account, and said that it would be necessary for him to catch the earliest fast train to London from Swanbury Junction, some eight miles away. This involved his leaving the hotel at approximately 6.30 a.m. the next morning, which he duly did, being driven to the station by the car attached to the hotel. In view of the decidedly unusual circumstances attending this person, I endeavoured to obtain further particulars concerning him, but without success. I was unable to ascertain anything re his work, about which, it seems, he was extremely reticent. It is to be presumed that it was of a literary nature.

  “ ‘No. 11. Mr. Leonard Dickinson.

  “ ‘6. The above information comprises all that I was able to ascertain re the matters to which my instructions were confined. I took the liberty, however, of pursuing my investigations somewhat further, with a view to discovering any matter which might throw light on the death of the deceased. I therefore venture to append the following.

  “ ‘7. The deceased retired to bed on the night of the 13th August, at approximately 10.45 p.m. Before doing so, he went to the reception office and asked (a) that a pot of china tea with a slice of lemon should be sent up to his room in about a quarter of an hour’s time, and (b) that his breakfast should be served to him in bed the next morning at 9.0 a.m. (a) was duly performed; it was when he was called next morning prior to (b) that his death was discovered. Death was found to be due to the deceased having swallowed a quantity of Medinal overnight. These matters were, I am given to understand, investigated in the ordinary way at the inquest, the assumption being that the deceased took the fatal dose in the tea. This remained an assumption only, due to the fact that the teapot and cup had been removed and washed before the fact of death was discovered. It seemed to be a reasonable one, however, and I deemed it desirable to proceed upon the basis that it was correct, the question being whether anybody other than the deceased could have inserted the poison in the tea.

  “ ‘8. I accordingly proceeded to question the two persons who seemed most likely to assist on this question, viz. Miss Rosie Belling, chambermaid, and Miss Susan Carter, waitress (whom I have already mentioned, supra, Para. 2). Miss Belling was not very helpful. All that she could say was that at approximately 8.15 a.m. on the morning of the 14th August she went into room No. 11 and removed from it the tray with the teapot and cup upon it. Mr. Dickinson having given orders for breakfast in bed at 9.0 a.m., she would not normally have gone into his room at that hour, but for the fact that, several other guests having demanded tea in the morning, there was a shortage of tea-sets, following an accident on the staircase two mornings before. On this occasion, seeing the deceased apparently still asleep, she merely removed the tray and went out again without attempting to disturb him. On returning, shortly before 9.0 a.m., to inquire whether he was ready for breakfast, the fact of his death was ascertained, by which time the teapot and cup had been washed and used by another guest.

  “ ‘9. Miss Carter’s evidence at the inquest was confined to the fact that she took a tray up to the deceased’s room on the night in question. In answer to my inquiries, however, she was able to describe her movements in very much more detail. It appears that this particular evening was an unusually busy one for her, so far as work upstairs was concerned. For besides taking the tea-tray to No. 11, she also had to take up dinner as usual to Mr. Davitt (No. 10), supper to Mr. and Mrs. Jones (No. 4) and hot water, sugar, lemon, and whisky to Mr. Vanning (No. 6). In fact, she had somewhat of a grievance re the amount of fetching and carrying that had to be done, especially in regard to No. 4, for it appears that these persons, having originally ordered a meal downstairs, changed their minds at the last moment. So far as I was able to ascertain, she visited the bedroom floor of the hotel four times during the course of the evening, as follows:

  “ ‘8.15 p.m. Taking dinner to No. 10.

  “ ‘9.0 p.m. Taking supper to No. 4, and removing dinner-tray from No. 10.

  “ ‘10.0 p.m. Removing supper-tray from No. 4.

  “ ‘11.0 p.m. Taking tea to No. 11 and hot water, etc. to No. 6.

  “ ‘10. I asked Miss Carter whether she had observed anything unusual in the manner of the deceased on bringing him his tea, and in reply she stated that on that occasion she had not seen him at all, but had only heard his voice. She explained that from her previous experience of the deceased, upon whom she had waited during several former visits of his to the hotel, she knew him to have a particular distaste to the presence of anybody, particularly any female, in his bedroom when he was, or might be, incompletely attired. Accordingly she merely knocked at the door, informed him of the fact that his tea was awaiting him and went away, leaving the tray in the corridor. Asked whether she had followed the same procedure in the case of Mr. Vanning she professed difficulty in recollecting the same, but finally stated that she was of opinion that on her knocking at his door he had himself opened it and taken the tray from her hand.

  “ ‘11. In view of the obvious significance of the facts stated in Para. 10 above, I deemed it advisable to inquire as to who of the residents in the hotel were in their rooms at the time when the tray was left outside No. 11. Miss Carter, having ascended to the first floor from the kitchen premises by the service staircase, was unable to state who was still in the lounge or smoking-room on the ground floor, and apart from Mr. Vanning, she saw nobody on the first floor at that time. One of the bathrooms was being used as she passed along the corridor, but she was unable to say which it was. The remainder of the staff were uncertain in their recollection on the point, but by collating all the evidence available, I was able to arrive at the conclusion that the following were at 11.0 p.m. almost certainly in their rooms:

  Mr. Vanning.

  Mr. Dickinson.

  Mr. Davitt.

  Mr. & Mrs. Jones.

  Mr. Parsons.

  “ ‘The following were in all probability in their rooms:

  Mr. Howard-Blenkinsop.

  Mrs. Carstairs.

  Mr. Mallett.

  “ ‘As to the remainder, Mrs. Howard-Blenkinsop sat on in the lounge after her son had gone to bed, endeavouring to finish a game of patience, and Mr. Carstairs, after retiring at the same time as Mrs. Carstairs, shortly returned again to the lounge, where he gave some assistance to Mrs. Howard-Blenkinsop in her game. I was able to ascertain positively that the lights were extinguished before midnight, and that these two individuals were the last to retire.

  “ ‘12. With regard to the management and staff, I was unsuccessful in obtaining any information to the detriment of these. The deceased appears to have been regarded as an asset to the establishment rather than otherwise, and I could not find any evidence suggesting that a motive was present for procuring his death so far as they were concerned. They appeared to be a respectable body of individuals, though in some respects deficient from the viewpoint of efficiency.

  “ ‘13. The above concludes my inquiries at Pendlebury Old Hall Hotel, and I await further instructions.

  “ ‘(Signed)

  “ ‘Jas. Elderson.’ ”

  Chapter Ten

  Plan of Campaign

  Saturday, August 26th

  Stephen finished his reading and looked round at his audience. Anne, from her foot-stool, was regarding the carpet with an air of intense concentration. Martin was making notes with a stubby pencil on the back of
an old envelope. He continued to do so for some moments after Stephen’s voice had ceased, and then looked up.

  “May I have a look at the blighter’s plan of the course, Stevie, old son?” he asked.

  Stephen handed him the plan, and Martin gave it a cursory glance through his thick spectacles.

  “Thanks,” he said, giving it back. “Well, we’ve got all the doings now, haven’t we? I plump for Davitt, myself. Room next door and all, he’d have heard the girl knock on your guv’nor’s door. Then all he had to do was to pop out and bung the stuff in the tea-pot. It’s an open and shut case, I think. Don’t you think so, Annie?”

  Anne said, without looking up:

  “There seem to have been a lot of odd people in that hotel. What about Vanning and Parsons? Parsons was a bad sleeper—he may very well have had Medinal with him. And then there are the Joneses—”

  “Nothing odd about them. Just a couple out loose on the spree. It would have been much odder if there hadn’t been a pair like that in a country hotel at the week-end. No, put your shirt on Davitt, the man of mystery, first favourite in the murderer’s stakes. What do you say, Steve?”

  “I think you will be making a great mistake if you start theorizing at this stage,” said Stephen pedantically. “To begin with, you have got to consider all the evidence, and not simply what I have just read you.”

  “But that is all the evidence, ain’t it?” said Martin.

  “Not entirely. There are two other matters which may have some bearing on the problem. To begin with, here is a bit of ancient history which Mother told me the other day. Rather a nasty bit of history, I’m afraid.”

  He bit his lip and coloured slightly.

  “Come on, Steve, don’t be shy!” Martin guffawed. “Out with the old family skeleton!”

  Stephen related, as briefly as he could, the gist of the letters which his mother had shown him two days before.

  “I may add,” he concluded, “that Mother’s guess turned out to be perfectly right. I have been to Somerset House, and there is no doubt that the woman in question is this same Frances Annie March.”

  During the recital, Anne remained silent, still apparently in contemplation of some private problem of her own. Martin, however, was regrettably vocal. His appreciation of Mr. Dickinson’s lapse was quite unrestrained in its expression.

  “Who’d have thought the old man had so much blood in him?” was his final comment on the disclosure. “That’s Shakespeare, or something like it. But seriously, Steve, does this get us any forrarder? Unless you’re going to say that Frances Annie and the injured Richard are really Mrs. Whatnot-Blenkinsop and her son. Is that what you’re after?”

  “At the moment I’m merely after facts,” said Stephen stiffly. “That happens to be one of them. Now here’s another. Perhaps you’ll think it more important. There was someone in the hotel that night whom Father thought he recognized.”

  He repeated what he had learned from the inspector of the man whose appearance had interrupted their conversation in the lounge. Martin showed little interest.

  “That doesn’t cut much ice with me,” was his verdict. “Lots of chaps make mistakes like that. Only the other day I slapped a bloke on the back in the street, and it turned out I didn’t know him from Adam. Most embarrassing. Besides, if this fellow was somebody staying in the hotel, why should your father have only seen him that once and not before or after? It was probably just a local who had blown in for a drink.”

  “Or,” said Anne slowly, “or it was somebody who didn’t want to be seen again. Somebody who had ordered a meal downstairs and changed his mind when he saw that Father was in the place. Mr. Jones, in fact.”

  “Um,” said Martin, visibly impressed. “Um!” He relit his pipe and said no more for a moment or two. “All the same,” he added, after reflection, “I still think Davitt is the man. With Jones as runner-up, perhaps. But I don’t for the life of me see why a fellow should want to take a girl with him on a murdering expedition. I’m dam’ sure I shouldn’t—not even you, Annie.”

  “Perhaps—” Anne began, but Stephen interrupted her.

  “This is getting us nowhere,” he said impatiently. “We haven’t a ha’porth of evidence to put before the Insurance Company to convince them that any of these people are guilty of the murder. All we have shown so far is that, as Anne says, there were an odd lot of people in the hotel. Also that there was an opportunity for somebody to put an overdose of Medinal in the tea-pot before it reached Father. And that’s not enough, by a long way.”

  “Perfectly right,” said Martin. “No use wasting time gassing about these chaps. We’ve got to follow them up and try to find out something about them. This is where the sleuthing starts. Give us our marching orders, Steve.”

  “To begin with,” said Stephen, “we’ve got some addresses to go on. Two of them are in London—Davitt and the Joneses. Then there are the Howard-Blenkinsops in Lincolnshire, and the Carstairs at Brighton. Vanning’s address we don’t know, except that he’s somewhere in London, and Parsons is somewhere in Midchester. Presumably we could get at him through his club.”

  “If my club porter gave my address to a casual inquirer, I’d have his hide off,” Martin observed parenthetically.

  “When we find Parsons, we can find Vanning,” Stephen went on. “If he is willing to help us, which he may very likely not be.”

  “Need we bother about these people?” Martin asked. “When we’ve got Davitt and Jones sticking out a mile? It seems to me obvious that these other chaps couldn’t have had anything to do with it.”

  “It is anything but obvious,” Stephen retorted. “I agree that we know nothing about them at all. That doesn’t mean we ought to leave them out of account altogether. As for Parsons and Vanning, there is one very significant fact about them, which you seem to have overlooked.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Simply this. Parsons booked both rooms. The room he booked for Vanning was the room that, as it turned out, Father slept in. It was next door to his own. Can we be sure that Parsons knew of the change? Father had something sent up to his room last thing at night. So did Vanning—do you remember the report says he was surprised to hear next morning that he had got up and had breakfast?—isn’t it quite possible that he poisoned Father by mistake, thinking—”

  “Thinking that a pot of tea was a bottle of whisky, I suppose,” Martin interrupted with a horse laugh.

  “If you’re going to make a silly joke of the whole thing—” said Stephen crossly.

  “I’m not, really, old man. I think it’s all too frightfully subtle for words. Just exactly what you called getting us nowhere just now.”

  At which point the tension was mercifully relieved by the gong sounding for lunch.

  * * *

  In the afternoon the conference was resumed in a quieter mood.

  “Obviously, we want to start with the nearest people,” said Martin. “That is, Davitt and Jones. First question: Do we try our own hand or get Elderson to do the dirty work for us?”

  “We employed Elderson only because I didn’t want to be seen at Pendlebury,” said Stephen. “So far as the start of our inquiry goes, I think we should keep it in our own hands. We can fall back on him if the business looks like getting beyond us.”

  “Right. Second question: What line exactly do we take? I mean, it’s all very well to talk about making inquiries, following people up and so forth, but unless you’re a bobby, you can’t just go to a chap’s house and say: ‘Oh, Mr. So-and-so, I’m told you were staying at Pendlebury the other day. Did you by any chance happen to murder an old gentleman called Dickinson while you were there, because if so, I want your blood?’ At least, I don’t see myself doing it.”

  “I propose to use my own common sense in the matter, and take whatever line seems best in the circumstances. I certainly don’t intend to interview any of these people directly, until I have found out something about them, unless there’s absolutely no other line of appro
ach.”

  “I see—just nose around a bit, make oneself sweet to hall porters and landladies and so forth. Then get an interview by pretending you want to sell something, or that you’re a long-lost brother from Fiji, or something of that sort. It ought to be rather a lark. Now, third and last question: Do we go out in a pack after the stuff, or do we split up, one lion to a Christian, so to speak?”

  Anne broke her silence to say: “For goodness’ sake, Martin, don’t let you and Stephen go out on this business together. You know you’d simply be bickering the whole time.”

  “I think we had better see what we can do individually, to start with, at any rate,” said Stephen. “We can join forces later if necessary.”