Lord James Harrington and the Autumn Mystery

by Lynn Florkiewicz

  ‘Oh my!’ He dashed toward his friend, who was sitting against the wall with his head in his hands. ‘Stephen, what’s happened? Are you ill?’

  Stephen slowly brought his head up and winced. ‘Someone pushed me and I hit my head on the wall.’

  James bent over Stephen and examined his head.

  ‘You’ve got a nasty bruise coming up there. You may be concussed. Why don’t I take you down to the hospital? It’s only down the road.’

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ Anne said as she scurried to Stephen’s side. ‘What’s happened?’

  James, noting Stephen’s subtle shake of the head, simply told her that her husband had tripped over. Beth joined them, wearing a concerned expression.

  ‘What did you trip on?’

  ‘F-fresh air, I’m afraid,’ said Stephen.’ I c-can be a little clumsy.’ He closed his eyes. Out of earshot of the women, he whispered to James. ‘I think it was that b-bulky chap from the f-festival. He was certainly a large man.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Stephen felt his head. ‘As sure as I can be.’

  After a brief examination by Philip Jackson, it was decided that a check-up would be the best thing. Philip insisted that Anne stay at Cory House and he would take Stephen himself. Ten minutes later, all had returned to normal and Anne chivvied Luke and Mark inside, insisting their father was not going to die. Beth sidled up to James who stood motionless, staring at the gravel.

  ‘Penny for your thoughts?’

  ‘He didn’t trip over, Beth.’

  ‘Oh my goodness!’

  James went through the events as Stephen described.

  ‘Do you think Locksmith Joe did this?’ Beth asked.

  ‘I really don’t know what to think.’

  ‘But yesterday evening you were convinced that this convict was innocent.’

  Glancing beyond her, something caught his eye. He held her elbow lightly and guided her toward the back of the house.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Prying.’

  At the rear of the garden was a substantial pile of junk seemingly ready for a bonfire. James picked up a sturdy stick and poked about.

  Beth looked on. ‘What on earth are you doing?’

  ‘Searching for clues. Anne said some of the children from the village were rummaging around here. If Locksmith Joe was here, it would be for one reason only.’

  ‘The camera!’

  James rummaged around and picked out old clothes, discarded oil cans and a rusty kettle. He squatted down and picked up a small brown jar.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Beth.

  He sniffed the contents and scrutinised the faded writing on the label. ‘Some sort of glue.’

  They frowned at each other. He threw the bottle back and poked about some more. There were old boots, a pile of moth-eaten overcoats and what appeared to be pieces of sheep’s wool and bits of iron and wood. In truth, he knew that discovering the camera would be too good to be true. He picked up a hobnail boot and frowned.

  ‘James, that’s filthy, put it back.’

  He examined it closely. The boots were familiar but he couldn’t place them. James and Beth ambled back to the house.

  ‘Sweetie, why would anyone want to harm Stephen?’

  ‘I don’t think there was any real intention. If it was Locksmith Joe, going by Bert’s observations, he’s not a violent man.’ He wrapped an arm around Beth and they strolled back indoors where Calvin, Lucy and Suzie rushed to express their shock at the news.

  ‘This bloody house is cursed,’ said Calvin. ‘The sooner we sell it the better.’

  ‘Your father’s probably haunting it,’ said Lucy. ‘He hated people and he probably hates everyone being here.’

  ‘Well, he won’t have to wait much longer for us all to clear out.’

  Later that evening, James settled in front of the television to watch Sunday Night at the London Palladium. He snaked an arm around Beth’s shoulders. Had Locksmith Joe been at the house to hunt for the camera? Who else could it have been? The telephone rang and James left Beth enjoying the programme to answer it.

  ‘Hello James, it’s Anne.’

  ‘Anne, how’s Stephen? Is he on the mend?’

  ‘Slight concussion, that’s all. They’ve kept him in overnight just to be on the safe side. He asked me to call you.’

  ‘About?’

  She whispered, ‘He said he thinks he’s seen where there could be a secret passage.’

  James gasped. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, isn’t it exciting? Anyway, he wondered if you could pick him up at the hospital tomorrow and he’ll go through it with you.’

  James expressed his thanks and returned to the lounge where Beth noted his expression.

  ‘James, you look perplexed.’

  ‘That was Anne. She says that Stephen may have found a secret passage.’

  ‘I thought you said there wasn’t one? Had you better tell George?’

  He slipped onto the sofa beside her.

  ‘Not until I know for sure that it is one.’ He faced Beth. ‘Will you and Anne enter into a conspiracy, please? I need to make sure Cory House is empty.’

  After some reluctance from Beth and a quick phone call, James organised a plan of action for the following day. He helped himself to a whisky and silently celebrated a possible breakthrough in the investigation of the deaths of Christie and Jeannie Cameron.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  The matron at the cottage hospital on the outskirts of Cavendish pointed James in the direction of Stephen Merryweather. The reverend was dressed and sitting at the side of his bed with a cup of tea, staring out of the ward window.

  ‘Ah Stephen, how are you?’

  Stephen welcomed him with a smile. ‘I’m qu-quite well, thank you and ready to go home. Shall I ask for another cup?’

  ‘No, don’t bother,’ James unbuttoned his jacket and sat on the bed. ‘Anne tells me you have an idea about a secret passage.’

  ‘Yes.’ Stephen put his tea down and pulled out a scrap of paper and a pen. ‘I remember you talking about it the other day. I think I’ve seen an anomaly in the a-architecture. You only really see it if you step back.’

  He pushed his teacup away and drew a sketch of the side wall. James shifted his position to observe.

  ‘The b-building has two large chimneys on the left wall. They protrude so the wall isn’t flat.’

  He turned the drawing toward James. It was a crude and somewhat childish sketch but he didn’t really see an anomaly. His friend smiled.

  ‘Mm, I-I’m not Constable.’ He discarded the drawing. ‘But if you examine the wall from a distance, y-you will notice the left chimney is much wider than the right. And, if you stand a-against the wall, the left ch-chimney has more depth, too.’ Stephen met his gaze. ‘You’ve seen the rooms. Is one fireplace bigger than the other?’

  James stared out of the window and visualised the two rooms belonging to Boyd and Christie.

  ‘No, not to warrant such an anomaly. Did you see any opening at all?’

  ‘I s-saw some loose stonework. Th-that’s when I was pushed.’

  ‘Did this man come from the back of the house?’

  ‘I think so. D-does that make a difference?’

  James slid off the bed and helped Stephen to his feet. ‘Perhaps. You really have to stop getting yourself knocked about every time you look into something. Let’s get you home, then I can go and investigate.’

  His friend pulled him back. ‘You’re n-not going there alone, are you?’

  James held Stephen’s arm as they wandered out. ‘Absolutely not. Beth and Anne have invited the Cameron brothers and nieces to tea at Elsie’s. Once they’re out of the way, Bert and I will visit Cory House and see if we can find a way in.’

  When he dropped Stephen off at the vicarage, his friend poked his head back through the open car window.

  ‘D-do let me know how you get on.’

  ‘I certainly will.’ He
put the Jaguar into gear and sped off, quietly anticipating an adventurous afternoon.

  James parked the car in a lay-by a few hundred yards from Cory House. He and Bert scampered up the drive until they arrived at the side wall of the impressive building. He examined the structure and immediately saw what Stephen was driving at. Out of curiosity, he marched around the building to the opposite wall, where no such anomaly existed.

  Returning to Bert, he saw his friend running his finger along the stonework.

  ‘Anything?’

  ‘Maybe. This line o’ stones is narrower than the rest.’

  James examined the ground and told Bert that the builders of the house had been expert masons. He drew attention to some of the intricate work that had gone into the construction. He squatted down, scooped up a powdery texture and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger.

  ‘Cement mix.’

  Bert’s probing fingers moved along the stonework and above the powder.

  ‘Oi, oi. Look at this.’ He eased out a loose stone and placed it on the ground. Bending over, he peered into the crevice and stood back to let James see.

  James peered in. ‘Good Lord!’ He reached into the crevice and pulled a lever. A section of the wall pivoted inward to reveal a spiral, stone staircase.

  They stood gawping at each other for several seconds before James spoke. ‘Shall we?’

  ‘It’s what we’re ’ere for,’ said Bert. ‘I’ll follow you up.’

  James reached into his pocket and brought out a small torch as he mounted the stairs. He likened them to the stone stairs he’d seen in large churches that led to the bell-tower. In a few seconds, they came to a narrow landing. He stopped one step below it. He felt Bert immediately behind him peering around his arm as he shone the torch about.

  The beam picked out two further levers, one on either side of the landing.

  ‘These must give access to the two bedrooms,’ said James. ‘This left one takes you through to Christie’s room, the right one to Boyd’s.’

  He went to step up but Bert pulled him back.

  ‘Shine yer light. There, on the top step.’

  James shone the beam on the stone floor and frowned. Careful not to knock Bert back, he squatted down. Both sides showed a number of footprints in the dust.

  ‘D’you see that?’

  ‘Yeah. I reckon Boyd’s been in and out a few times.’

  ‘So have others, judging by the amount of activity in and out of Christie’s room.’

  ‘Yer gonna ’ave to tell George about this. Don’t tread on the landing – he’ll kill you if you mess that up.’

  James handed Bert the torch and reached across to pull the left lever. As he did so, a gap appeared in the wall as part of it slid to the side. He stared at Bert, then reached across to the right lever and tried that. The wall opened a fraction of an inch but no more.

  ‘I think something’s blocking this.’

  Bert nudged him to the left and, avoiding the top step, they ducked into Christie Cameron’s bedroom. James gazed at the opening and studied it with a sense of wonder. Whoever designed this had made a jolly fine job of camouflaging it. Bert began opening drawers, feeling under shelves and checking the top of the wardrobe.

  ‘What’re you doing?’

  ‘Seeing if there’s a camera or film ’ere.’

  ‘I say, was Locksmith Joe here yesterday?’

  Bert shrugged and said he hadn’t seen him for a couple of days. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’ll go through it with you later,’ replied James. ‘Meanwhile, let’s see if we can find that camera and anything else that may give us clue.’ He checked his watch. They still had a while. ‘You check here. I’ll check the other rooms. Be careful to put everything back as you find it. Should we wear gloves or something?’

  Bert told him to use his handkerchief if he was going to pick about. He made his way out onto the landing and across to Jeannie Cameron’s room. Like Christie’s, it was sparse and held nothing in the way of a memento or souvenirs. But, to be thorough, James left no stone unturned and rummaged through every drawer, cupboard and shelf in sight. He heaved himself inside the loft through a trapdoor in the ceiling, but his torchlight picked out nothing but cobwebs and dust.

  His last port of call was Boyd’s room, which was a mass of books, photographs, toys and models. He stood in the doorway. A sense of guilt fell on him. Bert came out of the spare room to join him.

  ‘What’s up? Whatcha waiting for?’

  ‘I can’t search Boyd’s things. It’s not right.’

  Bert rested a hand on his shoulder. ‘Would this Christie bloke ’ave stashed it with his boy?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought so. Boyd’s too inquisitive. If he found a film, I would hazard a guess that he’d try to develop it.’

  He felt Bert tap his shoulder lightly. ‘Then we leave it. There’s nothin’ up ’ere. Let’s try downstairs.’

  James held an index finger up as a reminder and dashed over to the secret doorway that was still ajar.

  ‘Here. Boyd must have moved this bookcase out of the way when he went out. This must be how he escaped to the scarecrow festival.’ He checked his watch again. ‘We’ve been some time. I asked Beth to keep them away for at least an hour.’

  ‘Will she stall ’em?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ replied James. ‘They may have plans or something. Bert, I really don’t want to be found creeping around here. We can perhaps check downstairs another time.’

  However, Bert nudged him forward and, before he had a chance to protest, he found himself standing in the hallway.

  ‘Right, Jimmy boy, you take the front room, I’ll do the kitchen.’

  James went through to the room he’d first entered on his initial visit to Cory House. What a different place it was now. Boyd’s books and models were scattered across the table tops and floor, a couple of photos were perched on the mantelpiece and the religious tapestries and crosses had been replaced by landscape pictures.

  There was little furniture, however, so searching drawers and cupboards took him only a couple of minutes. Bert appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Anything?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said James. With a start, he looked up.

  Gravel crunched outside.

  He froze.

  His heart thumped.

  They dashed into the hall and bounded up the stairs. On the landing, James glimpsed over the banister in time to see an envelope flutter onto the door mat.

  He closed his eyes in relief. ‘It’s the ruddy postman.’

  Bert grinned and pushed him into Christie’s room and back through the walled doorway.

  James looked down to check his footing and something caught his eye. ‘Bert, what’s that? There, by your left foot?’

  His friend bent down and picked up a slip of paper and handed it to James, who slipped it into his pocket.

  ‘I’ll look at that later. Let’s get out of here before they get back.’

  Inside the passageway James pulled the lever and watched the secret door close. He reached to the right and did the same to close the door on Boyd’s room.

  He squinted as they emerged into the sunlight. Another pull of a lever and the walled door shut tight – a perfect join.

  Bert replaced the loose stone. ‘That’s a right clever bit o’ work, ain’t it? Proper mason work. I ’eard they often slipped in a secret passage and now we’ve seen one.’

  ‘Ingenious,’ replied James. ‘Come on. I’m really not comfortable being here, they could be back at any minute.’

  They flitted through the trees and shrubs that lined the driveway. James’ heart beat a little slower once they’d got off the property and to the car unseen. He chivvied Bert along and couldn’t relax until he’d driven some distance from the house, where he eventually pulled onto a grass verge and they both lit a cigarette.

  ‘Bert, I can’t thank you enough for coming. You provide me with a sense of confidence in such situations.’
r />   ‘You’ve always ’elped me, Jimmy boy. And, let’s face it, this is more my line than yours.’

  ‘Do you want dropping off somewhere?’

  After delivering Bert to the bus stop, James returned home. Beth was still out, so he went to telephone George. Before he could so, however, the telephone rang. He grabbed the receiver.

  ‘Cavendish 261?’

  ‘Sweetie, it’s me.’

  ‘Oh, hello darling. I thought you’d be back.’

  ‘I won’t be long, but I thought you’d want to know. That man you met at the Wendover.’

  ‘Swiss?’

  ‘That’s him. He called just as you left earlier. He wants us to meet him for dinner tonight. I didn’t know if you had plans so I said you’d call him. I’ve left the number on the pad by the phone. I’m happy to go if you are.’

  James read the message. ‘Did he have a reason for wanting to see us?’

  ‘Only that he hinted that he had some information that you may find interesting?’

  ‘Right-ho. I’ll give him a call now.’

  ‘How did you get on?’

  ‘Are you still with the Camerons?’

  ‘We’re about to drop them home now.’

  James indicated that his excursion with Bert was a waste of time and hung up. While Beth could easily keep this to herself, he didn’t want to instil any excitement in her, especially with Anne about, who could sniff out a clue at the drop of a hat. No, he’d update Beth on the way to London.

  Good. Things were coming together. They’d discovered a way into the locked room and now Swiss might have some vital information. He dashed upstairs with the excitement of a schoolboy receiving a new Meccano set.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  At Haywards Heath railway station, James purchased two return tickets to Victoria and, turning, collided with George.

  ‘George! What’re you doing here?’

  ‘I called the house and Mrs Jepson was there. Said you were off to London, so I took a chance that you’d be here.’ He pulled them away from the ticket desk. ‘I understand Stephen was attacked.’