Merlin's Furlong Page 6

  “No, I don’t believe it is, but it’s just possible it’s the police. Peter may have met them along the road.”

  “Well, how are they going to get in?”

  “We’d better let them in, I suppose.”

  “But we told Peter we’d stay in the bedroom.”

  “Oh, dear! Yes, so we did. Hang on a bit, I suggest, and see what happens.”

  What happened was very curious. A window by the side of which they were standing overlooked the interior of the gatehouse arch. A car shot underneath the arch, but instead of stopping at the front entrance it drove on round the courtyard.

  “Quick! That first corridor! The one from the tower,” said Waite. “Take the first room and I’ll take the second. We’ll see pretty well from there.” But they were not quite quick enough. Slight noises, and the sound of a door being opened, indicated that the new arrival…there seemed only one set of footsteps…had made entrance by means of a latchkey.

  “What do we do now?” whispered Harrison.

  “See where he goes and what he does,” returned Waite. “They say the murderer always returns to the scene of the crime, and two of us can account for him if he’s nasty. I’d like to know what all this is about. Besides…” He did not need to finish. It would be as well, as Harrison could plainly see, that they should not be the only persons on the premises when the police turned up.

  “In fact,” he murmured, “how would it be if we nabbed him?”

  “No,” Waite whispered back, “too dangerous for us if he turns out to be a perfectly harmless bloke with legitimate business here.”

  “How can he have, sneaking in like this after midnight?”

  “Keep quiet. We’ll try to get a glimpse of him if he puts on a light.”

  But it was soon clear that, like themselves, the newcomer was not prepared to switch on lights. He did not even use an electric torch. He turned into one of the rooms at the opposite end of the corridor, and they could hear his squeaking shoes as he moved about.

  “I’d give anything to know what he’s doing,” whispered Waite. “I’m going to find out.”

  He removed his shoes and sneaked out of the room in which they were hiding, but his stockinged feet slipped on the floorboards and he fell full length. The noise apparently frightened the stranger considerably. He gave a yelp of terror, and the next moment he was running away from Waite, who picked himself up and went in pursuit. But again the treacherous floorboards laid him low, and Harrison, hastening after him, fell over him. A door slammed somewhere, and, by the time they had gained a window which overlooked the courtyard, the unknown man was in his car and all they saw was the rear lamp as he drove off under the gatehouse archway.

  “I suppose we’ve done a rather daft thing,” said Harrison. “We should have gone off with Peter, and telephoned the police first thing in the morning.”

  “Better to stick it out. They’d have found us in the end, and then we should have looked pretty silly. The way things are already will look bad enough, I know, but to be picked up on the run, so to speak, would be incredibly worse. I’ll tell you what, though. As soon as we know what’s going to happen to us we’ll contact Bradley of Angelus.”

  “His aunt, you mean.”

  “Of course. Thank God I invited him to my last party and made him play his violin. These musicians are a choosy lot, but I lushed him up and only had serious people who, I felt, would really listen. He’s good, you know.”

  “His aunt will have to be good, too, if she’s to get us out of this jam,” said Harrison sadly. “The least I can hope for is a sentence for manslaughter. They’re certain to say the man surprised me and I hit him on the head in a panic. I do panic, you know.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.” But Waite was dispirited, too.

  “I’m panicking now,” said Harrison, “because I’m sure I can hear the sound of a car, and this time it’s bound to be the police.”

  This forecast turned out to be correct. Piper had come back accompanied by an alert sergeant, a constable, and a doctor.

  “And now, sir,” said the sergeant, looking at Waite.

  Waite shrugged. “You’d better take a statement,” he said. “I got these men into this by way of a rag, and it hasn’t turned out too well. My name is…”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Merlin’s Myrmidons

  “We can nor lost friends nor sought foes recover,

  But, meteor-like, save that we move not, hover.”

  —John Donne, “The Calm”

  “The whole thing was simply a rag,” said Waite doggedly. “Admittedly it was silly and a bit risky, but that’s absolutely all it was. We read Professor Havers’ advertisement and went to answer it. He gave us the doll and the…er…”

  “His blessing,” put in Harrison helpfully.

  “…and that’s all there was to it.”

  “The police suggest,” said the Chief Constable in a heavy, official voice, “that you were surprised while you were rummaging round for this diptych, and that you struck Mr. Aumbry down in a moment of panic. If you plead to that in court, the verdict is bound to be manslaughter, not, of course, murder, as no evil intention is foreshadowed or would be envisaged by the law.”

  “Panic be Mowed!” said Piper. “We found Mr. Aumbry’s body, and had no idea at the time that Professor Havers was also dead. I think the police ought to recognise the fact that we reported to them at once. Dash it, we could have made off, and you’d never have known we’d been there. I admit that our fingerprints are all over everything, but they’re not on record and wouldn’t have helped you.”

  “As a matter of fact, sir, you’re right there,” put in the inspector, “and it’s a point in your favour. On the other hand, once we’d found the two bodies it would have been only a matter of time before we tracked you down.”

  “Baloney!” said Waite rudely. The inspector looked at him with an indulgent eye.

  “I assure you, sir,” he said mildly.

  “Well, what else do you want to know, sir?” asked Harrison, addressing the Chief Constable. “And when you’ve told us,” he added suddenly, on a disarming and youthful note, “we want to get in touch with a man called Bradley.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Piper. “On this question of tracking us down. Why should you have thought of such a thing?”

  “Constable Fewer, of the Wallchester police, saw you with the doll,” said the Chief Constable. “In fact, we know you gave it him.”

  “Even so…”

  “No, no, my dear chap. Magic…that is to say, black magic…is known all over the world, and the rituals are astonishingly alike. You may not realise it, but the history of these evil dolls has been investigated in North and South America, in France, the South Sea Islands, the West Indies, Italy, and even (and I’m referring to comparatively modern times) in England. All over Africa magic dolls are known and feared. You took a big risk when you accepted one from Professor Havers, upon whom, I don’t mind telling you, the Wallchester police have kept a discreet, but official, eye for quite a time. Knowing this, Constable Fewer was not satisfied that the doll was an innocent toy. He handed it in as obscene.”

  “Oh, rot!” exclaimed Piper. “A doll’s a doll, and a rag’s a rag, and nothing will persuade me differently.”

  “It’s no good, Peter,” said Harrison. “It’s not really the doll that matters. It’s some connection between old Havers and Mr. Aumbry that has sunk us.”

  “I’m glad you realise it, sir,” said the inspector.

  “One thing I’d like to know,” said Harrison, “and that is where you found the body. I mean, we did rather look into things because of thinking we were at Merlin’s Furlong and wanting to find the diptych.”

  “All in good time, sir,” said the inspector, “if you’d kindly all come along.”

  Accompanied by the three young men, he went out to his car. A second and a third car drew up, each with a policeman at the wheel. Waite was taken into the inspector�
�s car, and the other two were also separated, and did not encounter one another again until each had seen the body.

  “Where did you find him?” asked Waite on the journey back when each of the undergraduates had identified the body as that of Professor Havers.

  “In the old coach-house, sir.”

  “Coach-house? We didn’t see one.”

  “No, sir? It is a windowless building near to the woodshed. It is lighted by a large square of glass in its roof. The gentleman must have been killed instantaneously with a single smashing blow on the left temple. The body was lying beneath this big skylight and was spread-eagled on the stone floor. There is no doubt whatever that the gentleman was murdered.”

  “Well, the other one certainly was. I never saw such a hideous mess as the back of his head. But, look, you haven’t answered our question,” put in Harrison.

  “Which one would that be, sir?”

  “We want to get in touch with a certain Bradley of Angelus. Is that possible?”

  “Certainly, sir. I am going into Wallchester to procure Professor Havers’ doll. I can give Mr. Bradley any message you wish.”

  “But he won’t be there. It’s the Long Vacation.”

  “So it is, sir. Do you know his holiday address?”

  “No, of course not. You’ll have to find him for us.”

  “I could hardly undertake to do that, sir.”

  “Well, could you find his aunt?”

  “I don’t understand, sir. What could you require of his aunt?”

  “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Look here, Inspector, have a heart! We’re in a pretty filthy jam and you know it. Could you dig up Bradley’s cousin, the Q.C., if you can’t get hold of Bradley or the aunt?”

  “I’ve never heard of him, sir.”

  “Dash it, of course you have! He’s Sir Ferdinand Lestrange,” said Waite.

  “And he is this Mr. Bradley’s cousin, sir?”

  “I think so. Some sort of relative, anyhow. But the person we really want is the aunt, Mrs. Lestrange Bradley,” said Harrison.

  “Mrs. Lestrange Bradley, sir? Oh, we know all about her and could readily put you in touch. But never forget, sir”—he chuckled —“who sups with the devil will need a long spoon! It’s of no use for you to think you can pull the wool over that particular lady’s eyes!”

  “I call that a very unkind remark, Inspector. We’ve told the truth, the whole truth (I think), and certainly nothing but the truth, all the way through, and we shall continue to do so.”

  “The only sensible policy, sir.”

  “And now, are you jugging us and bringing us before the beaks?”

  “No, sir. So long as you gentlemen will agree to place yourselves at the disposal of the police, there is no reason for anything further just at present.”

  “Hm! I don’t know that I care about that particularly guarded statement. Have we to stay in this neighborhood?”

  “Not necessarily, sir. It is sufficient that we know where you are, so that we can get in touch with you upon matters arising.”

  “I see. Well, we’d better stick around until we’ve seen Mrs. Bradley. No doubt she’ll want to see the spot marked X and so forth.”

  “Undoubtedly, sir. And there will be the inquest, of course, on Professor Havers. We shall have to take your evidence of identity there.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “It’s odd, you know, sir,” the inspector went on in less official tones, “about these two murders. That diptych you gentlemen thought fit to look for seems responsible, somehow. Just how valuable was it? Have you any idea?”

  Piper again described the diptych according to the remarks which Professor Havers had made. The inspector was undoubtedly impressed.

  “And you didn’t come across any trace of it either at Merlin’s Castle or Merlin’s Furlong, sir?”

  “Not a smell.”

  “A collector’s piece, and of big money value as well,” said the inspector thoughtfully. “Mark my words, sir, murder has been done for much less. Very unscrupulous, some of these private collectors.”

  “Well, old Aumbry must have been fairly unscrupulous to have pinched the thing from Havers in the first place,” observed Piper.

  “If he did such a thing, sir. We must bear in mind that you had only the professor’s word for that. You’ve no proof whatever that he was the rightful owner of the diptych. And if I may say so, sir, that is where you gentlemen acted with lack of caution.”

  “Good Lord!” said Piper. “It never occurred to us that he wasn’t telling the truth! Oh, dash it, I’m positively certain he was! What do you say, David?”

  “Very likely he was, sir. I’m just saying that his word on the matter wasn’t proof.”

  The Chief Constable and the inspector went into another huddle after the three young men had been dismissed.

  “We’ve now checked up on everything we can, sir,” the inspector announced.

  “Oh? And what have we got?”

  “Only that, according to the medical evidence, Professor Havers was killed on the Thursday night, most probably twenty-four hours before the young men arrived, and Mr. Aumbry had been dead a good bit longer…on the Wednesday night, the doctor says, or very early Thursday morning.”

  “Well, it’s clear that those boys could have had nothing to do with the murder of Aumbry, but unfortunately any one of the three…or all of them, for that matter, or Waite and Piper, who elected to separate themselves from Harrison that night and sleep in the heather…could have reached Professor Havers’ castle from Merlin’s Fort and got back in time to appear to have established an alibi.”

  “Quite so, sir. The next line of approach seems to be to contact the Aumbry nephews and the personal servants of Professor Havers, and see what they can tell us. I don’t know what to think about the murder of the professor, sir, but it does seem a good bit more likely, on the face of it, that his nephews would have had a stronger motive for wanting Mr. Aumbry out of the way than these young fellows would. Say what you like, sir, but young university gentlemen don’t usually panic and start hitting elderly gentlemen over the head. It isn’t their line.”

  “Yes, yes, I agree,” said the Chief Constable. “Very true, of course. Now, the professor’s personal servants at his lodgings were a Negro maid and a mulatto valet, weren’t they? I wonder how the landlady liked them?”

  “Very prejudiced, sir, apparently, although only the maid lived there.”

  “Were these servants married to one another?”

  “Affianced, I understand, sir. The man had been in Professor Havers’ employment a couple of years. I don’t know about the girl, but I believe they went there together.”

  “Where had he been before that?”

  “It seems he was in Liverpool, sir, and struck into a little bit of trouble.”

  “It’s a far cry from Liverpool to Wallchester, and I don’t mean the distance, Ekkers. What brought him there, I wonder?”

  “It appears he wanted to better his education, sir. He thought he might obtain employment as a scout at one of the colleges, and so pick up some bits of learning.”

  “Poor devil!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So the two servants were engaged to be married, were they? And Havers was, as we said before, a man of peculiar interests, not many of them of a very reputable kind. It seems to me that it might be worthwhile to make a special enquiry. He may have upset the girl (or perhaps annoyed her boyfriend) by being familiar or something. Quite staggering how indiscreet some elderly gentlemen can be.”

  “Downright nasty, too, sir. Yes, there might be a pointer there. I’ll get on to it right away. One other thing, too, sir, occurs to me, talking of servants, and the professor having these two colored people. A great rambling house such as Merlin’s Castle must have had servants to keep it in order. Where are they? We’ve not had anyone come forward, and, except for this mysterious stranger who came in with a latchkey while Mr. Waite and Mr. Harrison w
ere waiting for Mr. Piper to bring us on to the scene, they don’t appear to have found anyone in Merlin’s Furlong either, except the body.”

  “We’ll have to dig into all that. As you say, there must have been servants in both those houses. All the same, with regard to Professor Havers, as he lived in his city lodgings so much of the time, it’s quite possible that the service at Merlin’s Castle was casual labour from the village. If so, that may not help us very much. Merlin’s Furlong is perhaps a different matter.”

  “Well, I don’t know,” said the inspector. “Seems to me, sir, we might as well get on to this Mrs. Bradley the three boys want to contact.”

  “But I know Mrs. Bradley. She might even prove them guilty, you know.”

  “If she proved Mr. Waite was guilty, I’m not so sure I’d disagree with her, sir.”

  “Waite? Oh, I don’t know. A small man like that,” said the Chief Constable, who stood six-feet two in his socks. The inspector wagged a sage head.

  “The littler the worser, sir, and he’s very stocky,” he said, “but I expect you’re right. It’s hardly sensible to suspect any one of the young gentlemen more than another. Shall I then get hold of Mrs. Bradley, sir?”

  “Yes, Ekkers, and the sooner the better.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Merlin’s Aunt

  “We must not make a scarecrow of the law.”

  —Shakespeare, Measure for Measure

  Mrs. Beatrice Adela Lestrange Bradley, whose sympathy was always with the young and whose sense of humour usually acted as an antidote to this unnecessarily sentimental attitude, arrived in Moundbury three hours after she had received the Chief Constable’s telephone call, for the Chief Constable had thought it well that he, and not the inspector, should be the person to contact her.

  He had outlined the case very cautiously, but had given her sufficient information without betraying any bias whatever. The undergraduates hailed her with genuine, although decently-concealed, relief.

  “Not the Three Musketeers, or even the three witches, I’m afraid,” said Harrison.

  “And not Three Men in a Boat, but merely three men in the soup,” Mrs. Bradley observed. “These seem very comfortable lodgings.”