Envious Casca (14 page)

Sturry, gathering that his superiors were determined to debauch themselves, apologised in a quelling way for having forgotten, under the stress of circumstances, to bring the usual tray into the drawing-room, and went away to rectify his omission.

Valerie, who had been silent for quite ten minutes, suddenly announced her intention of ringing up her mother. No one put forward any objection, though from the look which descended on to Stephen's face it was generally inferred that he was not in favour of the operation.

When Valerie had left the room, Mathilda moved across to Stephen's side, and asked softly: "Who's the heir?"

He shrugged.

"You?"

"I don't know. Don't think he made a will."

"Joe's been hinting all day that he did."

"Oh -Joe!"

"He ought to know, if anyone does."

"The answer being that no one does. Sorry you've been let in for this."

"Don't waste any pity on me: I've got an unbreakable alibi," she replied lightly. "Far be it from me to cast any aspersions on your word, Stephen, but there is one appeal I should like to address to you in the name of us all."

He looked at her with a suddenly lowering expression on his brow. "Well?"

"If you purloined Maud's book, do for God's sake give it back to her!"

He gave a laugh, but it seemed to her that it was perfunctory. "I haven't got her book."

"Don't quibble!" said Mathilda severely.

"I'm sick of the damned book!" he snapped. "I've already told you once that I don't know where it is!"

He got up, as he spoke, and walked away to the other end of the room. She saw that his nerves were on edge, and was sorry that she had teased him. Sturry came in with a tray of drinks, and set it down on a side-table. Maud asked him if he had seen the book she was reading. Sturry said in a very despising way that he had not noticed it, but would make enquiries.

"It is very unfortunate," stated Maud. "I wish I could remember where I laid it down. I always read for twenty minutes in bed before I put the light out. It is very calming to the mind. I had just got to the part about Rudolph. The one who committed suicide."

"What do you find so calming about that?" asked Stephen, over his shoulder.

"It takes one's mind off things," she answered vaguely.

It said much for Joseph's kindliness, Mathilda thought, that with no more than a sigh, immediately suppressed, he got up from his chair, and offered to help in the search for the book. Mathilda was afraid that he would ask Stephen for it, but although he did glance speculatively at that unresponsive profile he appeared to feel the moment to be unpropitious, and said nothing. It seemed rather unfair that he, upon whom the brunt of the evening's burden had fallen, should be obliged to undertake a singularly futile search single-handed, so Mathilda got up, and offered to assist him. Maud thanked her placidly, and went back to her seat by the fire.

"She might have put it down in the billiard-room," Mathilda suggested. "She came in there just before tea, didn't she?"

The billiard-room yielded no clue to the book's whereabouts, but the sight of the Christmas tree, glittering under the lights, brought home to Mathilda and to Joseph the gruesome nature of the events of the day.

Joseph swallowed twice, and made a tragic gesture towards the coloured balls and the twinkling tinsel.

"What are you going to do about it?" asked Mathilda. "It does seem a trifle out of place, doesn't it?"

Joseph blew his nose. "It must be taken away. Oh, Tilda, is this all my fault? Was I wrong to coax Nat into giving this party? I meant it to be so different!"

"I don't see that you could have known that Nat would be murdered," she replied.

He shook his head, putting out a hand to finger one of the icicles that depended from a laden branch.

Joe, did he make a will?"

He raised his eyes. "Yes. I don't know whether it's still in existence, though. Perhaps it would be better if he'd destroyed it."

"Why?"

"It was when he had pleurisy, in the spring," Joseph said. "I persuaded him to make a will. I thought it right, Tilda! If only one could see into the future!"

"Was it in Stephen's favour?"

He nodded. After a moment, she said: "Well, Stephen didn't know it, anyway."

He glanced up quickly, and down again.

"Unless you told him," she added.

"I? No, I never said so! Not in so many words! But when I saw what sort of a mood he was in, I did rather hint to Valerie that a word from her might be advantageous. She may tell the Inspector so. She's such a thoughtless child! And you know what an impression Stephen must be giving the police by that silly, boorish manner he puts on! Oh, Tilda, I feel worried to death!"

She was silent for a moment. "Did the police ask you who was the heir?" she said presently.

"Yes, but I think I shelved the question. I gave them the name of Nat's solicitor."

"Do you suppose that the will is in his charge?"

"I don't know," he said reluctantly. "If it isn't, I shall have to say where I think it might be. I mean, I can't do Stephen out of his inheritance, can I? Besides, they'd be bound to find it sooner or later. I don't know what to do for the best."

Mathilda felt strongly inclined to advise him not to meddle, but she refrained. He said: "I wish you'd exert your influence, Tilda! Don't let him alienate the police through sheer perversity! He won't listen to me."

"I expect he knows his own business best," she said shortly. "In any event, I have no influence over him."

"Sometimes I fear that no one has," said Joseph, with one of his gusty sighs. "It's as though he was born cussed! Now, what in the world can have possessed him to hide poor Maud's book? That's the sort of silly, schoolboy mischief that puts people against him so!"

Mathilda thought that anyone less schoolboyish or mischievous than Stephen would have been hard to find, but she merely observed that Stephen denied all knowledge of the book's whereabouts.

"Oh well, perhaps I'm wronging him!" said Joseph, visibly brightening. "Anyway, it doesn't seem to be in this room."

They returned to the library, their arrival synchronising with that of Valerie, who had apparently derived some benefit from a protracted and expensive telephone-call to her mother. She announced that Mummy was coming down to Lexham on the following day.

"Oh, my God!" said Stephen audibly.

"I'm sure she must want to be with you at such a time," said Joseph hastily. "We shall be very glad to have her, shan't we, Maud? One only wishes that her visit were taking place under happier circumstances."

"Mummy says she's sure it will all be cleared up satisfactorily, and we just mustn't worry!" said Valerie.

This valuable piece of advice plunged everyone into a state of profound gloom. After thinking it over, Mottisfont said that he didn't see how it could be cleared up satisfactorily.

"No," said Stephen cordially. "Not when you consider that one of us is an assassin."

"I find that remark gratuitously offensive!" said Mottisfont.

"Why?" asked Stephen.

"Now, now!" Joseph intervened. "We mustn't let this thing get on top of our nerves! I myself feel convinced that Nat was murdered by someone from outside."

"You would," said Stephen.

"Damn it all, why not?" demanded Mathilda.

He shrugged. "Windows all latched on the inside."

"But the ventilator was open!" Joseph reminded him. "An agile man might have got in that way, I believe. Of course, it wouldn't have been easy, but although you may not believe it I used to be a bit of an athlete in my younger days, and I'm pretty sure I could have done it."

"You couldn't do it now, Joe," said Mathilda. "Too much enbonpoint."

"Ah, you love to make fun of your poor old uncle!" he said, shaking his fist at her. "Yet when I was a young man I was as slim as Roydon there. I well remember when I was playing Romeo once - But what am I about, telling stories of my youth when our minds are full of graver matters? Maud, my dear, we will have a thorough search for your book tomorrow, I promise. You have had a wearing day: you should be in bed, you know."

"I daresay I may have left it upstairs," she said, winding up her knitting-wool. "I do not want anyone to worry about it. I expect it will turn up." She rose, said good night in a general way, and departed.

"I shall follow her example," said Mathilda. "Are you coming up, Valerie?"

Valerie replied reluctantly that she supposed she would have to, but that the thought of having a policeman in the house was too ghoulish to permit of her closing her eyes all night.

"I shouldn't worry. I believe policemen are a very moral set," said Mathilda unkindly. "Lock your door, if you're nervous."

"I do think you're the limit!" exclaimed Valerie, giggling.

"I don't suppose any of us will sleep much," remarked Mottisfont, when she had left the room. "I know I shan't. I feel as though I'd had a knock-out. Nat! It still doesn't seem possible!"

"Personally," said Roydon, with ill-assumed indifference, "I feel pretty done-in, and I daresay I shall sleep like a log. After all, it's different for me. I mean, it isn't as though I knew Mr. Herriard."

This implication, that he stood aloof from the crime and its consequences, did nothing to advance his popularity with the three other men. Even Joseph shook his head in a foreboding way; and Mottisfont went so far as to say that they were all in it, one just as much as another.

"I'm afraid I can hardly agree with you!" said Roydon, in a head-voice. "I don't want to cast any aspersions on anyone, but I had no quarrel with Mr. Herriard!"

Just what do you mean by that, young man?" Mottisfont demanded, his eyes snapping behind his spectacles.

Stephen yawned. "That you and I did. I wonder if I'm as boring as the rest of you? Perhaps I'd better go to bed. What's the name of Uncle Nat's solicitor, Joe?"

"Filey, Blyth, and Blyth," answered Joseph. "But John Blyth has always handled poor Nat's affairs."

"Know his home address?"

"No; but I expect it's in the Telephone Directory, for I'm nearly sure he lives in London. Why? Do you think we ought -"

"I'll ring him up in the morning," Stephen said, and lounged out.

Mottisfont watched him go, his expression one of open dislike. "Taking a lot on himself, isn't he?" he said disagreeably.

Joseph, who had looked a little surprised, rallied, and said briskly: "Nonsense! Stephen knows what a muddleheaded old fellow I am. Quite right of him! Good gracious, Edgar, I hope you aren't trying to make me jealous of my own nephew! That would be rather too much of a good thing!"

"Oh, as long as you don't mind, I suppose it has nothing to do with me!" said Mottisfont.

"Stephen and I understand one another," said Joseph, becoming the indulgent uncle again. "Now, I think we had better all go to bed, don't you? We are a little overwrought, and, indeed, how could we fail to be? Perhaps the night will bring counsel." He went to the door, but looked back as he opened it to say with a wistful smile: "We feel the blank in our lives already, don't we? Perhaps I more than anyone. To go to bed without that good night to Nat! It will be long before I can accustom myself to it."

Mottisfont and Roydon both suffered the Englishman's inevitable reaction to such indecent pathos. Mottisfont reddened, and coughed; Roydon stared at his feet, and muttered: "Quite!" Joseph sighed, and said: "But I mustn't intrude my private grief upon you. We've all got to keep stiff upper lips, haven't we?"

Neither of his listeners could lower himself sufficiently to respond adequately to this, so Joseph went away with a heavy tread and another sigh.

"Well, considering I never heard Mr. Herriard say a decent word to him - !"began Roydon.

Mottisfont resented Joseph's attempt to play upon his emotions quite as profoundly as Roydon, but he had known the Herriards for many years, and he was not going to join a long-haired playwright in running them down. He said repressively: "The Herriards take a good deal of knowing. They've all got sharp tongues, except Joe, but I've never set any store by that. You can't judge by appearances."

"It seems to me that they all play into one another's hands!" said Roydon. "In fact, it wouldn't surprise me to discover that Stephen's filthy rudeness to Joseph Herriard is just so much eyewash! You can't help noticing how they all hang together, once it comes to the pinch!"

Mottisfont had been thinking much the same thing, but he was not going to admit it. He merely said that there was nothing surprising in families hanging together, and made for the door.

Roydon followed him upstairs, remarking in a disgruntled way that it wasn't his idea of a Christmas party.

He was by no means alone in this view of the matter. The Chief Constable, receiving Inspector Colwall's report on the case, said that this was the sort of thing that would happen when Bradford was sick.

"Yes, sir," agreed Inspector Colwall, swallowing the insult.

"Christmas Eve, too!" said the Chief Constable, in an exasperated tone. "To my mind, it's a case for Scotland Yard."

"Perhaps you're right, sir," responded the Inspector, thinking of the complexities of the case, the lack of evidence, and the difficulties of dealing with the kind of witness he had found at Lexham Manor.

"And that being so," said the Chief Constable, "I'll get on to London right away."

The Inspector was in complete agreement over this. If Scotland Yard was to take over the case, he for one did not want to be told that the scent had been allowed to grow cold, and that the Yard should have been called in days earlier. That was the kind of thing that happened when the local police tried to solve their cases, and failed; and it didn't do a man any good to be made to look like a fool who'd been trying to make things difficult for Scotland Yard.

So the Chief Constable put through a call to London, and was connected in due course with a calm person who said he was Detective-Superintendent Hannasyde. The Chief Constable gave him the particulars of the case, and after asking several questions Superintendent Hannasyde said that he would send a good man down to assist him next morning.