A Hundred Thousand Dragons (26 page)

‘I'm with you so far. Go on.'

‘Now unfortunately, unbeknownst to Vaughan, Craig and Madison – Madison wasn't his real name – were old enemies.'

‘Madison's real name was Von Erlangen,' put in Ashley. ‘He was an evil brute. A real swine.'

Jack flicked a quick glance of gratitude in his direction. He didn't want to explain about Von Erlangen. ‘To put it mildly, the meeting didn't go according to plan. Durant Craig rumbled who Madison was and they had a real set-to. The quarrel ended in murder.'

Stuckley gaped at him. ‘I say, Jack! Murder? And this was at Vaughan's house?'

Jack nodded. ‘That's right. I don't know who did the actual deed, but Vaughan was in the soup and no mistake. He could have yelled for the police, but that would mean giving up his expedition. He might have been subject to some sort of persuasion, but his subsequent actions shows he was in it up to his neck. At the very least he's guilty of covering up murder.'

‘The devil,' breathed Stuckley. ‘I never liked him, you know. If he wanted something enough, I don't think anything would stand in his way.'

‘Events prove you right, Mark. Anyway, our Mr Vaughan had a body to dispose of. He was due at your party that evening and time was limited. He couldn't afford not to go. That would mean drawing attention to himself by changing his plans. And then, I imagine, the party gave him the idea how he might carry it off. You remember his costume, don't you?'

Stuckley nodded. ‘Yes, of course I do. He came as Rasputin with a whacking great beard. It was nearly as good as mine.'

‘Exactly,' said Jack with a grin. ‘I bet it was the beard which gave him the idea. Ashley and I nearly got the truth of this first crack out of the box. We suspected Vaughan disguised himself with his false beard, drove over to the Hammer Valley early in the evening, smashed the car into a tree and arranged the body in the driver's seat. Then, at your party, we believe he slipped away to the car, laid a trail of petrol, nipped back up to the terrace and struck a match.'

Stuckley stopped with his beer halfway to his mouth. ‘So it was
Vaughan
we have to thank for the fire? Damn it, he nearly set the house ablaze!'

‘I don't suppose that was his intention, but yes, you can blame Vaughan for that. Anyway, as I said, we thought Vaughan's part in the proceedings was a bit rum, but it seemed impossible he could have been involved. It was totally impossible if the car had crashed when it was supposed to have done, and even granted there were some shenanigans beforehand, it was still impossible. I simply couldn't see how Vaughan had arranged the smash and got back to his house in the time allowed.'

‘So when did you click?' asked Mark. ‘When did you work it out?'

Jack grinned. ‘I don't know if you noticed or not, but I nearly gave poor old Arthur a heart attack at his wedding by being late with the ring.'

‘I noticed you seemed to have gone into a trance, yes.'

‘What happened was I'd been distracted when Isabelle was taking her vows. I mean, it was all very moving and so on, and it struck me as a shame, in a way, especially as we were standing in a church stuffed full of references to her ancestors, that she had to give up her surname.'

‘Rivers,' said Stuckley.

‘Precisely,' agreed Jack. ‘Rivers. And then, you know how it is when your mind wanders. There was the tablet to Augusta Rivers who'd been drowned and the memorial to poor old Freddy Staples – do you remember him, Mark? – who was killed at Jutland, and the stained glass window with its pictures of the river Jordan and the Sea of Galilee and that ark which looks just like a canoe with a child's building-brick house on top and suddenly everything seemed to be saying ‘water' to me. I looked at Noah leaning out of the ark that looked so like a canoe and suddenly realized how Vaughan must have done it.'

‘That's excellent work, Haldean,' said Ashley in deep appreciation. ‘I wondered what you were talking about, mind, when you telephoned, especially when you mentioned burglary.'

Jack grinned once more. ‘I had to get a canoe from somewhere and that's one of the things Uncle Phil hasn't got at Hesperus. So, it struck me, as I was convinced that Vaughan had used a canoe, I might as well pinch his. I broke into his boathouse yesterday and stole it with very little trouble.' He looked at Ashley. ‘Mark knows this, of course, but Vaughan's canoe isn't a rigid thing. It's a canvas affair with poles you can take to bits. I knew it more or less had to be and that's one of the reasons I wanted to take it well in advance, as I thought Mark and I would need practice putting it together. There's another thing, too. When it's rolled up on the back seat of a car, and covered with a rug, not only does it cover up any corpses that you might have lying about . . . Well, you see what I'm getting at.'

Ashley stared at him. ‘. . . It looks like a rug or a tent,' he breathed. ‘My God, Haldean, that's
exactly
what PC Marsh said!'

‘It's a brilliant little craft,' said Mark reflectively. ‘There's no draught to speak of and it goes like greased lighting if you know how to handle it. The water route is very quick because it cuts out that great loop of land round Gifford St Luke and all those villages, but it never occurred to me that you could sail anything bigger than a paper boat on the Hammer.'

‘That's right, Mark,' agreed Jack. ‘That's why it took me such a long time to tumble to the idea. I can't prove it, of course, but we suspected Vaughan and we've shown it can be done. Vaughan was back home for ten to seven at the latest, as that's when he spoke to his chauffeur, Brough.'

Stuckley frowned. ‘Hang on a minute, Jack. I read what was in the papers, of course, and as I understand it, this bloke who called himself Madison was seen with Vaughan after the Rolls-Royce was stolen. He actually spoke to Vaughan's chauffeur, didn't he? He can't have done that if he was dead.'

Jack raised his eyebrows. ‘So?' he questioned softly.

‘So that means it's impossible or . . .
Good God!
' Stuckley put down his glass and stared at him. ‘It was
Craig
who was killed.'

Ashley couldn't help laughing. ‘You've got it, Mr Stuckley. My goodness, you should have heard my reaction when Haldean sprang that one on me. We'd been led up the garden path all right, and no mistake.'

‘So that means that this other bloke, this German type, is still alive?'

‘Yes,' said Jack, in a very controlled voice. ‘That means this German type is still alive. I'm sure he was the one who attacked me in London, Ashley. I should have guessed, you know. Freya Von Erlangen was scared rigid when I met her. Von Erlangen would scare anyone.'

‘But where is he now?' demanded Stuckley.

Jack shrugged. ‘I presume, as Vaughan's left the country, he's with Vaughan somewhere in the East.'

‘What? Searching for this lost city, you mean?'

‘That's my guess. And quite frankly, Vaughan might as well try and tame a cobra as go anywhere with Von Erlangen. He can't know who he's dealing with.'

Ashley sipped his beer thoughtfully. ‘It's his own fault, Haldean. Mind you, if he does get back safely, he'll have some questions to answer. Or I hope he will,' he added. ‘I'll have to put these ideas to the Chief, and as you say, Haldean, we can't actually prove it. It's all a case of what could have happened, you see, and unless the Chief believes we can make the charge stick, he won't move on it. I know what he's going to say. It's all very well having theories, but we could do with some physical evidence.'

Jack thought for a moment. ‘Why don't you take a dekko in Vaughan's study? Or rather, as it might be awkward for you if it came out you'd been sloping round without a warrant, why don't I?'

‘You can't do that, Haldean,' said Ashley, shocked. ‘It's one thing borrowing his canoe. Breaking and entering is a very different kettle of fish.'

Jack held up his hand pacifically. ‘Leave it with me, old thing. D'you know, I can't help feeling I've missed my way. I bet I could have carved out a really successful career as a burglar.'

Oxley, the butler, showed Jack into the study. ‘Do you know where the book is Mr Vaughan offered to lend you, sir?' He surveyed the well-stocked bookcase dubiously. ‘It'll take you some while to hunt through all those.'

‘I should be able to find it,' said Jack easily. ‘I think I remember where Mr Vaughan put it.' He cocked his head to one side as the doorbell rang.

‘If you'll excuse me, sir,' said Oxley, leaving the room. ‘That was the bell.' Leaving the door ajar, he went into the hall.

Jack picked up the four marble figurines that stood on the bookshelf, one after another. Nothing. He glanced round the room and walked towards the fireplace with its surrounding chairs, visualizing the scene in his mind. Craig there, Vaughan facing him, Von Erlangen sitting to one side? On the mantelpiece was a pair of bronze statues of what were probably Greek goddesses. They were about nine inches tall and looked very solid. He heard voices in the hall. He didn't have long. Whistling softly, he quickly tipped over first the right-hand and then the left-hand statue. The metal of the heavy square base of the second statue was pitted with age and, turning it to the window, he could see a dark substance in the minute holes.

He rapidly replaced it on the mantelpiece and by the time Oxley came back into the room, a few moments later, Jack was standing by the bookcase once more, book in hand. ‘Is that the one you were looking for, sir?' asked Oxley. ‘I'm glad you found it.' He cleared his throat. ‘Mr Stuckley's in the hall. He's been doing a bit of fishing and said he recognized your car parked on the road. He wondered if you were here.'

‘Mr Stuckley?' asked Jack, walking to the door. ‘I bet he's after a lift. Thanks for the book, by the way. I'll return it in a couple of days. I'm grateful to you.'

‘Not at all, sir,' said Oxley, showing him into the hall.

‘And that,' said Jack, as he and Mark drove back to the Fisherman's Rest, ‘was well worth doing. If there wasn't blood on the base of that statue, I'll eat it.'

The next morning Ashley had an interview with the Chief Constable, Major-General Flint, the results of which were both irritating and unsatisfactory.

‘The Chief,' he said to Haldean, after he was shown into the morning room at Hesperus, ‘is going to have a word with Vaughan when he returns.'

Jack paused with the coffee-pot in his hand. He was going back to London that day but he had waited to find out what General Flint proposed to do. He looked at Ashley quizzically. ‘And that's it?'

‘And that's it.' Ashley let his breath out in disgust. ‘The trouble is, Haldean, General Flint doesn't really believe it's anything more than an accident. He finds it unlikely that a gentleman such as Vaughan should be party to murder and he can't credit that he should willingly sacrifice his Roll-Royce. A Rolls-Royce, as he said to me, costs over three thousand pounds.'

‘It's a point,' agreed Jack, handing him a cup of coffee, ‘but I imagine it was insured. Help yourself to milk and sugar. Besides that, the stakes were pretty high.'

‘That's more or less what I said.' Ashley lit a cigarette and blew out the smoke in disgust. ‘General Flint has got some sterling qualities but he's got no imagination. He wants things to be simple and straightforward and when they aren't, he doesn't like it. What's that thing I was reading about the other day? It came into a detective story. Occam's Razor, that's it.'

‘
Entia non sunt multiplicanda
,' murmured Jack. ‘
Entities are not to be multiplied
. Occam argued that the simplest answer is always the right one.'

Ashley shook his head. ‘It sounds all right, especially when you say it in Latin, but in real life things usually aren't straightforward, are they? I mean, take this business. The simplest explanation is that it was an accident, but we know damn well it wasn't. However, it's easier for the Chief to believe that you were mistaken about not hearing a crash rather than Vaughan – who he occasionally goes shooting with by the way – is up to no good.'

‘What about Dr Wilcott's findings from the post-mortem? They showed Craig was dead before the fire started.'

‘He doesn't think it's remotely surprising that we can't find what actually killed the victim. He thinks it was destroyed in the fire. PC Marsh's sighting of the Rolls driven by a bearded man ties in with what Vaughan told us and as for Vaughan coming back to Stour Creek by canoe – well, he didn't laugh, but I could see he thought it was fairly amusing.'

‘And what about the blood on the base of the statue? Did he find that amusing?'

‘He found it incredible. He said he'd have a look at it when he goes to see Vaughan, but that's it.'

Jack stood up, and with his hands in his pockets, walked to the window. ‘He can't deny that Vaughan entertained a bloke called Madison who we can prove to be also known as Simes and who's wanted for murder. He can't get round that.'

‘Oh, can't he though! He doesn't deny it but he can ignore it. It's not a problem for the Sussex Police, it's a problem for Scotland Yard.'

‘And what about Von Erlangen's driver, this poor devil, Gilbert Faraday, who's so conveniently and mysteriously disappeared? We know he was in the Hammer Valley. I imagine that Von Erlangen drove there to check Vaughan really had arranged matters.'

‘That also is a problem for Scotland Yard. And, incidentally, granted there has been a murder, which he's very dubious about, he'd like me to make up my mind who, exactly, has been murdered. First it was Craig, then it was Madison and now I seem to be saying it's Craig again. He was pretty cutting about that.'