A Case of Spirits (15 page)

‘
She
is the one who should beg my pardon,’ said Mrs Probert.

‘A supposition, you say,’ said Quayle. ‘Do you have any reason to think she was not on her way to an assignation?’

‘In point of fact, I do, sir,’ Cribb answered. ‘Miss Probert went out on one of her little jaunts yesterday morning, and I ordered Constable Thackeray to follow her and observe discreetly what went on.’

‘My word! And did you, Constable?’

Thackeray went a shade pinker. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Really? Well, do not keep us in suspense. What was she really doing?’

Thackeray was never more relieved to hear Cribb clear his throat prior to speaking. ‘Before we go into that, sir, I think we might ask Mrs Probert the same question. I’m sure that as Miss Alice was allowed to visit the hat-shop yesterday, she must have given a satisfactory explanation to her parents.’

Everyone looked at Mrs Probert, who continued to look at the wall in front of her. ‘Her father spoke to her, yes. Something had to be said, although it is difficult in our family. He dotes on her, but we have lost the facility for natural conversation. After Peter Brand had died, however, it was important to show the girl what an impossible situation she had put her father in by her inconsiderate behaviour, so he spoke to her on Sunday over the main course at dinner. It was roast lamb. She succeeded in convincing us that she has no secret lover. She is still devoted to Captain Nye.’

‘Capital news!’ exclaimed Professor Quayle.

‘The captain, too, is quite enslaved,’ continued Mrs Probert, with no more enthusiasm than if she was reading from a newspaper. ‘As it transpires, his infatuation is the clue to Alice’s eccentric conduct. You may have noticed that William is a possessive, not to say jealous, young man where my daughter is concerned. He has lately taken to following her about. She pretended not to notice, and at first it was quite flattering to her, but soon it started to be inconvenient. A young lady likes to be looked at by her admirer, but that is not the same as being under permanent surveillance. She could not go anywhere without feeling she was being overlooked. She decided to resort to subterfuge. She arranged with a friend who owns the milliner’s in George Street that she would go in there and change her clothes when she wanted to escape from the unrelenting vigilance. That was the explanation she gave. It may seem unfair, but my daughter thinks that William’s conduct is a little unfair, too. She has an independent turn of mind.’

‘I’ve discovered that, ma’am,’ said Cribb.

‘She explained that her little subterfuge enables her to take a stand for liberty.’

‘So it does, ma’am. So it does,’ said Cribb. ‘Thackeray, you observed Miss Probert yesterday. Wouldn’t you agree that she has taken a stand for liberty?’

‘Yes, Sergeant.’ Thackeray blushed again, but Mrs Probert did not turn her eyes in his direction.

After they had gone, Thackeray took quick advantage of the restoration of free speech. ‘They don’t know about Miss Probert’s posing, Sarge! She hasn’t told them.’

‘Did you really think she would?’ asked Cribb. ‘If she had, I’m sure Dr Probert wouldn’t have allowed her to go to Maids of Honour Row yesterday morning. No, she satisfied them that she isn’t visiting a lover, and that was what they wanted to hear. I had doubts about the excursions myself when I saw the brush and comb in her basket. It was quite a reassurance to learn from you that it was all in the cause of Fine Art.’

‘But she’s taking a terrible risk by continuing to do it.’

‘I expect the painting isn’t finished yet,’ said Cribb matter-of-factly.

Thackeray’s face was a study. ‘How ever could a young lady as decently brought up as Miss Probert, with all her advantages, bring herself to do such a thing?’

‘Oh, it ain’t so remarkable if you know a thing or two about human nature,’ said Cribb. ‘I shouldn’t think a young girl would get much attention in that family, would you? It’s well-known that girls often idolise their fathers—how else can they get to understand the opposite sex—and they only ask a modicum of affection in return. But how much notice did Alice get from Dr Probert? He was too devoted to the nymphs disporting themselves round the walls of his gallery to take any notice of his daughter or his wife. So it’s logical that she should behave as she did; he had shown her only one way to win a man’s admiration.’

‘You make it sound quite sensible, Sarge,’ admitted Thackeray, who had never previously considered Cribb as an authority on the upbringing of girls. ‘The odd thing is that in spite of everything she seems to have won the admiration of Captain Nye.’

‘Hm. He’ll take some understanding,’ said Cribb, almost to himself. ‘Well, Thackeray, it’s time we reported to Inspector Jowett. Got to lay our plans for tomorrow night.’

‘Did I understand correct, Sarge? Are you going to reconstruct the seance at the Probert’s house?’

‘Quite correct,’ said Cribb. ‘It’s all arranged. Everyone has promised to be there. I shall want your help as well.’

‘Certainly, Sarge. But what are we trying to achieve?’

‘An arrest.’

‘Jerusalem! As soon as this?’

‘As soon as this my foot! We’ve been through all the evidence and talked to all the suspects. It’s just a matter now of showing how the thing was done and clapping the darbies on the murderer. I’d make an arrest today, but I think if we leave it till tomorrow we might get a confession.’

‘I’m sure I don’t know who’s going to confess,’ said Thackeray in a tone indicating that Cribb might have had the decency to keep his assistant fully informed. ‘It isn’t one of those two we’ve just been talking to, is it? Mrs Probert had a strong dislike for Peter Brand and his spiritualism.’

‘That may be so,’ said Cribb, ‘but she wouldn’t arrange for a visit from Professor Quayle on the night she was planning to commit a murder. And I can’t believe that Quayle would have gone upstairs if he had murdered Brand; he would have left the house at once, in hopes that nobody had seen him. No the act of murder had to be committed by one of the six people participating in the seance, as I shall demonstrate tomorrow evening.’

‘Six?’ There was a pause while Thackeray made a mental calculation. ‘Miss Crush, Dr Probert, Miss Alice Probert, Mr Strathmore, Captain Nye. Who else is there?’

‘Inspector Jowett.’

Thackeray grinned. ‘Haven’t you been able to eliminate him, Sarge?’

‘Not yet. I must admit there have been times . . .’

‘I think he’s indestructible,’ said Thackeray, and when Cribb’s features promised to crease into the start of a smile he added, ‘Sarge, I’m still not completely clear how the murder was done.’

‘You’re not?’ said Cribb blankly.

‘If you know who done it, you must be certain
how
it was done,’ Thackeray persisted.

‘But I’ve been over all the evidence with you,’ said Cribb.

‘I appreciate that, Sarge, but I’d appreciate it more if you would tell me which piece of evidence told you how the medium was killed.’

‘The list of objects found on his body,’ said Cribb.

‘His personal possessions. I can remember them,’ said Thackeray. ‘There was a watch, a railway-ticket, a box of matches, a cigarette case, a key-ring, a wallet and some money.’

‘Well done,’ said Cribb.

‘The answer’s among that lot, is it?’ said Thackeray.

‘No it ain’t,’ said Cribb. ‘That’s the whole crux of it. It ought to be, and it ain’t.’

‘Manifestations are not so weak at first!

Doubting, moreover, kills them, cuts all short,

Cures with a vengeance!’

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said Jowett, ‘the circumstances of this evening’s gathering are unusual to say the least, and none of us can feel particularly comfortable at this moment. I do assure you that I should not have inflicted such an experience upon you unless it were necessary to the investigation of Mr Brand’s death.’

‘His happy release,’ interjected Miss Crush, who was dressed in black bombazine.

‘I beg your pardon, madam.’

‘In the Movement we do not speak of death, Inspector. If you like you may say that he has joined the choir invisible.’

‘As you please, madam. The point I wish to convey is that Scotland Yard is grateful for the co-operation of you all. Before we turn out the light I must ask you to behave exactly as you did on Saturday evening. Some of you—let us be perfectly candid with each other—assisted the medium in producing phenomena. I shall not go into the reasons for this; I simply appeal to you in the name of law and order to play your part in precisely re-creating the events of that seance.’

‘But how can we, without the medium?’ asked Alice.

‘Sergeant Cribb will play the part of the late Mr Brand,’ Jowett explained. ‘I have given him a full account of what happened.’

‘He is a sensitive,’ Miss Crush confided to the others in a stage whisper.

‘Shall we begin?’ said Jowett. ‘I believe you turned out the light, Doctor.’

Before the switch was turned, Cribb glanced rapidly round the table at the faces of his fellow-sitters: Miss Crush, on his right, eyes agape with expectation; Strathmore, by contrast grimly sceptical, even his monocle flashing hostility; Jowett with the fixed smile of a chairman anticipating trouble; Alice, dignified, demure and difficult to connect with Maids of Honour Row; Captain Nye, head erect as if in the front line of battle (and the Soudan campaign suggested itself here, for as Probert had once remarked, there was a striking resemblance to the features of a camel); and finally Probert himself, on his feet to switch off the light, red-faced and frowning, but visibly deflated since Saturday.

The light went out.

‘Kindly link hands,’ said Jowett, sounding oddly like a dancing-instructor.

‘Surely it isn’t necessary to re-enact last Saturday so slavishly as that?’ protested Nye. ‘Holding hands in these conditions is a very doubtful practice, and I objected to it then. My fiancée is not used to being grasped by strange men.’

‘But William, you are holding my right hand and the inspector has my left,’ said Alice.

‘You agreed to co-operate,’ Jowett reminded him.

‘Only after somebody approached my Commanding Officer. Very well, but tell me the moment anything untoward occurs, Alice.’

Cribb smiled in the darkness, imagining how Jowett would receive that remark, but no more was said on the matter. It was time, anyway, to begin his own part in the proceedings. He moved forward in his chair and turned his feet on their sides to bring the heels of his boots silently into contact, face to face. Then he addressed the company: ‘I believe Mr Brand began by asking you not to be alarmed if anybody behaved irregular. I make the same request, ladies and gentlemen. Soon after this one of you indicated that you sensed a supernatural presence in the room.’ As a cue, he gently squeezed Miss Crush’s left hand.

‘Oh! It’s me!’ she announced in a squeak. ‘That is to say, I did.’

‘Say it again then, madam,’ said Jowett with an obvious effort to be amiable.

‘I sense a presence,’ said Miss Crush flatly.

‘Is anyone trying to get in touch?’ asked Cribb with rather more conviction. The whole situation verged on the ridiculous and it was only too easy to imagine what they would make of it in the mess-room at the Yard, but having brought himself to the brink, so to speak, he was not the man to stand quivering there.

‘Not a thing,’ said Nye, after some five seconds had passed. ‘The whole exercise is futile, in my opinion.’

‘Is there anyone there?’ asked Cribb. He pressed the soles of his shoes together and gently clicked his heels three times.

‘Did you hear that?’ demanded Miss Crush.

Before anyone had time to respond there were five independent raps. They appeared to have originated from Alice’s area of the table.

‘Alphabet,’ said Dr Probert mechanically.

‘There is no need for that,’ said Miss Crush. ‘We know it will be Uncle Walter.’

Cribb clicked three times to confirm the fact and at the same time withdrew his right hand from Miss Crush’s grasp. She passed no comment. By keeping two of his fingers folded against his palm he had avoided rubbing off much of the fluor-spar he had assiduously applied before the seance. The hand was warm from being held in front of the fire a few minutes before.

‘I recollect that we were treated to the apparent manifestation of a spirit hand at this juncture,’ said Strathmore in a bored voice which changed dramatically to exclaim, ‘My eyes! There it is!’

Perhaps because he had not had the opportunity of seeing Brand’s performance, Cribb’s hand-movements were different in character, more suggestive of traffic-control duty than the conducting of the choir invisible, but the fluor-spar glowed bravely, drawing gasps of admiration.

‘How the devil did that thing get in here?’ asked Nye. ‘We want no repetition of that deplorable episode last time.’

‘You can’t stop it!’ cried Miss Crush excitedly. ‘I can feel my skirt being pulled already.’

‘Mine too,’ said Alice, adding quickly, ‘It is lightly fingering the hem, William, that is all.’

The pace of events surprised even Cribb. An orange thudded against Captain Nye before he had a chance to protest about the skirt-pulling. Cribb noticed that Dr Probert was no longer holding his left hand. Another orange bounced across the table. A bellow from Nye signalled a second hit.

‘I say!’ called Strathmore. ‘This is carrying verisimilitude too far!’

‘Lights, if you please,’ said Cribb.

Dr Probert obliged by going to the switch, but not before another orange had found its mark. When the light went on, Nye was seen to be stooping below the level of the table.

‘My poor William!’ said Alice, leaning over to stroke his forehead, on which a red mark was forming. ‘You must be bruised all over.’

‘I’d like to know who was so beastly inconsiderate as to set out another bowl of oranges,’ muttered Nye.

‘They were there on my instruction,’ said Jowett. ‘Most obliging of you to take a second pummelling so manfully, Captain. The East Surreys can be proud of you. Now, ladies and gentlemen, I think we have reproduced the first half of the seance with passable fidelity, with one small exception which we must not overlook.’ He got up from the table and approached the mantelpiece behind Nye’s chair. ‘I recollect that on Saturday this vase of chrysanthemums was tipped over by a stray orange, like so.’ He pushed his forefinger towards the vase and gently toppled it on to its side. The water coursed along the shelf and dripped noisily into the hearth.

‘That’s mahogany, damn you!’ said Probert, starting towards it.

‘It won’t hurt if it is kept well polished,’ said Jowett, waving him back. ‘If I have it right, the medium wiped the surface dry with his handkerchief while the rest of us examined the chair in the study.’ He beckoned to Cribb with his finger. ‘If you please, Sergeant.’

Cribb set to work with a white handkerchief he had thoughtfully brought with him, and the others obediently followed Jowett through the curtain into the study. By the time the call came for Cribb to take his place in the chair, he had mopped up the water, removed the fluor-spar from his hand and drawn aside the fire-screen.

He went through to the study. Probert and Strathmore were ready with lint and salted water. It reminded him rather of visiting the dentist, except that in this surgery six attendants surrounded the chair and one of them was a murderer.

Probert dipped two small squares of lint into the water and placed them over the brass handles attached to the arms of the chair. ‘Please sit down, Sergeant, and grip the handles. Captain Nye, would you be so good as to go down to the cellar and switch off the electric power until I call out to you to turn it on again? Alice, would you light the candles, please?’

In a matter of minutes the chair was ready and a gentle current was passing through Cribb and registering 200 divisions on the galvanometer.

Everyone but Cribb returned to the other side of the curtain and the candles were extinguished. The play of firelight on the faces of the sitters caught clear indications of apprehension that had not been evident before. However artificial the reconstruction had been so far, it was fast approaching the moment when its purpose was inescapably relevant.

‘Do you have a reading?’ asked Probert.

‘198, and the time is 10.20 p.m.,’ responded Jowett, from beside the galvanometer. He turned to face Miss Crush. ‘Don’t you have something to tell us, madam?’

She gave a start that jerked her jet ear-rings into glittering movement. ‘Oh good gracious me! What do you wish me to say?’

‘Merely what you said at this moment on Saturday evening— that you have reason to suspect that a spirit is abroad in the room, or words to that effect.’

‘Did I really say such a thing?’ asked Miss Crush.

‘You detected a presence,’ whispered Alice.

‘Oh, my stars and garters! Yes, I did!’ Miss Crush held up her forefinger. ‘I divine a presence. We have a visitor with us.’

‘And I can feel my hair being stroked,’ said Alice, whose memory was more reliable.

‘Wasn’t this the moment when we heard the footsteps from behind the curtain?’ asked Strathmore.

‘It is all arranged,’ said Jowett. ‘Please behave exactly as you did on Saturday.’

A log subsided in the grate. There was a whimper from Miss Crush.

‘Do you have your
sal volatile
with you, madam?’ Probert inquired.

‘In my hand, Doctor, in my hand.’

‘The galvanometer is quite steady,’ announced Jowett by way of reassurance.

Then they heard the door in the study open and the unmistakable sound of footsteps starting across the room and just as quickly returning.

‘It’s a bloody liberty,’ called Cribb’s voice, from behind the curtain.

‘Shall I go to him?’ asked Probert.

‘No,’ said Strathmore. ‘If you remember, you asked me to go to the curtain first.’

‘Please do so,’ said Jowett.

Strathmore advanced to the curtain and opened a gap wide enough to peer through. ‘Is everything in order?’

‘No it ain’t,’ said Cribb’s voice. ‘Ask Dr Probert to come through.’

‘Remember to kick over the bowl of water, Papa,’ Alice helpfully advised.

Probert played his part with less zest than he had on Saturday, but everyone heard the bowl of salt solution being overturned, followed by his appeal for candles. Jowett lighted two and led the others through to where Cribb was seated.

‘What the bleeding hell—’ began Cribb.

‘Very well, Sergeant,’ interposed Jowett. ‘We can afford to omit the unparliamentary language. Ladies present, you know. Is everything in order so far?’

‘Yes, sir. The professor entered on cue and went out again.’

‘Very good. Dr Probert, has Captain Nye gone downstairs to turn off the current?’

‘He has, Inspector.’

‘Splendid. What happened at this stage, then?’

‘We tried to pacify the medium,’ said Probert.

‘So we did. Do you consider yourself pacified, Cribb?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And ready to die—in simulation, of course?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Stout fellow! Ah, I can hear Captain Nye approaching. Kindly ask him to go downstairs again and restore the electricity, will you, Miss Probert? I believe I returned to my galvanometer at this point in the proceedings.’ Jowett was sounding increasingly like a host determined to inflict party games on unconvivial guests. He left the others standing woodenly round the chair and bustled through the curtain. ‘Capital!’ he presently announced. ‘I have a reading of 195. We now commence the last phase of the exercise, ladies and gentlemen. Take your places, please.’

They filed silently through to the library, leaving Cribb to his simulated fate.

‘I have a reading of 200 divisions, Mr Strathmore,’ said Jowett, when everyone was seated.

Strathmore’s co-operation in the reconstruction had not extended to copying the readings into a notebook, but he nodded, since his name had been mentioned.

It was the last movement in the library for an appreciable time, except for the flickering of the fire. Even Jowett had succumbed to the tension now, and was standing by the galvanometer with his hands locked tightly behind his back. Alice, on the edge of her chair, was poised to give support to Miss Crush, who was holding her bottle of
sal volatile
six inches from her nose. Somewhere in the house a grandfather clock chimed the half-hour.

‘Half past ten. The needle is at 196, a slight drop, I think,’ Jowett observed.

‘Something is moving somewhere. I know it,’ said Miss Crush.

‘Steady, madam!’ growled Probert.

‘That man behind the curtain is a sensitive,’ she insisted. ‘Dear God, the room is getting colder! What is it, Captain Nye, what is it?’

Nye, apparently unwilling or unable to respond, lifted his arm to point ahead of him. His eyes stood out like two half-crowns in a penny bazaar. They were focused on an object which had appeared between the two sections of the curtain. It was a white, moving hand.

‘God preserve us!’ cried Miss Crush, pushing the
sal volatile
against her nose.

The hand came further round the curtain, exposing a wrist and forearm, partially draped in white.