Everything seemed to lead back to Belle Forsyth. She was the key figure—a figure shrouded in mystery.
Brett said, “I’ve got a feeling that if we could once get a lead on Belle, we might begin to find some answers. How did she ever come to get a job here, Gail?”
I shook my head, feeling a flush of guilt. It had been just at the time of my break-up with Brett, and I had been too absorbed in my misery to question the circumstances of Belle Forsyth’s coming. When I next went home for the weekend, Belle was already an accepted member of the household. Like everyone else, I had thought her eminently suitable as a companion for my aunt.
“I suppose I just assumed Alexis had arranged it through an agency or something,” I said. “But we could ask Rudi. He would know.”
It was late in the evening, but I don’t believe that anybody at Deer’s Leap was considering going to bed. We were all of us still in a state of shock, grieving for Madeleine.
I guessed that Sir Ralph and Caterina were inwardly raging against the man they believed had driven Madeleine to take her own life. Brett and I hadn’t attempted to undeceive them. What was the use of removing one horror only to substitute a more sinister one in their minds? Time enough, when Brett and I could find some positive proof to vindicate Alexis.
With a sense of dread, I knew what this would entail. We would have to find some clear evidence that my uncle was dead. Murdered. I was certain of it myself. And I thought that by now Brett believed it as surely as I did.
And Rudi—what did he believe?
I hated having to admit to Brett what Rudi had told me earlier, but there must be no concealment between us now.
“Rudi thinks—he says he’s sure that Alexis and Belle were having an affair here at Deer’s Leap long before they went away together.”
Brett turned his head, staring at me. “When did he tell you this?”
“When I got back during the night. He said that he’d known for some time, but there was nothing he could do about it.”
Frowning deeply to himself, Brett said, “If it’s true, Gail, it puts a very different complexion on the whole thing. We’ll have to start wondering if we aren’t on the wrong tack after all.”
“No.” The word jerked out of me, almost in panic. I couldn’t bear to lose Brett’s support now. “The man with Belle in Geneva—I know it wasn’t Alexis. I actually saw him. And ... and remember all those other things—all the attempts to stop me reaching him.”
I was filled with fear because of my own inner uncertainty. Ever since Rudi had told me about Alexis and Belle, I’d felt this tiny rift of doubt. In that penthouse suite in Geneva, I’d been certain the man was not Alexis. But now, with only my memory to guide me, only my instincts, could I really be so positive? The question tormented me.
Brett said, “We’d better have a talk with Rudi and see if he can shed any further light.”
Rudi was in the Oak Room. We found him sitting behind the typewriter staring blankly into space. Brett came straight to the point.
“Gail has just this minute told me what you were saying about Alexis and Belle having some sort of affair. What makes you think so?”
Rudi rose slowly to his feet. The light from the desk lamp, striking up through the parchment shade, caught his face from underneath so that his eyes were lost in shadow.
“It’s quite true,” he said defensively. “They were. I told Gail because I thought she ought to know. She’d got a wild idea in her head that the man she saw in Geneva wasn’t Alexis.”
Brett reached out his arm and drew me against him. “Gail had several wild ideas in her head. But this about it not being Alexis—I think she may well be right there.”
I heard Rudi’s sharp intake of breath. He sat down again, heavily, and put his hands to his face. After a long pause, he spoke in a low, unhappy voice.
“Gail thinks that if she is right... if it wasn’t Alexis, then we must assume that Alexis is dead.” Rudi lifted his head and looked at Brett. “Would you rather believe that Alexis is dead?”
“It’s not a question of what we want to believe,” said Brett roughly. “We’re trying to get at the truth.”
“I’ve told you the truth. Alexis and Belle were having an affair. They were lovers.”
“But what evidence have you for saying that?” insisted Brett.
“The evidence of my own eyes. She was often in his bedroom at night.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because several times in the early hours I happened to see her, just after she’d come out of his room. She looked terribly embarrassed and tried to cover up. And once, I remember, her own bedroom door was left wide open and no light on. I searched for her, but she was nowhere to be seen. She must have been in Alexis’s room then.”
“What were you doing up and about in the early hours of the morning?” demanded Brett.
Rudi was frowning. “Usually I sleep soundly. But sometimes, when I get to remembering the past, I find I cannot sleep.”
“Alexis was the same,” I put in swiftly. “He would often be up half the night, reading.”
Brett’s eyes turned again to Rudi. “Did you see any other signs that there was something going on between them?”
“There were a hundred things. I noticed the way Belle used to look at him, a sort of secret excitement in her eyes. It was unmistakable. I suppose a woman can never conceal her emotions when she looks at the man who is her lover.”
Brett asked sharply, “And what about the way Alexis looked at Belle?”
Rudi lifted his shoulders. “I suppose deceit comes more easily to a man.”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” said Brett. “Anything else?”
“Isn’t that enough? If you had seen the two of them together day after day these past months, you’d be as convinced as I am.” Rudi hesitated, then added quickly, “There was something. I remember one morning ... Alexis had gone to London soon after breakfast. I went up to his room for some papers he’d left there, and I saw Belle’s silver locket—you know the one I mean, Gail. She always wore it around her neck. It was on the bedside table in Alexis’s bedroom. Of course, I didn’t touch it, and later, at lunchtime, Belle’s hand went to her throat as she suddenly realized it was missing. She made some excuse to leave the table, and when she returned she was wearing it again.”
“That’s all, is it?” said Brett. “That’s what you based your supposition on?”
“Well, yes.”
There was a moment’s pause, then Brett said, “You realize there are two possible explanations for all this. The first that Alexis and Belle were lovers, the second that they weren’t but that Belle wanted you to think they were. Every single thing you’ve mentioned could have been just an act put on by Belle for your special benefit, Rudi.”
My pulse rate quickened. I dared not snatch too quickly at an explanation I longed to believe.
“According to what you’ve told us,” Brett went on, “there’s nothing to suggest that Alexis was the least bit interested in Belle in that sense. It was the way she used to look at him. She who’d apparently just come out of his bedroom. I noticed that you didn’t say you actually saw her coming out—you just assumed she had, because she looked so embarrassed. And she seems to have chosen just the moments when she knew you were around to see. Several times, you said. Doesn’t that strike you as a remarkable coincidence? And that locket incident—mark that it was on a day when Alexis had gone to London, so Belle could easily have planted the locket after he’d left. And possibly taken up some papers she knew you’d be needing, to make sure you went up there and saw it.”
I couldn’t contain my excitement. “Oh yes, Brett, I’m sure that’s it. Everything fits.”
Rudi sat with his face in his hands, and we stood watching him. At length he lifted his head. “You’re quite right, Brett. There wasn’t a single occasion when Alexis showed any sign. It was always Belle. Oh God,” he groaned, his eyes suddenly sharpened with tragedy. “I should have realized ... You understand what this means? They really have murdered him.”
Brett said slowly, quietly, “It’s terrible, but I know which way the Alexis I remember would have wished it himself. He’d rather have lost his life any day than be dishonored, than have all that he’s worked for over the years discredited. No, Gail is right, I’m convinced of it.”
I squeezed his arm in gratitude, and Brett glanced down at me with a sad little smile.
“I can’t take any of the credit, Gail. It was you, and it puts the rest of us to shame. You were the only one who had faith in Alexis. You never doubted him, however black things looked.”
This wasn’t quite as true as Brett believed. There had come a point—after that humiliating scene with Belle, in those frantic minutes before I discovered that the man with her was not Alexis at all—when I faced complete disillusionment. But perhaps, in the circumstances, I could not really be blamed.
“Alexis and I had always been so close,” I whispered. “He was more like a father to me than an uncle.”
Rudi sat with his head drooped. “I looked upon Alexis almost as a father, too, yet I was ready to think the worst of him. I shall never forgive myself, Gail. Never.” He jumped to his feet and began striding about the room, a man in torment.
My heart was wrenched in pity for him. I knew how much he had loved my uncle. Forced to flee his native land, separated forever from his only living relatives— his sister and her family in Karlovy Vary—Rudi had, through Alexis, found a whole new meaning for his life. It was terrible for him to go on believing that some negligence on his part had allowed Alexis to be seized and killed.
“Rudi, you don’t need to blame yourself. What could you have done to stop this from happening?”
Leaving Brett’s side, I went to Rudi, touching his arm in compassion. To my surprise, he jerked himself away.
“I don’t deserve your pity, Gail,” he said in a bitter voice.
Brett cut in, “Let’s not talk about blame. It doesn’t get us anywhere. Our job now is to discover the truth. It’s one thing for us three to feel certain we know what happened, but it will be quite a different matter to convince other people. What we’ve got to do is find some real, solid evidence that Alexis was murdered. So far it’s just guesswork. Let’s start at the beginning. Exactly how did Belle Forsyth work herself into a job here? Did she come from an employment agency?”
We both looked at Rudi. He made an effort to pull himself together. “Yes, we’ve got to try and be practical. But I’m afraid I can’t help about Belle. I’ve no idea where she came from. Alexis merely told me one day that he’d found the perfect nurse-companion for Madeleine, and I was delighted.” He gave me an apologetic shrug. “I know it sounds odd not to have asked Alexis for any details. But I was up to my eyes at the time—working on the indexing of the book. As you can imagine, with so many cross-references it was a complicated job.”
“When was it Alexis told you about Belle?” asked Brett. “What were the circumstances? For example, had he been up to London that day? Could he somehow have met her there?”
Rudi hesitated, but in the end he made a helpless gesture with his hands.
“I can’t remember clearly. I think we were here in the study, and I think ... yes, I’m pretty sure that Alexis had just read a letter. Perhaps it was from Belle.”
“If so, presumably you had to answer it, make an appointment for her to come for an interview or something?”
Rudi looked from Brett to me. I could sense his desperate anxiety to be of some help. But in the end he could only shake his head.
“Alexis fixed it up entirely by himself. He just told me she was coming the following week. And of course, when she did come, she really seemed ideal. Madeleine was immensely taken with her.”
I closed my eyes, remembering bitterly how my poor aunt had been deceived by Belle Forsyth’s treacherous charm. Even a few hours before Madeleine’s death, when I’d talked to her in the middle of the night, she had been wondering when her dear Belle would be coming back.
“Did Belle have any friends?” Brett continued. “Any contacts at all?”
Again Rudi shook his head. “The Communists will have covered their tracks well. Any line you try to follow about Belle Forsyth will only end in a blank wall.” His voice cracked. “I know them. They will go to endless trouble to achieve their aims.”
Brett said crisply, “I can understand how you feel, Rudi, but a defeatist attitude won’t get us anywhere. The only way I know of winning is to keep pressing on even when things look utterly hopeless. As Gail did from the very beginning. As I’m going to do from now on.”
* * * *
It was very late when at last Brett persuaded me to go up to bed. The doctor had given me a pill to take, so at least I knew I would be able to sleep.
We parted at the foot of the staircase before Brett went through to the other wing of the house. He held me to him briefly, kissing my forehead. Then he let me go.
“Gail, I’ve come to a decision. I’m going to go ahead with the film about Alexis. I’m going to finish it. Some day—very soon, I hope—it will be needed. I want it to make a fitting memorial to Alexis Karel.”