Blood From a Stone (34 page)

Duggleby unscrewed the can and upended it on the altar.

The sharp, acrid smell of petrol caught Jack's nostrils. The petrol glugged out, a sinister, hollow series of gurgles.

With a laugh, Duggleby held his cigarette lighter aloft and flipped open the lid.

‘Don't be a fool!' yelled Jack desperately. ‘One spark and we all go up.'

Duggleby looked insane, his eyes wide, mad with power. ‘Let's do it!' His thumb quivered on the little wheel of the lighter.

‘STOP!' boomed a voice from the altar, reverberating round the cave.

Duggleby gave a shriek of fear and leapt forward.

Jack caught the lighter as it sailed through the air, then, as his hand closed round it, in one fluid movement crunched his fist into the side of Duggleby's head.

Duggleby fell to one side with a grunt, then Napier was on top of him.

‘It's all right,' he said shakily after a few moments, getting to his feet. ‘This time he really is out cold.'

‘Let's tie him up,' said Jack, catching his breath. ‘We can use the cord he used on us.'

Napier moved forward then stopped, looking warily at the altar. ‘I ... I ... Did you hear it, Haldean? Did you hear a voice from the altar?'

‘I certainly did,' said Jack cheerfully as Isabelle emerged. ‘Let me introduce you to the Voice of Doom herself. Keep an eye on him,' he said briefly and went forward to Isabelle.

‘You were absolutely wonderful,' he said, hugging her tightly.

‘You were there all along?' Napier asked Isabelle, as, still keeping a watchful eye on Duggleby, he took the cord and tied him up securely.

‘Yes, I was,' said Isabelle. ‘I heard everything but I couldn't see a thing, of course. When you said, ‘You're tying us up,' Jack, I knew you were telling me. I couldn't think what to do for a moment, then I remembered I had my nail scissors in my bag and managed to cut the rope.'

‘Wonderful,' repeated Jack. ‘I'll never laugh at your handbags again.'

‘There's one thing,' she said. Her chin came up and she suddenly looked very wary. ‘Mr Wood – I heard you say who you really are. You're not Sandy Paxton, are you? You're Terence Napier.'

‘Of course he is, Belle,' said Jack. He indicated Duggleby, trussed up on the ground. ‘Our friend here is none other than Sandy Paxton.'

‘
Duggleby's
Sandy Paxton?' said Isabelle starting back. ‘Jack, are you sure?'

‘Certain. I knew it when we saw the portrait of old Ebenezer in the gallery before lunch. There was no one else Duggleby could be, but I couldn't prove it. Not then. I'll be able to later on, but first of all, I'd like to see if I can just bring matters to a conclusion.'

He turned to Napier, ‘You know the area. There's a path, a right of way, that runs along the side of Breagan Stump. Where does it come out?'

‘Not far from the village.'

‘Good. Isabelle, can you go and get Bill and Ashley from the police station? I think they should be in on this.'

J
ack lay sprawled out on the hard earth of the cave floor, waiting. It was well over an hour since Isabelle had gone for Bill and Ashley. He was dressed in Sandy Paxton's jacket with his face concealed by his arm. In the dim rays of the oil lamp, he looked, he hoped, convincingly dead.

The only sound was that of the stream and the hypnotic, constant drip of water. He couldn't know for sure how much time had passed. Then he caught a sound that brought all his senses flaring into life.

It was the faintest chink of a foot against a stone but he hadn't heard the sound of anyone scrambling through the entrance. There was another scraping sound followed by a brief grunt as someone dropped to the ground. They'd come down the passage from
the cellars of the house and through the concealed entrance to the cave. The footsteps hesitated behind him and he could hear quick breathing.

‘Sandy?' a low voice called. ‘Sandy?'

He felt a hand under his arm and another under his leg and his body was rolled over.

He dug his elbow into the earth and, with a swift movement sat up.

‘Looking for Sandy Paxton, Mrs Leigh? Or should that be
Mrs Welbeck?
'

Then Bill and Ashley blew their police whistles simultaneously and the cave was full of jabbing light, pounding feet, shouting voices and, rising above it all, the sound of Evie Leigh screaming.

In the dancing light he could see the glitter of a gun in her hand. He flung himself to one side as she fired. The bullet zinged off the rock, catching his arm. He scrambled to his knees, then hurled himself at her as she raised the gun again.

His arm was numbed from the shot. If it hadn't been for that, he would have reached her in time.

‘Jack!' yelled Bill over the noise of the shot. ‘Are you all right?'

Jack caught the beautiful woman in his arms and laid her reverently on the ground. He felt suddenly sick. ‘It's all over, Bill,' he said quietly. ‘She's dead.'

Lady Alice Rivers took the glass of sherry Arthur gave her and sank back in her chair. ‘I'm glad to have you back in one piece, Isabelle. I thought you'd be safe at Breagan Grange.'

‘So did I,' said Arthur with feeling. It was a couple of days after the events at Breagan Grange. Arthur had arrived that afternoon, heartily relieved to see his wife again. ‘If I'd had any idea what that little rat, Paxton, was up to ...' He stopped and swallowed.

‘I still can't make head or tail of it,' said Sir Philip forlornly.

‘It's very puzzling, dear,' said his wife kindly. ‘That's why we're waiting for Jack. He'll be able to explain everything.'

Jack, who had spent the day at Scotland Yard, had telegrammed to say he would be back for dinner and was bringing Terence Napier with him.

‘Terence Napier, hmm?' had said Sir Philip doubtfully. ‘Dash it, Alice, I know you said he was all right, but are you sure he's all right? I'm not one to make a fuss, as you know. Least said, soonest mended and all that, but the man was wanted by the police.'

‘He was innocent, Philip,' said Lady Rivers patiently. ‘Jack proved it.'

Sir Philip hunched his shoulders disconsolately. ‘Dashed if I know why he couldn't say as much in the first place, then.'

The door opened and Jack poked his head round the door.

‘'Ullo,' ullo,' ullo,' he said cheerily. ‘Sherry? We've timed our arrival well.'

‘Come on in,' said Sir Philip, getting to his feet. ‘Nice to see you, m'boy.' He stopped as he saw the man behind Jack. Sir Philip's eyebrows rose but he recovered himself manfully. ‘Terence Napier, eh? Er ... Pleased to meet you. Absolutely. Yes. How d'you do?'

‘Very well, thank you, sir,' said Napier, taking the sherry Arthur poured for him. ‘All the better for having run across Haldean, here.' He raised his glass in a toast. ‘If it hadn't had been for you, old man, I don't know if we'd have ever got to the bottom of it.'

‘Don't be so modest, Jack,' said Aunt Alice, seeing he was about to protest. ‘Isabelle's given us some idea of what happened, and I couldn't agree more. For one thing, I can scarcely credit that Evie Leigh was really Mrs Welbeck. It sounds incredible.'

‘It
sounds
incredible,' said Jack, taking a cigarette from the box beside him, ‘but, like all good tricks, it depends on what went on behind the scenes.'

‘I didn't tumble to it,' said Napier. ‘It never crossed my mind that Mrs Welbeck was anything other than what she seemed. If anything, I thought she'd been killed to keep her quiet. I suspected Evie, of course, as she benefited from the whole scheme, but it never occurred to me that she was Mrs Welbeck.'

‘Why didn't you come clean and tell us who you were right away?' asked Arthur.

‘Absolutely,' agreed Sir Philip. ‘Why pretend, eh? If you'd faced up to things, it would all have been a great deal easier for all of us.'

Napier hesitated, sipping his sherry. ‘Frank,' he said eventually. ‘Because I knew Frank, I simply couldn't own up.'

Sir Philip exchanged puzzled glances with Arthur.

‘You see,' continued Napier, ‘When Aunt Constance – Mrs Paxton – was murdered and it looked for all the world as if I was guilty, I was in Australia. The first I knew about it was what I read in the newspapers in Sydney. I came hotfooting back and immediately looked up Frank. He believed I was innocent of course, and was all for going to the police. He couldn't understand why I hesitated. At the time, I couldn't explain it to him, but I can tell you.'

He leaned forward and took a cigarette from the box. ‘The reason was Evie. I
knew
, absolutely
knew,
that there'd been some jiggery-pokery at Topfordham and, as Evie was the chief beneficiary I thought she had to be behind it somehow or other. However, it only took a few minutes conversation with Frank for me to realise he'd never believe Evie was involved unless there was proof positive. Frank's a terrific chap, you know. Very loyal and loath to see the worst in anyone. I think he was beginning to realise his marriage was a mistake, but he's a stubborn beggar. He'd never admit it and he'd certainly never countenance the idea Evie could be anything other than what she seemed. Poor old Frank,' he added. ‘It's really knocked him for six and no mistake.'

‘Poor devil,' muttered Sir Philip.

‘Yes,' agreed Napier. ‘If there's one good thing to come out of the whole business, it's that Frank's free of a very dangerous woman. It took me a dickens of a lot of persuasion to convince Frank to keep my identity secret but I insisted. I not only thought Evie was in it up to her neck, I had a fairly good idea that the man who'd impersonated me at Topfordham was none other than my cousin, Sandy. I wanted to find out the truth but, if Evie tumbled to who I was, I'd be in real danger.' He gave a wry grin. ‘It took me a while to suspect who Duggleby was. I should have guessed right away.'

‘Had Evie really known Mrs Paxton, in the war?' asked Arthur.

Jack shook his head. ‘No, of course not. She made that up to scrape an acquaintance with Frank Leigh.' He lit his cigarette and blew out a thoughtful cloud of smoke. ‘I'd guessed most of this, by the way, but Sandy Paxton's – Duggleby's – evidence confirmed it. We knew, because Dr Mountford told us, that Sandy Paxton had married an actress. What we didn't know, of course, was that the actress he married was one Daisy Price, known to us as Evie Leigh.'

‘Good Lord!' exclaimed Sir Philip. ‘That feller Duggleby and Evie Leigh were
married?
'

‘Yes, that's right. They were also members of the Vicar's gang. Paxton was very valuable to the Vicar. From all accounts, Parsons, the Vicar, was a real thug, but Paxton had genuine charm and was admitted to a class of society closed to the Vicar.'

‘He did have charm,' said Isabelle. ‘Real charm, I mean. He had a way of making you feel sorry for him. I thought he was a complete pet and, of course, once you'd thought that, it was only a short step to realising he was actually a very attractive man.'

‘I'll have to take your word for it,' said Arthur with a baffled shrug. ‘I thought he was a weedy sort of beggar.'

‘Not so weedy,' countered Isabelle. ‘He gave that impression but it wasn't actually true. And, as for his charm ... well, Celia certainly fell for it.' She gave a sly grin. ‘She stopped making eyes at you, Jack, when he came along.'

‘Isabelle!' said her father, shocked. ‘Celia's engaged to be married.'

‘I entertained very warm feelings of gratitude towards Duggleby for a while,' said Jack with a grin. ‘Don't look so disapproving, Uncle Phil.'

‘I'm glad to say that Celia's patched things up nicely with Ted Marchant,' said Napier. ‘Not that, from what I can gather, young Marchant ever realised there was anything wrong.'

‘He probably didn't,' agreed Jack. ‘Anyway, charm or no charm, the wheel came off Paxton's wagon in 1915. Parsons, the Vicar, was killed in a warehouse theft that went wrong. That left Paxton and his wife in a bit of a spot.'

‘Wait a moment,' interrupted Lady Rivers, putting down her sherry. ‘I thought the Vicar – Parsons – murdered the man Isabelle found on the train.'

‘So did we, Aunt Alice,' said Jack with a rueful smile. ‘I'll come to that in a minute. Anyway, with the death of the Vicar, the gang was broken up and Paxton's livelihood was gone. At this point, Frank Leigh, of all people, threw Paxton a lifeline.'

‘That was typical of Frank,' sighed Napier. ‘He thought he was giving Paxton a chance to make a new start, to put his past behind him. He more or less bribed Aunt Constance to get Sandy to join the army.'

‘He deserted, didn't he?' said Arthur.

‘Absolutely, he did. I imagine he always intended to.'

Jack nodded. ‘I'd say so. For the next few years, Paxton and Evie laid low in France. I'm not sure when the idea of stealing the sapphires came to them.'

‘I bet they always wanted them,' said Isabelle. ‘After all, they were jewel thieves. The idea of the Breagan Bounty sapphires lying shut up in a bank and out of reach must have really got to them.'

‘You're right,' agreed Jack. ‘And, of course, they knew Frank Leigh was going to inherit the sapphires. Marrying Mr Leigh must've seemed like a big step forwards.'

Lady Rivers looked at Jack quizzically. ‘What would've happened if Mr Leigh hadn't been so obliging as to fall for Evie?'

‘I don't know,' said Jack, taking a cigarette. ‘Our precious pair would've certainly done
something
but, as it was, Frank Leigh was hooked.'

‘She was a very striking woman,' said Aunt Alice thoughtfully. ‘He must've been flattered, poor man. He was probably lonely, as well. Wasn't there a danger, though, that Frank Leigh would introduce his wife to Mrs Paxton? After all, she was his aunt and Evie Leigh was meant to have been an old friend.'