Ne'er Do Well (15 page)

“‘Always, sir, if he went away for the night.'

“‘Recall anyone who wasn't friendly to him?'

“‘Not a single soul, sir, in all these years.'

“‘Did you answer the telephone?'

“‘Very often, sir. Always at The Savoy.'

“‘Did he ever say, Tell them I'm out?'

“‘I never remember that, sir. He'd say, Say I'm engaged and ask them to leave a message. He was very patient, sir. Especially with the Press. And the things he used to do, sir, that nobody knew. Time and again, I've followed him down The Embankment late at night. Talking to down-and-outs and giving them the price of a meal. I've seen him sit down beside them and lay his hand on their arm. Of course he never knew I was there. They'll miss him, they will: but no one will miss him like me.'

“It was really very moving to see such genuine love…

“Later on, I walked to the stables alone. Two or three lads in a doorway were handling hay. As I went by
–

“‘The stable's on you, sir,' said one.

“‘That's right,' said another. ‘God knows you can't bring him back, but show us the — that did it. That's all we ask.'

“‘You can't want it more than I do. Once let me get on his heels and I'll never let go.'

“‘That's the stuff, sir.'

“‘No guilty, but insane, sir.'

“‘Not if I can help it,' I said.

“And as I passed on
–

“‘Good luck, sir…good luck…good luck.'

“Then an old fellow came up and took off his shabby cap.

“‘I taught his lordship to ride, sir. It don't seem so long ago. An' now
–
I can't 'ardly believe it. Always so gay and gallant and full of life. My son's first farrier here. When he reads they've sent for you, It's all right, Dad, he says, Superintendent Falcon'll get the – down. An' you will, won't you, sir?'

“‘I give you my word,' I said, ‘I'll do my best.'

“He shook my hand, with the tears running down his face…

“After dinner we sat in the study, and Selden talked quite a lot. All about St Amant, of course. Just what I wanted, you know. I got a very clear portrait.”

“Outlook,” said Mansel, smiling.

“That's right. The victim's outlook is often just as important as that of anyone else.”

“I'm sure poor Selden was only too thankful to talk.”

“I think he was. He seemed distressed when I said I must go the next morning. But to stay on there would have been a waste of time. And even if I had had to come back, I should have gone away. Day of the funeral, you see. When I said goodbye the next morning Selden thanked me for coming and asked me to come again. ‘When it's all over, you know. No shop. But you're easy to talk to. Done me a lot of good. I'll give you a hack and we'll have a look at the gallops.'

“‘That's an engagement,' I said.

“‘Good man.'”

Falcon raised his eyebrows and pushed back his hair. “I think I must go one day. I'm so desperately sorry for Selden. He's broken up.” He sighed. “So much, then, for my visit to Curfew Place.”

“It was very quick of you, Falcon, to see the answer to the riddle set by the waiting car.”

“Oh, I don't know. The moment I saw the grey Rolls, I wondered if that was the car the cyclist had seen. And then it occurred to me that surreptitiously to visit the Home was exactly what a devoted servant would do. The thing was to get Bolton to admit it.”

“A most accomplished proceeding from first to last. As a result, Madame la Duchesse de Vairie has fallen right back.”

“Yes. She's still in the running, of course. And she could have had the poison. I'm not losing sight of her. If she should book for France, they'll get on the telephone.

“On Monday afternoon I rang up Berryman's home. After a little while he came to the telephone.

“‘Mr Berryman?'

“‘Yes.'

“‘Head sleuth, here. I'd like another talk. Will you come to me? Or shall I come to you?'

“‘When?'

“‘Half an hour from now.'

“‘Where are you?'

“‘In my room at Scotland Yard.'

“‘I don't care which.'

“‘Very well, then. You come to me.'

“He hesitated. Then
–

“‘All right.'

“Thirty-five minutes later, they brought him up to my room.

“He threw himself into a chair and took out a pipe.

“‘What d'you want me for?' he said.

“‘I told you,' I said, ‘I wanted another talk.'

“‘ – well stuck, I suppose.'

“‘You can suppose what you please. Why didn't you tell me you knew Lord St Amant quite well?'

“I saw his muscles contract. After an obvious struggle
–

“‘You didn't ask me, for one thing.'

“‘I see. And for another?'

“‘Whether I knew him or not was nothing to do with you.'

“‘I don't think that's the answer,' I said.

“‘What d'you mean?'

“‘What I say. I think the true answer is that you didn't want me to know.'

“‘Why?'

“‘Because, if I'd known that you knew him, you wouldn't have dared to say that you didn't know he was there.'

“‘What are you getting at?'

“‘The truth, I hope this time. In a case like this, Mr Berryman,
suppressio veri
makes a detective think. How did Lord St Amant know you were there?'

“The man started violently. Then
–

“‘Who says he did?'

“‘He told another patient he'd seen you…as he walked past your room. D'you still maintain that you didn't know he was there?'

“‘How should I know he was a patient? Patients don't walk about.'

“‘Some patients can
–
but prefer to lie in bed.'

“The man went very white.

“‘Are you…suggesting…'

“‘I'm suggesting nothing,' I said. ‘Are you a member of White's?'

“Berryman began to tremble.

“‘Oh, my God,' he whimpered.

“‘
One lord the less
, Mr Berryman?'

“Breathing most hard
–

“‘You can't hold that against me,' he panted, ‘I
–
I only said that in jest.'

“‘Some people might find such a sense of humour strange. I mean, they might even think that such a brutal remark argued a brutal mind.'

“The man went to pieces.

“‘Oh, God, why did I say it? Oh, God, be kind. You know I never did it. I've never had any poison in all my life. I never knew where his room was. I never set foot on the terrace while I was there.'

‘Easy to say these things.'

“‘But they're true,' he screamed. ‘They're true. And
–
and I couldn't do a murder… I'd
–
be afraid.'

“I sat and looked at the creature, thinking of his activities down in the docks and then of St Amant walking along the Embankment, comforting down-and-outs.

“‘Well, that'll do for the moment. You're going to Brighton, aren't you?'

“‘Oh, God, I'm being watched.'

“Such abject fear is a very unpleasant sight.

“‘There's a man outside the door. He'll show you out.'

“Berryman got to his feet and wiped his face.

“‘If you w
–
want me again,' he stammered.

“‘You'll be informed.'

“Berryman went.”

“I can't help feeling,” said Mansel, “that you enjoyed yourself.”

“Thoroughly,” said Falcon. “It did me a lot of good to reduce the sweep. He's out, of course. When he said he'd be afraid to do murder, that was the honest truth. Those words came straight from what we must call his heart. An altogether contemptible piece of work.”

“How wanton,” I said, “Fortune can sometimes be. She pushes Berryman on you, as a card-sharper pushes a card. Inclination, opportunity, motive
–
he had them all. Dallas, Paterson, Selden volunteer deadly evidence. You could have had a warrant whenever you pleased.

“Without a doubt,” said Falcon. “I don't say that he would have gone down; but he would have been committed for trial.”

“The pace-maker cracks,” said Mansel.

“Exactly,” said Falcon. “I know that he never did it. I've got to look somewhere else.”

“I haven't much more to tell you, although my days were full. I suppose you'd call it routine, but it can be more than that. You must do some things yourself. You know what it is. If you've got to be perfectly sure that something's been perfectly done, the only thing to do is to do it yourself.”

“You're telling us,” said Mansel. “And in a case like this…”

“That is the truth. In this particular case, I have so little to go on that every scrap of information must go into the sieve.”

Mansel drew in his breath.

“Falcon,” he said, “I'm perfectly sure you'll get home, but what a hell of a case.”

“Yes,” said Falcon, “it is. It's quite the most difficult problem I've ever been set. Hardly a pointer
–
except to Will-o'-the-Wisps. But it's been a help to be away from the scene. Sometimes one's focus is better, when one is not on the spot. It's like standing back from a picture. Things seem to fall into perspective…”

“That, I can understand. Inquest resumed on Friday?”

“Yes. That can't be helped. The Coroner must have his show. Proof that poison was found. I saw Sir William: he's coming down himself. And then another adjournment.”

Mansel smiled.

“You've blessed a good many Inquests.”

“That's very true. But this one is not going to help. It only interferes with my job.”

“Your brain,” said Jenny, “must get so terribly tired. I mean you never stop thinking.”

“I know. One becomes obsessed. That's why it helps me so much to stay with you.”

“We don't seem to give you much rest.”

“That's of choice. As I've said before, it helps me no end to make an informal report. But at dinner, for instance, I quite forgot the case. By the way, you were speaking of the Brevets. And when I asked who they were, you, all of you, laughed and promised to tell me one day.”

“It's not a short story,” I said.

“I'd like to hear it
–
now.”

“Go on, William,” said Mansel.

“Daniel Gedge,” I said. “I expect you know his name.”

“The infamous Auntie Emma. He took care to keep out of England: but, if half what I've heard is true, he had a handsome run.” He hesitated. “I did hear it whispered that you had seen him off.”

“William did that,” said Mansel. “He stole my show. But he couldn't help himself, for the man was out to kill.”

“According to my information, he often was.”

“He was that night,” I said.

“Well, Brevet was his confederate…and some words which Brevet used, when he was awaiting the order to put me to death, betrayed an outlook which some people share today. We speak of them as ‘The Brevets'. I put it in
Red in the Morning
. He told me he hated me
–
not for what I had done, but for what I was. ‘I am a criminal, and you are a country squire. Do you wonder that I hate you, Chandos? Do you wonder that I look forward to spilling what brains you have?' Of course, he'd never have said it, if he'd dreamed I was going to live. And now you shall have the context.”

Cut it short as I would, the tale took time to tell. But Falcon listened intently to every word, sometimes asking questions and smiling when I came to Mona Lelong.

“You beat us there,” he said.

“Only just.”

“She was on the
Harvest Moon
.”

I nodded.

“You came in too late, Superintendent.”

“Goalby wasn't up to your weight. When he told me you'd changed a wheel, I nearly died. ‘But I saw the flat tire,' he said. ‘My God,' I said, ‘what d'you take Mr Chandos for?'”

Mansel was shaking with laughter.

“A nice reputation, William, we've got at the Yard.”

Falcon looked at Jenny.

“Mine is big, Mrs Chandos. But theirs is fabulous. And now please go on, Mr Chandos.”

When I had done
–

“What a desperate business,” said Falcon. “Of course Gedge was out of the jungle
–
a terribly dangerous man. It was he who killed Lafère, the best policeman the French had got. Lafère had sworn to get him. Somebody told Gedge
–
and that was that. They gave up trying then, and Gedge used to do as he pleased. But I'd never heard of Brevet. My word, what a combination! You deserve the Legion of Honour for putting them down. But you're right. There are plenty of Brevets knocking about today. When you're tired of that name, you can call them ‘the wilful failures'.” He sat back and covered his eyes. “There you are, you see. You've done the trick. I haven't thought of my business for nearly an hour.”

“Good,” said Jenny. “Now that we know, we'll have to do it again.”

But we never did.

 

The following day, Thursday, was very hot.

On the terrace, after luncheon
–

“Falcon,” I said, “is
distrait
.”

Mansel looked up.

“I think so, too. That means he's on to something. He told us all about Curfew, but he said very little about what he did in London, when he got back.”

“Only the Berryman interview.”

“And he was there for two days.”

“Two and a half,” said Jenny. “Perhaps what was in the envelope gave him a clue.”