The Affair of the Mutilated Mink (28 page)

In a bewildered voice, Lady Burford addressed his wife: 'But I don't understand. You knew everything about our family and the old days, people and places. And you look like Cecily.'

Mabel Turner nodded. 'That's the reason Cecily and I happened to meet in the first place. I was her understudy.'

'In Australia?' Gerry said.

'Yes, over twenty years ago. It was her first big part — well, really the only big part she ever got. Unfortunately the play folded after about a month and we were both out of a job. Well, I'd been a singer and dancer before, and she'd been in the chorus, and we looked so much alike that we got up a sister act. We toured the music halls and vaudevilles all over Australia for a couple of years. As you can imagine, we got pretty close. In some of those little towns there was just nothing for respectable girls to do when we weren't performing but sit in the boarding house and talk. I was fascinated by Cecily's background. It was so different from my own, and I used to make her talk to me about it for hours. After a couple of years I knew as much about her family and friends as she did herself. Then she met and married a Philip Brown, a sheepfarmer, and gave up the stage. She'd told me so much about England that I decided to try my luck over here. Well, I didn't make the big time, but luckily I did meet Ned. We fell in love and got married. Cecily and I kept in touch, however, and I knew about Philip dying and about her marrying Sebastian three years later - though, of course, I never met him. Then eight years ago they were both killed. I doubted very much if any of her English relatives were aware of it, though, because I knew she'd had nothing to do with any of them for years. So when this — this business cropped up, I thought I'd stand a fair chance of getting away with it. And I did, until now.'

Lady Burford said, 'But getting away with what?'

'The silver, most likely,' Gilbert said.

Ned flushed. 'Nothing like that. We're not crooks. I talked Mabel into it because I wanted a chance to perform for Mr Haggermeir.'

Haggermeir sat up. 'Me? You're an actor?'

'No. I'm - I'm a stuntman.'

'Holy Moses.' Haggermeir looked baffled. 'Perform for me? I don't get it.'

'It's like this. I was one of the best stuntmen in Britain—'

'
The
best,' Mabel said quietly.

'Some people said so: cars, horses, planes, trains, falls, dives, anything. Then two and a half years ago I had my accident.'

Gilbert snapped his fingers. 'I remember. Some actress was badly injured.'

'What happened?' Gerry asked.

'It was a simple climbing job,' Ned said. 'The hero was supposed to shin up the outside of this building to rescue the heroine's cat, which was trapped on a ledge. The director wanted one shot of her on the ground, looking up at me - standing in for the hero, doing the climb. And when they were shooting that, I fell.'

'Were you hurt?' Lord Burford asked.

'Hardly at all. The lady cushioned my fall. I landed right on top of her. Her leg was broken. She was OK eventually, but the picture had to be scrapped. And I was black-listed.'

'Why did you fall?' Haggermeir asked him.

'They said I was drunk.'

'Were you?'

'No. Someone had smeared grease on one of my footholds. I knew who it was, but I couldn't prove it. It was wiped off before I could go and check. But the result was that I've never worked in films since, and never will in this country again.'

Rex said, 'How have you been earning your living?'

'Some circus and fairground work. But I hate it. I must get back into movies. I love them. They're my life. I thought my only chance was to get to Hollywood, where they probably wouldn't know of my trouble. I knew if I could get just one opportunity to prove what I could do I'd be OK. But we couldn't afford the fare. Then I read about Mr Haggermeir being over here and heard that he was actually going to stay with relatives of Cecily's, where Mabel could almost certainly wangle an invitation to stay if she could pass herself off as Cecily. It seemed too good an opportunity to miss.'

Haggermeir said, 'But how the heck were you figuring on giving me a performance?'

'I thought I might be able to pull off some spectacular stunt, which would impress you so much you'd want to give me a real chance in America. I spent the first two days here trying to work something out. Eventually I hit on something. And I have an apology to make.' He looked at Hugh, who had by now turned and was leaning against the wall. 'It was me who took your motorbike. I'm very sorry.'

Hugh stared. 'But why on earth did you bring it up here?'

'The stunt I planned was to set myself on fire. I have a fireproof suit, crash helmet, and lots of other equipment in the car. Then I was going to ride the bike at full speed the whole length of the gun room, through the French windows, up a ramp formed by that plank, and leap off the balcony into the lake.'

There was a gasp in the room. The Earl said, 'But you'd kill yourself!'

'I don't think so, my lord. I've done similar stunts before. I carefully measured the distance and height and worked out the speed that would be necessary. I had to make the preparations on Friday. I played cards as badly as I could so the Countess and Miss Fry wouldn't want to go on playing with me for long, and as soon as Miss Dove fortuitously arrived I slipped outside and disconnected the bike from the sidecar. I put a little fuel in the tank, took the bike out to the road, and tested it. It's light, but it's got really tremendous acceleration. I brought it back and, while Mabel was making sure the other ladies were safely playing cards, I manhandled it up the back stairs and brought it in here. Naturally, I never imagined Mr Quartus would be going out again that night and would notice it was missing. Then I fetched the plank, which I'd discovered in the stables earlier. On Saturday morning I intended to ask his lordship to let me have the key to the gun room, so I could take another look at the collection on my own. If he insisted on coming with me, I was going to tell him the whole story. I think he's keen enough on movies, and a good enough sport, to have gone along with me. Then, when Mr Haggermeir went outside to photograph the exterior of the house, Mabel was going to go with him, give me a yell when he was in the right position, and make sure he watched. And that would have been it.'

'And good-bye to my motor-bike,' Hugh said dryly.

'No, it could have been brought up and without being too badly damaged. I would have paid for any repairs. I could just about afford that. But in the end, of course, the murder stopped everything.'

'Why play the idiot fop?' Gerry asked.

'I guess it was partly the name: Sebastian Everard
sounds
foppish. And I wanted to adopt a personality as different as possible from my own. I thought, too, that if I made myself a silly-ass type, without too much to say for himself, I could avoid serious conversations and be less likely to get caught out. Of course, I didn't anticipate having to keep it up all through a police murder investigation. Must admit, though, I did rather get caught up in the part.' He gave a weak and sheepish grin.

Mabel said, 'I really am terribly sorry. I feel awful. Of course, we'll leave as soon as Mr Allgood says we may.'

'Not so fast,' Allgood said. 'You two have admitted being here under false pretences. A murder has been committed. I have every right to detain you for further questioning.'

Ned went pale. He said, 'We know nothing about the murder. We told you the absolute truth about that. There's only one small point. Years ago, before she became a star, Laura did appear in a couple of films in this country. I worked on one of them. She didn't positively recognise me this time, but my face was obviously vaguely familiar to her. She was trying to remember where she'd seen me before and she went out of her way to talk to me. That's the only thing I didn't tell you, I swear.'

Allgood regarded him silently. At last he said, 'Very well. I believe you. Please don't leave yet, though.'

Ned gave a sigh of relief. He sat down beside Mabel, who was sobbing silently, and took her hand.

Allgood looked at Haggermeir. 'Tell me, if Turner had pulled off this stunt, would you have given him work?'

Haggermeir pursed his lips. 'Hard to say. Possibly. He'd have sure proved he knew his stuff. Trouble is, there are so many first-rate American stuntmen in Hollywood already.'

'How about the film you're making here,
The Kings Man
? Couldn't you use him on that?'

'I, er, wouldn't like to commit myself at this stage.'

'Oh, come. I'm sure there'll be plenty of work for stuntmen in a Rex Ransom picture. If he proves his ability, can't you promise him work on
The King's Man
here and now?'

'Well, no, I'm sorry, at this stage I couldn't.'

'Is that because you have no intention of making
The King's Man
, and never have had?'

For long seconds Haggermeir just sat perfectly still, his eyes fixed on Allgood's face. Then: 'Don't know what you mean,' he said.

'Oh, I think you do, Haggermeir. The whole story of wanting to make a film here at Alderley was a ruse, a way of getting yourself an invitation to the house. You had your own private reason for wanting to spend a few days at Alderley.'

'Horsefeathers.'

'I don't think so. And I'm not the first to discover the truth, either.' He looked at Paul. 'Carter, I'd like you to recount the conversation which you inadvertently overheard in the breakfast room on Friday morning.'

At these words Haggermeir drew his breath in sharply.

Paul nodded. 'Very well.' He explained how he had happened to be in the secret passage and had suddenly heard the voice through the panels. Then he paused for a moment.

'The voice,' he said, 'was Mr Haggermeir's. He was saying he hadn't really come to Alderley to make a picture. That was merely an excuse to give him a chance to search the place. He said that just before she died his grandmother told him that as a young girl she'd been married in California to - to Lord Burford's grandfather, Aylwin Saunders.'

At this the Earl gave a gasp, Lady Burford's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline, and Gerry gazed at Paul in amazement. Paul continued, 'Haggermeir said she'd told him that somewhere - probably here at Alderley - there was proof that he, Haggermeir, was in fact the rightful Earl of Burford.'

Chapter Twenty-One

The Burford family seemed struck dumb by Paul's words. Nobody, in fact, said anything until St. John Allgood spoke quietly: 'Thank you, Carter. Well, Haggermeir, what do you have to say to that?'

Haggermeir got slowly to his feet. His face was grey but his expression was defiant. He said, 'Yeah, it's true, it's all true. And I guess I owe you an apology, Earl, for fooling you as I did. To tell you the truth, if I'd known you were going to turn out to be such a regular guy, and the Countess and your daughter such, well, such
ladies
, I guess I'd never have done things in this way. Though that don't mean I ain't still determined to get what's rightfully mine.'

'I suggest you explain just what you mean by that,' Allgood said.

'Ain't it obvious? My grandma - her name was Martha Haggermeir — met and fell for Aylwin Saunders in California in 1850, when she was eighteen. That was just before he'd struck it rich. He told her all about himself, and that one day he'd be the Earl of Burford. The next year, after he'd made his pile, they got married. It was all legal. The ceremony was performed by a fully qualified Baptist preacher named Jones in a little town called Last Straw. The witnesses were Aylwin's manservant and a girlfriend of grandma's. Aylwin took her to San Francisco and for a year or so they lived it up and spent money like water: on furs, jewellery, art objects, you name it. Now, among the things he bought her was a little Chinese casket. Grandma was examining it one day when quite accidentally she discovered it had a false bottom. More for fun than anything else, she put her marriage licence under the false bottom for safe keeping. Then she found she couldn't get it open again. She fiddled with it for ages, and decided eventually she'd have to take it back to the place where they'd bought it. She didn't say anything to Aylwin because at that time it seemed his manner to her was starting to change. She suspected he was tiring of her and he tended to snap her head off at the least excuse. He'd been very taken with the casket and had talked about using it as a cigar box. She was scared it might prove necessary to break it open to get the licence out and that he'd be angry with her.

'Well, it turned out she was right about his feelings for her, because shortly after he left her. One day there was an English visitor for him - that lawyer Lord Burford told us about, I guess - and the next Aylwin just went out and didn't come back. He wrote her a letter from New York a week or two later, saying he was sorry and was returning to England. To give the so-and-so what credit's due to him, he did leave her practically all the cash he had left, together with the jewellery and stuff they'd bought. In fact, about the only thing he took with him was—'

'The Chinese casket,' Gerry put in.

'Yes, Lady Geraldine.'

'What happened?'

'Well, Martha wasn't the sort to sit at home, sobbing herself into a decline. She was a tough little broad. She said good riddance to bad rubbish, raised all the dough she could on the jewellery and stuff, and opened a rooming house in San Francisco, calling herself Mrs Haggermeir and telling people she'd been recently widowed. Something she didn't discover until a month or so after Aylwin left, and which he obviously hadn't known either, was that she was expecting a baby. However, that didn't stop her running the house up to a week before my pa was born. That was on March 23rd, 1852. Incidentally, she gave him Saunders as a middle name.

'In no time grandma was back running the rooming house. It did well. She raised pa on her own. She let him believe his father was dead, though she always meant to tell him the truth one day. However, she kept putting it off. My ma and pa were married in 1881. I was born two years later, and also given the middle name Saunders. They both died of typhoid in 1886. That meant grandma had another boy to raise on her own. She did a pretty good job, too, except she could never make me go to school or get any sort of education. I got in with a pretty rough crowd, but that's by the way.