Читать книгу The Mystery at Stowe - Vernon Loder - Страница 10

ELAINE GURDON’S aplomb had been the admiration of her friend. It had never been more apparent than now.

‘Don’t you think, on the whole, it would be wiser to—to allow the superintendent to hear my statement?’ she asked, in a low but clear voice. ‘It will save going over it twice. I did, of course, find Mrs Tollard dead, as Mr Barley says, but any light I may be able to throw on it may be better exhibited to your chief, sergeant.’

He plucked at his lip uncertainly. He was not very sure of his powers in a case like this, and it was unlikely in the end that the detective force in Elterham would allow him to take the thing up.

‘As you please, Miss,’ he said.

Mr Barley seemed about to say something; perhaps with reference to the darts, but a glance from Elaine stopped him. This glance was not noticed by the sergeant, who was putting away, his note-book, but it did not escape the doctor’s eye.

In the end, it was agreed that breakfast should be sent into the library for the two men, Mr Barley was to inform his guests of the ocurrence after breakfast, and, on the arrival of the superintendent from Elterham, everyone in the house would be questioned as to their knowledge of the facts that might bear on the tragedy, or their (more probable) ignorance of anything throwing a light on it.

Only Dr Browne was slightly dissatisfied. He thought Elaine too calm and self-possessed for the occasion, and he could not forget how, at her lecture, he had seen her exhibit a blow-pipe, and tell her audience that, on occasion, she had shot birds for the pot with this primitive weapon. An idea in his mind that the alkaloid poison which had killed Mrs Tollard might be the well-known woorali, more scientifically known as curare, at once made the connection. There are few doctors who do not know how this poison was first used.

Added to that was her desire to postpone her statement, and the fact that it was she who had found Mrs Tollard dead. It was, it is true, not very obvious why she should prefer to tell her story to the superintendent, but it struck him as rather queer. The sergeant, of course, did not see that. He was a slow-thinking man, who could only get through routine duties.

He and the sergeant breakfasted together, the latter apologetic and ill at ease, until Browne assured him impatiently that he had messed in the trenches next a one-time convict!

Superintendent Fisher was slow in coming. The guests had assembled for breakfast when he came, accompanied by a detective-inspector of the Elterham force. They were shown into the room where the dead woman lay, and Mr Barley set to work with a heavy heart to play the host.

‘Isn’t Mrs Tollard coming down?’ asked Ortho Haine, who had become rather a hero worshipper.

‘No,’ said Mr Barley awkwardly, ‘not now. By the way, Haine, I’d like to hear what you think of my cook’s new way of doing kidneys.’

Someone laughed, the transition was so rapid, but Haine, who was not imaginative, looked at his plate.

‘I thought it was new to me—rather jolly effect, I should say, sir. What do you think, Head?’

‘Quite piquant,’ said Head. ‘We must try this way at home, if your cook will give us the tip.’

So breakfast blundered on. When it was over, and the various guests were on the point of scattering, Mr Barley got up. He was very red in the face, and trembled a little.

‘I have something to say to you all,’ he began. ‘Do you mind following me into the drawing-room? It’s rather—er—important, and, well, I’ll tell you there.’

The guests exchanged startled or amused glances, but followed him to the drawing-room, where they disposed themselves to listen.

Mr Barley opened his mouth, muttered one or two broken sentences, and turned appealingly to Elaine.

‘Will you tell them, Miss Gurdon?’

They all stared with open eyes at Elaine, who rose, and glanced round. Her face was very pale, but her voice was measured and unemotional as she began.

‘A tragic thing has happened,’ she said. ‘Poor Mrs Tollard died last night—or this morning, I should say. Please let me go on. We are afraid that something more is involved. I am sorry for Mr Barley, and sorry for you all, but the police are investigating. They are in the house at this moment. I think that is all Mr Barley wished me to say.’

For a moment there was a dead silence, then an uproar of voices broke out that Mr Barley had the greatest trouble to subdue. The two friends Miss Sayers and Mrs Gailey were in tears, Ortho Haine was demanding to know what had happened. Mr and Mrs Head (not very sure if they had a grievance against Fate or Mr Barley) were debating the question of leaving at once, while old Mrs Minever, without the slightest warrant, was saying that she had always known something would happen.

In all their minds was a general feeling that Elaine’s composed demeanour and clear speech was a sign that she lacked heart. Or, perhaps, that is too sweeping, for Miss Sayers was a champion of Elaine’s, and, when she had dried her eyes, grateful for the latter’s calmness, which had prevented a general attack of hysteria.

Mr Barley looked about him pleadingly. ‘Please, please!’ he begged, ‘I feel it as deeply as any of you. It is most unfortunate that this should have happened in my house, and at this time, when I have you with me. But we must face the fact. In ordinary circumstances I should not attempt to detain you here, but as it is, I must ask you to stay for a little.’

He seemed to have recovered himself again, but the Heads had not.

‘My dear Barley,’ said the husband, ‘I am sure we can be of no use. We—’

Mr Barley raised his hand. ‘It has nothing to do with me. The police will insist on examining all who were in the house at the time of Mrs Tollard’s death. But I am sure it will be more or less formal.’

‘I think Mr Barley is right,’ said Haine. ‘We all ought to help.’

‘Of course,’ said Mrs Gailey quickly.

The Heads at last assented with an ill grace, and Mr Barley told them all briefly what had happened. ‘I shall ask the superintendent to put any questions he has to ask, as soon as possible,’ he ended. ‘It is a very serious matter.’

‘Has anyone wired for Tollard?’ asked Haine.

‘I telephoned early, without result, and I have wired since. Now, if any of you would like to go to your rooms, or do anything in the matter of packing, please do. But you must be ready to come down when the superintendent asks for you.’

The Heads fled upstairs at once. It was a dreadful thought that they might have to go without their bridge for a day or two. They were not really callous people, but unimaginative, and obsessed by cards. Mrs Minever went behind them, full of her prophecies, and Ortho Haine went up to talk to Mr Barley. Elaine disappeared next, and Miss Sayers and Mrs Gailey, arm in arm, sedulously whispering, drifted out into the sunny garden.

‘What does it mean?’ asked Nelly Sayers, when they were out of earshot. ‘It sounds beastly.’

Mrs Gailey nodded. She was very excited, and her eyes shone. ‘Simple enough. Someone evidently hated her, and poisoned her. What a good thing it is Ned Tollard had gone.’

Her companion opened wide eyes. ‘My dear Netta! What do you mean?’

‘Nothing against Ned,’ said the other hastily. ‘Only you know how people talk. I thought Elaine was dreadfully calm. If I had been asked to tell the news, I should have simply blubbered,’ she added.

‘But you aren’t used to speaking in public,’ said her friend. ‘Elaine is. I thought it was fine of her. You could see poor old Barley was simply dithering. In any case, Margery wasn’t her relation. She never cared for her. If you and I were frank, we should say that we weren’t really upset so much by Margery’s death as by the way it was done. I am sorry for the poor soul, but I am sorry for a good many people.’

‘Oh, I liked her. I agree with Ortho that she was very patient and really sweet, though she never said much to me.’

‘Well, it doesn’t matter much now,’ observed Miss Sayers. ‘The thing is, who killed her? I didn’t quite follow what old Barley said about a dart. I don’t think he was very clear, do you?’

‘Oh, I got that part. Don’t you remember a few days ago we were out on the lawn, and he asked Elaine would she show us how the savages fired off those blow-pipes?’

‘Of course I remember.’

‘And she did. Ortho said he never knew a woman could use one, and Ned said he didn’t see why not. Even if it was a question of blowing hard—’

Miss Sayers nodded. ‘He made a joke about women blowing their own trumpets nowadays. I remember—Go on!’

‘Well, she brought out some little darts like thorns, with what looked like a bit of cotton-wool on the end, and hit the cedar with them several times.’

‘But if she had missed, and hit one of us, we might have been poisoned too!’

‘I don’t think she would use that kind. I expect she has some without any poison.’

Miss Sayers nodded gravely. ‘You mean it was one of the poisoned ones they found in poor Margery?’

‘I am sure he meant that. When you said people talked, I thought of that at once.’

‘But why should you, dear?’

‘Well, we know it was Ned’s business with Elaine’s expedition that annoyed Margery.’

‘But surely no one would be so wicked as to suggest—’

‘Oh! wouldn’t they? I don’t know that it is wicked either. The police will fish about for evidence, and a motive, and they will know it was Elaine who had these darts, and knew how to use them, and it was she who found Margery.’

‘But that has nothing to do with it. The finding, I mean. I can tell you, Netta, if the horrid police ask me if I know there was a split between Ned and Margery over Elaine, I shall say I have no idea. I haven’t really. It isn’t fair to decide that they were really divided just because Margery and he looked glum at times.’

‘No, I suppose not,’ said Netta thoughtfully. ‘They want to know facts, not conjectures. I agree with you. I won’t say a word about what I conjectured. Mr Barley said her window was wide open. Some burglar may have shot her from outside. If Elaine had done it, she wouldn’t have been such a fool as to go in to find her dead.’

‘Of course she didn’t do it,’ said Nelly. ‘I am only afraid of Ortho Haine saying something. The Heads are too absorbed in bridge to know what is going on, but Ortho has been quite potty lately about Margery.’

‘You mean he was in love with her?’

‘No, I don’t say that. He’s a nice boy, and I like him, but he has Platonic passions. Last year he used to adore that bad-tempered tennis player; though I don’t believe he ever met her! I am sure he thought Ned too material for Margery.’

‘He is rather an ass,’ said Netta. ‘But perhaps we had better go in again now, and wait for the superintendent.’

The superintendent had already arrived, and was making an investigation of Mrs Tollard’s room, in the company of the detective. As Mrs Gailey and her companion returned to the house, they saw two men momentarily at the window above. Fisher was tall and gaunt, a very grave man with a worried air; the detective-inspector was round and chubby.

‘I suppose they have to measure, and do things like that,’ said Nelly, as she entered the door.

Their evidence was not required at once, and quite half an hour had passed when the two officers from Elterham descended the stairs with Mr Barley, and went into the library. A minute later, Mr Barley emerged, and went for Elaine.

‘They want to hear what you have to say,’ he told her, in his worried voice.

She nodded, and accompanied him. When she entered the library she gave each man in turn a quick, observant look, then sat down, and folded her hands lightly on her lap.

‘I understand that you wished to see me?’ she said.

Superintendent Fisher bowed. ‘Yes, madam. I understand that you were the first to discover the body of the poor lady upstairs. I should like to ask you a few questions.’

‘Very well.’

The inspector had a note-book on his knee. He sucked his pencil-point meditatively, and bent an alert ear.

‘What first attracted your attention to that room?’

Elaine replied clearly, ‘My own room is next to it.’

‘Not the room with the communicating door?’

‘No, that was Mr Tollard’s room. Mine is to the other side. I was rather restless last night, on account of the heat. It was just about dawn when I heard slight movements in the next room. A bed seemed to creak, as if someone were tossing on it.’

‘Surely this is an old house, with thick walls?’

‘I should think it is. But her window was open, and so was mine. At any rate, I heard these sounds. Later on, I heard what sounded like a moan. Mrs Tollard had not been well the day before, and I wondered if she was in pain. At last I got up, went into her room, when I heard a slight cry, and found her lying on the floor, dead.’

‘Did you hear her fall?’

‘No.’

Mr Barley interposed anxiously: ‘Excuse me. I thought I heard a thud, though my room is on the other side of the passage.’

Elaine stared straight before her. ‘When I entered the room, and saw her lying there, I put my arm under her, and tried to lift her up. Then something told me she was dead, and though I have had some experience in my travels of sudden deaths, I was so shocked that I let her fall back.’

‘That will explain the bruise on the back of the head,’ said the superintendent.