Half-Mast Murder Page 3

  “If you had only a hazy idea of who Henry Paley was, you’ll never have heard of me,” he said. “I’m a writer, too, but of a different kind. Essays, books of travel—does that give you an idea ? I should like to call myself a critic.”

  “Books and plays, sir ?”

  Another faint smile, perhaps of conscious superiority.

  “Let’s say life and letters.”

  “I see, sir,” said the Superintendent untruly. “And you’re staying here?”

  “Yes. With two of my oldest friends. I usually do in the summer. Harry used to write, and I pretended to, or to read. And Mrs. Arkwright looked after us both. I owe so much to them—to him.”

  His amusement had given place to a more sincere emotion.

  “And how long have you been down here, sir ?”

  “Let’s see. Ten days.”

  “And nothing untoward has happened ?”

  “How d’you mean ?”

  “Why, no troubles ? The Professor hasn’t shown signs of worry or anything ?”

  “None at all. Just our usual holiday together. Our usual friendly disputes about books and plays, and life and letters.”

  “I see, sir. Thank you. Nothing at all, in fact, to suggest either that the Professor meant to take his own life, or that someone else meant to ?”

  “Good heavens, no. Nothing.”

  “And you live in London, sir ?”

  He did ; and the Superintendent noted down the address in Chelsea.

  “But of course I shall stay on here as long as Mrs. Arkwright wants me to,” he added.

  “She is the sister, I understand ? A widow ?”

  “Yes. Her husband died out in India, years ago. A very promising young fellow. She came back to look after her brother. Poor soul, this is terrible for her. But you won’t guess it. You never can guess what she feels or thinks—but you can be sure that she’s generally thinking of someone else. That’s her way of forgetting her own troubles.”

  “The Professor was a bachelor ?”

  “Yes, of course. Oh, I see. Miss Cynthia Paley—that’s his niece. His brother’s daughter. An orphan. She and——”

  He stopped rather abruptly, as if taken by surprise by his own thoughts.

  “Yes, sir ?” said the Superintendent enquiringly.

  “Oh, well. I was suddenly conscious that we ought to tell her brother—Julian, his name is—about this tragedy.”

  “He’s not here, then ?”

  “No. The fact is—he and his uncle didn’t get on. Nothing fundamental—or it wouldn’t have been with anyone but Harry Paley. But Julian took a job after the war with one of the big armament firms—and his uncle very strongly disapproved. So they parted company.”

  “But you know his address ?”

  “Oh, yes. Or you can get hold of him at the Cosmos Club. I see him from time to time—he is very like his uncle, with a different judgment. A distorted judgment, poor Harry called it.”

  “H’m. Not a violent quarrel, at any rate, sir ?”

  “No. A quarrel, but not a hint Of violence.”

  “And this Miss Paley ?”

  “A delightful girl. Devoted to her brother and her uncle. To the brother by the closest affection ; to her uncle, perhaps by respect and gratitude. Mind, that exaggerates the distinction.”

  The Superintendent silently anathematised the art of the essayist, of drawing a clear picture and then blunting all the outlines just when you wanted detail.

  “Yet I gather she was terribly upset ?”

  “Yes. She fainted, or hysterics. I’m not too clear, for it was while we were trying to get into the summer-house.”

  The Superintendent made a mental note here, but decided to continue to collect material about the household before he began on the exact events of the afternoon.

  “That’s not suggestive merely of respect and gratitude, if I may say so,” was all that he remarked aloud. “But now I think you mentioned someone else.”

  “Yes, there’s George Shipman. He completes our house-party.”

  “And he is ?”

  “Oh, a nice enough young fellow. Not too many brains ; a capital cricketer, they tell me—plays all games, I believe.”

  “His occupation ?”

  “Oh, Miss Cynthia. That’s why he’s here. I don’t mean that they’re officially engaged—that’s not de rigeur to-day, of course. But apart from that—I believe he’s very comfortably off. But he knows more about that than I do.”

  “You don’t mean that the Professor wouldn’t allow them to be engaged ?”

  Trent looked distinctly annoyed.

  “No,” he said rather loudly. “I implied nothing of the sort.”

  “Then he approved ?”

  “Oh, as you insist, I’d put it like this : that probably they would have been officially engaged by now if Cynthia had been quite sure that it wouldn’t meet with her uncle’s disapproval.”

  “Thank you,” said Guest, feeling that he had extracted an admission, even if an unimportant one. “And that’s all the party ? What about the servants ?”

  “You’ll have to ask Mrs. Arkwright—if there’s really any need to, I mean—we don’t know yet how it happened, do we ?”

  “No, that’s true, sir, But you can just tell me whether they are old or new servants, I expect.”

  “I believe there’s a new housemaid. But the rest have been years with Mrs. Arkwright.”

  “The butler ?”

  “Richards ? Let’s see. I should think the best part of a dozen years. Oh, I fancy you can reckon that they’re all devoted to Mrs. Arkwright.”

  “And to the Professor ?”

  “I should say Richards was, certainly. But I don’t know about the others. I don’t mean to suggest that they were not devoted—but it’s simply that I had naturally far less opportunity to see and judge their relations to the Professor, than in the case of Richards.”

  There was a pause, during which the Superintendent considered the next move. He walked across the room and looked idly out of the window which faced away from the tennis-court, and which gave on to the drive. Though it was well on in the day by now, the sun still beat down fiercely, though the house, where every window seemed to be open, was cool enough. He turned to Trent again.

  “I’m much obliged to you, sir, for all the help you’ve given me. Now I think what we have to do, is to find out who was the last member of the household to see the Professor alive.”

  “Exactly,” Trent agreed, with a steady look. Yet Guest noticed that the hand which the essayist put up to straighten his somewhat untidy bow-tie was none too steady. Trent perhaps was conscious of the fact, and of the Superintendent’s recognition of it, for his next words had a nervous ring.

  “I don’t know,” he said, “whether the others—and of course I particularly mean Mrs. Arkwright—have realised that they will have to be questioned, as well as to ask questions. You’ll try. to—go easy, won’t you ?”

  “Of course.”

  Then the Superintendent suddenly remembered that Trent had failed to mention one of the party, and drew his attention to the fact. He wrinkled his brow in perplexity.

  “I don’t follow you, Inspect—Superintendent, sorry, is that right ?”

  “Quite right, sir. But you have forgotten that American gentleman.”

  “What Amer—oh, of course. That fellow. What’s his name—Tuck, I fancy. Yes, I’d clean forgotten him. But he turned up from nowhere at teatime, to pay a call or something—a total stranger.”

  “I see. But he was with you when the—discovery was made, you know. Funny that he—however, I’ll see him in due course. I suppose that he’s still here ?”

  “I couldn’t say, but your policeman was very firm with us all, so I should say so. Probably he’s driving poor Shipman mad in the drawing-room. I’m sorry, I know nothing at all about him. But, of course, plenty of Americans of all sorts and kinds came to see Professor Paley.”

  “Indeed, sir ? Well, we’
ll ask him to explain himself later. If I may say so, it was a little peculiar to leave him all alone there at the summer-house.”

  Trent flushed at the implied criticism. “It may seem so—now,” he answered, a little angrily. “But it was like this. We broke in—Shipman and I and Richards, and saw—the body. And I told Richards to go and telephone for a doctor. And a second afterwards of course—I suppose I’d begun to pull myself together—I realised it was police we wanted, not doctor, so I sent Shipman off to telephone or tell Richards to. I’d have gone myself only—well, Shipman’s a quicker runner than I am, and apart from that I suppose I naturally took charge.”

  “Quite so, sir. Of course I understand.”

  “Oh, but wait a minute. Let me finish. After that, you see, I naturally thought I must tell Mrs. Arkwright, or stop her coming into the summer-house—she was just behind us. The American had arrived on the scene, I think, just after we broke down the door. Anyhow, he was there, and, of course, much cooler that we were. Well, Mrs. Arkwright was outside, looking after Cynthia Paley—she would be. She called to me to fetch some water. Well, it wouldn’t have been much use to send the Yankee—he wouldn’t even have known which was the quickest way to the house. So there he was. But I think he was outside the summer-house—he may have gone in, but—I don’t see why.”

  “No, of course not, sir. I’m sorry you think I was criticising—I didn’t mean that, and I quite see how it happened.”

  Trent seemed relieved by the Superintendent’s words.

  “Good,” he said, half smiling. “And now, Superintendent, whom do you want to see first ? I mean, in order to find out who last say poor Harry alive ?”

  “What about yourself, sir ?” Guest suggested.

  “Me ?” said Trent in surprise. “Oh, but I wasn’t the last person.”

  “Then who was, sir ?”

  “I haven’t the least idea.”

  The Superintendent reminded himself that patience ranks as a virtue.

  CHAPTER IV

  ANNOUNCES AN AMERICAN

  “Perhaps you’d tell me, Mr. Trent, exactly what did happen this afternoon, as far as you know it ?”

  “Certainly, Superintendent. It was like this. When I woke up——”

  “Oh, I don’t think we need start till lunch-time, sir.”

  “No, no, I meant from the nap I took after lunch.”

  “Then that’s not quite soon enough. Lunch, now. All the party was there ?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Nothing unusual happened ?”

  “No—no.”

  He seemed to hesitate.

  “Well, sir ? Sure ?”

  “Yes. I’m bound to say it seemed to me an unsuitable day for a hot lunch, but——”

  “And after lunch ?” Guest asked impatiently.

  “Let me see. Yes, Cynthia and young Shipman were going to play tennis. And I meant to read some books—or I pretended so to myself. And Harry was going to work in the summer-house. Mrs. Arkwright, yes, I think she said she’d watch the tennis. I doubt whether she meant to, though.”

  “What time was it that you finished lunch ?”

  “Oh, I should think about a quarter-past two—or a bit sooner. We all sat about in here for a little while. Then Harry and I walked down to the summer-house together.”

  “Ah ! And you went in with him ?”

  “No, I think not. In fact, I’m sure. We strolled along and talked for a little while. I said it was too fine to work. And Harry said it was the day to finish off a roll of films.”

  “He was a photographer, was he ?” Guest remembered the camera.

  “An amateur, of course. It amused him to keep a book of snapshots of people who stayed down here, and so on. He took them when they didn’t expect it. More amusing than flattering, the results were, as a rule.”

  “I see, sir. And then ?”

  “Well, then he went into the summer-house, and I went on to the walled garden and—I’m afraid I went to sleep very soon. That hot lunch, I expect.”

  He stopped rather abruptly. Guest waited expectantly.

  “That’s all,” he continued. “I woke up and looked at my watch and, by Jove, it was well past four o’clock, in fact getting on for a quarter to five, and I thought it was about tea-time. I certainly hoped so—you know what it feels like to go to sleep in the afternoon, I daresay ? Yes, that’s how I felt. So I came up to the lower terrace——”

  “Past the tennis-lawn, then, sir ?”

  “No, by the door at the end of the walled garden, and along the grass to the trees where Mrs. Arkwright was talking to Shipman. Richards had just brought out tea. I joined them, and we talked for a bit——”

  “Nothing in particular ?”

  “No. Cynthia Paley hadn’t been feeling very well, and had chucked the tennis match. That sort of thing.”

  So this Mr. Shipman had presumably been at a loose end, the Superintendent thought to himself. But he waited for the other to continue.

  “After a bit Cynthia came down, and then that American fellow—oh, yes, Tuck—turned up. Came to call, as I told you, and then——”

  He paused for a moment, and wrinkled his brow in an apparent effort at exact recollection.

  “I think Mrs. Arkwright told Richards to go and tell her brother that tea was ready. Tuck begged her not to disturb him, but she said, nonsense. Then Richards came running back, and we all rushed down to the summer-house.”

  “Why, sir?”

  “Why ?”

  Mr. Trent seemed taken aback at the question.

  “I mean, what made you ‘ rush ’ down ? Did Richards infectioussay——”

  “No, I don’t think he did. I suppose his alarm was”

  “He was alarmed and showed it ?”

  “I suppose so. I hardly know. But he must have done, to scare us all like that.”

  “Quite so, sir. Very well. You all rushed down. Who got there first ?”

  “Richards, I think. Or Shipman. Anyhow, they were there before me.”

  “And the door was locked ?”

  “Yes. And what with our shouting and banging—well, if Harry couldn’t hear, it seemed serious.”

  “But suppose he hadn’t been there ?”

  “Oh !” Again he was taken aback. “Of course, that was possible. It never struck me, though, at the time. I—well, I suppose I was carried away, so to speak. I know I tried to see in at one of the windows, but I couldn’t. Then we burst in the door——”

  “Where was the key ?”

  “I’ve no idea. I mean it wasn’t outside, and the door was locked. So I suppose it was locked on the inside.”

  The Superintendent could think of several other possibilities, but instead asked how many keys there were to the summer-house, and whether it was usually kept locked.

  “Always kept locked,” the other replied, “to the best of my belief. It was Harry’s study, you see. And, as far as I know, he was the only person who had a key. But Mrs. Arkwright would tell you more about that.”

  “Exactly, sir. And that’s all you can tell me ?”

  “I think so.”

  “Then may I take it that you saw him alive about a quarter-past two, and that that was the last that you saw of him ?”

  “Yes, Superintendent.”

  Mr. Trent spoke almost defiantly, Guest thought.

  “One last question, sir. Did you actually see Professor Paley go into the summer-house ?”

  “No. But I was quite clear that he was going in, and he went off in that direction.”

  “Still, you didn’t see him ? And of course he might have gone in and come out again, for all you know ?”

  “Oh, certainly.” This time there was rather a change of tone, and defiance seemed to have gone out of it.

  “Well, I’m much obliged to you, Mr. Trent,” the Superintendent said, to indicate that the interview was over. “Perhaps I had better see Mrs. Arkwright now.”

  “If I may suggest it, Superintendent, I’d wa
it a little for that. The shock, you know—and, besides, she has got to look after her niece.”

  “Ah, yes. That attack of hysterics.” The Superintendent spoke thoughtfully and then pondered a moment. “Very well, sir,” he resumed briskly. “I expect you’re right. I’d better see the servants—ah, yes, and the American gentleman. Oh, and by the way, Mr. Trent, I take it you will stay on here, if you don’t mind, and keep an eye on things generally, I shall be up again to-morrow morning ; but after I’ve seen the servants, I’d better go down to Torgate.”

  Trent undertook the commission, without a very precise idea of its nature. He rang the bell, and when Richards appeared explained to him that the Superintendent wanted to ask him and the rest of the staff a few questions. Then he made as if to settle himself down to listen to the interview. The Superintendent smiled, a trifle coldly.

  “Excuse me, sir,” he observed. “I think I’d better see the American gentleman first. And—a matter of form of course—I’ll see him alone. Perhaps you’ll show him in here,” he concluded, addressing Richards. “I’ll see you afterwards.”

  Mr. Trent was not too pleased to be dismissed.

  “Hang it,” he said. “I want to get to the bottom of this business myself. And as far as this Mr. Tuck, I’d like very much to know what he’s doing down here. However——” And he withdrew.

  The “American gentleman” entered with no sign of nervousness, and accepted an invitation to sit down in a chair facing the Superintendent across a small table.

  “You want to see me, Captain ?” he enquired.

  “Yes, please, sir. I’m Superintendent Guest.”

  “Pardon me,” the other apologised, with a smile, “I’m a comparative strangerto European nomenclature.”

  The Superintendent smiled in return, and then came briskly to business.

  “Now will you tell me all you know about this affair, sir ?” he began.

  “Why, certainly, but——”

  “First of all—your name, I understand, is Tuck ?”

  “No, Cap—Superintendent. Quirk. Bartholomew Quirk, of New York City. I guess the butler didn’t get me right.”

  “I see. Well, Mr. Quirk, you were a friend of Professor Paley ?”

  “No. I would hardly say that. I hoped to be, but—well, I had never set eyes on him. I came here with a letter of introduction—or I should say that a letter of introduction was sent from New York to the Professor, to say that I should pay my respects to him when” I visited Europe this summer, and accordingly I came down here——”