Why Shoot a Butler (27 page)

"Putting in a little detective work on my own I came to call on you, Shirley. That was a lucky coincidence. You, believing that Collins now possessed the entire will, had determined to try and buy him over and had sent for him to come and see you. He came because he thought that you held Dawson's half and might destroy his little game. I saw him leave Ivy Cottage. I imagine you must both have fenced very skilfully on that occasion, since neither of you was aware at the end of the interview that the other was not, after all, in possession of the missing half."

She smiled ruefully. "We did. We didn't even mention the word will."

"I should have loved to hear you," he remarked. "When Collins had left the cottage I entered it. You may possibly recall that I told you I had come for a piece of information which I managed to get. I ascertained that you had been in South Africa. Your kaross of King Jackal skins and your brother's artless conversation told me that. It was not proof, but good enough to go on with.

"The next move in the game was made by Fountain who rang up to ask me to go over to see him. He had all along been keeping a weather-eye cocked in my direction. He was nervous, and like most people in that condition he couldn't leave well alone. He had to try and put me off the scent. Between them he and Collins hatched up an extremely improbable story about Dawson to account for the butler's inexplicable wealth. It had its uses: I was able to hand it to the inspector to investigate. He liked it very much, and it gave him a little harmless occupation.

"While I was at the manor a disturbance occurred. Mark Fountain, under the influence of drink, came to the house with a hazy idea of forcing Collins to disgorge the will by threatening to shoot him. It was very awkward for Collins."

"Good Lord, was that why he kept on urging Basil to let the kid go?" demanded Corkran.

"Yes, that was why. And since Fountain, who didn't know Mark from Adam, had every intention of sending for the police, Collins was compelled to divulge his identity. If you remember, he used the words: "The young gentleman from Ivy Cottage," which instantly enlightened Fountain. That incident looked as though I was right in my theory about his letter from the detective agency. In fact, it was all fitting in very nicely. But Mark's idiotic conduct was a serious complication. I can't say that I actually expected Fountain to make an attempt on his life: I had no reason to suppose that he was the type to commit a murder; but it was a possibility one couldn't ignore. I had him watched, not in the least unobtrusively. I regret to say that I thought the mere knowledge that the boy was being shadowed would be enough to choke Fountainoff. He certainly wasn't pleased about it, but he wasnt as easily baulked as I'd expected him to be. I paid a visit to the manor just to let him know that I had put a man on to Mark. Incidentally I saw that Peterson was safely installed."

"'That evening I received the answer to my cable to Johannesburg. There was now no longer any doubt about your identity, Shirley, and I thought it well to pay a visit to Sergeant Gubbins to get him to tighten up the watch on Mark. Unfortunately I was too late. While I was at the police station the news of Mark's death came through." He paused and looked down at Shirley. "I'm sorry if this distresses you. I have something to say about it."

"Go on," she replied curtly.

"Mark," said Amberley, "did not fall into the river because he was drunk. He was drunk, of course very drunk — but he was pushed in. Being drunk, he drowned. It was a murder planned so cleverly that I doubt whether it could ever have been brought home to Fountain. Mark's habits were a byword in Upper Nettlefold; several persons had wondered aloud how it was that he hadn't stumbled into the river long since. It is also a wellknown fact that at this season of the year the mist that lies over the Weald after dark is nearly always pretty thick in that hollow where the road runs beside the Nettle. Fountain trusted to luck - or perhaps knew—- that Tucker would not be following Mark particularly closely. For Mark's death Inspector Fraser was indirectly responsible. He gave Tucker to understand that he was being put on to that job merely to humour a whim of mine."

The sergeant coughed. "Be making a report, sir?"

"I shall, Sergeant, but don't interrupt. Fountain gave out that he was going to London that afternoon. He probably did go. If he hadn't had any luck in what he meant to do I have no doubt that he would have repeated the manoeuvre next day. But he had luck. It all turned out as he had expected. He left his car probably in one of the lanes leading on to the main road and lay in wait for Mark beside the river where the fog was thickest. When Mark appeared he had only to push him over the bank. I don't suppose it required much strength, and in any case Fountain was a very powerful man. The river is fairly deep; Mark drowned, being too drunk to make any effort to save himself."

"Yes, but supposing he hadn't drowned?" objected Anthony.

"That would have been annoying for Fountain, of course, but not dangerous. If the boy had said that someone pushed him in, who would have believed him?"

"You would," said Anthony.

"Possibly, but although Fountain was suspicious of me he never knew how much I'd found out. No, the thing was safe enough - and it worked. Had the mist been less thick, had Collins not lost sight, temporarily, of Mark, it would not have worked. But Collins was too late to save the boy's life, though there is no doubt that he putt forth superhuman efforts to do so. From the moment that Fountain learned of his cousins' presence in Upper Nettlefold Collins was on the watch. He knew Fountain better than I did. His story about the cigarette case, Sergeant, was quite untrue, but I daresay Miss Fountain would have confirmed it, wouldn't you, Shirley?"

She nodded. "I was completely in his power. If he had the will, I dared not give him away. That was partly why I didnt confide in you. He suspected you from the start of knowing much more than the police."

"And therefore it was unsafe to confide in me lest I should betray my knowledge? Many thanks. Now, on the day following the murder Fountain came to call on me at Greythorne. Ostensibly his object was to inquire into Collins' presence on the scene. Actually he came to discover, if he could, what I was thinking and whether you, Shirley, were remaining at Ivy Cottage. I gave him to understand that I suspected Collins and also that you were rernaining at the cottage. Since he had eliminated Mark I expected him to make an attempt on you next, and my plan was to catch him in the act and arrest both him and Collins on two separate charges. I should have been able to do that very successfully had it not been for the well-meaning but disastrous zeal of Corkran. When I took you to the cottage to collect your things, Shirley, I unbolted the back door and appropriated the key. Having desposited you at the Boar's Head I motored back to Greythorne and rang up Peterson, telling him to keep an eye on Fountain and let me know if he left the house that night. You came into the room in the middle of that conversation, Felicity, and remarked that I had sweet telephone manners. Do you remember? Peterson rang me up just after midnight to say that Fountain had left the house and gone off on a push-bike. I then got on to you, Sergeant, and we drove to Ivy Cottage to await his arrival. Then, when things were panning out almost miraculously well, Corkran gave the alarm and Fountain escaped by the back door. You were rather fed up with me for letting him go, weren't you? To have stopped him would have been sheer folly. I couldn't prove a thing against him except that he had broken into a strange house. It had its amusing side, of course. Not only did you follow him, but Peterson, having caught sight of you pedalling down the drive, followed you both. Unnecessary but equally zealous. He didn't recognise you, and fearing that I might be surprised by two criminals instead of one, came along to lend a hand. I saw him when I went to bolt the back door, and he was ust going to come and speak to me when he caught sight of you, Anthony, and tactfully beat a retreat. "That was Fountain's first attempt to murder Shirley. It is my belief that he meant it to look like suicide - the reason being Mark's death. Not a bad idea. But I gave you a clue, Sergeant, and I think - I really think you ought to have guessed a little more than you did. I pointed out to you that whoever broke into the cottage evidently did not know that Miss Fountain owned a bull terrier. Collins did know that, for he had been to the place before. I am sad, Sergeant; sad and disillusioned."

"Yes, it was a nice clue, wasn't it, sir?" said the sergeant bitterly. "There might have been half a hundred people that didn't know that."

"But Collins did know," said Mr. Amberley.

"Yes, sir, and I don't mind telling you now that that's why I ruled him out," said the sergeant, fixing him with what he hoped was a hypnotic stare.

"Ananias," said Amberley. "You take my breath away." He put his pipe down on the mantelpiece and pushed his hands in to the front of his trousers. "Then," he proceeded "Uncle Humphrey took a turn."

" What?" said Sir Humphrey.

Amberley glanced down at him in some amusement.

" You did, sir. You went to talk to Fountain about poachers, and you walked off with the missing half of the will."

"What the devil are you talking about, Frank?"

"Which," continued Amberley imperturbably, "Collies had concealed in the back of the book you borrowed. I should like to know whether Collins saw you take that book away."

"Yes!" Felicity said. "He did, and now I come to think of it he tried hard to get it out of Daddy's hands. He offered to dust it, and to wrap it up, but Daddy refused."

"So there was nothing left to do but to burgle this house," said Amberley. "But as my uncle took the book up to bed with him the attempt to regain possession of it failed. When I observed the very curious nature of the burglary it gave me furiously to think. It was Aunt Marion who supplied the clue. She wondered why the books had been strewn about. I really thought I was on to it at last, but when Curiosities of Literature was brought to me there was no sign of the missing will in it. Nor did either you or Felicity, sir, call to mind that you had left the book for a few minutes in Shirley's keeping. I shall find that very hard to forgive."

"On the following morning Peterson rang me up to tell me that a woman, he thought Shirley Fountain, had telephoned to Collins."

"Yes, I remember that," interposed Corkran. "I told Basil, and he was jolly annoyed."

"I've no doubt he was. It would account for his following Collins that evening, just as I followed Shirley. She had an assignation with Collins at the pavilion by the lake. I spent a very boring day keeping an eye on her. The assignation was kept, but Fountain kept it too, and so did Peterson, whose job was to watch him all the time. Had Fountain managed to catch Shirley I think he would have killed her there and then. Happily he didn't find her. I did instead."

"But that assignation drove Fountain to desperate measures. If Collins was double-crossing him Collins also must be got rid of. And providentially my uncle had shown him a fairly good way of doing that."

Sir Humphrey bounced in his chair. "I?"

"Yes, you, sir. All your talk of poachers. I'm not blaming you. I even think it was a very good thing, for there is no doubt that Collins murdered Dawson and equally no doubt that we should have had great difficulty in proving it. But before Fountain could accomplish this design Collins made another attempt to get the fatal book back. Rather a bold attempt, but a successful one."

"Meanwhile Peterson was searching diligently through the rest of the books in the library without any success at all. It was an unnerving period. The will had evidently gone astray, and if by some malign chance it fell into Fountain's hands it would of course be immediately destroyed. When Collins, on discovering that it was no longer where he had put it, leaped to the conclusion that I had got it, and ransacked my room here, I was most relieved. It showed me that at least Fountain hadn't got it. If he had he would have taken good care to let Collins know he had burned it. On his way back to the manor from this house Collins was shot by Fountain, who, if you remember had spent most of the evening conveniently writing letters in the library.

"Again Fountain was a little too careful. He could not resist ringing up the police the same night. The reason he gave for doing that was rather too plausible. I never trust a plausible explanation. As soon as Peterson knew, he searched Collins' room for the half of the will but didn't find it. I expect you noticed, Sergeant, that he told me he'd found nothing when you had him in to interrogate him."

"That's right sir," said the sergeant. "Noticed it at once, I did."

"You're wasted in Upper Nettlefold, Sergeant," said Amberley.

"Well, sir, p'r'aps I wouldn't mind a change," replied the sergeant visibly gratified.

"Try the stage," recommended Amberley. He left the sergeant to think this out and continued: "Fountain now began to give himself away. Instead of saying as little as possible and leaving Fraser to make a muddle of the case, he had to try and improve it. No sooner had he got rid of Collins than he proceeded to knock the bottom out of the valet's alibi for the night of Dawson's murder. That was overdoing things. Up till that moment he had refused to believe that Collins could have done anything he shouldn't; similarly he had refused to sack the man in spite of his evident dislike of him. But when Collins was safely out of the way we were told that he had been sacked that very morning. Let me remind you, Sergeant, that you asked me when we left the manor what I made of it all. I told you that there were one or two significant points. Those were the points."

The sergeant, who was becoming reckless, said," I wondered whether you'd seen them too, Mr. Amberley sir."

"Fortunately," said Amberley dryly, "I had. It appeared to me that Fountain was getting into a tight corner and knew it. It was on the day after Collins' murder - this morning, in fact — that I took the precaution of paying a visit to Littlehaven."

"I was told you were investigating the murder," remarked Lady Matthews.