Death at Hallows End (4 page)

“You know I seldom indulge, Deene. But in the circumstances—perhaps a little Scotch whisky with some soda water would not come amiss.”

As though forewarned, Mrs. Stick appeared at this moment with a tray.

“Scandal?” said Carolus thoughtfully. “It's not scandal I'm afraid of. It's murder.”

There was a sharp slam of the door as Mrs. Stick left them. She disapproved even more than Mr. Gorringer of Carolus's involvement in what she called “all these horrible murder cases.”

Mr. Gorringer goggled.

“Murder?”

“It begins to look rather like it. Did you think he was just running away from his wife?”

“I did not know what to think. My apprehensions have all been for the school I have the honour to … command, to direct. This point of view does not seem to have occurred to you, Deene,” he added reproachfully.

“Quite honestly, it does seem rather secondary. I have been to see the man's wife this afternoon.”

Mr. Gorringer screwed his face into an expression of incredulity.

“Am I to gather, then, that you have already become in some way associated with these circumstances?”

“Thripp asked me to look into them,” said Carolus casually. “I don't know whether I shall, unless I think there has been a murder. If Duncan Humby has simply made a bolt for it, it does not interest me.”

“Deene, I find that an immoral—I was almost going to say a cowardly, attitude to take. I have sought you out today for some mite of comfort in this distressing affair. You seem determined to turn it into one of your murder cases, to make it even worse than the disappearance of a School Governor.”

“Really, Headmaster, that is unreasonable. I don't seek for murder. It comes about too often for that. Humby may be found alive and well at any moment, which will settle the whole matter.”

“But will it?” asked Mr. Gorringer tragically, “You may not be aware of all the circumstances. There is a woman living in his house called Caplan.”

“Yes. I know her.”

“It has come to my ears …”

“No. No. You're not going to suggest that there was anything between Humby and Molly Caplan?”

“Fortunately it is not as bad as that. The red tongue of slander has not gone so far as to suggest that a School Governor would so disgrace himself as to indulge in an intrigue in his own house, under his wife's eyes, with a housekeeper.”

“Then what does the red tongue of slander suggest, Headmaster?”

“I fear it is no idle suggestion. There is too much concrete evidence to support it. The woman Caplan was surreptitiously meeting the other partner, Thripp.”

“Well, why not? He's a widower, she's a widow. For all you know they may mean to get married.”

“It's a bit too much of a coincidence, Deene. This secret liaison, then the disappearance of the employer of one party and the partner of the other. Doesn't that speak volumes?”

“Frankly, to me it says nothing at all. Even if Humby has been murdered …”

“Deene, I should prefer that you avoid reference to that most remote and unpleasant possibility.”

“It has to be faced. I couldn't make the blindest guess yet, though. I'm going down to Hallows End tomorrow.”

“To Hallows End?”

“Where Humby's car was found. He had an appointment there, you know, which it seems he never kept.”

“You seem wholly committed, Deene. Must I remind you that we begin the new term in eight days' time?”

“Should be cleared up by then,” said Carolus cheerfully. “One way or the other.”

“Or the other,” echoed Mr. Gorringer in a graveyard voice. “You are incorrigible, Deene. There is something positively ghoulish in your attitude. I can only plead with you, as I have so often done in the past, to see that no unpleasant publicity shall attach itself to you and to protect the good name of the school. Moreover I would remind you that we have our usual
staff gathering, on the day before term begins, to settle some points in the syllabus. Hollingbourne has indicated that he has several interesting matters that he wishes to add to the agenda. So that all extraneous interests of yours, my dear Deene, will, I sincerely hope, be completely disposed of before then. We would like the benefit of your closest personal interest in our academic affairs.
II faut cultiver notre jardin,
as Voltaire said.”

Mr. Gorringer rose.

“I will leave you now to your meditations. I shall hope to hear what progress you make. This case, as you know, touches me dearly.”

Alone, Carolus took another drink. Going over the scraps of information and hearsay he had gathered made him restless and dissatisfied. He knew nothing yet. A lawyer had disappeared and this had released the usual small scandals, things which might not have come to light otherwise. But whether they were of the slightest relevance or interest he had no idea. His thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Stick.

“Your dinner will be ready in just five minutes, sir,” she said sharply. “And I'll thank you to come straight through when I tell you because there's a suffle.”

“A what, Mrs. Stick?” asked Carolus, honestly puzzled.

“A suffle. That's what it calls it in my book. You've had it often enough.”

“A souffle!”

“That's what I said. And there's a nice bit of somon poshee to follow.”

“Splendid, Mrs. Stick.”

Carolus saw that she was hesitating and had something on her mind.

“I heard what you said to Mr. Gorringer, sir. Well, I couldn't help it. So it's murders again, is it?”

“Only one, if that,” said Carolus.

“You'll excuse me, sir, if I ask whether it has anything to do with this lawyer who's disappeared? Because Stick happens to know something about that.”

“Stick does?”

“It's not that he'd want to get Mixed Up, or anything. Only knowing what he does he thought it was only right I should Speak. I'm sure I don't know what my sister would say if she knew I was passing information over anything of this sort. It would send her right off, I shouldn't be surprised. But right's right. Stick wouldn't sleep if he thought he was holding anything back.”

“What on earth does he think he knows?”

“It's not a matter of think. When Stick says anything, which isn't often, he's sure of what he says. What it turns out is this lawyer was going to see old Mr. Grossiter that day he was never heard of again.”

“I know that. But how does Stick?”

“Never mind that for now,” said Mrs. Stick, becoming animated. “Mr. Grossiter had gone to stay with his nephews and it had made him want to make his will against them. Not that he's to be blamed for that. It seems from what's been said that these two nephews of his was nasty sort of customers when it came to it. Living all alone out there! Small wonder the old gentleman wanted to make sure they shouldn't get nothing.”

“How
do
you come to know all this, Mrs. Stick?”

“It's not me. It's Stick. I wouldn't demean myself by having anything to do with it from the first. But you know what Stick is.”

“I'm beginning to think I don't.”

“Well, he's got a conscience, that's one thing. He met a lady at the Chequers where he goes sometimes, to the saloon bar for a glass of light ale. When my sister came down from Camberwell she and her husband went with him so I know it's all right. This
lady, a Mrs. Cupper, a very respectable party, told him about this man Darkin.”

“What man Darkin?” asked Carolus desperately. He had never known Mrs. Stick so garrulous.

“This one I'm telling you about that works for Mr. Grossiter. Mrs. Cupper works there too, you see. She knows Darkin well of course and run into him again yesterday. He'd come over to get his black things for the funeral which is to be tomorrow. Or rather cremation.”

“Mrs. Stick, do you think I could ask Stick himself about this?”

“No, sir. It wouldn't be a bit of good. He wouldn't like to say anything. But I can tell you what there is to know when you've had your dinner. I don't want that suffle spoilt.”

Three-quarters of an hour later Mrs. Stick resumed.

“He's Chapel,” she said.

“Who is?”

“This Darkin. That's why we've never seen him at St. Luke's. It seems he's one of the smarmy types. All right to your face.”

“You say be worked for Grossiter?”

“Been with him for years, so Mrs. Cupper told Stick. He must have gone with him to this place where his nephews live because he talked all about it to Mrs. Cupper yesterday. He's not a man who says much in the ordinary way but he seemed to want to tell Mrs. Cupper about it. His boss had Gone very sudden, it seems. Very sudden, he told Mrs. Cupper. He wasn't with him when he Went, but it was him who found him dead. He wouldn't say any more than that, but putting two and two together, he must have been very attached to the old gentleman. Well, he'd been looking after him for years. The old gentleman wouldn't go anywhere without he took this Darkin with him. And when he died like that no wonder Darkin was upset.”

“What was his job with Grossiter exactly? Valet?”

“You could call it that, I suppose. He did everything, as far as I can make out. Looked after his clothes and medicines and that. The old gentleman didn't like a lot round him and at the house here in Newminster there was only this Darkin and Mrs. Cupper who went in for cleaning. But Darkin thinks something of himself. Mr. Grossiter's companion, he says he was, and likes to be called Mister Darkin.”

“You say the cremation's tomorrow?”

“Yes. At eleven o'clock she told Stick. Over at Beaslake where there's one of these crematorium places. There won't be many there, Darkin said, because the old gentleman was never one for a lot of friends. But his two nephews will be there and Darkin and a few more, I daresay. Only what I don't understand, if I may be allowed to say so, sir, is whatever made you start talking to the Headmaster about murder. There was nothing funny about the way poor old Mr. Grossiter died, if that's what you're thinking.”

“No, no, Mrs. Stick,” Carolus said. “But as you yourself said, a lawyer from Newminster has disappeared rather mysteriously, and when there is a disappearance like that there is always a chance of murder being the explanation.”

“There is if
you
have anything to do with it. You may be sure of that. So it's all to do with this place Hallows End, then? I suppose that means you'll be going over there, getting mixed up with I don't know what?”

“But you've just been giving me valuable information, Mrs. Stick.”

“Ah, that was Only Right. Stick had to speak and neither of us won't have anything to do with the police, as you know well enough. But it doesn't mean we want to see you start all over again, missing meals, coming in at all hours and us never knowing
from one minute to the other who's coming to the door. It's time you stopped these larks, sir, it is really. Flesh and blood won't stand it. Why, in that last case the judge reprimanded you and all the papers were full of it.”

“It was the coroner,” said Carolus mildly.

“Whatever it was, it wasn't Nice. People Talking and that.”

“Let's hope they have no cause to this time,” said Carolus and walked firmly across to the telephone. When he picked up the receiver, Mrs. Stick left the room.

He dialled the number of an intimate friend of his, a local doctor who looked after the school and had a busy practice in the town. His name was Lance Thomas, but he was known as Dr. Tom. He and his wife Phoebe had befriended Carolus when he had first come to Newminster.

“Hullo, Lance. How are you both? Good. Tell me, was old Grossiter a patient of yours?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I'm rather interested. He died very suddenly, didn't he?”

“So I understand. It wasn't totally unexpected in his condition.”

“No?”

“Well, no. The local man is an old friend of mine. We were at St. Thomas's together, as a matter of fact. Splendid chap and a first-rate doctor. I'd begged him not to bury himself down in that end-of-the-world village but he did it for his wife who came from those parts.”

“He saw Grossiter?”

“Yes, and signed the death certificate.”

“You're satisfied with his examination?”

“Oh, absolutely. I'll give you the technical details if you like, but it's the sort of thing no doctor could make a mistake about. Certainly not Stanley Jayboard who has tended to specialise in it.”

“What sort of thing? What exactly did he die of?”

“Call it a heart attack. That's near enough for a layman.” Lance Thomas chuckled. “A perfectly natural death. No doubt about that.”

“Do you think anything could have happened to cause such an attack? Would the patient have to be given a sudden alarm, or piece of bad news, or anything of that sort?”

“Really, Carolus! All this investigation is going to your head. You're beginning to be melodramatic. No. Nothing of that sort would be necessary. There
could
have been something, perhaps, but there's no reason whatever to think so. Stanley doesn't, anyway. Why? What are you up to?”

“I'm interested. Duncan Humby was on his way to see Grossiter. His car was found half a mile from the house. As you know, he's disappeared.”

“It's curious, isn't it? Could be coincidence.”

“But it never is. For me coincidences simply don't exist.”

“You had better go and see Stanley Jayboard. Tell him you're a friend of mine. He may be able to help you.”

“Thanks, Lance. Grossiter is being cremated tomorrow.”

“Yes, I know. Stanley's quite happy about that. Though I gather he's not fond of the nephews.”

“You're not going to the cremation?”

“Lord, no. I'm worked off my feet just now. That was why I was so grateful to Stanley for signing that certificate. I ought really to have gone as the old man's regular consultant. But don't say anything about that, Carolus.”