Envious Casca (28 page)

A grin dispelled the natural solemnity of his countenance. He picked up the sad remnant of Maud's book, and took it back to the house with him, to show to the Inspector.

Confronted with the handkerchief, Hemingway showed a disappointing absence of enthusiasm.

"It's Roydon's all right," the Sergeant pointed out. "It's got his initial in the corner, and he's the only R in the house, sir. The blood's dry, too, you see."

"There's enough of it, at all events," remarked Hemingway, dispassionately surveying the handkerchief.

"I figure he must have wiped that knife with it, sir."

"You may be right."

"And there's no doubt he put it in the incinerator this morning, just as the gardener said."

"Took his time about getting rid of it, didn't he?"

The Sergeant frowned. "Yes," he admitted. "But maybe he didn't think it was vital to destroy it while Stephen Herriard was still under suspicion. After all, if he murdered old Herriard, and planted that cigarette-case in the room, he'd be pretty sure he'd diverted suspicion from himself, wouldn't he? It was you letting it be known that Stephen was more or less in the clear that sort of stampeded him, like you thought it might."

"Ah!" said Hemingway, stirring the handkerchief with his pencil.

A little crestfallen, the Sergeant said: "You don't think it's important, Chief?"

"I don't say that. It may be. Of course, I'm not an expert, but I'd have liked these highly lavish bloodstains to have gone a bit browner. However, I'll see Roydon as soon as he comes in, and if I don't get anything out of him we'll get this tested. Anything else?"

"Yes," said the Sergeant, his slow grin spreading once more over his face. "This!"

Hemingway saw the mutilated book in his hand, and ejaculated: "You aren't going to tell me - Well, I'll be damned!" He took the book from the Sergeant, and flicked over the scorched pages. "I told you so!" he said. "Someone in this house couldn't take it. I'm bound to say I couldn't either. Well, it's your find, my lad. You can give it back to the old lady, and get the credit for a piece of smart detection."

"Thank you, Chief, but considering the state it's in it doesn't seem to me there's going to be much credit attached to it!" Ware retorted. "I'd just as soon you gave it back to her."

"The mistake you made was in rescuing the thing at all," said Hemingway. "It just serves you right. You go and give it back to Mrs. Herriard, and don't let me have any backchat about it either!"

The Sergeant sighed, and went off to find Maud. She had by this time escaped from Mrs. Dean's toils, and was knitting in the library, exchanging desultory remarks with Mathilda. Joseph was seated on the broad windowseat with Paula, trying to amuse her with anecdotes of his career on the stage. Paula, who was far too profound an egotist to see anything pathetic in his reminiscences, did not even pretend to be interested. Beyond saying Oh! once or twice in an abstracted voice, she paid no heed to him. Her face wore its most brooding look, and it was obvious that her mind was solely occupied with her own stage-career.

The Sergeant coughed to draw attention to himself, and trod over to Maud's chair. "Beg pardon, madam, but I think you said you'd lost a book?"

"Yes, indeed I have," said Maud. "I told the Inspector about it, and he promised to keep a look-out for it."

Feeling absurdly guilty, the Sergeant proffered the wreck he was holding. "Would this be it, madam?"

For almost the first time in their acquaintanceship, Mathilda watched Maud's face register emotion. Her pale eyes stared at the book, and her jaw sagged. It was a moment before she could find her voice. "That?" she said. "Oh no!"

"I'm afraid it's got a bit damaged," said the Sergeant apologetically.

This tactful understatement made Mathilda choke. Almost shrinkingly Maud took the book, and looked at it.

"oh dear!" she said distressfully. "Oh dear, dear, dear! It is my book! Joseph, look what has happened! I cannot understand it!"

Joseph, who had already crossed the room to her side, said tut-tut, in a shocked voice, and asked the Sergeant where he had found it.

"Well, sir, I'm sure I don't know how it got there, but it fell out of the bottom of the incinerator."

A stifled gasp from Mathilda brought Joseph's head round. He was looking suitably grave, but when he met her brimming eyes his gravity vanished, and he gave a sudden chuckle.

"I must say, Joseph, I don't know what you find to laugh at!" said Maud,

"I'm sorry, my dear! It was just a piece of foolishness. It's most annoying for you really, very tiresome indeed! But never mind! After all, we have things so much more serious to worry about, haven't we?"

This well-meant comfort entirely failed in its object. "No, Joseph, I cannot agree with you. I was particularly interested in the Empress's life, and, as you see, all the first and last pages have been burnt away. And, what is more, it is a book from the lending-library, and I shall have to pay for it." A slight flush reddened her plump cheeks; she sat very straight in her chair, and, directing an accusing stare upon the Sergeant, said: "I should like to know who threw my book into the incinerator!"

The Sergeant knew himself to be blameless in every respect, but his feeling of guilt grew under the indignant old lady's gaze. "I couldn't say, madam. Perhaps it was thrown away by accident,"

"That would be it!" exclaimed Joseph, seizing gratefully this explanation. "No doubt it got picked up with the newspapers, or - or fell into a wastepaper-basket, and that's how it happened."

"I shall ask the servants," said Maud, rising from her chair. "If that is what happened, it is most careless, and they will have to pay for it."

"I shouldn't, if I were you," said Paula. "They'll give notice in a bunch. Besides, I'll bet Stephen did it."

Joseph shot her an anguished look. "Paula! Must you?"

Maud halted in her tracks. "Stephen?" she said. "Why should Stephen destroy my book?"

"No reason at all, my dear!" said Joseph. "Of course he didn't!"

"Well!" Maud said. "I have always thought him a very tiresome young man, making a great deal of trouble through nothing but ill-temper, but I never supposed he would be wantonly destructive!"

At that moment Stephen walked into the room. Paula said: "Stephen, did you chuck Aunt Maud's book into the incinerator?"

"No, of course I didn't," he answered. "How many more times am I to tell you that I never touched the damned thing?"

"Well, someone did."

His lips twitched. "Oh no, not really?"

Maud mutely held out what remained of the Life of the Empress Elizabeth. Stephen took one look, and burst out laughing. The Sergeant seized this opportunity to escape from the room, and went back to tell his superior that from the looks of it Stephen Herriard had done it.

"Young devil!" said Hemingway.

Meanwhile, Maud, quite incensed by Stephen's laughter, was delivering herself of her opinion of him. It was evident that she was very much put out. Stephen said, with unaccustomed penitence, that he was sorry he had laughed, but that he was guiltless of having tampered with the book. Mathilda did not believe him, but she saw that Maud was really upset, and at once supported Joseph's theory that the book had been thrown away by accident. Maud reiterated her resolve to question the servants, and Paula said impatiently, "What on earth's the use of making a fuss about it now that the damage is done? If you ask Sturry whether he put your book in the incinerator, he'll give notice on the spot."

"You go and ask him," Stephen advised Maud. "You can't do any harm, because he's just given me notice."

This announcement provoked an outcry. Joseph wanted to know what could have induced the man to do such a silly thing; Mathilda ejaculated: "Snake!" and Paula said he would be a good riddance.

"I think very badly of him for giving notice at such a time as this!" said Joseph. "It is very selfish of him, very selfish indeed!"

"It is annoying, because I meant to give him the boot before he could do it," said Stephen. "What's more, he'll be wanted to swear to Uncle Nat's will, before it's admitted to probate."

"Why?" asked Paula.

Stephen made a slight, contemptuous gesture towards his uncle. Joseph said: "I'm afraid that's my fault, my dear. It's so long since I read my law that I've become shockingly rusty. I very stupidly forgot that it's usual to insert an Attestation Clause. It doesn't really matter, only it means that both witnesses will be wanted before we can get probate."

"Well, he can go and swear his piece before a Commissioner for Oaths," said Stephen. "Not that it's necessary. As long as we know where to find him, he can still do his swearing even though he isn't any longer employed here."

"You make him swear before he leaves!" advised Mathilda. "I wouldn't put it past him to try to put a spoke in your wheel somehow!"

"My dear, what a dreadful thing to say!" exclaimed Joseph. "He may have his faults, but we've no reason to think him dishonest!"

"He loathes Stephen," Mathilda said obstinately.

"Nonsense, Tilda! You really mustn't say such things!"

"Do, for God's sake, stop looking at everyone through rose-coloured spectacles!" said Stephen. "Sturry's hated me ever since I told Uncle Nat he was watering the port, and you know it!"

"Well, but that isn't to say that he would deliberately try to harm you, old man!" protested Joseph.

"You see to it that he goes and swears whatever it is he's got to swear," said Mathilda.

"All right, I will. It'll annoy him," said Stephen.

"All this," said Maud, "has nothing to do with the Life of the Empress Elizabeth."

"If you put it like that," said Stephen, "nothing so far has had anything to do with that thrice-accursed female!""I do not know why you should speak of the Empress in that rude way," said Maud, with tremendous dignity. "You know nothing about her."

"No one who has been privileged to live under the carne roof with you for the past three days," said Stephen, loosing patience, "can claim to know nothing about the Empress!"

This outrageous remark very nearly precipitated a quite unlooked-for crisis. Maud's bosom swelled, and she was just about to utter words which her fascinated audience felt would have been shattering to anyone less hardened than Stephen, when Sturry entered the room with the cocktail-tray. Even under the stress of powerful emotion Maud knew that a lady never permitted herself to quarrel in front of the servants; and instead of scarifying Stephen, she held out the Life of the Empress to Sturry, and asked him if he knew how it had found its way into the incinerator.

Looking outraged, Sturry disclaimed all knowledge. Maud requested him to make enquiries amongst the staff, to which he bowed, without, however, vouchsafing any reply.

"Just a moment!" said Stephen, as Sturry was about to withdraw. "I'm informed that you and Ford will be required to swear to the signature of the late Mr.. Herriard's will. In the existing circumstances, it will be more convenient for you to do so before a Commissioner for Oaths than to wait until the will's admitted to probate. I'll run you into the town tomorrow, and you can do so then."

Sturry cast him a cold look. "Might I enquire, sir, the nature of the oath required of me?"

"It's only a formality," Stephen answered. "You have merely to swear that Mr. Herriard signed his will in your presence."

Sturry drew in his breath with a sucking sound, and said with an air of quiet triumph: "I regret, sir, I could not see my way to do that."

No one had really believed Mathilda's grim prognostication, and a startled silence fell upon the company. Joseph broke it. "Come, come, Sturry!" he said. "Iss that quite worthy of you? Of course you must do it! The Law requires it of you."

"I beg your pardon, sir," Sturry said, with careful courtesy, "but I understood Mr. Stephen to say that I should be required to swear that the late Mr. Herriard signed his will in my presence."

"Well?" said Stephen harshly.

"I regret, sir, that I could not reconcile it with my conscience to do that."

"But, Sturry!" gasped Joseph.

"What the devil do you mean?" demanded Stephen. "You witnessed the signature, didn't you?"

"In a manner of speaking, sir, yes. But if it comes to taking my oath I feel myself bound to state that neither Ford nor myself was present when the late Mr. Herriard signed his will."

"But, Sturry, that's absurd!" Joseph cried, very much flustered. "You may not have been actually in the room, but you know very well that I brought the document straight out to you, in the upper hall, and you both knew what it was, and signed it! I mean, it's the silliest quibble to say Mr. Herriard didn't sign it in your presence! You know how ill he was, and how much he disliked having a lot of people in his room! I told you exactly what you were doing, and you must have known perfectly well that Mr. Herriard had signed it, for there was his signature for you to see!"

"I am not aware, sir, that I should be obliged to Go on Oath about it," replied Sturry inexorably. "I regret to appear Disobliging, sir, but I trust you will Appreciate My Position."

He then bowed again, and left the room, softly closing the door behind him.

"That," said Stephen, "has properly torn it!"

"You fool, Joe!" Mathilda exclaimed, jumping up from her chair. "Don't you know how important it is that the witnesses should actually see the signing of a will?"

"But Tilda - but Stephen - !" stammered Joseph. "I never thought - it was difficult enough to get Nat to draw the will up at all! If I'd tried to make him agree to having Ford and Sturry in to watch him doing it - well, you know what Nat was! Of course I know that technically one ought to see the actual signing, but in this case - I mean, no one is going to contest the will! I'm sure it will be all right. I shall simply have to explain the circumstances, and -"

"You'll be clever if you can explain how Ford and Sturry saw through a wall," interrupted Stephen.

"Do you really mean that the will is no good, just because the witnesses didn't watch Uncle signing it?" Paula asked incredulously.