On the Monday morning I was aroused to renewed consciousness of my problems by the shrilling of an alarm clock. It came from Johnny’s bedroom, and he had evidently set it to ensure his waking in time to make an early start for Longshot. I was next door in his sitting-room, to which I had returned after my exciting but abortive contact with Daisy.
Disregarding her command to ‘hop it’, I had flung a dozen telepathic questions at her, imploring her to tell me more about my state; but, to my distress and chagrin, she had ignored them, jumped into bed and switched out the light. For a quarter of an hour or more I had remained there endeavouring to induce her to answer, but it was no good; she had turned her face to the wall and, apparently, shut her consciousness against me.
At length, abandoning the attempt, I had spent a long time drifting about the streets, heedless of where I was going, while I puzzled over this new development. It is an ancient and widely accepted belief that when asleep people’s egos leave their bodies, and that dreams recalled on waking are jumbled, telescoped memories of the ego’s experiences while away from its physical habitation. If that were so, it was perfectly understandable that psychics, like Daisy, should from time to time see the ethereal forms of sleeping people; but I simply could not accept her belief that my own was such a case. I had then been out of my body for over forty-eight hours and two doctors had definitely pronounced me dead; so dead I must be. Desperately weary after my long depressing day, I had made my way back to Johnny’s rooms.
Emerging from his bedroom, Johnny switched on an electric kettle, made himself a pot of tea and had a snack breakfast of some fruit. Half an hour later he threw a few things into a blue canvas suit-case, then he got out a large old-fashioned brown leather one, made certain that it was empty and carried both of them downstairs. As I followed I wondered why he should be taking an empty suit-case to Longshot. I was to learn in due course.
It was still only a little after six o’clock when he collected his car from the garage and we set out. Our journey was uneventful and we reached Longshot just before nine.
When we arrived Silvers was already carrying extra chairs into the dining-room in preparation for the inquest. Shortly afterwards Inspector Mallet and Sergeant Haines put in an appearance. Then Bill Wiltshire came downstairs and handed the Inspector some folded sheets of foolscap.
‘This is a signed statement by my daughter,’ he said. ‘Dr. Culver came again yesterday evening and gave it as his opinion that if she were made to attend the inquest a complete breakdown might result; so in his presence I wrote this out at her dictation. If you wish to question her after you’ve read it, she’ll see you. But I hope that won’t be necessary.’
With a word of thanks Mallet took the statement into the drawing-room and sat down to read it. Anxiously I peered over his shoulder while he did so, and was greatly relieved to see that Ankaret had made no dangerous elaborations to her story, but given it briefly point by point exactly as it had already been established by the forged letter.
After reading it the Inspector handed it to Haines, and told Bill that, at the present stage, he did not think it would be necessary for him to trouble Ankaret.
By this time a number of reporters had gathered in the hall and, standing a little apart from them, an elderly couple of not very prosperous appearance. The woman was in rusty black and the man wearing a black tie with an obviously ready-made suit. As they looked a little nervously about them Silvers came over to my father-in-law and told him in a low voice that they were Mr. and Mrs. Evans, Owen’s parents.
Bill at once went up to them, condoled with them on their loss and, on learning that they had travelled from Wales through the night in order to attend the inquest, offered them breakfast. They said they had already had a meal at Southampton station, so he led them through to my library where they could wait instead of among the crowd, and insisted on providing Mr. Evans with a stiff whisky and soda.
Naturally they were much distressed by the death of their son; and as they believed him to have risen to a position of some importance and even greater promise, the cutting short of his career had proved an added blow to them. Mrs. Evans was peevishly resentful, and although her husband did his best to check her, frankly expressed her opinion that ‘it all came of poor Owen coming to live in a big house like this and getting hisself mixed up with rich people who were no better than they should be’.
Bill might well have informed her that it all came of her son having made immoral advances to his daughter; but, with the good manners natural to him, he confined himself to remarking that, wherever the fault might lie, the tragedy had also robbed him, if not of a son, of a son-in-law for whom he had had a great affection.
The sense of noblesse oblige which had led him to take special care of the bereaved couple was not put to further strain, for while they were talking the jurymen had arrived and soon afterwards Silvers came in to announce that the Coroner was about to open the proceedings.
They proved much less sensational than I had expected. Johnny gave evidence of the finding of the bodies. Silvers followed and told of the letter, which was believed to have been written by myself, that he had found among the post in the letter-box and passed on to Johnny. It was produced and its contents naturally led to an increased tempo in the scribbling of the journalists, but the little flutter it caused subsided again when Dr. Culver gave particulars of the causes of death in dry medical terms. The police surgeon confirmed his findings and Inspector Mallet made a brief statement to the effect that the police had been called in without delay, had made a full investigation and were satisfied with the evidence given.
The Coroner then informed the jury that Lady Ankaret was still suffering too severely from shock to attend but that he had received a statement from her in which, while she maintained that her friendship with Evans had been entirely innocent, she substantiated that having had to confess to her husband that Evans was so violently in love with her that he had assaulted her had been the cause of the quarrel that had led to the death of both. He added that in the circumstances he felt it unnecessary to call further evidence.
The jury was then taken to the laboratory and the beach pavilion for formal inspection of the bodies. On their return they retired to consider their verdicts. They remained closeted for barely ten minutes and when the public were re-admitted the verdicts, now a foregone conclusion, were given: in Evans’s case that he had died of severe injuries inflicted by myself, and in mine that I had taken my own life by an over-dose of a dangerous drug while the balance of my mind was disturbed.
No breath of suspicion about the dark doings that had really taken place at Longshot Hall the previous Friday night had fallen on Ankaret, and that cheered me greatly. Now, apart from my own still-veiled future, my only worry was over Johnny’s quarrel with Sue, but soon after the Coroner’s court rose, that too showed signs of being disposed of.
Bill had just been making arrangements for the Evans’ to have their son’s body removed to the mortuary in Southampton that afternoon, and as I watched him escort them out to their taxi the telephone rang. Johnny went to answer it and when he realised who the caller was I saw his face light up. His ‘Hello, darling!’ told me that it must be Sue, and evidently she had decided to have a further explanation with him. Moving nearer, I heard him arrange to pick her up at a cross-roads near her home that evening, and then try to persuade her to let him give her dinner at The Master Builder’s at Buckler’s Hard.
The sitting of the court had occupied most of the morning and the last of the people who had come to attend it were now moving off. Inspector Mallet told Bill and Johnny that he hoped not to have to trouble them further, then he and his men took their departure. Bill went upstairs to tell Ankaret the findings of the court, then joined Johnny in my room for a drink. By the time they had finished it Silvers announced lunch.
Over the meal they talked about the morning’s doings for a while, then Johnny asked when Ankaret would be fit to leave her room.
‘The poor gel’s still pretty low,’ her father replied, so I don’t think she’ll be up to coming down this evening; but she told me that she means to attend the funeral tomorrow morning.’
‘I see,’ said Johnny. ‘Well, immediately after the funeral I’ll have to get back to London, so if she’s set on remaining up in her room I’d be glad if you’d ask her to let me have Giff’s keys. As one of his executors I’ve naturally got to go into his affairs, so I want to collect the papers that are in his desk.’
‘Right,’ Bill responded cheerfully, ‘I’ll go up and ask her for them directly we’ve finished lunch.’
‘It’s two o’clock already,’ Johnny demurred, ‘and by then she may have settled down for a nap. I don’t want you to disturb her unnecessarily, and as I was up at crack of dawn this morning I mean to have a sleep myself this afternoon. But I shall be going out about six and it’s quite on the cards that I won’t be back until late, so I’d like to have them by five o’clock. If you ask her for them when her tea is taken up that will be quite time enough.’
Bill shook his sandy head. ‘No; to kick my heels in this place now for the rest of the day would give me the willies. When we’ve had our glass of port I mean to drive over to old Frothy Massingham’s and as you’re going to be out I’ll probably stay to dinner; so I’ll see her before I go.’
Some twenty minutes later he went up to Ankaret, but returned almost at once to report that the police had asked for my keys on Sunday; so she had sent them down by Mildred, and they had not yet been returned.
When I had heard Johnny ask Bill to get my keys for him I had felt no uneasiness, as I had taken it for granted that Ankaret would have slipped downstairs at the first reasonably safe opportunity to remove those incriminating trial forgeries from my desk, or at the latest have collected them some time during the previous night. But it looked now as if she had neglected to do so. Why otherwise had she lied about the police having my keys. And I felt sure she had. I could think of no point during their investigation at which they might have needed them, and had they been there they would have asked Bill or Johnny to ask Ankaret for them, not sent a message up to her by a young servant girl.
Had I had any blood to chill, the thought of those damnable papers still being in my desk would have chilled it; and had I had arms I could have shaken Ankaret till her teeth rattled for her incredible folly in having failed to destroy the one thing which might yet bring her to the gallows. The cause of her remissness I could only guess at, but I had little doubt that it was another manifestation of that peculiarly female refusal to play for safety by prompt action which had so infuriated Evans when she could not be hurried into helping him dispose of my body.
As the last time she was supposed to have seen me was when I had left her to go to the lab with Evans, and Johnny had come upon her at my desk hours later, she could not deny having had my keys; so this story that she had passed them on to the police was simply an expedient to gain a little time. But it must soon be blown. Johnny had only to telephone Mallet and he would learn that she had lied to him. Anxiously I watched his face, on tenterhooks to learn his reaction; but it seemed that he was, at the moment, too tired immediately to pick up the implications.
Smothering a yawn he said: ‘Oh well, it doesn’t matter. Later I’ll phone Mallet and ask him to put them in the post. They’ll get here in the morning and I’ll have ample time to collect the stuff in Giff’s desk before the funeral.’
Then, turning, he crossed the hall and went down the passage under the laboratory to his room.
My mind, too, was again fagged out; so as Bill left the house, to go off in my car presumably, I went into the little library and settled myself there.
Later I learned that my mind had been blacked out for close on an hour, when a slight sound roused me. As my consciousness flooded back I saw that Ankaret was within a yard of me and just about to unlock my desk.
There were dark shadows under her big eyes and her face looked drawn, but her fine features, serene brow and the aureole of Titian hair curling down on to the shoulders of her turquoise blue dressing-gown still made her the most beautiful living thing that I had ever seen. That she had unwittingly brought about my death through indulging in a stupid peccadillo weighed nothing with me. I felt only relief and joy that this lovely being, whose faults I so well understood, should at last have seen the red light. Evidently she had learnt from her father that he was going out, and that Johnny meant to sleep, so had determined to take this last opportunity to destroy those damning examples of her skilful penmanship.
As she unlocked the desk and rolled up its top the door, which she had closed behind her, was suddenly thrown open. Johnny stood there carrying the brown leather suit-case in his right hand.
He smiled at her, but his smile was by no means a friendly one as he said: ‘Then you did lie about having given those keys to the police. I thought as much; so I decided to put off my sleep for a while in the hope of catching you out. And by jove I have—red-handed!’
Taken by surprise as she was, Ankaret did not lose her nerve; and no one who knew the desparate stakes for which she was now forced to play could have failed to admire the way she met Johnny’s challenge.
After a first faint start she remained quite still for a moment, then slowly turned towards him, and said quietly: ‘Aren’t you being quite unnecessarily offensive?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Johnny retorted, closing the door behind him and setting down the suit-case. ‘The fact that you told a deliberate lie about these keys when I asked for them frees me from the obligation to mince my words with you. Why did you lie about them?’
‘Because I did not wish to part with them, of course.’
‘But you must have known that as one of Giff’s executors I have a legal right to them.’
She gave him a faintly mocking smile. ‘Certainly I knew that; but you should be old enough by now, Johnny, to know that women don’t set the same value as men on technicalities of that kind, and seldom allow them to interfere with their own wishes.’
‘No doubt you are right there. But why did you try to fool me into the belief that you had not got them? And what are you doing here now, while you believed me to be asleep. That’s what I want to know.’
‘Then you must continue to want. My actions are my own private affair and nothing to do with you.’
‘Oh yes they are!’ Johnny countered quickly. ‘Quite apart from my being one of Giff’s executors I was closer to him than his own son. The fact that on the night he died you came down from your room at near midnight to rummage in his desk gave me the idea that you know more about how he met his death than you have told any of us yet; and catching you here in such circumstances again this afternoon has convinced me of it. I never have subscribed to this belief that Giff committed suicide. He wasn’t that sort of chap. And I am determined to find out the real facts about his death.’
Ankaret shrugged her slim shoulders a shade disdainfully. ‘My dear Johnny, no one would doubt your capabilities as an airman but by assuming the role of a detective you make yourself ridiculous.’
‘There is nothing ridiculous about trying to find out the truth.’
‘The professionals have already investigated everything there is to investigate about this frightful business, and pronounced themselves satisfied. No one is better qualified than I am to sympathise with your … our awful loss; but you really must not let yourself get carried away with wild ideas about it, and act like a small boy who has been reading too many shockers late at night.’
Johnny lit a cigarette and said quietly: ‘Listen, Ankaret; nothing will ever convince me that Giff took his own life. Some time on Friday night he went out for some definite purpose; probably to meet somebody who was trying to blackmail either him or you. Anyhow your behaviour has given me very good reason to believe that you knew that he was going, why he went, and who he was going to meet. Come clean with me and, providing you are no more responsible for his death than you would have us believe at the moment, I promise I’ll do my utmost to protect you.’
‘Really!’ Ankaret’s apparent indignation was so excellently acted that one could hardly believe it was not real, as she stormed at him. ‘How dare you offer me your protection! I think you must be out of your mind! But if you are determined to play the amateur sleuth, go ahead. I couldn’t care less.’
‘I will,’ Johnny’s face hardened, and picking up the suitcase he dumped it on a chair and opened it. ‘As a first move I mean to relieve you of further temptation to make off with any of the papers in this desk. I shall take them back to London with me and tomorrow evening I’ll go through them with a tooth-comb. If I don’t find some clue to Giff‘s death among them I’ll make you an abject apology; but I’ve a thundering big hunch that one or more of them is going to lead me somewhere.’
As he began to throw the contents of the desk higgledy-piggledy into the empty case, Ankaret made an instinctive gesture to stop him. But, evidently realising the futility of such an attempt, she checked it and now white to the lips but with her head held high walked out of the room.
She had put up a magnificent fight but lost it, and I could have wept for her at the thought of what she must be feeling. Through her aloof indifference of playing for safety when she had the chance, she had jeopardised the whole fabric of defence which she had built up with such skill. She knew, as I knew, that Johnny had now secured proof that she was an accessory to my murder.
* * * *
When Johnny had cleared the whole contents of the desk into the suit-case he carried it through to his room. As I followed, I wondered if his urge to get at the truth would lead him to take a first quick look through the papers at once and, perhaps, within the next hour come upon the dynamite with which to blow my beloved Ankaret sky-high that very evening. But the case was full almost to the brim with receipted bills, estimates, legal agreements, account books and scores of private letters that had accumulated over many years; and, evidently, tired as he was, he thought the mass too great even to glance through at the moment.
Having locked the case he took off his shoes, undid his tie and collar, and lay down on the bed for his belated nap. As soon as he had closed his eyes I left him and went up to Ankaret.
I found her seated in front of her dressing-table. She was sitting quite still staring into her mirror. Her lovely face was more drawn than ever. After a moment she quoted to herself in a low voice the famous line from Hamlet:
‘“To be or not to be. That is the question?”’
Then she looked down at her right hand. It had been closed about something, and as she opened her fingers I saw to my horror that it was a small bottle of veronal tablets. She was contemplating suicide.
For me it was easy to read her thoughts. It could be only a matter of time now, a few hours perhaps, a day or two at the most, before Johnny would know that she had forged the letter on which was based the accepted explanation of my death. Why, I then did not know, but for some time past there had been a coldness between them. As he bore her no love but had been so devoted to me, it seemed hardly likely that he would show her mercy and keep her secret. If he took her forgeries to the police what possible explanation could she offer to account for them? Under hours of questioning she must eventually break down, or at least be trapped into admissions which would give them a clue to the truth. They would turn the whole house upside down. There could be no hiding Evans’s death ray machine, and she must reckon on my having examined it before it was used upon me; so my finger-prints would be on it.
Whether they would ever find out enough to link it with the crime and reconstruct the full sequence of events, it was impossible to say. But even if they could not prove her to be a murderess they would have a clear case against her as an accessory.
That would mean a long prison sentence; years of soul-shattering confinement, revolting food, a hard bed and being herded with the most vicious and debased women in the country. Appalling thought! Could she possibly face it? And then, when she came out, her looks gone and her life ruined.
Slowly she unscrewed the bottle top, shook a tablet into her left hand, put it in her mouth, threw back her head and swallowed it.
As I watched her my mind was in a turmoil. Johnny and my other friends had been right in their belief that I thought it wrong to take one’s own life. My immediate instinct was to exert all my will-power in an attempt to stop her. Yet on second thoughts I checked myself. Had I the right to do so? It was her life, not mine. And, even if I possessed the power to intervene, should I be using it in her best interests. Was it not kinder to let her slip away in a drug-induced sleep, than attempt to make her face years of misery?
Even as I hesitated she suddenly spoke aloud:
‘No! I’ll be damned if I do!’ And swiftly screwing on the top of the bottle she threw it back into an open drawer.
Probably the decision had never lain with me, but now that it had, beyond question, been taken out of my hands, my mind was momentarily submerged by a wave of relief.
Getting up from the dressing-table, she went over to her bed and lay down upon it. For a while she remained with her grey eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. Then the one tablet she had swallowed began to take effect. Her long eyelashes fluttered once or twice and she fell asleep.
The two scenes to which I had been a silent witness during the past half hour had played the very devil with my emotions and I decided that a tour of the garden would be the best thing to quieten my agitated mind; so I drifted down to it.
The wonderful long hot spell we had had was at last breaking up. There had been several thunder-storms in the past few days and although the afternoon was fine I guessed that the chill of autumn could now be felt by living people. Insensible to it I wended my way along the familiar paths and borders, then went down to the beach, and so whiled away the best part of two hours before returning to the house.
Ankaret had evidently been woken by Mildred’s bringing up her tea and was now sitting up in bed reading. Her absorbed expression and the crumb-covered plate on the tea-tray implied that she had temporarily shrugged off her anxieties; so reassured about her I went down to Johnny.
I found him changing into a clean shirt and generally sprucing himself up. When he had done he checked the suitcase that held all my papers to see that both the locks on it were fast; then as he left the room he locked the door behind him and pocketed the key. I accompanied him out to the garage and into his car.
Had anyone else shown such determination to ferret out the truth about my death, highly proper, and altruistic as their activities might be, on account of the danger into which they were bringing Ankaret I should have felt a very definite antagonism towards them. But I had no such feelings towards Johnny. Knowing that all he was doing was out of love for me, even his lying in wait for Ankaret that afternoon and high-handed treatment of her when he caught her, made no difference to my affection for him. Both of them had a bigger place in my heart than any other person in the world; so while I was infinitely more concerned about the dire peril in which Ankaret now stood I was still anxious that the rift I had unwittingly brought about in Johnny’s romance should be mended, and I wanted to learn for myself how far Sue had gone towards changing her mind.
We reached the rendezvous outside Beaulieu well before time and Sue, having been brought up in a family that respected the clock, arrived punctually. As Johnny threw open the door of the car for her I slipped over to the back seat; but she did not get in at once, and I took the chance to have a good long look at her. Normally, of course, one rarely really studies another person’s face, because it is rude to stare, but I was able to take advantage of my invisibility.
She was a small decidedly plump young person with a mop of thick dark short curls. Her brows were level, her eyes brown, her nose short and her mouth seductively full. I have no doubt she used similar beauty preparations to all the other girls of her class and generation, but I felt sure that the rich colouring of her lips and cheeks owed more to good red blood than make-up. No one who was not in love with her would have classed her as a beauty, but she was pretty, healthy, vivacious, and in short, as I had said to Ankaret on the last night of my life, just the sort of piece with whom a wicked old boy, given the chance, would have chosen to have a romp.
But that thought brought back to me Ankaret’s reply. For the first time I noticed the more delicate edition of the Admiral’s ‘battleship chin’ of which she had spoken, and at the moment Sue’s brown eyes, fixed unwaveringly on Johnny’s, held more than a hint of hardness.
While I was studying her she had said in answer to his eager greeting: ‘I must be frank with you, Johnny. This is only a—well, call it a conference if you like. I haven’t altered my opinion about Daddy’s being right, but I’ve never spent a more bloody week-end; so I know now that I’m much too fond of you to let you go without another try to see each other’s point of view. But unless you feel that we can reach some sort of compromise it’s not much good our talking.’
‘That’s fair enough,’ he agreed. ‘But need we start our argument here and now? Couldn’t we forget the whole thing for an hour or two while we enjoy a jolly dinner together just as we used to, then talk matters over afterwards?’
I admired his tactics, and with very little persuasion she agreed to his suggestion. After she had settled herself in the car and Johnny had let in the clutch there fell an awkward silence between them for some moments; but she broke it by asking him about the inquest, and that set him off.
Having brought her up to date with events at Longshot till lunch time, he added: ‘All the same it’s my belief that someone has pulled the wool over the eyes of the police, and that the verdict given by the Coroner’s court is far from being the right one.’
‘What leads you to suppose that?’ she asked in surprise.
‘Because I am convinced that Giff did not commit suicide.’
‘As all the evidence points to his having done so, why should you believe otherwise?’
‘Because I know that the motive ascribed to him is a false one.’
There was a doubt in Sue’s voice, as she said: ‘Even knowing him as intimately as you did, I don’t see how you can judge the extent to which his mind might have become unbalanced if he was suddenly given reason to believe that Ankaret had been unfaithful to him.’
‘Ah, but that’s just it! Pure chance put me in a position to assess just how he would react to such a situation.’ Johnny hesitated a second, then went on. ‘Listen, Sue. I’m damnably worried about this thing and want to get it off my chest, but you must not breathe a word about it to anyone, because what I am going to say is highly slanderous. And quite apart from that, should it get about it might prejudice the case if there is one. I’ve no particular love for Ankaret, but if she is brought to trial I would hate to think that I’d helped to damn her before she even enters the court.’
‘You know that you can trust me, Johnny,’ Sue said quietly.
‘Of course I do, darling. Well, this is the gist of it. About a year ago, as I think I’ve told you, I was sent as an observer to the Army of the Rhine during a big exercise they carried out. The idea was that a certain number of R.A.F. officers like myself should get some idea of the needs and difficulties of the Army during active operations. On the Divisional Staff to which I was attached there was a Captain named Desmond Chawton; very good looking, quite a clever chap, but a bit of a play-boy. One of his friends told me that he had been to Eton and Oxford and was very well blessed with this world’s goods.
‘The evening after the exercise was over a few of us went out to dinner, and as the party broke up Chawton offered to run me back to the Officers’ Club. On the way we chatted of this and that, and I happened to mention that I was Giff’s nephew. At that he grinned and asked: “How is the lovely Ankaret? I used to know her well before she married. I suppose she’s still kicking up her pretty heels with some lucky devil in the South of France every winter?”
‘In fairness to him I should mention that this was late at night and we’d both had our fill of good liquor. All the same he had no earthly right to say such a thing, even if it were true, and very naturally I was pretty nettled at what I then believed to be a wicked slander on Giff’s wife. I said so very bluntly, and told him that he must apologise, and give me his promise that he would never say such a thing about Ankaret in the future.
‘At first he pretended that I had misunderstood him, and he meant no more than that Ankaret had always been a girl who enjoyed having a good time. Being a bit tight I refused to accept that, and rather pompously insisted that he should admit to having said a disgraceful thing about her quite unwarrantably.
‘In turn he got on his high horse and brought the car to a standstill, and said: “All right then; since you’re so set on having the truth, here it is. I didn’t seduce Ankaret, but I came in first wicket down, and I can tell you her bowling was pretty terrific even in those days. She was only just over eighteen and I was a subaltern at Aldershot. She had no proper home and used to move around from one set of relatives to another every few weeks. Between visits she used to wangle a night or two to spend with me at some unfrequented little country pub. By jove! I wish I could have that affair over again; it really was something while it lasted. But after a few months she tired of me and went off for her romps with a young intellectual in the Foreign Office. I went abroad as A.D.C. to the Governor of Cyprus soon afterwards, so I lost track of her for some years; but I met her again the winter before last in the South of France, and I know for a fact that while she was there she was sleeping most nights with a good-looking Spanish Marquis.”
‘“What reason have you for being so certain of that?” I asked.
Turns out the chap had an affair with her himself, before she got married, then bumped into her in the South of France again once after and invited him to dinner, where she boasted of her string of passionate nights with a good-looking Spanish Marquis. Apparently Giff knew all of this because she damn well told him so. She said that one reason she was so happy with him was because he understood her, and made allowances for the desperate urge she felt to go off the rails now and then. And there is no earthly reason why she should have lied to me about that.’
Johnny paused for a moment. ‘So you see the set up. Poor old Giff loved her to distraction, and it’s clear from what she said to Chawton that Giff preferred to put up with the torture of knowing that she was taking lovers on the side when she felt an urge that way rather than cut her out of his life altogether. Now do you get what I am driving at?’
Sue nodded. ‘Yes; it could hardly be clearer. If your uncle has been playing the complaisant husband for years it’s unthinkable that on learning that she was having an affair with the Welsh Professor he would have gone beserk and beaten the poor little devil to death.’
‘You’ve said it, sweetie. But if Giff didn’t kill the Prof, who did? And with Giff’s alleged motive for committing suicide burst wide open, who killed him? It looks to me as if there must have been a third man, presumably another of Ankaret’s lovers, who killed them both. God alone knows what really happened, but of one thing I’m certain: Ankaret holds the key to the mystery, and I believe I’ve got hold of the means to make her talk.’
He told Sue then how he had twice come upon Ankaret rummaging in my desk, and now had its contents locked safely away in a suit-case in his room.
Naturally she was tremendously intrigued, and they were still absorbed in their speculations about the tragedy at Long-shot when we drew up at Buckler’s Hard.
The double row of ancient cottages with a broad green between sloping down to a bend in the Beaulieu River makes it one of the beauty spots of South Hampshire. In the old days many fine ships were built there, some by my own forebears, and several that fought under Nelson at Trafalgar. The only big building in the hamlet, at the far end on the left-hand side, is now an hotel, and it is called The Master Builder’s, because it was once the residence of the dockyard superintendent. The little restaurant there is one of the best for many miles around, as not only is its charm preserved by old prints and ship’s furnishings, but it provides excellent cooking and a good cellar. I had enjoyed many a pleasant evening there, but now being debarred from gastronomic delights I did not accompany Johnny and Sue inside.
Instead I drifted down to the river and surveyed with an expert’s eye the lines of the numerous fine yachts which were moored there. Then as twilight fell I returned up the slope and kept watch on the door of the inn so that I should not miss the lovers when they came out.
In due course they emerged and, turning into the garden, walked over to a bench at its far end where they sat down. It was dark now, but I could see their faces well enough to guess that the latter part of their dinner must have been somewhat marred by thoughts of the explanation they were about to have.
It was Sue who opened the matter by saying: ‘Well, come on; let’s get it over.’
‘All right,’ Johnny agreed. ‘I think the best thing would be for you to state the case you have against me.’
Sue did so, and I thought very lucidly. ‘It’s this. According to Daddy, when you had your board meeting your uncle disclosed a lot of Top Secret information which could have come only from you. That is a Service matter so it effects me only as throwing grave doubt on your integrity. The thing that really shocked me so badly was the object with which you gave away these matters. It was to aid your uncle in a plot to bring about the disbandment of the Royal Navy, and afterwards you admitted to me yourself that you would like to see that happen.’
‘O.K. Let’s take first things first. I have already given you my word that I did not brief Giff on his proposal. It came to me as a bomb-shell, just as much as it did to the others. I was under the impression that when last we met you had accepted my assurance about that.’
‘I did; at least to the extent that you did not actually write out his proposal for him or know that he was going to make it. But he must have got his information from you. During the past year you have seen a lot of him, and must have talked to him pretty freely about what an atomic war would be like. Naturally men in your position don’t discuss such matters with every Tom, Dick and Harry, but they do among their own kind whom they regard as safe. I know that, because I’ve often heard some of our Naval friends speak of things to Daddy that they would not dream of mentioning outside a house like ours.’
‘To some extent you are right about that,’ Johnny admitted. ‘But talking in general terms, in the sort of circumstances you have in mind, is very different from disclosing Top Secret information. Giff never tried to pump me; such a thought would never have entered his head. And I swear by my love for you, Sue, that he never had from me the stuff he spouted at that meeting.’
‘Where else could he have got it, then, seeing that these secrets are known only to a very limited number of people?’
‘I haven’t an idea; but it must have been from someone pretty high up, because he knew about trends of policy that have not yet even come my way.’
‘Very well; I’ll take your word that you didn’t brief him even unconsciously; so that disposes of that. But you backed his proposal, and made it clear to me that you are a hundred per cent in favour of this frightful idea of scrapping the Navy.’
Johnny sighed. ‘I did, my dear; and much as I love you I can’t go back on that. I wouldn’t be honest if I even led you to believe that I am prepared to compromise about it. You see, the nation is up against it in the matter of money and the Services in the matter of men. The balance of Trade having gone against us big economies must be effected, and it is just a question of deciding which forms of sacrifice will be least prejudicial to our safety.
‘The number of men in the Navy today is fifty per cent greater than it was in 1936; it is the only one of the three Services which will not accept a material reduction in manpower over the next few years and the only one which is increasing rather than reducing its demands for money. The increase in man-power has no relation to the number of ships it could send to sea. On the contrary, they would look a miserable sight compared to the Fleet of the 1930’s, and, of course, the fact that two-thirds of the chaps now dressed as sailors are not sailors at all. They are either airmen or technicians, and would be of far more value if they were redeployed into only slightly different jobs with the Air Force proper.
‘If that could be done there would be no more building of these fantastically costly aircraft carriers, and all the smaller craft which are needed to protect them. Those in commission could be paid off and the saving would be immense.
‘Then there is the question of the strictly nautical—cruisers, destroyers, and so on. I’ll admit that they have a certain use in a cold war, for showing the flag in foreign ports; but if we spent the cost of their upkeep in radio programmes for the Arab and Asiatic nations, aimed at countering Soviet propaganda, we would get infinitely better value for our money.’
‘So you would have us hand the seas over to the Russians without firing a shot?’ Sue challenged him.
‘No,’ he replied promptly. ‘But if the thing lasted long enough for there to be any sea war at all our shots should come from aircraft and guided missile sites. Even in the last war the big ships hardly dared to show their bows out from harbour from fear of being bombed or torpedoed from the air, and, if the Russians were fools enough to send their Fleet into the North Sea, sending it to the bottom would be a piece of cake.
‘I hate to disillusion you, Sue, but nine-tenths of the ships that the Navy has in commission are already as much out of date as Roman galleys would have been in Nelson’s time. As for the new types they are building, to my mind it is simply chucking money down the drain; because the only way we can now hope to cut our cloth according to our needs is to scrap all the most expensive weapons and methods of waging war which are unlikely to be brought into use during a brief, violent conflict dominated by the use of thermonuclear missiles. And, of course, the proposed reduction in personnel makes it more imperative than ever that every possible man should be allocated to the units which will have to do the fighting.’
‘Our sailors have always done their share, and more, of that.’ Sue protested, ‘so why pick on the Navy?’
‘Because it is now our least valuable arm,’ Johnny replied patiently. ‘Its ships cost enormous sums to build and maintain, and it ties up a higher percentage of technicians than either of the other Services. Thermo-nuclear development must be maintained and increased if possible. The Army cannot be cut much further owing to our commitments on the Continent and overseas. The brunt of any future war must be borne by the R.A.F. So what have we left? Only the Navy, and it is a luxury we can no longer afford.’
‘I don’t agree. Daddy says the Fleet Carriers now form our first line of battle; and that as there can be no guarantee about it being a short war it is absolutely vital that we should keep on building more and better small ships for convoy protection.’
‘I know all that, darling; I’ve heard it argued a thousand times, but what it comes down to is a question of priorities; and can you honestly say that your father is in a position to judge such matters?’
‘Of course he is; he would never have reached such high rank otherwise, and with all his years of service he must know far more about these problems than you do.’
‘Now listen, Sue. Everyone knows that your father was a fine sailor, and I have a great admiration for him as a man; but he has been out of the Service for several years. In these days new developments occur with terrifying swiftness. The atom has entirely changed all our conceptions of warfare. Only a very limited number of people have the faintest idea of what is likely to happen if there is a blow-up. By pure chance I am one of them, whereas your father has long since ceased to have access to Top Secret matters. You must admit that’s true.’
‘Yes,’ Sue agreed, ‘I suppose it is.’
‘Very well, then. In fairness to me you’ve got to keep your father’s views out of this. And even if he were right it doesn’t alter the situation. I’ve given you my word that I had no hand in Giff’s plot to sabotage the Navy; but it is my considered opinion, based on the very latest appreciations of what the next war will be like, that for the safety of our country the Navy must sacrifice itself and rest upon its past glories. That being so, it is my positive duty to throw any little weight that I may have into working towards what is called the New Look, which amounts to merging all three Services into one that has few, if any, ships.’
For a moment Sue was silent, then she said: ‘I’d never try to come between you and your conscience, Johnny. Since you consider that your duty, that’s what you must do. All the same I feel this makes an awful breach between us.’
‘Oh come, darling!’ He reached out and took her hand. ‘Don’t think I don’t understand your feelings. You wouldn’t be you if you’d just taken it as a matter of course; and it was a piece of really bad luck for both of us that we should have been driven into discussing the issue at all. But since we’ve had to, I think you’ll agree now that your resentment has nothing personal in it, and is really the outcome of loyalty and affection for the things you have been brought up to admire.’
Sue had not withdrawn her hand, and she nodded. ‘I suppose it is really.’
‘Then surely you’re not going to let sentiment for something impersonal weigh with you more than all we mean to one another? I’ve been nearly crazy with worry since we quarrelled. You do still love me, Sue, don’t you?’
‘Of—of course I do,’ she gulped, now very near to tears.
‘Oh my sweet, bless you for that! Don’t cry, darling. Please, please let’s forget all this and never say another word about it. Let’s think of nothing but one another and be wonderfully happy together as we were before.’
In response she lifted her face and turned towards him. Next moment they were in each other’s arms.
This happy outcome of their meeting took one load off my mind, and feeling that to linger there longer would be unwarrantable spying on them, I returned to the car to wait with as much patience as I could muster until Johnny should convey me back to Longshot.
As I expected, the wait proved a lengthy one and it was made the less supportable by my no longer having anything to keep my mind off gloomy speculations about what might happen to Ankaret once Johnny had gone through my papers. The only hope for her now seemed to be in his deciding against handing her forgeries over to the police. If she refused to talk, without professional aid he would still be unable to prove that she had known anything about either of the murders until after they had been committed, and it did not seem to have occurred to him that she might have played an active part in them. It was therefore possible that, rather than expose the family to the scandal that her trial as an accessory would bring about, he might show her mercy. It was too, I could only suppose, some such line of reasoning which at the critical moment had determined her against putting an end to herself.
At last the lovers, all unsuspicious of my presence, rejoined me, and we set off towards Sue’s home. Johnny pulled up on the corner from which he had collected her, and after a prolonged succession of good-night kisses they tore themselves apart. Humming cheerfully to himself now he headed the car south-east. As we ran onward I took no particular notice of the glow in the sky ahead; for I knew that it was caused by the escape jet of the huge oil refinery at Fawley, which can be seen for many miles around. But when we drew nearer to Longshot I saw that the glow was brighter over a spot that lay well to the west of Fawley and that it had an angry reddish tinge. After another mile the truth flashed upon me. My old home was on fire.
Johnny realised it at the same moment. Jamming his foot down on the accelerator he proceeded to take risks on the corners that he would never normally have done. Fortunately the lodge gates were open and to the accompaniment of loud blasts of the horn the car shot through them. Half way up the drive we rounded a group of ancient trees and could see the house clearly. It was the east wing that was on fire and tongues of flame were leaping up from a gaping hole in its roof.
Three fire engines were already on the spot and a fourth came clanging up behind us. Jumping from the car Johnny ran in through the front door, and I sped close behind him. Dead I might be, but I was still fond of the old place, and to my great relief I saw that the main building was still unaffected. As three fire engines were already in action it looked as if there would be a good chance of confining the fire to the bachelor wing, which contained only the extra spare bedrooms and the laboratory above them.
Two big hoses snaked through the hall, but there was no one in it; so Johnny ran out of the garden entrance to the terrace. To the left on the lawn below it a crowd was gathered: firemen, police, local people and most of the household. I could see now that the seat of the fire was about half way along the wing. The crowd was watching the hoses being played on it.
After a few minutes Johnny found Bill. He was in his shirtsleeves and the grime on his face showed that he had been fire fighting. Struggling to get back his breath, Johnny gasped:
‘How did this happen? How did it start?’
‘God alone knows!’ Bill replied, mopping his soot-streaked brow. ‘I got back from old Frothy’s a little before eleven to find the ground floor well ablaze. Silvers and a few people from the farm across the fields were fighting the fire as well as they could with extinguishers and buckets. I took charge, of course, but there wasn’t much we could do. Fortunately Silvers had had the sense to telephone not only the local fire brigade but Southampton, Lymington and several other places round about.
‘You see, by the time he came on the scene the fire already had a good hold and he realised that it was not going to be easy to put out. We might have succeeded in localising the fire if it had been discovered earlier; but soon after I got here it penetrated to the upper floor, and I think the Professor must have had a lot of inflammable chemicals there. Anyhow, the whole middle of the wing had become a raging furnace before the firemen could get their first hose into action.’
After looking about him for a few moments Johnny spotted Silvers, and moving over to him said, ‘I gather it was you who discovered the fire, Silvers. Have you any idea what caused it?’
Silvers shook his grey head. ‘No, Sir. I’ve no idea at all; but it started in your bedroom. We do know that much. Perhaps you left a cigarette burning there, or something.’
‘I’m sure I didn’t,’ Johnny replied promptly. ‘Did you manage to get into the room before the fire spread?’
‘Oh no, Sir; the whole corridor was full of dense black smoke when I opened the door from the main hall that leads to the bedrooms; so I shut it again immediately. But young Belton, our chauffeur, did. It was he who discovered the fire, not me.
‘He’s courting young Ellen Sykes, over at the farm, and he was crossing the garden on his way back to his rooms over the stables when he noticed a red glow coming from the window of your bedroom. When he realised it was fire he ran up to the house and shouted for me, but as you and his Lordship were both out to dinner I had taken the opportunity to go down to the local. Getting no reply he ran back and finding the window open scrambled into the room. He did his best to put the fire out and burnt his hands quite badly; so they have taken him off to the Cottage Hospital.
‘When it proved too much for him he made a fresh effort to get help. Mildred had gone to bed but Mrs. Silvers was still up listening to the wireless. He sent her off to fetch the Sykes from the farm, then collapsed in our sitting room. Mr. Sykes and his boys got here only just before I did, and of course I telephoned the fire brigade at once. But all we could do by then was to try to keep the fire in check until they got here. It’s a terrible business, Sir, terrible. Still, I think there’s some hope now that they will save the main building.’
‘Where is Lady Ankaret?’ Johnny enquired.
‘I can’t say for certain, Sir. Mrs. Silvers went up and told her about the fire; so she came down and helped carry buckets of water out here to throw through the windows until the firemen got the first hose going. I haven’t seen her since. But she was wearing only a coat over her night-things, so I expect she will have gone in to put some more clothes on.’
With a curt nod Johnny left Silvers and strode towards the garden entrance. In the hall a few wisps of smoke were curling up from under the door to the corridor, but there were no signs of immediate danger. After a hesitant glance at the stairway he turned and walked into the drawing-room. It was empty so he marched through it to my sanctum. Ankaret was sitting there alone, in an arm-chair. She had on a pair of slacks and a pull-over, and loosely draped over her shoulders her mink coat. Beside her on a small table stood a syphon and a bottle of brandy. In her right hand she held a glass, and the colour of the liquor in it showed her drink to be a stiff one.
‘Hello, Johnny!’ she greeted him with her Gioconda smile. ‘Come to save me from the flames?’
‘No.’ His voice was hard but level. ‘I came to ask you to whom I should apply for compensation for my bits and pieces that have by now gone up in smoke.’
She shrugged. ‘To the insurance people, I suppose. I imagine that Giff’s policy would have covered guests’ clothing.’
‘On the contrary,’ he said harshly. ‘I think that I should send the bill to you.’
Her smile broadened. ‘Darling Johnny; you are really quite coming on in your new role of detective, aren’t you?’
‘No. If I’d been any good at it I would never have left that suit-case in a place where by climbing in through the window you could start a fire to burn it.’
Ankaret took a long pull at her drink. ‘I’m sorry, Johnny, but I just had to. You see, there were papers in it that Giff would have been terribly distressed for anyone but myself to see.’
‘And I can guess what sort of papers they were,’ he told her angrily. ‘Does the name Desmond Chawton mean anything to you?’
Her face suddenly became a mask. ‘Yes; he is an old friend of mine. Why?’
‘Because about a year ago I met him in Germany, and one night we got rather tight together. But not too tight for him to know what he was talking about. The amount he had drunk had loosened him up just enough for him to tell me a lot about you. From then on I realised that Giff had had a rotten deal. He was brave enough and clever enough to put a good face on it, so that he appeared to be happy with you; but all the time he must have been suffering the tortures of the damned. He adored you too much to give you up, although he knew that you were being consistently unfaithful to him.’
‘You’ve got things all wrong, Johnny!’ Ankaret’s cry was one of genuine pain. ‘I swear you have!’
‘Oh no I haven’t,’ he retorted. ‘How about the Spanish Marquis and all the rest of them? You’ve no more moral sense than an animal. As an intelligent human being you could have found ways to keep your lusts in check; but you wouldn’t even try. Instead you gave free rein to your lechery, until it led to Giff’s death. And now you have added arson to your other crimes. I haven’t a doubt that those papers you have destroyed would have enabled me to put you and your latest lover in the dock at the Old Bailey. And if I can get a new line on what really took place here last Friday night I’ll do it yet.’
Ankaret was very pale, but she had recovered her poise. After tossing back what remained of her brandy and soda, she said:
‘You are tilting at windmills, Johnny. I haven’t got a new lover, and if poor Giff were still alive he would be the first to tell you to stop trying to pin his death on me. But what’s the odds. Go on trying if you will. I don’t give a damn. The only thing which might have ever given anyone a clue to the truth about this awful business is now a handful of ash. You’ve missed the boat!’