The Mystery at Underwood House (An Angela Marchmont Mystery) (18 page)

William was just about to ask a question when the front door opened and Guy Fisher came in. Angela folded up the letter and pocketed it smoothly, then nodded to William, who retired respectfully to hover in the background.

‘
Hallo, Mrs. Marchmont,’ said Guy. ‘Is everyone here? Have I missed anything thrilling? If I go into the drawing-room, shall I see Ursula and Susan grappling at each other’s throats in unseemly fashion?’

‘
I do hope not,’ said Angela. ‘They were conversing quite politely when I came out.’

‘
A pity,’ he said. ‘It would add a certain piquancy to the proceedings, don’t you agree?’

He went off, and Angela beckoned to William again.

‘
Quick,’ she said. ‘I am going to telephone Mr. Faulkner, and I shall need you to keep a look-out in case anybody comes. Or one person in particular, at any rate.’

‘
Got it,’ he said.

Angela picked up the receiver and asked to be put through to Mr. Faulkner’s office. After a short wait, an unfamiliar voice came on the line.

‘
Hawley speaking,’ it said.

‘
Hallo, Mr. Hawley,’ said Angela, ‘this is Mrs. Marchmont. I wonder if I might speak to Mr. Faulkner. It’s rather urgent.’

‘
I am sorry, Mrs. Marchmont, but I’m afraid he is not here at present,’ said the clerk.

‘
Do you know where I might find him?’

‘
Well—’ said Mr. Hawley hesitantly. There was a note of worry in his voice. ‘To be frank with you, I don’t know where he is. He did not come to the office today and has left no word of his whereabouts.’

Angela’s heart sank.

‘
Is it usual for him to tell you where he is going?’

‘
Yes,’ said Hawley.

‘
Have you tried calling him at home?’

‘
Yes, I telephoned this afternoon but no-one answered. Do you think he might be ill?’

Angela made a decision.

‘
Wait in the office, if you please,’ she said. ‘I shall be there in a few minutes. We must find him, and quickly. I only hope we are not too late.’ She hung up, leaving Mr. Hawley feeling anything but reassured.

‘
No go?’ asked William.

‘
He did not come into the office today,’ she replied. ‘Go and get the car quickly, William. There is not a moment to be lost.’

He ran off and Angela scribbled a note to Louisa. She had no intention of announcing her departure to the entire family.

‘
Give that to Mrs. Haynes, please,’ she said, handing it to a passing servant. ‘And be sure to put it in her hands yourself. I shall be back soon to explain further.’

She ran out to the Bentley and they set off to drive the half-mile into the village. When the car drew up on the edge of the square she spied the face of Mr. Hawley peering expectantly out of the window of Mr. Faulkner’s office. He came out to greet her.

‘
Do you believe something untoward has happened to him?’ he asked.

‘
I hope not,’ Angela replied, ‘but I suggest we go to his house and see if he is there. Perhaps he has been taken ill and could not answer the telephone. Does he live alone, by the way?’

‘
Yes.’

‘
No servants?’

‘
He has a woman who comes in from the village, but she does not live with him.’

‘
Then let us go. You shall show us the way.’

Mr. Hawley got into the Bentley and they set off. Mr. Faulkner’s house was at the end of a lane quite on the edge of Beningfleet. It was square and comfortable, with a well-tended garden. The three of them alighted from the car and approached the front door. Hawley rang the bell and they waited. There was no answer.

‘
I wonder if his housekeeper came today,’ said Angela. ‘Does she have a key?’

‘
That I do not know,’ said the clerk.

William was peering in through the window.

‘
I can’t see anything,’ he said. He moved to another window and peered again.

‘
Ma’am,’ he said suddenly. There was a note of urgency in his voice. Angela joined him and he pointed wordlessly at something. Angela drew a sharp breath.

‘
We must get into the house somehow,’ she said.

‘
What is it?’ asked Hawley, sounding frightened.

‘
Blood, if I’m not much mistaken,’ said William. He picked up a small rock from the garden. ‘Stand back,’ he said.

‘
Not that window,’ said Angela. ‘We must preserve all the evidence as much as possible. Try this one here. It’s the dining-room and it doesn’t look as though anybody has been in it.’

William wrapped his hand carefully in his handkerchief and gave a smart blow to the window with the rock. The glass gave way with a loud tinkle. He reached carefully inside and loosened the catch.

‘
Can you give me a leg up?’ he asked Mr. Hawley.

White in the face, the clerk did as he was asked. William levered himself cautiously up and across the window-sill.

‘
Watch out for the broken glass,’ said Angela. ‘Now, go to the front door and let us in.’

William nodded and disappeared. A few seconds later there was a rattle at the door and it opened. Angela entered, with Mr. Hawley following unwillingly behind. William held up a slip of paper.

‘
I found this just here inside the door,’ he said. ‘It’s a note from the housekeeper saying that she came this morning but couldn’t get in.’

Angela glanced at it then looked round. They were in a gloomy entrance-hall panelled all in wood. Around the walls were hunting scenes and prints of horses. The place was almost silent: no noise could be heard other than the ominous ticking of a grandfather-clock which stood in one corner. Angela noticed that a chair next to it looked quite new. She raised her head and sniffed the air. There was a smell of fresh paint.

‘
I believe he has been decorating,’ she said.

She looked into the dining-room.

‘
New furniture, too,’ said William, at her shoulder. ‘I guess he’s been spending some of his hard-earned cash lately.’

‘
Yes,’ she said, but made no other comment. They reached the door of the living-room and William pushed it open.

‘
Must I—must I come in?’ asked Mr. Hawley faintly. ‘I am not altogether fond of the sight of blood.’

‘
Sit here, then,’ said Angela. She left the clerk in the hall and followed William into the living-room. There was no mistaking what had happened. They stared for a few moments at the thing on the floor. Mr. Faulkner was lying on his back, his gaze fixed unseeing on the ceiling. The handle of what looked like a large kitchen knife protruded starkly from his chest, and a pool of dark liquid congealed around him.

‘
Stabbed through the heart,’ said William. He moved forward.

‘
Don’t touch him,’ said Angela. ‘The police will want to examine him.’

‘
I guess his luck ran out,’ said William.

‘
He was playing a very dangerous game,’ said Angela. ‘His luck was bound to run out eventually. I suppose he thought he had played his cards very cleverly, but he reckoned without the fact that murder comes easily to someone who has already killed three times.’

‘
Oh Lord!’ cried Mr. Hawley, who had plucked up the courage to join them and who was now staring, aghast, at the sight before him. ‘Mr Faulkner! Who could have done such a terrible thing?’

‘
We must call the police at once,’ said Angela. ‘William, take Mr. Hawley out to the car. I shall telephone from here.’

William escorted the poor clerk outside, while Angela telephoned the local police and Scotland Yard and then came out to wait with them. After a short time a police sergeant on a bicycle came puffing up to the house.

‘
Now then, Mr. Hawley, what’s all this nonsense I hear about Mr. Faulkner getting himself murdered?’ he said, removing his hat and wiping the perspiration from his forehead.

‘
Oh, Sergeant Peters, here you are at last. No, no, it’s not nonsense at all,’ cried Hawley. ‘Why, I saw it with my own eyes: his dead body lying in a pool of blood in his own living-room.’

‘
Good Lord!’ exclaimed the sergeant. ‘I thought it was just a silly prank by one of the boys in the village. You can’t mean to say it’s true?’

‘
I’m very much afraid it is, sergeant,’ said Mrs. Marchmont. ‘Allow me to show you. Unfortunately, we were forced to break into the house, but otherwise we have tried to touch as little as possible.’

She led Sergeant Peters inside and showed him where the body lay. As soon as he saw it, he stiffened and his manner became brisk and business-like. He was an officer of the law doing his duty, and he was now in charge. He ushered her from the house and eyed her suspiciously.

‘
Might I ask your name, madam? And what exactly brought you to this house?’

‘
My name is Mrs. Angela Marchmont,’ said Angela, ‘and I came to Mr. Faulkner’s house because I suspected that his life was in danger. Unfortunately, it seems I was right.’

The policeman looked disbelieving.

‘
It is rather a long story,’ said Angela, ‘but perhaps it will make more sense to you when I tell you that this murder is connected to the recent deaths at Underwood House.’ She fumbled in her bag and brought out something which she handed to him. ‘In case you don’t believe me, here is the card of Inspector Jameson of Scotland Yard. He has been investigating this case and I have been assisting him in his inquiries.’

The sergeant examined the card carefully. He still seemed a little doubtful.

‘
I have called Scotland Yard,’ she went on. ‘Inspector Jameson is on his way back from the North and they will send him down as soon as they can, but in the meantime we are to leave things in the hands of the Beningfleet police.’

Whether Peters would ever have believed her is a matter of some doubt, but fortunately for Angela a car then drew up carrying the local inspector, who had been rudely summoned from a quiet afternoon’s fishing with news of violent happenings. It was he who had originally called in Scotland Yard to look into the mysterious deaths at the big house, and he knew Inspector Jameson well. He agreed to Angela’s being allowed to leave on condition that she remain at Underwood House until the next day. She promised to do so and departed with William and Mr. Hawley, who was now looking rather faint.

They took the clerk home to his wife and then headed back to Underwood.

‘
Well, ma’am, I’ll admit that I wasn’t sure whether or not to believe you when you said there was a murderer about,’ said William, ‘but now I have to say you’ve got me convinced.’

‘
That is a great reassurance to me,’ said Angela dryly.

‘
So, what’s the plan now?’ asked William.

‘
I’m not entirely sure there is one,’ said Angela, ‘but I should like to go into the attic myself and have a closer look at that box of papers before our quarry discovers that they have been disturbed.’

‘
But it’s too late,’ he replied. ‘Don’t you remember? Whoever was watching me in the attic saw me do it.’

‘
Ah, yes,’ said Angela. ‘The mysterious spy in the attic.’

‘
You don’t seem too bothered about him.’

Angela smiled to herself.

‘
I think he has other things to worry about besides a box of letters,’ she said. William glanced back at her curiously but she said no more.

‘
So, it’s back to Underwood for more fun. These Hayneses are more trouble than a nest of vipers.’

‘
They are certainly a very
unusual
family,’ she agreed.

‘
Do you need me to stand by again this evening, ma’am?’

‘
Yes. I have the feeling that something is going to happen very soon.’

‘
Like what?’

Angela wrinkled her brow and stared out of the window. The sky was black and it looked as though a storm were brewing.

‘
I don’t exactly know,’ she said, ‘but whatever it is, I hope it will put an end to this business once and for all, without anybody else getting hurt. By killing Mr. Faulkner, the murderer has now killed the goose that lays the golden eggs. He must have been very desperate to do such a thing, and now he has cornered himself. He could do almost anything.’ She leaned forward to emphasize her words. ‘We must tread carefully, William. Somebody very dangerous is in our midst.’