The Ivory Dagger (12 page)

‘And what do you think that adds up to?’

Miss Silver said,

‘I should like to know the terms of Sir John Dryden’s will— how much was left to Lila, and who were the trustees.’

Frank whistled softly.

‘Well, we can do that. In what way do you think it may be relevant?’

‘There may have been a money motive for the murder. It could be a strong one. You see, there is the question of Sir Herbert Whitall’s will. There was an old will which was to be superseded by one made in anticipation of his marriage to Lila Dryden. The marriage was to have taken place next Thursday, but no one seems to know whether Sir Herbert had in fact signed the new will.’

Frank Abbot laughed.

‘You have been here—what is it—a matter of six hours. Wasn’t I right when I said I was sure you already knew everything there was to know?’

Her glance reproved him.

‘My dear Frank! Lady Dryden and I were together in the drawing-room for the greater part of the afternoon. She believes, or is very anxious to persuade herself, that Sir Herbert had already signed this new will. She says he informed her a week ago that he was on the point of doing so. On the other hand, I can see that the attitude adopted by Mr. Haile fills her with apprehension. He has certainly assumed a good deal of authority.’

‘Next of kin, isn’t he?’

‘I believe there is no other relative. Lady Dryden informs me that he was in the habit of borrowing from his cousin—that Sir Herbert informed her last night before dinner that he was expecting an application of this nature from Mr. Haile and intimated that it would be refused. She says Mr. Haile arrived early and did have an interview with Sir Herbert.’

Frank said, ‘I see.’ He got up and stood with his back to the fire. ‘There’s something to think about there. If the new will was signed, presumably Lila Dryden would get a large share of the money, and Lady Dryden would profit. That might give her a motive for bumping Herbert off. But it’s a poor one. There would have to be something more than that, and they seem to have been on perfectly good terms. On the other hand, if Haile knew, or believed, that the old will was still in force, and that he benefited under it to any considerable extent, he would, have quite a strong motive for putting Whitall out of the way before a new will could be signed, especially if he was pretty badly broke and had just been refused a loan. Do you know, I rather begin to fancy Haile as a suspect. Let us consider him in that light. The butler says in his statement that he went round the downstairs rooms as usual at eleven o’clock, but when he got to the study he didn’t go in because he heard voices. Says Sir Herbert was in the habit of sitting up late, and he thought he was there with Mr. Haile. Haile says he did look in for a moment or two after the others had gone upstairs, but by eleven o’clock he was undressed and ready for bed. Says Grey passed his room when he had the door open and must have seen him in his pyjamas. Grey duly corroborates. Of course a person who had gone upstairs could just as easily have come down again, and neither Marsham nor Grey would have any reason to be very exact about the time. But on the face of it, it doesn’t seem so likely that it was Haile who was in the study with Sir Herbert. We won’t rule him out, and we will continue to consider him. He was so very conveniently on the spot to walk in on Gray and Waring with the lovely Lila in what could hardly have been a more compromising situation. It seems to me just a little too opportune. He says he couldn’t sleep, got up, and went to look out of the window. His room is at the side of the house, and there is a path between shrubs, and a flat paved walk right under the house. That’s the way Bill Waring came. Haile says he looked out and thought there was someone on the path between the shrubs. He says he can’t say he exactly heard or saw anyone. He just thought there was someone there, or something —it might have been a dog or a cat. Now, curiously enough, Bill Waring says very much the same thing. He says he thought someone or something was on the shrubbery path when he was waiting in front of the house. He is just as vague about it as Haile. Neither of them will go farther than thinking there might be someone there. Bill Waring says he didn’t start to go round to the study until a good ten minutes later, and that doesn’t fit in with Haile, because Haile says he thought he ought to investigate, so he put on a coat and came downstairs. He says he was going to go out on the terrace by way of the glass door in the study. When he got to the door from the passage he heard voices, opened the door an inch or two, was appalled at what he heard, and decided to listen in. Well, it could be true, but I don’t think it explains why he came downstairs. Either he saw, or perhaps heard, something a good deal more definite when he looked out of his bedroom window than he is prepared to admit, or he had some other reason for going down to the study. You don’t hurtle out into the night because you think there may be a stray cat in the grounds—there’s bound to be more to it than that. I daresay he looked out of his window and heard whatever it was Bill Waring heard, but it must have been at least twenty minutes later that he walked into the study and told Adrian Grey his story wouldn’t wash.’

Miss Silver had completed the second sleeve of little Josephine’s vest. She broke the pink wool thread, pulled it through the last loop, and said,

‘There is certainly a discrepancy.’

He nodded.

‘I think Mr. Haile’s affairs will bear looking into. If he inherited under the old will, and knew that he was going to be cut out under the new one, you get a pretty strong motive.’

Miss Silver said primly.

‘ “The lust of gain in the heart of Cain,” as Lord Tennyson says.’

‘The mot juste, as always!’

She looked at him with gravity.

‘Mr. Haile would have a strong motive, as you say. He has been at some pains to impress upon me that Lila Dryden must have committed the crime, either walking in her sleep, or in a fit of temporary derangement.’

Frank came back to his seat on the arm of the chair.

‘A curious business sleep-walking. How much does anyone really know about it? The person is asleep, the mind somewhere else. But some of the senses seem to operate. Or do they? The sleep-walker moves about a house, goes out—on a roof, into a garden—they’ve been known, I believe, to walk for miles! He goes where he wants to go, he doesn’t bump into things, and as a rule he doesn’t come to any harm. What guides him? Does he walk by sight, or by some sense that we don’t know anything about?’

Miss Silver had taken out her knitting-needles and was casting on. She said in a thoughtful voice,

‘I do not know. I knew a woman once who told me a very curious story. She was a Devonshire woman, and she was friendly with a farmer’s wife in the neighbourhood. This woman woke up in the night and found her husband gone. She supposed that he had got up to attend to one of the beasts, and she turned over and went to sleep. When she woke again it was beginning to get light. She heard her husband coming up the stairs. When he came into the room she spoke to him, but he did not answer, and she saw that he was asleep. He had on trousers and boots. He came in with a big bunch of heather in his hand. He laid it down on the counterpane, pulled off his boots and trousers, and got into bed, all without waking. He slept for about half an hour, and then woke up without the least idea that he had left his bed. He did not know that he had ever walked in his sleep before, and he had no recollection of any dream. And the nearest place where he could have picked the heather was up on the moors seven miles away. He had risen, dressed, walked fourteen miles in the night, and come back with his bunch of heather. That is a true story. I do not feel at all able to explain it.’

‘Nor I. But I suppose he must have had his dream about the heather, and come and gone in it. And then forgotten the whole thing. And that I suppose is what Lila Dryden might have done—if it were not for the medical evidence. She could have dreamed she was Lucy Ashton, stabbed Whitall in her dream, and forgotten all about it when she woke again. But the medical evidence being what it is, I think it rules that out. Even if Grey is lying when he says he followed her down from her room, I can’t believe she just stood there for that extra half-hour which has got to be accounted for. If Whitall was dead half an hour before Grey and Waring reached the study, then I don’t believe that Lila Dryden was there when he was killed. She wandered in afterwards. You agree?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘Then I must get back to Haile and the question of whether he is suspect number one. He is doing his best to throw suspicion on Lila Dryden. The question is, did he have a motive for killing Herbert Whitall? If he knew that he was coming into the money under the old will, and that the new will had not been signed, then he did have a motive. Look here, what about having the secretary in? She would probably know whether the will had been signed or not. Anyhow it’s worth trying.’

As he got up and went over to press the bell, Miss Silver stopped knitting for a moment. If he had been looking in her direction he might have received the impression that she was about to speak. She did not, however, do so, and by the time that he returned to his seat she was counting stitches in an abstracted manner.

It was Marsham who answered the bell. Asked to find Miss Whitaker and tell her that Inspector Abbott would be glad to see her, he came over to the fire, put on a couple of logs, and departed on his errand. Miss Silver, having confirmed that she had the right number of stitches on her needles, was knitting in her usual smooth and rapid manner when Millicent Whitaker came into the room. Frank had moved to the writing-table. He noted her pallor, her black dress, a certain rigidity in her movements, and thought she showed more signs of shock than Lila Dryden did. She had been a long time with Sir Herbert. It was not impossible that she had been attached to him.

When she had taken the chair which he had placed for her, he said,

‘I won’t keep you, Miss Whitaker, but it occurred to me that you might be able to help us.’

‘Us?’

As she spoke the one word, her eyes went to Miss Silver in the sofa corner. Frank gave her his cool official stare.

‘Yes. Miss Silver is here as Lady Dryden’s representative. If you object to her presence, I will ask her to leave us. Have you any reason to object?’

‘Oh, no reason at all. I just wondered.’ There was a clipped sound about her speech. She seemed in a hurry to close her lips upon the words and have done with them.

Frank Abbott said,

‘Sir Herbert’s ’solicitor will be coming down tomorrow, but meanwhile I thought you might be able to help us in the matter of the will. Sir Herbert was making a new will in anticipation of his marriage, but there seems to be some uncertainty as to whether this will was signed or not. Lady Dryden believes that it was.’

‘She would,’ said Millicent Whitaker.

‘May I ask whether you mean anything by that?’

‘Oh, no, nothing. Why should I? I suppose the wish may be father to the thought—that is all.’

‘Well, you haven’t really answered my question, have you? Now, do you know whether Sir Herbert had signed that new will?’

‘I haven’t the slightest idea.’

‘You were his secretary. Did nothing of the correspondence go through your hands?’

‘There was not much correspondence. Sir Herbert dealt with the matter personally. He has been up at his flat in town a good deal. He could call on his solicitors and give his instructions verbally.’

‘And were you in London, or down here?’

‘Sometimes one and sometimes the other, according to what suited Sir Herbert’s convenience.’

‘But he told you a good deal about this will?’

‘I wouldn’t say that.’

‘And about the old one?’

‘I really know very little about either.’

‘Did you know that Mr. Haile was a beneficiary under the old will?’

For the first time, she hesitated. It struck him that if she knew and didn’t want to say, she would have to consider whether he could catch her out. If she did know, someone else might know that she knew. The thought had just time to present itself before she said,

‘I really couldn’t say. Sir Herbert would say things—I didn’t know whether he meant them, and I didn’t take a lot of notice.’

‘He did speak of Mr. Haile being a beneficiary?’

There was a spark in the fine dark eyes—a bright malicious spark.

‘He spoke of cutting him out of his will.’

‘Meaning out of this new will?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘When did he say this, Miss Whitaker?’

She looked down into her lap. Her voice went flat again.

It was yesterday.’

‘He was talking about Mr. Haile?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did he say?’

The spark glowed again.

‘He said Mr. Haile would be dining here and spending the night. On his usual errand. He called it a fool’s errand and said Mr. Haile should have no more money out of him. “Not even after I’m dead,” he said. “I’m tired of him, and when I’m tired of anyone their name comes out of my will.” ’ The last few words came with an extraordinary edge to them. She half rose from her chair, and said, ‘Is that all? Because that’s all I can tell you.’

‘Just a moment, Miss Whitaker. You were away last night, were you not?’

She resumed her seat and said sharply,

‘I made a statement to Inspector Newbury. It was read over to me, and I signed it. My sister is not strong, and I had a telephone message that made me anxious. Mr. and Mrs. Considine gave me a lift to the village when they went away at half past ten, and I caught the last bus to Emsworth. I spent the night with my sister at 32, Station Road. I did not get back here until ten o’clock this morning.’

She might have been reciting a lesson, but with that underlying sharpness. Frank had an impression of every door being locked and every window barred. Against what? He would have very much liked to know. He let her go, and she went out, walking a little as if there were armour under the thin black woollen dress.

When she was gone he pushed back his chair and came over to the fire.

‘Well, what do you make of that?’

Miss Silver’s needles clicked.

‘What do you?’

An eyebrow rose.

‘Animus against Haile. Possibly against others. Possibly against the late Herbert. Considerable insistence on the perfect alibi for the perfect secretary. Newbury is going into the question of the alibi. He’s a very thorough fellow. As to the animus, there seems to be quite a lot of it knocking about. Haile has it in for Lila Dryden. Lady Dryden and the perfect secretary have it in for Haile. A curious and rather unnatural partnership.’

Miss Silver gave her slight cough.

‘What makes you say that, Frank?’

‘I really don’t know—it just struck me that way. Lady Dryden rather busy with her own importance. Perfect secretary probably not caring about being treated like a blackbeetle. Just something on those lines. Did I hit a bull’s-eye by accident?’

‘I think you may have done. I thought I would let you see Miss Whitaker before I told you of a conversation I had with Lady Dryden.’

‘Another?’

‘We were together for most of the afternoon.’

‘And she had something to say about Miss Whitaker?’

‘A good deal.’

‘As what?’

‘It was very well done. Miss Whitaker had been such an invaluable secretary. Sir Herbert had depended on her in every way. Really too much, if she might say so. These associations tend to become a little too intimate. There had, of course, been some talk. There always is. Miss Whitaker is quite a good-looking woman. Naturally, she herself did not believe the stories. If there had been any foundation for them, Sir Herbert would hardly have been refusing to allow her to resign her position.’

Frank whistled softly.

‘Oh, she wished to go, did she?’

‘So Lady Dryden said.’

‘Well, if she really wanted to go, he couldn’t make her stop.’

Miss Silver said gravely,

‘I put that point. Lady Dryden intimated that there might be ways in which pressure could be brought to bear, adding, “I believe she had some expectation of being remembered in his will”.’

‘The question then arises as to which will. It looks as if the perfect secretary might have been down for a legacy in the old will, and was being told that it wouldn’t get into the new one unless she stayed put. By the way, I wonder why he wanted her to stay.’

‘He seems to have relied upon her a good deal. She had been with him for ten years, and he was used to her. If there had been an affair between them it was probably over, and he was too cold and selfish a man to consider her feelings in the matter.’

‘Do you think she cared for him?’

‘I do not know. She is certainly suffering from shock. It is impossible to say whether it has gone deeper than might be expected in the circumstances. To arrive back after a few hours absence and find that her employer had been murdered would naturally be a severe shock to any young woman. She would hardly have stayed ten years in Sir Herbert’s employment if it had not suited her to do so. So abrupt an end to ten years’ service would be, to say the least of it, discomposing.’

Her use of this word caused Frank Abbott to slide a hand across his lips. Miss Silver would certainly not expect him to smile at this juncture, and he was not at all confident of being able to disguise a keen if momentary amusement. Beneath a cool and rather highbrow exterior he concealed a sense of humour which had sometimes landed him in trouble. He expressed agreement, and rose to his feet.

‘Well, I must be off, or Lady Dryden will be offering me a meal in the housekeeper’s room. It might, of course, be informative, but the Marshams wouldn’t like it. Association with the police is very lowering to the social standards. I will go and see how bad the food at the Boar can be. Bill Waring is also staying there. Perhaps we shall mingle our tears over cabbage-water and flabby fish. Go on having conversations with all and sundry. Another instalment of this great murder mystery tomorrow. Expect me when you see me!’

An affectionately reproving glance followed him to the door.

When he had gone Miss Silver began to put away her knitting. Their talk had lasted for quite a time, and she had made a good start with the second pink vest. As she lifted the knitting-bag, something rolled from her lap to the floor. Bending to pick it up, she discovered it to be the magnifying-glass which Frank Abbott had taken from the writing-table to show her. During their subsequent conversation it had lain unregarded in her lap, screened by the flowery chintz of her niece Ethel Burkett’s birthday gift. The old knitting-bag had been really quite worn out. This one was delightfully gay, with bunches of flowers in the most tasteful colours and a lining of deep coral pink. Miss Silver admired it almost as much as she rejoiced in the affection which had prompted the gift. Even at this moment half her mind was upon dear Ethel and her children—so warm, so loving. She had a mere modicum of attention left for the magnifying-glass, and that of a surface nature. It must be very uncomfortable to use such an instrument for any length of time. The thought just came and passed. She got up and went over to the writing-table with the intention of replacing it there.

And then, as she turned it in her hand, by one of those unforeseen chances something caught the light and her attention. The overhead light was bright above the table. She had excellent sight. What she saw was no more than a scratch just inside the metal rim. She turned the glass, and perceived that it was not one scratch but a series of scratches, and that these scratches formed initials. They were by no means new, and only by holding the magnifying-glass in one position could they be seen at all. If there had not been so strong a light overhead they might not have been noticed.

Miss Silver made out the initials to be Z.R. After gazing at them for some moments she dropped the magnifying-glass into her knitting-bag instead of replacing it upon the table.