Death Comes to Cambers (20 page)

‘Put on, perhaps,' suggested Moulland. ‘Never know.'

‘Well, there it is,' Bobby said. ‘That's my impression. And Mr. Andrews says he saw Lady Cambers burn her will. She had made one leaving everything to Mr. Sterling and then changed her mind and burnt it, partly because she hoped her husband would return. Mr. Andrews says he thinks no one knew except himself.'

‘Difficult to be sure,' commented Lawson. ‘There's that maid of hers, the Amy Emmers girl. Maids get to know a lot. I've an idea that girl has played a bigger part in what's been going on than she pretends. There's that story of her quarrel with her mistress, for example – undarned stockings, she said, didn't she? A bit thin. She'll have to be questioned again, too, after we've heard what Sterling has to say.'

As he spoke, the door opened and there entered young Tim Sterling, more pale, more thin, more eager-looking even than before.

‘You want to ask me some more questions?' he said quietly.

‘Yes, that's so,' Colonel Lawson answered. ‘Some new facts have come to our knowledge we should like to ask you about. If you'll sit down a minute, I'll look at our note of what you told us before.'

There had not been time for Bobby to transcribe in full his shorthand notes of Sterling's previous examination, so, a little pleased to show how easily he himself at least could read his shorthand, he fluttered over the pages of his notebook and hurriedly jotted down what he thought were the salient points. He put the result before Colonel Lawson, who concentrated on it with frowning and deep-breathed attention, and Sterling, who was evidently beginning to feel a little nervous, said: ‘May I smoke? Is that allowed?' Moulland frowned. He thought the suggestion showed a lack of proper respect. Colonel Lawson, who thought so too, was about to refuse, when he saw Bobby looking at him, and, without quite knowing why, changed his intended refusal into consent. At once Bobby was offering his petrol-lighter.

‘Oh, thanks,' Sterling said, accepting the offer, and then, noticing how hard Bobby was looking at his cigarette-case, offered it to him. ‘Have one?' he said.

‘Oh, thanks awfully,' Bobby said, instantly taking one; and Moulland, almost unable to believe his eyes and ears at such slack ideas of discipline, looked at the chief constable in mute appeal to be allowed to launch the thunderbolt he had all ready. No less displeased at such slackness, the colonel was about to let go one of the largest size on his own account, when Bobby meekly came across and put the cigarette down on the table before him.

‘I suppose I must wait till the investigation is over. This is duty for us, you know,' he said to Sterling as he did so, and Colonel Lawson frowned and breathed more deeply than ever as he saw it was a Bulgarian Tempo, that expensive and not too common brand whereof the stumps had been so frequent in the rhododendron-bushes before the front-door of the house.

‘What's up?' Sterling asked, vaguely aware of by-play, of an increase of tension.

‘I used to smoke Balkan cigarettes myself,' Lawson observed. ‘Found them a bit expensive, though.'

Sterling made no answer. Apparently he saw no reason for discussing his choice of cigarettes. Lawson went on: ‘Do you always smoke the same brand?'

‘No. Generally the cheapest gasper I can get hold of,' Sterling replied then. ‘Why? You didn't ask me to come in here to chat about cigarettes, did you?'

‘No, no,' Lawson answered. ‘There are some new facts that have been mentioned. Can you say what was the exact time you started last night to come here?'

‘I didn't notice particularly,' Sterling answered. ‘I suppose it would be somewhere about eight.'

‘It was dark?'

‘Practically.'

‘The distance is about forty miles – say, about an hour's run.'

‘Rather more – built-up area a good part of the way. I'm not a speed merchant.'

‘You expected to arrive between nine and half-past?'

‘Yes, I suppose so. But I think I told you I had a break-down. I had to stop to adjust...' He gave brief technical details. ‘And I got caught in that storm, lost my way – the rain was like a wall; you couldn't see an inch before your nose. Then I had another breakdown – jolly awkward at that time of night. Finally I got to Hirlpool in the small hours. I got a bed at the Red Lion. They might be able to tell you the exact time I got there. I didn't notice. I was only too glad to get to bed.'

‘I suppose you got thoroughly drenched?'

‘Well, I had my waterproof cape and leggings,' Sterling answered. ‘Rain like that will go through pretty nearly everything, though – it splashed up from the ground a good eight or ten inches. Soaked my shoes and socks all right.'

‘As a matter of form,' Colonel Lawson went on, poking distastefully at that cigarette of Balkan brand that lay upon the table before him, ‘we want to establish the whereabouts of everyone at the time when the murder, so far as we can calculate, was committed. That would be, we think, a little before midnight.'

‘I understand,' Sterling answered gravely. ‘Well, I'm afraid I can't help you very much. A little before midnight I suppose I was scooting round trying to find my way to Hirlpool – or anywhere else where I could get a bed.'

‘You had definitely given up all idea of trying to reach Cambers?'

‘Yes. I didn't want to fetch everyone out of bed. Aunt wouldn't have been awfully pleased.'

‘I think I ought to tell you,' Lawson said slowly, ‘that two witnesses state that they saw you in this neighbourhood, one quite early in the evening – about half-past ten – and one later on, after the rain had stopped.'

‘I am suspected of the murder, then?' Sterling asked, quietly enough but a little more pale than usual.

‘I have not said so,' Lawson retorted. ‘In point of fact, we don't suspect anyone yet. We are merely making preliminary inquiries on which to proceed. But it does seem that what these two witnesses tell us is inconsistent with your own story.'

‘Why?' asked Sterling. ‘In the first place, they may easily be mistaken. It was a dark night. I was travelling at a fair pace. Certainly no one stopped me or spoke to me. Everyone about here knows I often run down on my motorbike. Any motor-cyclist seen near here would very likely be taken for me. Secondly, I told you I lost my way and had two breakdowns.'

‘If you come so often, surely you know the way well enough?' interposed Lawson.

‘Oh, yes,' agreed Sterling; ‘that is, when I can see it. After I got the bus running again, I tried a short-cut. That was pretty fatal. Short-cuts generally are. I got completely fogged. And then the rain came till I didn't know south from north. It is quite possible I buzzed right by here without knowing it.'

Lawson said nothing for a time. He was staring at the ceiling, scowling and breathing harder than ever. Moulland had, as usual, an air of listening with a kind of stolid official attention. Bobby was busy again with his shorthand, in an aggrieved mood taking special care with his loops and angles as he put them down.

‘Any ass will be able to read this,' he thought, and then: ‘Pretty thin yarn. Something behind it. Only what?' Lawson brought down his eyes from the ceiling, gave the cigarette another dissatisfied poke with his finger, and said: ‘I suppose you didn't often choose late on Sunday evening to visit your aunt? You would have had to leave again first thing Monday morning, I take it?'

Sterling hesitated. They all waited. Lawson seemed unable to keep himself from fidgeting with that incriminating cigarette before him, and Moulland's air of attention grew more stolid, more official, every moment. Bobby found himself thinking: ‘Is he making up his mind to tell the truth? Or is he taking time to invent a plausible lie? But, then, he ought to have had one ready.'

‘I don't see that my private affairs come in,' Sterling said at last, ‘but it's like this. I've got a dodge for improving short-length reception. I used to be with Ballantyne & Watson, the big wireless-manufacturers. I expect you know their advertisements – Ballantyne and Watson as two handsome, earnest young men talking to each other confidentially over big pipes about how good their stuff is. As a matter of fact, Ballantyne's seventy and Watson's a widow. Well, when I hit on this dodge of mine, Aunt lent me a bit to start a small show of my own. It's been going pretty well. Developments and all that. Only getting going fairly eats capital. There's an overdraft at the bank. If Aunt had wanted her money back, it would rather have put the lid on.'

‘You mean you were expecting she might do that? You had some reason for thinking so?' demanded Lawson, while Moulland, wakening from his attitude of profound attention, an attention so profound indeed it might have seemed somnolent, proceeded to make another entry in that formidable pocket-book of his.

‘Only that she had this idea of wanting me to marry. Aunt was a bit like that. She would do anything for anyone, but afterwards she rather felt she had bought you, body and soul. Of course, she didn't mean it. I suppose she felt she had helped you once and so she was jolly well going on helping you, whether you liked it or whether you didn't. What I wanted was to rub into her that the girl herself wasn't keen, for the jolly good reason that she was sweet on another chap – good luck to him. I hoped when Aunt knew that she would let up worrying me.'

‘It still seems a late hour to choose for your visit,' Lawson persisted, and Moulland startled them all by not exactly speaking, but by uttering a grunt that sounded as if it were meant for strong agreement with this view.

‘I had been busy all day with accounts, and making plans and all that,' Sterling explained. ‘You haven't much time to spare when you're starting for yourself.' He was perspiring gently. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead, while they still all watched him in grave scrutiny. He said with a certain desperation: ‘Oh, I dare say it looks rotten, but it was either then or waiting goodness knows how long.'

‘I wish you had told us all this before,' Colonel Lawson observed severely. ‘I don't feel you were altogether frank with us in the first place, Mr. Sterling.' 

Sterling got to his feet and threw his cigarette-stump into the fire-place.

‘There you are,' he said remorsefully. ‘If I had done that before, poor old Aunt would have been down on me like a ton of bricks. Sorry and all that if you think I was keeping anything back, but how was I to tell you wanted to know all about my private business affairs? I don't suppose you'll believe me, but I'm just as keen as any of you on spotting who did Aunt in.' He paused and faced them, upright and tall, very pale, little drops of perspiration again on his forehead. For a moment Bobby had an impression of a bull tied to the stake and awaiting the onslaught of the straining dogs soon to be loosed. Abruptly Sterling said: ‘Well, there it is. I didn't know I was suspected myself.'

‘Nothing has been said about suspicions,' Lawson protested once more. ‘We are seeking explanations.'

‘No,' retorted Sterling, though a little more quietly, ‘you don't say suspicion because, if you did, you would have to caution me, instead of all this third-degree business.'

‘There has been no third-degree, whatever that may be,' declared Lawson angrily, in his best ‘marked for punishment' voice. ‘We have information, too, that after a young man named Dene left Lady Cambers someone else visited her room, and that she gave him refreshment there. Also that apparently someone was in hiding in the rhododendron-bushes in front of the house, as if he were on watch there.'

‘Yes, I know,' Sterling interposed.

‘Oh, you do?' snapped Lawson. ‘May I ask how?'

‘It's common knowledge,' Sterling retorted impatiently. ‘Everyone knows. They are all talking about it here, and most likely it's all over the village by now. I should have thought you could have guessed that much.'

‘It doesn't do any good to adopt that tone, Mr. Sterling,' said Lawson, looking angrier than ever. He gave the cigarette on the table before him another poke, and then went on: ‘About these Balkan cigarettes? You say you don't often smoke them?'

‘No, I don't. We buy them to offer clients. We keep several different kinds. People like it if you remember and offer them the sort they fancy. It may mean bringing off a deal. That's all.'

‘I suppose,' suggested Lawson, ‘you have a supply in your office, then, at the moment?'

‘As a matter of fact,' Sterling admitted, ‘we've run out'; and Colonel Lawson looked as if he had only just stopped himself from saying ‘Ah' very significantly. ‘Is that important? There were only a few left at the bottom of the box when I looked the other day, so I put them in my case. I didn't mean to get any more. They're expensive, and no one seemed keen on them. You can find out from Sanders, the tobacconist near our place, that he did supply a box, if that's what you're after.'

‘The point is not in doubt,' Lawson answered dryly, ‘since we can see you're smoking them. There's one thing more. Had you any knowledge of the state of Lady Cambers's finances?'

‘No; only that she had taken over Uncle Bert's liabilities, and they were pretty heavy. I gathered she was a bit worried. If it's true someone's gone off with her jewellery, there mayn't be an awful lot left. It was jolly valuable – the jewellery, I mean.' He added: ‘That's common gossip, too. Everyone knows the jewellery's missing, and everyone knew before that Uncle Bert had let Aunt in pretty badly.'

Colonel Lawson consulted his notes, frowned and scowled, and pursued his customary deep-breathing exercise, and then told Sterling that was all for the present and he could go, but would he please remain in the vicinity for the present.

‘It looks bad,' declared the chief constable when the door had closed upon the young man, though he spoke with reluctance, for he did not wish to abandon his first belief that Eddy Dene was the guilty man. ‘It sounded to me as if he knew perfectly well he had been close by here last night.'