“Those were his exact words?” Alec demanded.
Daisy peered at her shorthand, her own peculiar brand of Pitman’s. Since no one else could read it and Alec wanted a verbatim report, he had been forced to include her in his conference with his sergeant, in the nurses’ sitting room. He couldn’t object. Tom had not wanted to stem the flow of Bott’s revelations while he wrote down every word, and Alec admitted he had not expected Bott to come round so soon or speak so readily.
“‘Cedric DeLancey killed his brother,’” Daisy repeated. “After that, Bott refused to say another word. Then Sister came in and shooed Sergeant Tring and me out. She let Susan stay, though, and I shouldn’t be surprised if she persuaded him he simply has to back up a statement like that.”
“Not to mention explaining why he didn’t tell me sooner,” Alec agreed grimly. “Tom, what about the Mauser?”
“Nicely polished, Chief.” Tom’s face was bland.
“Not even smears or smudges? There couldn’t have been a struggle for it?”
“Not unless both parties was wearing gloves.”
“DeLancey says he wore gloves. Bott did not, at least not when we pulled him out, and I doubt he was in the river long enough for them to wash off.”
“Lord DeLancey says they struggled for the pistol?” Daisy asked.
“He says Mr. Bott took the pistol and shot himself, miss,” Piper informed her.
“Suicide! I wouldn’t have said he acted at all like someone who just failed to commit suicide, would you, Mr. Tring?”
“Can’t say I would, miss. Did Lord DeLancey say why Mr. Bott wanted to kill himself, Chief?”
Alec frowned at him, looked at Daisy, and sighed. “Guilt, and fear of hanging. I suppose you might as well hear the rest.” He gave one of his admirable nutshell summaries of his interview with DeLancey. “Have I missed anything, Ernie?”
Piper had skimmed his orthodox-shorthand notes as Alec spoke. “Not really, Chief, just that Lord DeLancey was in a state over getting written about in the newspapers, same as last time.”
“It seems to be all he cares about,” said Daisy. “If you ask me, this whole affair came about because of Lord DeLancey’s fear of gossip. That’s what he quarrelled with Basil about after the Thames Cup heat, so if it’s true that he killed him … . There’s only one way Bott could know, isn’t there, Alec?”
“Only one I can think of. Unless his health would be seriously endangered, I have to try to get the rest of the story from him. I’d better consult Sister.”
“I’ll have a word with Susan,” Daisy volunteered, and escaped from the room before Alec could stop her.
She tapped on the door of Bott’s room. Opening it, Susan glanced past her, saw she was alone, and in a hushed voice invited her in.
“How is he?” Daisy whispered. Bott was lying flat, eyes shut, but his cheeks now had a tinge of colour, not feverish, just enough so he no longer appeared to be at death’s door. It struck her how frightfully lucky he had been not to be killed, or at least seriously injured, by the bullet, and to have someone at hand to pull him out of the Thames.
Did he know who had rescued him? Neither she nor Tom Tring had told him, and she had not told Susan. Perhaps gratitude might persuade him to talk to Alec.
“His head hurts,” said Susan. “Sister gave him some tablets, phenatecin, I think.”
Phenacetin, presumably—a pain-killer, not sleep-inducing, as far as Daisy knew. She raised her voice a bit. “Good, he must be feeling better. He’ll be able to talk to Chief Inspector Fletcher.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Bott’s eyelids flicker.
“I told him he’s going to have to, but he won’t.”
“No? Well, you know him much better than I do, but I should have thought he’d want to thank the man who saved his life.”
“Saved his life?” Susan exclaimed.
“Yes, didn’t you know? Maybe I didn’t mention it. We were on the river this morning when he fell in, and Mr. Fletcher jumped in to pull him out.” No need to confuse matters with Cherry’s part in the drama. A solo rescue was more impressive.
“Reelly?”
“Yes, so don’t you think he’ll want to express his gratitude?
Or—oh dear!—perhaps he isn’t grateful. Perhaps it’s true, as Lord DeLancey claims, that Mr. Bott was trying to commit suicide.”
“I was not!” shouted Bott.
Daisy turned and gave him a hard look. “No? But why should anyone believe you rather than him, when you won’t explain your claim that he killed Basil?”
“All right, I’ll tell,” said Bott sulkily, just as Alec burst in. Behind him, Sister came to a halt on the threshold, with Tom and Piper peering over her shoulders.
“Someone cried out!” Alec’s swift glance swept the room, far too small to conceal an intruder. His gaze came to rest on Daisy.
She gave him a smug smile. “Nothing to worry about,” she said. “You’ll be pleased to hear that Mr. Bott has now recovered sufficiently to tell you the rest of his story.”
Sister pushed past Alec to lay a hand on Bott’s forehead. “You’re rather flushed.” She clasped his wrist. “Are you sure you feel well enough?”
“Yes,” he said curtly.
“Well, your pulse is quite strong and steady, I must say. Ten minutes, Chief Inspector.” She glanced at the watch pinned to her apron and bustled out, Tom and Piper parting before her like the Red Sea before Moses.
“All right,” said Alec, “Piper, come in and take notes, please. Ladies …”
“I’m not leaving,” Susan said adamantly.
“Susie, I’ll be …”
“Don’t argue, Horace, I’m staying, and that’s that.”
He held out a hand to her, and she went to take it. “Mr. Fletcher,” he said with a meekness which astonished Daisy,
“what I’ve got to say is going to upset Miss Hopgood. I’d be glad if you’d let Miss Dalrymple stay with her.”
Alec closed his eyes, and his lips moved silently as if he were begging heaven for mercy, or counting very fast to ten. His eyes opened again. “As you wish, Mr. Bott. Sergeant Tring—” He went to the door and said something softly to Tom, who left.
Shutting the door, Alec moved to stand at the foot of the bed. “Horace Bott, I must warn you that what you say will be taken down in writing and may be used in evidence in a court of law.”
“I haven’t done anything illegal. You can use it against Lord DeLancey.”
“Well?”
“First, I want to thank you,” Bott said, not very graciously. “Miss Dalrymple says it was you who saved me from drowning.”
“I merely assisted Mr. Cheringham in getting you ashore.”
“Cheringham? Oh. Well, thank you anyway. I was not trying to kill myself.”
“I’m glad to hear it. You claim Lord DeLancey tried to kill you to keep you quiet?”
“That’s right.”
“Because you witnessed his attack on his brother?”
“I heard them quarrelling in the Cheringhams’ boat-house in the middle of the night,” Bott said with relish.
That had to be it, of course, Daisy thought. Alec’s sharp nod showed that his mind had run on the same lines.
“Lord DeLancey saw you?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. But everyone was so convinced I’d gone down there, I suppose he believed it.”
“You’re prepared to swear it was the DeLancey brothers you heard?”
“I know—knew—Basil’s voice all too well, and he called the man yelling at him ‘Ceddie.’”
“This is a very serious charge, Mr. Bott. You’ll understand that I need some more information to support it. Let’s start with exactly what they said.”
“I can’t remember the exact words. ‘Ceddie’ said something about being lucky the Ambrose Thames Cup heat was the first of the day and not interesting enough to bring out the reporters. Otherwise, the newspapers would have been full of Basil’s assault on me. But if I went to the boat-house and he assaulted me again, I’d be bound to sue and it couldn’t possibly be kept from the Press.”
“And what was Basil’s response?” Alec prompted.
Bott flushed. “It was extremely insulting to me. You can’t expect me to repeat it. But then he told Cedric to keep his hair on and stop interfering in what was none of his business. Cedric shouted that it damn well was his business. He was head of the family in their father’s absence and like it or not Basil would do what he was told. Basil said he bloody well wouldn’t kowtow to a coward. He yelled at Cedric to get out or he’d regret it. I expected Cedric—if not both of them—to come out, so that’s when I left. But that must have been when they started fighting.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday, Mr. Bott? Concealing information from the police is a serious offence.”
“I was sure you’d get onto Cedric DeLancey without my help, and until you caught up with him, I knew I’d be made the scapegoat if you found out I was anywhere near the boat-house. You wouldn’t even have hunted any further, would you?”
“It is not my practise to look for scapegoats,” Alec said coldly. “What were you doing near the boat-house in the middle of the night?”
With a sullen glare, Bott said, “I’m sure you can work that out for yourself, Chief Inspector.”
“Oh Horace!” Susan’s dismay escaped her.
He turned his head away from her.
“I might venture a guess,” Alec agreed. “You went to sabotage the fours boat.”
“Oh Horace, you promised not to do it!” She pulled her hand from his clasp.
“Well, I didn’t, did I?” he snarled, goaded.
“What put the idea into your head, Mr. Bott?” Alec asked. “To take your revenge on Basil DeLancey in that particular way, I mean.”
“It was at the fair,” said Susan, when Bott seemed reluctant to answer. “We were behind Miss Cheringham and Mr. Frieth in the queue for the Ferris wheel. They didn’t see us. Miss Cheringham asked Mr. Frieth if he was really sure Horace wouldn’t damage the boat.”
“Did you hear Mr. Frieth’s answer, Miss Hopgood?”
“Yes, he said it was just a silly idea Mr. DeLancey had got into his head. He couldn’t believe Horace would spoil things for him and Mr. Cheringham and Mr. Fosdyke just to get his own back on Mr. DeLancey. And Horace promised me he wouldn’t.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Bott growled.
“What changed your mind, Mr. Bott?”
“I don’t suppose I would have gone through with it.” Bott closed his eyes and spoke in a dreary monotone. “It was just—I went back to the house and up to my room. Everyone knew
I’d been shoved in the river that morning and had a long walk back from Henley, but not one of the b …—not one of them came to see if I was all right, let alone to ask me to join them downstairs. I sat and seethed till I couldn’t think straight, then I decided to show the lot of them. It was stupid. I don’t suppose I’d have actually done it.”
In the brief silence that followed his confession, Susan took his hand again and squeezed it. Daisy, feeling fearfully guilty that she had not enquired after him, looked at Alec. The compassion in the gaze he fixed on Bott made her wonder how much he suffered from the slights of those who considered themselves his superiors.
She would make it all up to him when they were married, she vowed passionately.
His professional mask descended again. In a matter-of-fact voice, he said, “Just to clear up a loose end, Mr. Bott, how did you intend to hole the boat?”
“I thought of using a boat-hook, but I couldn’t be sure of finding one in the boat-house in the dark. The moon was shining, but I couldn’t remember if there were any windows. With the door open, I reckoned there’d be just enough light to pick my way to the boat. So I took one of my tent-pegs and the mallet.”
“We didn’t find the mallet.”
“No.” Opening his eyes, Bott gave him a sour grin. “I tossed the peg into the bushes in a panic when I thought the DeLanceys were coming out and might catch me. But I had enough sense left to hang on to my one and only mallet.”
“Fair enough.”
“You believe me?” Bott asked incredulously. “About everything?”
“I’m inclined to. It’s a pity we have no concrete evidence of Lord DeLancey’s involvement. He must have been wearing gloves that night, too.”
“Typical namby-pamby swell.”
“What about his note?” said Daisy. “That would be proof the invitation to meet on Temple Island came from him.”
Alec swung round to stare at her, not with annoyance at her interruption but with grey eyes narrowed in thought. At that moment, the door opened and Sister stuck her head in.
“Time for my patient to rest, Chief Inspector. I really must insist.”
“One moment more, Sister. Mr. Bott, the note wasn’t found in your pockets when we pulled you out. What did you do with it?”
“Chucked it in the waste-paper basket in my room.”
“Thank you for your cooperation, and yours, Miss Hopgood. He’s all yours, Sister. Come along, Piper.” Alec strode from the room, Piper loping after him and Daisy trotting to keep up. She pulled the door shut behind her as he turned, saw her, and said, “You’re not staying to support Miss Hopgood, Daisy?”
“She doesn’t need me any more. Bott’s conscious and you’ve finished questioning him. Besides, I don’t want to be stranded here if you’re leaving. When I telephoned, Gladstone said Tish is all right, but I want to see her and tell her Bott is recovering.”
“What you mean is, you don’t want to be left out of what happens next.”
“That too,” she said with a sunny smile.
His answering smile was rueful. “Well, I haven’t time to argue. Ernie, I want you to stay here, standing guard outside
Bott’s door. A Henley constable should be on his way to join you—I sent Sergeant Tring to phone for one. I doubt Lord DeLancey will try again to kill Bott in such a public setting, but it’s always possible.”
“Right, Chief. Do I arrest him if he turns up?”
“Only if he somehow gets past you and you actually witness an attempt on Bott’s life. Otherwise, try to stall him until I get back. If that fails, if he leaves, telephone me at the Cheringhams’.”
“Right, Chief.”
“Good man. Come along, Daisy.” He set off at a fast pace along the passage.
“Do you really think Lord DeLancey might try again to murder Bott?” she asked, scurrying at his side.
“Not if he has his wits about him, but he does seem prone to losing his head.”
“That’s what caused his trouble in the War,” Daisy panted.
Regarding her with eyebrows raised, Alec slowed his pace. “It was? I’d better have the rest of that story, now that he’s under suspicion.”
“I only know what Tish told me. Cherry said Lord DeLancey panicked and led his men into a massacre, only he led it from behind and he was the only one to come out unscathed. There were just two or three other survivors, I think. It was hushed up because of his father’s position, but that’s why he’s in a blue funk about gossip.”
“A coward, in fact, who goes off the rails in the face of danger.”
“He can’t help being afraid,” Daisy argued, finding herself unexpectedly defending Cedric DeLancey. “He didn’t ask to be sent into battle. I mean, I expect he could have stayed at
home if he’d tried, Lord Bicester being a member of the government, but the social pressure was enormous. Michael said it took far more courage to withstand public opinion than …”
“Michael?” Alec stopped and frowned down at her, his dark, bushy eyebrows meeting over his nose.
“The man I was engaged to. He was a conscientious objector. You needn’t look so beastly contemptuous.” Daisy blinked back tears. “He joined a Friends’ Ambulance Unit and was blown up by a land-mine.”
Taking her hands, Alec said quietly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look contemptuous. You must explain to me … but not now.”
“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up now.” She sniffed. “Here comes Mr. Tring.”
A quick squeeze of the hands and Alec was all business again, striding to meet the sergeant.
“Just coming to see if Sister’d chucked you out yet, Chief. What’s next?”
“About turn, Tom. We’re going back to Bulawayo.”
“Right, Chief. There’s a Henley man on his way. Not to Crowswood Place?”
“No, if DeLancey’s there, he’ll keep.”
“You’re going to look for his note to Bott?” Daisy asked, once more trotting to keep up.
“Yes, it may be the only concrete evidence we can find. I’m just afraid DeLancey may remember it and go to hunt for it. He can use the excuse that he’s fetching his brother’s stuff to get upstairs to search.”
“He doesn’t know Bott bunged it in the WPB,” Daisy pointed out breathlessly.
“No, but he could hope to find it in Bott’s room. Oh, the
dickens! Would the maids have emptied the waste-paper baskets by now?”
“It’s Sunday,” Daisy panted, emerging into hazy sunshine a step behind Alec, Tom on her heels. With relief she saw the yellow Chummy parked nearby. “I don’t expect the local girls will be in today, so the bedrooms will only get a sketchy going-over. I’ll hop into the back seat, Mr. Tring.”
“P’raps you’d better, miss.”
The little Austin bounced beneath Tom’s weight descending on the front passenger seat as Alec pressed the self-starter. The engine, tuned by Scotland Yard’s motor mechanic, purred to life. They zipped away down the street.
“Since Ernie and I left DeLancey, he’s had plenty of time to get to Bulawayo and destroy that note,” Alec said, swinging the car around a corner. Fortunately, the traffic was still Sunday-morning sparse after last night’s celebrations. “I can only hope he wasn’t too swift on the uptake, or that he dithered about what to do.”
“I just hope we don’t have to go through the dustbins,” said Tom.
They turned into the Marlow Road. Clear of the town, Alec stepped on the accelerator. Daisy half-expected to see Lord DeLancey speeding towards them on his way to Townlands Hospital to bump off Bott. However, they passed the gates of Crowswood Place without meeting any motor-cars.
“Here, Chief, we’re not at Brooklands,” Tom protested as the Austin rocketed around a bend. “It won’t do us any good to arrive with broken necks.”
“Sorry.” Alec eased up the merest trifle. “I’m busy kicking myself for not telephoning from the hospital. The house is full of hefty young men quite capable of stopping DeLancey.”
“Cherry knows Lord DeLancey’s under suspicion,” Daisy reminded him, hanging onto the side of the car. “I expect he’ll be keeping an eye on him if he’s turned up already. So if you’re using your brake-pedal foot to kick yourself, kindly stop it.”
Alec and Tom both laughed, but there was no noticeable diminution in their speed until they reached Bulawayo and turned into the drive.
On the front lawn, Poindexter, Wells, Leigh, and Meredith were playing croquet. Alec pulled up nearby. “Have you seen Lord DeLancey?” he called.
“No, s-sir, not today.”
“We’ve been out here for an hour or so,” Leigh added.
“Thanks.” Alec waved and continued to the house. “Tom, find a spot indoors where you can see him drive up, assuming he does. Let him get inside, well out of the way, then let the air out of his tyres. If he’s not after the note, we’ll explain later.”
“What are you going to do, Alec?” Daisy asked, climbing out from the back seat.
“Try to catch him red-handed, without giving him a chance to destroy the note.” Alec rang the door-bell as they all went into the house. The butler came through the baize door at the rear of the hall. “Gladstone, I want to station Sergeant Tring at a window overlooking the drive.”
“The dining room, sir?” Imperturbable, Gladstone opened the dining-room door, and Tom went to take up his post.
“We’re expecting Lord DeLancey.” Alec said.
“To fetch Mr. DeLancey’s things, sir?”
“So he’ll no doubt say. When you answer the door, please direct him upstairs, don’t accompany him.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Which is Bott’s room?”
“Last door on the left in the right wing, sir. Opposite the back stairs.”
“There’s a door to the stairs?”
“Oh yes, sir. The usual swinging door padded against sound.”
“Perfect. Thank you.” Alec headed for the stairs. When Daisy followed, he turned to her and shook his head. “You’re to stay well out of this. Cedric DeLancey is unpredictable and therefore dangerous.”
“I know, darling. I shan’t get in the way, I promise, but I simply must go up and change my clothes.”
He looked her up and down and his grey eyes lit with laughter. “It might be a good idea, love,” he admitted.
“You’re not in much better shape yourself,” Daisy retorted.
She pottered about in bedroom and bathroom, intending to keep her promise yet reluctant to go too far away. After all, Alec was in danger, too. She was in Tish’s bedroom when she heard a motor-car drive up. Discreetly peering from the window, she saw Lord DeLancey step out of a dark green Bentley sports car.
Gladstone must have been watching with Tom, because he admitted Lord DeLancey at once. A minute or two later, Tom came out and knelt by the Bentley to open the valve of the first tyre.
“Hi, what’s up?” called one of the croquet-players, and they all abandoned their game to cluster around the sergeant.
Daisy did not wait to try to hear what Tom said. Crossing the room, she eased open the door, and peeped out. No sign
of Lord DeLancey on the landing or in the opposite passage. Then Alec emerged from the back stairs, crept across the passage, and opened the door of Bott’s room.
Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Meredith and Wells charged across the landing, Leigh and Poindexter close behind. Between them, Daisy caught a glimpse of Alec turning his head to glance at them, looking annoyed. Then he lurched as DeLancey shoved past him.
“View halloo!” cried Leigh.
DeLancey darted through the swinging door to the back stairs and disappeared. After him went the oarsmen, in full cry.
“Tally-ho!”
“Gone away!”
“Yoicks!”
“So-ho! So-ho!”
“Damn!” Alec glowered after the pack, then turned and headed for the main stairs. Seeing Daisy, he gestured back towards Bott’s room. “Daisy, take a look in there, would you?”
“Right-oh.” She sped to the linen-room. Bott’s camp-bed practically filled the floor space, with a frightful Victorian plant-stand of painted papier-mâché for a night-table. A shelf had been cleared of linens for his things. These were in disarray, tent-pegs scattered over rumpled shirts and vests.
On the bed lay a coat-hanger, a jacket half inside-out, a wicker waste-paper basket, and a small heap of its contents: an empty Woodbines packet, dead matches, a tobacconist’s receipt, a pass for the General Enclosure, and a crumpled sheet of paper.
Lord DeLancey couldn’t possibly have missed it. Alec must have interrupted him just as he emptied the WPB.
Snatching it up, Daisy paused just long enough to make sure it was indeed the invitation to the Temple Island rendezvous. Then she dashed after Alec.
Half-way down the stairs, she saw him at the front door with Tom Tring and Gladstone.
“Alec, I’ve got it!”
She waved the note as all three looked round. Alec took a step towards her but suddenly his gaze shifted to beyond her. On the next to bottom step, Daisy turned to peer over the banisters and saw the green baize service door at the rear of the hall swinging open.
Lord DeLancey rushed into the hall. As the door swung shut behind him, Daisy heard the baying of the hounds on his trail. His pale, drawn face and terrified eyes reminded her of why she had always refused to go fox-hunting.
Alec moved to meet him. “Lord DeLancey …”
With a cry of despair, he swerved and darted through the nearest door, into the library. Wells burst through the baize door just in time to spot him. View-hallooing triumphantly, he and his friends galumphed after their quarry.
But the fox was not yet brought to bay.
“He’ll go through a window,” Alec cried, changing direction. “Tom, we’ll try to head him off.” He ran into the drawing-room, the sergeant close behind.
Hurrying after them, Daisy was no longer sure whose side she was on.