Eye For A Tooth (11 page)

As Carson stepped out of the shadows at the mouth of the drive—

“Are you going home, sir?” he said.

“We are.”

“Could you drop me, sir, at the mouth of the private road? Mr Hanbury said, if you could spare me–”

“Good God,” said Mansel, laughing. “How many more does he want?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, sir,” said Carson. “I don’t know what he wants me to do. All he said was, ‘It’s rather a lot for three.’”

“All right,” said Mansel. “But mind – you must be where I drop you at half-past nine.”

“That’s understood, sir.”

We made our way back to the Rolls, and, after setting down Carson, for the second time that day we drove back to the farm.

It was very still that night, and the sky was overcast.

Since five and twenty to ten I had been standing still in the mouth of the private road, with my eyes on the spot where this ran into the woods, straining my ears for the sound of the Duchess’ car. Mansel was watching me – or rather the place where I stood; for he was some fifty yards off, and a hundred yards beyond him Carson was holding the Rolls in a gateway that gave to a field. For so she could move either way, without having to turn.

At precisely five minutes to ten I heard – not the sound of a car, but what I can only describe as a hollow crunch. It came from the woods, and, faint though it was, for I was some way from the dip, I knew at once that George Hanbury had had his way. And almost at that same moment I saw the lights of the coupé stealing out of the woods.

When this was but sixty yards off, I flashed my torch and then stood with its light on my face.

At once the coupé slowed down, and I ran to the near side door.

“What does this mean? “ said the Duchess. “How did you know where to come?”

I moistened my lips.

“I’ve nothing to hide,” I said, “and I’ll tell you everything as soon as ever I can. But it will spare us both, if you will get out for one moment and watch what I’m going to do to the back of your car.”

“Very well,” she said, “but be quick.”

With the light of my torch, I showed her the oil on the road.

“You’re laying that trail,” I said. “There’s a tank in your boot; and a feed-pipe runs through the floor-boards. But the feed-pipe has got a tap: and if you’ll get back in the car, I’ll turn it off.”

“My God,” she said. And then again, “My God.”

I lay down on my back and hauled myself under the boot. But when I looked for the tap, the tap was gone.

For a moment I stared at the pipe. Then I saw that the pipe had been changed…that another pipe had been fixed…with the tap inside the boot… And the boot was locked.

It was clear that the Duke had meant business. But it was also clear that he had not allowed for a man with strength like mine.

I took that pipe and bent it into a hoop. Then I twisted the end of it round – not once but thrice. And then I crawled out.

“Into the car,” I said. “She won’t leave a trail now. And please will you take me with you? I’ll tell you all as we go.”

“To the lane?” said the Duchess.

“Yes. Mansel will follow behind and pick us up there.” We entered the car there and then, and the Duchess drove for the lane.

After a moment or two—

“I feel rather dazed,” she said. “Will you tell me how and what?”

I told her all that had happened, since I had seen her last.

When I had done—

“Well, you’ve cleared the air,” she said. “You can’t get away from that. And we’re coming up to a showdown. What line do you want me to take?”

“That I don’t know,” said I. “But Mansel will. And I hope very much you’ll listen to what he says.”

“You seem to think he’s a god – a
deus ex machina
.”

“He’s not far off one,” said I. “He’s the quickest and clearest brain that ever I knew.”

“You’ve yet to meet my husband. His brain’s on ice. He’s a very indolent man, but, when he cares to get going, he’s – more than dangerous.”

Here she slowed down for the lane in which we had sat and talked three nights before.

“Drive well up it,” I said, “as you did before.”

As she turned in—

“It’s all right to leave her here?”

“Surely,” said I. “And I think it would be a mistake for you to take her to the farm.”

“I quite agree. If anything were to happen, she’d give my presence away.”

“That’s what we felt.”

She stopped, put out her lights, turned her engine off and took the key from the switch.

“And the Rolls?” she said.

“Is waiting at the mouth of the lane.”

Then we left the car and I drew my torch and threw its light on the ground. And there I kept it, until we were close to the road. This time the coupé had left no trail of oil.

The Rolls was there in the shadows, but all her lights were out.

I saw Mansel, standing bare-headed, two paces away.

“Captain Mansel – The Duchess of Varvic.”

Mansel bowed and put her hand to his lips.

Then—

“Please sit beside me,” he said. “I’m going to drive. You don’t mind coming to Goschen?”

“I’d like to.”

He handed her to her seat

So for the third time that day we drove back to the farm.

I cannot forget the first time that I saw the Duchess of Varvic as she was meant to be seen. She was tall and superbly made, and she had that classical beauty which is today so rare. And yet it was not the purity of her features – the short upper lip, the straight nose, the glorious temples, the delicate droop of her lips…it was not that perfection that struck you; it was the level gaze of her truly magnificent eyes, the infinite grace of her movements, the leisurely dignity of bearing that made you think of Old Masters and of famous, romantic figures of days gone by. There was nothing studied about her, and nothing stiff; her manner was very easy, and she seemed to be quite unconscious of the stately picture she made. But an ineffable sadness sat in her great, brown eyes, and her hair, which had been chestnut, was now iron-grey. She was simply dressed in tweeds, and a coat with a fine, fur collar fell to her knees; and her feet looked very small in a pair of grey, court slippers, as simply made as could be. Except for her wedding-ring, she wore no jewellery.

When she entered our sitting-room, she took her seat on a sofa before the fire, and Mansel stood by the hearth, with an arm on the mantelpiece.

“May I make this plain?” he said. “First that, as Chandos has told you, had we had any idea that you were concerned, we should have found some way to consult you before we moved. Secondly, that though we have got some way, we are ready to pack up now, if that is your wish.”

“It isn’t my wish,” said the Duchess. “I’m very, very grateful for all you’ve done.”

Mansel inclined his head.

“We haven’t done much to date. The rough stuff’s to come. Cain is on his way out; and when he and the Duke get together, I think they’ll put up a good show. Well, we’re ready to take them on. But I must be sure of two things. The first is your – goodwill.”

“You have that in all you may do.”

“All?”

“All.” She looked him full in the face. “Yes, I know what I’m saying. In all you may do.”

“I quite understand,” said Mansel. “Well, that’s the first. The second is – your safety.”

The Duchess’ eyes widened.

“They can’t touch me.”

Mansel wrinkled his nose.

“They damned near ‘touched you’ tonight. But for Chandos here, tonight you would have been in the firing-line. And what of that trail of oil? Besides, you know a great deal that they would give much to know. And Cain will see that in a flash. And he will tell the Duke that, unless he puts pressure upon you, he, Cain, will throw in his hand.”

“What pressure can he put upon me?”

Mansel shrugged his shoulders.

“That I can’t say,” he said. “Anyway, I’ve made my two points; and I rather think that Chandos has told you what we have done and, indeed, as much as we know. If there’s anything you’d like to say, you know that we’d love to hear it. I don’t want to press you at all; but it is sometimes a relief to talk to people you know will understand.”

The Duchess took a deep breath.

“You’re very easy,” she said. “And so is Richard Chandos. I expect you know what I mean…

“You probably know that I married four years ago. My father and mother were dead, I was immensely rich, and my husband, when he pleases, can be an attractive man. I was just what he needed. I brought him two million sterling, and, what was to him as important, I looked the part. Well, we were married… He was worldly wise, and I was an
ingénue
.

“Never marry a German – for that’s what he really is. His mother is German, and he is his mother’s son. And a grandmother was Italian. On the face of it, I am the Duchess; and if anyone failed to show me the respect which is due to his wife, the Duke would break him at once. You see, it would be an invasion of his prerogative. I found that out very soon. To the world, I’m the Duchess of Varvic; to him I mean no more than one of his cars. One.

“This spring, when we were in England, I met John Bowshot at luncheon…

“Well, you know how these things go. If I’d met him before I was married, I should have been – his wife.”

She said no more for a moment, but sat looking into the fire, with a hand to her mouth. Then, as though to banish dead dreams, she gave a little shake of her head.

“Well, we couldn’t do anything about it; but John knew how unhappy I was, and he couldn’t bear that. So we saw each other sometimes… It wasn’t too hard, for I often drive out at night. I’ve never slept very well, and even before I was married, I used to take the car and drive for an hour or more before going to bed. And so it became a habit. I used to do it in London – drive all about the City, when all the traffic was gone. Your policemen knew me quite well… Saul couldn’t stop that, for I had the doctors behind me – I’d done it too long.

“To cut a long story short, John knew I was due for Varvic and made up his mind to come, too. I felt it was dangerous, and yet he meant so much that to be with him twice a week was a prospect I couldn’t forgo. You see, except for him, I’d no one at all. And he was terribly careful. But Saul must have known. He’d probably had him watched. And that was enough for Saul – that he should follow me out. No breath of scandal must ever touch his house…

“The rest I gather you know – a good deal better than I. So far as I understand, Worsteds were glad of a chance to put John down. Of that, I know nothing. And I don’t suppose Saul does, either. But of one thing I am quite sure – that Worsteds would never have found him, if Saul hadn’t set them on.”

“I quite agree,” said Mansel. “In fact, to be quite honest, I think that for quite a long time the car you drive has been laying a trail of oil. And that is how the Duke found that you were meeting John by the side of the Salzburg road.”

The Duchess regarded him steadily; finger to lip.

“Of course,” she breathed. “Of course. That’s how it was done.”

Mansel stood up there and folded his arms.

“It was,” he said, “a cruel and barbarous crime. Wilful murder is usually wicked; but when men hire others to do it, and so contrive that they shall not be suspect, much less involved, it takes on a monstrous shape. But, by your leave, they shan’t get away with it here. And now will you tell me this? Did John Bowshot ever mention Orion?”

“Not by name,” said the Duchess. “But from what Mr Chandos has told me, he’d been in touch with him. As I daresay you know, John used to live at Beehive, in the house in which he was born. He was very fond of the village, and when the blacksmith died, there was no one to take his place. And he simply couldn’t see Beehive without its forge. He tried to find a smith, but without success. So he advertised for one; and Orion rang him up, to say that he had in his hostel ‘the very man.’ How far matters went, I don’t know; but I know that he met Orion – at least, I assume it was he – and took a dislike to the man. I remember his saying, ‘I’m perfectly sure he’s a wrong ’un; but I’m having inquiries made, and when I get back, I shall know.’”

Mansel nodded.

“That all fits in,” he said. “John mentioned the matter to Worsteds, who put his advertisement in – and privately told Orion that he was to pick it up. So Orion gets to know John; and so, unknown to John, do Boney and Gulf. But John finds Orion suspicious, and so he turns on Shade, to find out what he can. And Shade does rather too well, so Orion puts him to death. And there, of course, we have another motive. The report of the inquest on Shade would have made John think very hard. So Forecast, too, had good reason to wish him dead.” He hesitated there for a moment, as though absorbed in his thoughts. “And now let’s return to you. I’m going to be very frank. The idea of your staying at Varvic is not at all to my taste.”

The Duchess knitted her brows.

“Will you tell me exactly why?”

“Yes,” said Mansel, “I will. Cain will arrive tomorrow, and we may be sure that on Tuesday he’ll see the Duke. And they will review the position.

“Now their position is ugly. They are up against some people – that is, of course, us – who can make things more than awkward if they care to open their mouths. That is quite bad enough; but what is a thousand times worse, we have in our hands certain papers which can be used to substantiate all we say.

“Well, Cain will know that we are not like Forecast – in other words, that those very important papers are certainly lodged in some Bank. How then is he to get them?

“The only way to get them is by putting pressure on us. And he
can
put pressure on us by using you as a hostage…by proving to us that, unless we return the papers, he will be unable to answer for, let us say, the state of your health.”

The Duchess shook her head.

“Saul would never dare to agree to that.”

Mansel shrugged his shoulders.

“Duke Saul is right up against it. Those papers prove that he was concerned in the murder. And if that fact comes out, our Foreign Office will insist that he should be brought to trial. I don’t say that he’d be sent down; but I think he would dare a good deal not to stand in the dock.”