‘BUT what an ass!’ exclaimed Roger for the tenth time. ‘To do it under his own trade card! I can’t get over it. What on earth’s the use of tearing off the label, if he leaves his business card behind to be identified by? Well, I said right at the beginning, if you remember, that Brother William was an ass, and my hat, he is!’
They were sitting in a little tea-shop, discussing their tremendous discovery over a very early cup of tea. The next move had not been decided. Alec was for laying their case before Mrs Bentley’s solicitor, holding that they had now done all that might be reasonably expected of them; but now it was Roger who demurred at this. Moral certainty, he pointed out, is not the same thing as legal proof; and it was legal proof he wanted before he allowed the conduct of affairs to pass out of his hands.
Alec’s next question bore on this matter. ‘Well, what’s the next move?’ he asked. ‘Can we do anything more today?’
‘What’s the time?’ said Roger, glancing at his watch. ‘Five past four. Yes, I can just do it. The next step, obviously, is to get William properly identified by that compatriot of yours, and the only way we can do that is with a photograph. Now, Alexander, let me test your powers of observation. Where have you seen a photograph of Brother William lately?’
‘I never have seen one,’ Alec replied promptly. ‘Haven’t the least idea what the blighter looks like.’
‘For a detective-constable, you’re singularly unobservant,’ Roger said, shaking his head reprovingly. ‘There’s a photograph of Brother William, excellent Alexander, in Mrs Saunderson’s drawing-room, as you ought very well to have noticed. One to me, I fancy.’
‘Wait a bit!’ Alec retorted. ‘I’ve never been inside the place, curse you!’
‘Oh!’ said Roger, somewhat taken aback. ‘I was forgetting that.’
‘For a detective-superintendent,’ observed Alec nastily, ‘you’ve a rotten memory.’
‘I am humbled and abashed,’ Roger murmured. ‘And for the second time during the last hour, too. It’s getting quite a habit. Well, shelving the question of my humility and abashment for the moment, this is what I propose to do—scud back to Wychford; find out by telephone whether the Saunderson is in; if she isn’t, scud round and feloniously steal, purloin and illegally confiscate her portrait of Brother William; scud back to town again, and get it identified before Warton’s close. Then, having obtained our legal proof, we can spend this evening discussing pleasantly what to do about it.’
‘And if the Saunderson is in?’
‘Then I shall have to wait my opportunity tomorrow morning. Anyhow, get your hat down and let’s make a move.’
They passed into the street and turned in the direction of the nearest underground station.
‘What rather beats me,’ Roger observed thoughtfully as they walked along, ‘is the question of motive.’
‘I thought you decided ages ago that Brother William had a motive?’
‘Oh, yes; he had. To get his brother’s share of the business. But dash it all, that hardly seems a big enough motive for murdering one’s own brother, does it? It isn’t even as if he were hard up; he must have had a perfectly comfortable income for a bachelor.’
‘But if William had a screw loose?’
‘Yes, there is that,’ Roger admitted, though not in very satisfied tones. ‘But it would have to be a jolly big screw, and I must say that my impression of the man didn’t go as far as that at all; he might be eccentric and badly balanced, even cranky, but he certainly didn’t strike me as a criminal lunatic—and that’s how he seems to be emerging. Still, we shall certainly have to accept that motive, in the absence of any stronger one.’
By a stroke of good luck a train was on the point of leaving for Wychford when they arrived at Charing Cross, and they just managed to catch it. Roger talked a good deal on the way down. Arrived at Wychford Station, he entered a telephone booth and rang up Mrs Saunderson’s house.
‘She’s out,’ he announced, rejoining Alec a moment later, ‘and not expected back till after six, so that’s all right. I didn’t give my name, of course, so I shall go round there right away, express consternation and sorrow at hearing the maid’s news, and ask to write a note in the drawing-room; for a person of my criminological education, the rest will be easy.’
‘And what do you want me to do?’
‘You can go home and enjoy yourself with breaking the news to Sheila. I shall fly back here to catch the next train for London, but there’s no earthly need for you to come up as well. It’s only a formality. I shall be back for dinner. So long!’
They went their respective ways.
A quarter of an hour later Roger’s strategy was being rewarded, and Mrs Saunderson’s drawing-room door was in the act of shutting respectfully behind Mrs Saunderson’s parlourmaid. Roger waited till the sound of her retreating footsteps had disappeared: then he made for the photograph of Brother William which reposed in a chaste silver frame on Mrs Saunderson’s grand piano (Mrs Saunderson was one of those people who keep photograph-frames and silver vases on the tops of their pianos).
‘Not that I’m really a thief,’ he murmured, as he extracted it from its frame, ‘for I fully intend at present to send somebody to restore it when I’ve finished with it; and after all, intention is everything.’
He replaced the frame on the piano and stood for a moment examining the portrait. It was a good likeness, and the photographer had not only caught something of Brother William’s expression of peevish resentment but had even refrained from eliminating it in the touching-up process. Before slipping it into his pocket and making good his escape, Roger turned the thing over and glanced idly at the back. The next moment he started visibly and uttered a single expletive, not unconnected with life after death; for on the back of the photograph was written, ‘For my own darling Mona, from her William.’
‘Good Heavens!’ exclaimed Roger aloud, ringing a change on the same topic.
He dropped into a chair and stared at the words, his brain racing madly.
How did it affect the situation? That it did in some way Roger felt as sure as that he and Alec had that afternoon solved their main problem. Brother William and Mrs Saunderson! Did they intend to marry? There was not the least rumour coupling their names together; if there had been, it would certainly have come to Roger’s ears in the course of these exhaustive inquiries, either directly or, more probably, through Sheila. Why, then, were they keeping their affection so dark?
Did they intend to marry? Surely! But if so, didn’t that go a very long way towards removing William’s motive for his brother’s death? Mrs Saunderson was a wealthy woman. Even without William’s income from his business, she must have an ample sufficiency for two people. How in the world, then, could this matter of marriage make it necessary for William so largely to increase his own resources? It could hardly be that he disliked so intensely the idea of living on his wife’s money: Brother William was not that sort. And to dislike it to the extent of murdering his own brother in order to obviate it! Oh, no; out of the question. What, then? It must be something connected with the project of marrying Mrs Saunderson, and it must be something connected with money. How could these two be made to combine?
Gazing with unseeing eyes at the carpet, Roger allowed his mind full play.
Suddenly he stiffened. Ah! But supposing that—
The sound of the front-door opening and closing with a bang startled him out of his reverie. He heard light footsteps crossing the hall and held his breath. Mrs Saunderson must have returned, nearly an hour before she was expected; and Roger did not want very much to meet Mrs Saunderson just then.
The footsteps passed the drawing-room door, and Roger sighed with relief. Evidently she was going straight upstairs. He would have plenty of time to get away, the precious photograph safe in his pocket.
Then came an interruption. The footsteps ceased, and other footsteps, it seemed, drew near. There was the soft hum of feminine voices.
‘Damn!’ said Roger bitterly.
The next moment the drawing-room door opened and Mrs Saunderson tripped in, a smile on her lips and both hands stretched eagerly forward. ‘Mr Sheringham!’ she fluted. ‘I thought you’d quite deserted me!’
In the instant between his expression of regret and Mrs Saunderson’s entrance, Roger had taken a swift decision. He advanced to meet her and caught both her small hands in his.
‘Mrs Saunderson,’ he exclaimed, a little throatily, ‘I want to ask you just one question. You must forgive me—I can’t help myself!’
‘Oh, Mr Sheringham!’ murmured the little lady, dropping her eyes below the brim of her hat, and waited expectantly.
‘Does your income cease with your re-marriage?’
Mrs Saunderson’s head jerked abruptly up. ‘Why, y-yes!’ she stammered, considerably taken aback.
Roger dropped her hands and struck an attitude. ‘Then all is over between us!’ he exclaimed dramatically, and fled for his life.
At the station he found that he had to wait ten minutes for a train. His desire to impart the information with which he was bursting drove him into a telephone-box. He gave Dr Purefoy’s number and, when the maid answered him, asked for Alec.
‘Alec!’ he exclaimed, directly that gentleman intimated his presence. ‘Tremendous news! I’ve found Brother W’s big motive. It’s positively romantic. He wants to marry Mrs S., and her income ceases on her re-marriage. What do you make of that?’
‘I say!’ Alec exclaimed quite enthusiastically. ‘Is that so? That alters matters.’
‘Intensifies them, you mean. Yes, rather! I’m as pleased as a dog with two tails. I think we’ve collected pretty well all we want now (I’ve got evidence of this new fact in my pocket, by the way), so I shall probably spend the evening writing out a statement, and we can lay one copy before the solicitor tomorrow and post the other off to Burgoyne, as I promised. Alec, this is a triumph!’
‘Rather!’
‘And look here, what about there being a bit more in it even than that? What about the lady having taken a hand herself?’
‘Good Lord! You don’t think that, do you?’
‘Well, it’s on the cards. Decidedly on the cards! Do you think he’d have had the guts all alone? I very much doubt it. That’s what struck me as so curious this afternoon, as well as the motive question. I don’t think he would have, you know. I’ve said so all along.’
‘But what about her? Is she capable of it?’
‘Capable of inciting, most certainly. And remember how very emphatic she was about the other lady. Oh, yes, I shouldn’t be at all surprised if there may not be some very interesting developments indeed!’
‘Well, I’m damned! I say, can I tell Sheila about this? She’s here now, simply burbling with curiosity.’ Sounds as of scuffling made themselves heard over the wire.
‘Yes, tell her by all means. Point out what a clever man her Uncle Roger is.’
‘You are a clever man, Uncle Roger!’ came an admiring feminine voice. ‘Do tell me what all the new excitement’s about. I’d much rather hear from you than Alec. He’s awfully stodgy to hear exciting things from.’
As guardedly as he could, Roger told her. Ecstatic noises floated into his ear-piece.
‘The bad lad!’ Sheila exclaimed happily. ‘Must run in the family, mustn’t it? Well, well, well! Will all our names be in the papers, Roger? Can I have a photograph on back page? I’ll go to the photographer’s tomorrow; this is too good a chance to miss. “Detective Purefoy in her new green crepe marocain.” “Detective Purefoy, pinching her father’s two-seater for a joy-ride.” “Same lady with gloves on.” Oh, Roger, will Mrs Saunderson—’
‘Goodbye, Sheila!’ Roger exclaimed hastily. ‘Telephones have ears, you know.’ He hung up the receiver and made his way to the platform.
During the journey up to London, Roger occupied himself with making copious notes for his forthcoming report, and enjoyed himself a good deal. He also spoilt a perfectly good page in his notebook in the following way:
A BALLAD OF WYCHFORD GAOL
‘Yes, William’s my commonplace name, sir,
And Arsenic’s the means I prefer;
Maybe it’s not playing the game, sir,
But—well, sir, I did it for her!
‘Yes, all for the love of a lady—
That’s what has brought me to this;
And maybe my conduct was shady,
But I’d do it again—for her kiss!
‘Have you known what it can be to love, sir?
Have you known how it comes up (de dee)
Behind you and gives you a shove, sir?
The Saunderson came and shoved me.’
? Work up for Spectator, Church
Times, or Good Housekeeping.
It was a few minutes before seven when Roger got back to the Purefoy’s house that evening. With a somewhat absent air he hung up his hat and coat and listened while the maid told him that Sheila and Alec were upstairs and would he join them as soon as he came in.
Sheila flew to him the moment he opened the door of her room and grasped his sleeve. ‘Enter the conquering hero!’ she exclaimed. ‘Well, any more news?’
‘Yes,’ Roger answered. ‘I have. And I’m afraid something seems to have gone wrong a little with the conquering hero’s works. I showed Brother William’s photograph to the man at Warton’s and he swears blind that he isn’t the man who bought that arsenic!’