They Found Him Dead (7 page)

Clement reddened and replied with some annoyance: "Really, Aunt, it is quite unnecessary for you to tell me that. I spoke to Silas about it last night, and I may say that upon reflection I fully agree with his view of the matter. Not that Roberts is an American. He has lived for some years in the States, but he is of English birth."

"That's neither here nor there," said Emily. "He dined here last week, and I didn't take to him. What's more, he talks like an American. That's enough for me."

Clement permitted himself to smile rather superciliously and to give the faintest shrug of the shoulders before changing the subject. He told his great-aunt that she must prepare her mind for the unpleasantness of an inquest, to which she replied that she was not born yesterday.

By the time the Clement Kanes took their departure Clement at least had won Miss Allison's sympathy. It seemed to her that he was behaving towards Emily with patience and considerable restraint. Indeed, so unresentful of snubs did he show himself to be that Patricia ventured to ask Emily, when he had gone, what she found to dislike in him.

"He's a fool," Emily said harshly. "A weak fool! and that wife of his!" Her fingers worked on the silk of her gown. "A nice pair to succeed my son! A nice pair for me to live with for the rest of my days!" A faint colour crept into her cheeks. Between their puckered lids her eyes stared straight ahead. "I wanted Jim," she said, more to herself than to Patricia. "It ought to be his, all of it! Clement! He's only half a man!"

Patricia said nothing. The note of hatred in Emily's voice was inexplicable and rather shocking.

"And his father," said Emily, with concentrated venom, "was just such another! I've always hated 'em—the whole pack of them! Jim's the only one worth tuppence." She pulled the shawl more tightly about her shoulders and said: "I won't see anyone else. If any of those Mansells call, you can send them about their business."

Both Agatha Mansell and her daughter called during the course of the day, but although Agatha insisted upon seeing Patricia, she accepted without comment the message that Mrs. Kane felt unable to receive visitors.

Betty Pemble, however, assured Miss Allison that she quite understood and gave into her charge an untidy posy of mixed flowers, the touching offering of her children, who (according to her account) had thought of it quite by themselves upon being told the sad news of Uncle Silas' death.

"I just told them that dear Uncle Silas has gone away on a long journey," she said. "They're such mites, you know, and I've never let them hear about Death or have ugly toys or stories about ogres and things. I mean, I do frightfully believe in keeping their little minds free from everything but happy, beautiful things, don't you?"

"A waste of time," pronounced Agatha. "Children are singularly heartless creatures."

Not from conviction, but with the object of preventing Mrs. Pemble from entering upon an involved argument in support of her offspring's sensibilities, Miss Allison made haste to take the flowers and to agree that all ugly things should be kept from the young.

Betty, who had hitherto believed Miss Allison to be hard and "what-I-call-unsympathetic" was pleased and told her earnestly that when one of his Pemble aunts had sent Peter a golliwogg for Christmas she had instantly taken it away from him and given him instead a sweet little woolly lamb.

"Yes," said Agatha magisterially, "and had
I
been his mother I should have given him a good spanking for screaming from sheer temper as he did. I well remember the occasion. Not that I see what a golliwogg has to do with Silas Kane's death."

She turned to Patricia and desired her to recount the precise circumstances of the accident. She did not appear to believe that Patricia was unable to gratify her curiosity, for she continued to question her long after Patricia had confessed almost entire ignorance. Her manner was so majestic and her voice so overpoweringly cultured that Patricia found herself apologising for knowing so little. It did not occur to her until that masterful presence was withdrawn that Agatha Mansell, who despised gossip and considered accidental deaths sensational and therefore vulgar, had been oddly anxious to possess herself of all the facts of the case.

Two more callers visited Cliff House to leave cards and sympathetic messages. One was Paul Mansell, who contrived to waylay Miss Allison in the garden and to pay her unseasonable addresses; the other was Oscar Roberts, who said naively that, having enjoyed the old lady's hospitality, he wanted to do the civil thing.

Mr. Harte, having looked Paul Mansell over with the mercilessly critical eyes of the youthful male, informed Miss Allison dispassionately that he seemed to be a pretty good tick. Oscar Roberts, however, whom he encountered in the drive, instantly won his approbation.

Unlike Emily, Mr. Harte had no prejudice against Americans. America for him was an Eldorado populated in its wilder regions by venal sheriffs and heroic cowboys; and in its towns by bootleggers, gangsters, kidnappers and G men. That another side to American life might exist he was happily unaware, so that when Oscar Roberts addressed him in the accents of his favourite film star he believed that he stood in the presence of one who might at any moment produce a gun from somewhere about his person and accorded him a reverent admiration that was strong enough to enable him to pardon Mr. Roberts for having committed the awful solecism of hailing him as "son."

They fell easily into conversation, Oscar Roberts being apparently amused by so much obvious admiration and having the tact neither to disclaim American citizenship nor to correct Timothy's ideas of American life. A polite reference to Silas Kane's death opened the floodgates of Timothy's confidence. He reiterated his belief that Silas had been bumped off, and although Mr. Roberts looked rather startled for a moment, he did not make any snubbing remarks but, on the contrary, listened to Timothy's various theories with perfect gravity and even allowed himself to be led off to inspect the scene of the accident. Appealed to, he agreed that no doubt some evil-minded person might have pushed Silas off the cliff.

"Well, don't you think that's probably what did happen, sir?" said Timothy, bent on acquiring an ally.

Oscar Roberts stroked his pointed beard and suggested mildly that the possible murderer must have taken a big chance on Silas' choosing to walk along the cliff that night.

"No, because everyone knew that Uncle Silas took a walk along here every night!" said Timothy, triumphantly disposing of this objection.

"Is that so?" said Roberts. "Kind of a habit with him, maybe?"

"Yes, because of not being able to sleep."

"Well," replied Roberts, shaking his head, "I'll say that certainly looks as though you might be right, son."

Timothy looked up at him with glistening eyes and in a burst of gratitude invited him to come back to the house for tea.

Oscar Roberts declined the invitation, but on the way to the drive across the gardens they encountered Miss Allison, who had come out in search of Timothy, and Timothy immediately begged her to add her persuasion to his. Oscar Roberts, however, intervened before she could speak and countered with an invitation to Timothy to accompany him back to Portlaw for tea at his hotel.

Patricia could not but feel grateful to anyone who offered to relieve her of Mr. Harte's company on this very trying day, as Timothy seemed anxious to go with his new friend she gave permission, only qualifying it by insisting on his first washing his hands and brushing his hair.

He went off to do this, leaving her to stroll towards the drive with Roberts. She said: "It's really most awfully kind of you. Are you sure he won't be a nuisance?"

He replied with his slow smile: "Why, no, Miss Allison. I've got a kind of fondness for kids of his age. I'm at a loose end just now, and I'll be mighty glad of his company." His smile grew. "Guess he hopes I'm one of those gunmen he sees in the movies."

She laughed but said with some misgiving: "He's a dreadfully bloodthirsty child. I do hope he hasn't favoured you with his 'theories' about Mr. Kane's death? I've done all I can to squash him, but without much success."

"I shouldn't worry," he answered. "Kids just naturally get those ideas."

She felt impelled to say: "Of course, there's nothing in it. It was an accident. I don't want you to get a false impression from Timothy."

He looked down at her with a twinkle in his eyes. "Any impression I get won't come from Timothy, Miss Allison," he said deliberately.

Greatly to Timothy's disgust, the inquest on Silas Kane's death contained no thrills. A verdict of death by misadventure was returned, a post-mortem examination having established the fact that Silas must have had a heart attack. His own doctor gave some highly technical evidence and annoyed Timothy by agreeing that, although an attack was unexpected, he would not go so far as to say that he was surprised that Silas should have had one. The excitement of his birthday-party, coupled with over-fatigue, might well have produced it.

Joseph Mansell and his son both corroborated the statement that Silas had been in the habit of working too hard, Joseph adding that in his opinion Silas' powers had been declining for the past few months.

Clement was a still more disappointing witness.

Questioned, he would not say that his cousin had been in failing health. He had not been a young man; things had certainly tired him. He had not discussed Silas' health with him; he had not noticed any particular signs of weariness or excitement in him on the night of his death.

No persuasions had availed to keep Timothy away from the inquest, but he professed himself disgusted with the result. When it was over Oscar Roberts took him and Miss Allison, who had been present in obedience to Emily's command, to refresh themselves with lemonade and ices before returning to Cliff House. He seemed to be considerably amused by Timothy. He allowed the boy to air his views, recommending him to get it off his chest once and for all, advice which Timothy followed, bitterly announcing his dissatisfaction with the methods of the Portlaw police.

"They jolly well ought to have found out what everybody was doing when Uncle Silas was killed," he said.

"They did," replied Patricia. "You know perfectly well they made all the proper inquiries."

Timothy snorted. "I don't call it making proper inquiries just to ask people where they were and not to try and prove they weren't there at all. Why, they didn't even ask Jim, and he was at the party."

"You unnatural viper!" said Patricia calmly. "Besides, what had Jim—I mean, your stepbrother—to gain by murdering his cousin?"

"I know, but——"

"The fact of the matter is, son, that you can't have a murder without motive," said Roberts.

"There were motives!" replied Timothy instantly. "Look at Clement! He's getting simply pots of money out of it."

Patricia removed the lemonade straw from her mouth to expostulate. "You definitely must not go about saying your Cousin Clement had a motive for murdering Mr. Kane!"

"He isn't my cousin. I'm a Harte," said Timothy loftily. "I'll bet Mr. Roberts thinks he had a pretty good motive."

"Sure I think it," agreed Roberts. "But I've a notion that if I were Mr. Clement Kane I wouldn't run the risk of bumping off an old man who had a valvular disease of the heart. Guess I'd wait a piece for Nature to do its work."

Timothy shook his head. "Not if you wanted his money absolutely at once."

"He didn't." said Patricia. "The Clement Kanes are quite well off."

Timothy was silenced for the moment, but the consumption of a large strawberry ice inspired him afresh.

"Well, what about the Mansells?" he demanded.

Patricia glanced round the teashop apprehensively. "For heaven's sake shut up!" she begged.

"Yes, but they had a motive. I know all about the Australian show, I'll bet Mr. Roberts——"

"No, no, sonny, you won't drag me into that!" interposed Roberts. "Next you'll be telling me I've got a motive. See here, now! This kind of talk isn't going big with Miss Allison at all. What do you say we drop it?"

Patricia looked at him. "I believe you're as bad as he is," she said.

"No, no," he assured her. "But when a man falls off a cliff edge, Miss Allison, folks just naturally get to wondering about it. You can't blame Timothy. It's kind of inevitable."

"But surely you don't think——"

"I don't know enough about the family to think anything," he said with a shade of reserve in his voice.

When Emily heard about the proceedings at the inquest she smiled grimly and said she had expected nothing else. Something in her tone impelled Clement, who had driven Patricia and Timothy back to Cliff House, to inquire a little sharply what she meant.

"If you don't know what I mean it won't hurt you," replied Emily.

Clement reddened. "Well, I certainly don't, Aunt. I should have thought it was obvious that Cousin Silas' death was due to the fog, coupled with one of his heart attacks."

She fixed him with one of her blank stares. "Pray, who said it was not?"

Timothy, scenting an ally, said: "I do."

Emily looked at him. "You do, do you? And why?"

"Well, partly because he was so frightfully rich, and partly because I had an instinct there was going to be a murder."