The Murder at Sissingham Hall (17 page)

‘Not an upstairs window, surely,’ I said.

‘No,’ agreed Angela. ‘I had a look myself yesterday and there are no handy creepers to shin down, or anything like that. Whoever it was would have had to sneak downstairs after everybody was asleep and get out through a downstairs window—although I think it’s more likely that he was simply let in through the study door by Neville himself and just returned that way.

‘But which window was it?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps the police will find that none of them are passable, in which case we are back where we started.’

‘I must say, it’s looking rather bad for MacMurray,’ I said. ‘If all this is true, then he had not only an opportunity but also a thumping great motive.’

‘Yes,’ said Angela. ‘But it also means that we are all back in the picture, including Mr. Gale.’

‘Is this what you meant when you said we had been misdirected?’

‘Partly. Yes, I did think that the famous quarter of an hour might after all come to mean nothing. It seemed such a short time in which to commit a murder and make it look like an accident, especially if the whole affair was unpremeditated.’

‘Do you think it
was
unpremeditated, then?’

‘I don’t see how it could have been anything else. The staging of the scene was so clumsily and amateurishly done that it gives every indication of having been carried out in a tearing hurry and without any forethought. Even we spotted almost immediately that there was something odd about the position of Neville’s body.’

‘But if, as you say, it was done in a tearing hurry, why couldn’t it have been done in the time? Surely to enter the study, bang Sir Neville on the head and move his body and a few other things around couldn’t have taken long.’

‘First of all, we now know that if it was done during that period, then it must have taken fifteen minutes or less, given that nobody was out of sight for more than that time. But even more importantly, if we are assuming that the crime was unpremeditated, then it would be highly unlikely for the killer to have entered the room and knocked Neville out immediately, without preliminaries. Try and think about it from the murderer’s point of view. He enters the room with a view to talking to Neville about something, not hitting him on the head. There must be some conversation at least, some altercation, before he is driven to murder and that would take several minutes at least.’

‘Not necessarily. If MacMurray is indeed the killer, then he had a motive before he even entered the room. He may well have gone in there with murder in mind and dispatched the business immediately.’ Another idea suddenly came to me. ‘And why, if the thing was not planned in advance, were the French windows left open to allow the killer to enter?’

‘We don’t know they were, yet,’ replied Angela. ‘As I said, he may have gone in through the study door and merely left that way, then climbed back in through a window.’

‘How did he know to leave the window open then, if he was not intending to kill?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Angela. ‘There are lots of things that don’t add up about this business. But one thing we can say for certain is that if Hugh is the one responsible, then he must have done it after eleven o’clock, as he was in the drawing-room with the rest of us for most of the evening. It’s just that somehow I can’t see Hugh as a murderer.’

‘It all makes perfect sense to me. I can see it all now. This is what I think happened: after everyone else has gone to bed MacMurray, desperate to keep his inheritance and get back into Sir Neville’s good books, creeps downstairs and knocks on the study door with a view to pleading his case. After he has been admitted, things go badly wrong, they have a row, MacMurray kills Sir Neville and arranges the body, then leaves through the French windows.’

‘But how did he know Neville would be there, if everyone had gone to bed?’ said Angela. ‘And how did he get back into the house?’

I thought.

‘In that case, it
must
have been premeditated. He went downstairs with murder in mind, making sure first that he would be able to lock the study door behind him, leave through the French windows and come back into the house through a window. It’s the only possible way. And I wonder,’ I continued, ‘whether Gwen mightn’t have been part of the whole plot. She started the row with Joan, if you remember. Perhaps that was deliberately cooked up between them, in order to drive everybody to bed early. I don’t know how they could be so sure that Sir Neville would still be up, though. That’s the only flaw I can think of.’

‘What you say is quite plausible,’ admitted Angela. ‘But somehow I’m not convinced by it. I think there is something we have missed but I can’t quite put my finger on it.’

We went downstairs together and parted in the hall. I stood for a moment to let the servant whom I had seen going into the study earlier pass me, then went down the passage and into the room where Sir Neville had died. I looked about me. Nothing about the place gave any suggestion of the violent event that had taken place there only a few days earlier. I moved over to the desk and tried one of the drawers, then jumped violently as someone coughed softly behind me. I swung round.

‘Were you perhaps looking for this?’ said Inspector Jameson.

THIRTEEN

The inspector held out a telegram.

‘Where did you get that?’ I asked, when I finally found my voice.

‘From that drawer,’ he replied.

‘You shouldn’t look through people’s private things,’ I said, rather lamely.

He gave a small smile.

‘I’m afraid it is a regrettable part of my job,’ he said.

‘I gather you’ve read it.’

‘Yes.’

‘Then it contains all the information you require and I have no more to say on the matter,’ I said with emphasis and made as if to leave.

‘Oh, come now, Mr. Knox,’ said Jameson. ‘I have here in my hand a telegram from Sir Neville’s agent in South Africa, bringing to Sir Neville’s attention the fact that, three years ago, a Mr. Charles Knox was tried for the murder of one Franklin Watson of Johannesburg. I myself am investigating a murder, so naturally this fact is of great interest to me.’

‘As you will see from the telegram, I was tried and
acquitted
,’ I said stiffly.

‘Suppose you tell me about it. Shall we sit down?’

I sat.

‘Very well, since it seems I have no choice,’ I said. ‘What is it you wish to know?’

‘First of all, who was Franklin Watson?’

‘He was my business partner. It is to him that I owe all my good fortune in the mining business. I had gone out to South Africa to try my hand at farming and was making a pretty poor fist of it when I met old Frank. He had been out there for years and had finally struck gold but needed a partner to help him exploit it. He chose me. I shall always be grateful to him for that.’

‘How did he die?’

‘He was found one morning in his hotel room, lying on his bed with his head staved in. One hand was clutching a half-empty bottle of whisky.’ As soon as I said it, I bit my tongue. ‘But the circumstances were quite different in this case,’ I went on hurriedly. ‘Frank liked his drink—liked it rather too much. If he had managed to lay off the stuff, then he wouldn’t have needed an able-bodied partner to help him in the business. He was a very capable man when sober. The whisky was certainly his; it wasn’t just spilt around to lay a false scent. I don’t know who killed him. I wish I did. The mining business attracts a lot of transients and a rich man a lot of enemies and it could have been any one of them.’

‘Then why did the police arrest
you
?’

I shifted uncomfortably. Would those horrible events of three years ago continue to haunt me for the rest of my life?

‘We had had a row the night before and had been overheard by several people. One man swore in court that he had heard me threatening to kill Frank: it’s not true, I tell you. Every one of those witnesses was a drunkard and a wastrel. The whole thing was a trumped-up charge against me, anybody could see that. The jury certainly did.’

I realized I was becoming heated and relapsed into moody silence.

‘I see,’ said Inspector Jameson. ‘So you were acquitted. Now we come to the events of the past few days. This is not the first time you have attempted to enter the study since Sir Neville’s death, my men tell me, so, unless there is something else we have missed in our searches I think we can safely assume that you knew the telegram was here and were trying to get it back before we found it and jumped to conclusions. I therefore deduce that Sir Neville had spoken to you about it. Would you be so kind as to tell me the details of that conversation?’

‘There’s not much to tell. I returned home to England a little over a month ago and had begun informal negotiations with Sir Neville and Bobs—Mr. Buckley’s father, Lord Haverford, about some prospecting rights back in Jo’burg. Sir Neville must have made inquiries of his agent about me and the agent telegraphed back the reply you have in your hand. He asked me directly whether it was true that I had been tried for murder and I hope I convinced him that I was an innocent man unjustly accused.’

‘Is that all? He did not, for example, threaten to expose you to your friends? Pardon me, but some people might take a dim view of your past—er—misfortunes.’

‘No, he did not,’ I replied firmly. ‘On the contrary, he shook my hand and said that as he had no reason to doubt my word he would keep the matter quiet for my sake.’

‘Did that include keeping the matter from Lord Haverford?’

‘That is how I understood it, yes.’

‘Mr. Knox, did you kill Sir Neville Strickland?’

‘No, I did not kill him. If I had, then I should have taken good care to remove that telegram.’

‘Is there anything at all you can tell me that might shed light on Sir Neville’s murder?’

I hesitated.

‘I’m not sure,’ I replied at last. ‘During our conversation, Sir Neville said that somebody had been scheming against him, or something of the sort. At first I thought he must be talking about me, as he shortly afterwards showed me the telegram, but the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that he was referring to someone else. The murder trial is a shameful episode in my past—I admit it—and I have kept very quiet about it as you know, but I could hardly be accused of scheming against him.’

‘That’s very interesting,’ said Jameson. ‘Can you remember his exact words?’

I thought back.

‘I think he said something about troubles all coming at once and that somebody had deceived him and he was upset about it. Yes, and he certainly said that he felt he was surrounded by liars and schemers. Those were his words, if I recall correctly.’

‘And you have no idea to whom he was referring?’

‘None at all.’

The inspector must have detected a note of hesitation in my voice, because he said:

‘Are you quite certain of that, Mr. Knox?’

I relented.

‘Well, it has occurred to me since then that he might have been referring to the MacMurrays. As you know, he asked Mr. Pomfrey to come to Sissingham because he wanted to change his will and write Hugh MacMurray out of it. What reason could he have had for doing that if not the discovery of some misdeed on MacMurray’s part? But that idea only occurred to me long after our conversation; I mean to say, it was not an impression I got at the time.’

‘I see,’ he said again.

‘Is there anything else?’ I asked.

‘Just one thing. I would like to ask your permission for my men to have a look through your belongings.’

‘My belongings?’

‘Not only yours,’ he corrected himself. ‘I have asked all the guests the same thing. It is a matter of routine.’

‘Searching for evidence?’ I said. ‘Well, of course it will look very suspicious if I say no, so I suppose I shall have to say yes, even if I don’t like it.’

‘Thank you Mr. Knox. That will be all for the present.’

I rose to go.

‘Will it be necessary for you to tell anybody about what we have just been discussing?’ I asked.

‘I see no reason to do so at the moment. I shall be discreet as far as possible,’ he replied.

I left, my mind in a turmoil. I had remained more or less composed while answering the inspector’s questions but had felt deeply uncomfortable all the while. And I had not been entirely truthful when I said that Sir Neville had shaken my hand. He had made as if to do it but then had thought better of it at the last minute and covered up the movement with a cough. At that moment, I had known that he still doubted my innocence.

I returned to the drawing-room to find Gwen protesting loudly at the very idea of the police searching through her things.

‘No, I tell you, I won’t allow it!’ she exclaimed. ‘This is treating us all like common criminals, when we all know that Simon did it. Why should I let a stranger snoop through my clothes?’

‘We don’t know that Simon did it,’ said Rosamund. ‘And as you are innocent, of course the police won’t find anything, will they?’ she continued in her most persuasive tones. ‘And that will eliminate you from their inquiries and they’ll stop bothering you. Now darling, do say yes like the rest of us.’