Death in the Andamans (33 page)

‘Yes,' said Copper, and repeated, verbatim, what she could remember of the dispute, while Valerie peered apprehensively into the shadows of the darkened drawing-room beyond them and Leonard Stock looked interested and malicious and, finally, disappointed. When she had finished he shook his head and said: ‘No, I agree it does not seem enough by itself to have driven Shilto to committing murder. It is a great pity, of course, that you didn't hear more. But you must not forget the years of enmity behind it. Taking that into account, I think his act is understandable — though hardly forgivable.'

Copper turned to stare at him in frank contempt. The bathos of the phrase ‘hardly forgivable' applied to an act of deliberate and cold-blooded murder struck her as little short of ludicrous, and even managed to bring a wry smile to Valerie's weary mouth.

The three of them were sitting in a solitary pool of light thrown from a heavy bronze standard-lamp; for although most of the lights in the rest of the house were burning, the drawing-room and the verandah had been in darkness save for the standard-lamp. But the small pool of light in which they sat seemed to form a charmed circle in the dark verandah, holding them safe from the shadows of the rooms beyond and the grim, quiet figure that lay hideously illumined in the turret room at the far side of the house.

Copper shifted her gaze from Leonard's restless fingers to the comforting immobility of the huge bronze dragons, fashioned by some long-dead Burmese craftsman, that writhed in frozen fury about the massive base of the curiously wrought standard that had once held high an incense burner in some forgotten temple, and was now relegated to the lowly task of bearing a couple of electric bulbs. And as her eyes followed the curves and twists of the metal, her mind traced again the tortuous curves and twists of recent events.

She had forgotten her earlier terror and her resolve not to meddle further in this murderous business, for John Shilto's letter should have completed a pattern; but it had not done so. There was still something missing. The key piece of the jig-saw puzzle
____

She lifted her head and spoke abruptly: ‘I don't understand why he didn't give the reason for that quarrel with Ferrers. If he'd decided to kill himself, surely there was no reason why he shouldn't speak of it? He didn't strike me in the least as a man who would mind washing dirty linen in public. Especially if it was Ferrers's dirty linen.'

Valerie said impatiently: ‘Are you still harping on the idea that it wasn't suicide? Because if that's one of your reasons for thinking it wasn't, it's a poor one. I can't see why he should have made his statement longer than it was. If he'd started out to put down all the whys and wherefores and ins and outs of his quarrel with Ferrers, he'd probably never have had time to shoot himself before he was caught.'

‘Yes, I realize that,' said Copper, stirring restlessly. ‘But all the same I can't help feeling that there's a catch somewhere. He — well, he didn't seem to me the type of man who'd ever kill himself. Anyway, not until he was actually cornered.'

She pressed her hands to her aching temples, thinking again of the thing that had haunted her ever since Valerie had read through the contents of the notebook: a picture and a statement that contradicted each other. Nick had said that only seven people could lie under suspicion of killing Ferrers Shilto, because only seven were out in the bay with him when he was murdered. But Copper, looking down on the bay from Mount Harriet barely twenty minutes after Ferrers and those seven had left, had seen a sail. A tiny, white triangle against the expanse of opalescent water below her, that could not have belonged to any of the three boats that had left from Crown Point jetty …

Leonard Stock cleared his throat apologetically. ‘If I may make a suggestion,' he said hesitantly, ‘are you not making rather a mistake in — er — perspective?'

‘I don't think I know what you mean?'

‘Well — er — even supposing that it was unlikely that a man of Shilto's temperament would shoot himself, surely, in this case, it is even more unlikely that anyone else did? I imagine you were asleep when the shot was actually fired, and therefore
____
'

‘I wasn't,' interrupted Copper. ‘I was awake.'

‘Oh. Then that will probably help to prove my point. May I ask what you did when you heard it?'

‘Jumped out of bed,' said Copper.

‘And ran out
immediately?
' — there was a slight emphasis on the last word.

‘Well, almost immediately. You see I forgot about the mosquito net, and I got myself tangled up in it.'

‘Then how long was it, would you say, between the firing of the shot and the time it took you to reach the door of your room?'

Copper considered for a moment. ‘Not much more than a minute, I imagine. I didn't even stop to put on my dressing-gown. I just grabbed it up and streaked for the door.'

‘Did you meet anyone in the passage?'

‘Only Nick — and Charles.'

‘No, I mean coming away from the turret room.'

‘No,' said Copper slowly, ‘I didn't. But it was dark except for the light from our room and Nick's.'

Valerie said: ‘It's no use, Copper. I can see what Leonard's getting at, even if you can't. And he's quite right. There simply would not have been time for anyone else to fire that shot and get clear of the room before we all came rushing in. No one would have dared risk it, because the chances of someone being awake and running out in time to cut off their retreat would have been too great.

‘And if you're going to suggest that it might have been someone who got in from outside,
don't!
Once the shot was fired, sentries and guards would have been dashing around the house, and the risk of trying to pop out of a window would have been terrific. And quite apart from that, it would need another Douglas Fairbanks to take a jump of about twenty feet on to a gravel path and then get up and dodge a gang of sentries!'

Copper looked unconvinced, and Leonard Stock cleared his throat again and said diffidently: ‘You see, it's the time factor. To fire the shot and then pin a paper to the pillow, tuck in the mosquito net again and get out of the room and down the passage, and be out of sight before anyone arrived, would not, I think, have been possible.'

‘No,' said Valerie positively. ‘Of course not. So shut up, Coppy.'

Copper did not answer, and Valerie saw that she had shrunk back into the far corner of the sofa, and that her slim figure was all at once curiously rigid, while her eyes were staring into the shadows beyond them as though she had seen something move in the darkened drawing-room.

‘What is it, Coppy?' asked Valerie sharply. ‘What are you
____
Oh, it's only Kioh.'

The lithe form of the Siamese cat advanced into the pool of light, purring amiably, and rubbed against Copper's ankles, and Copper bent forward to stroke the dark head with a hand that was noticeably shaking. Valerie saw her pass her tongue over her lips as though they were dry, and presently she straightened up a little stiffly and said in a voice that in spite of her struggle to control it was more than a little unsteady: ‘I – I saw her move, and – and it gave me a fright. I'm afraid I must be going to pieces. Nerves or something, I suppose.' She looked across at Mr Stock and essayed a stiff little smile: ‘Cats are creepy things, aren't they? Would you be very kind and move the lamp to the other side of your chair so that it throws some light into the drawing-room?'

‘I'll switch on the ones in the drawing-room if you like,' offered Mr Stock, rising hopefully.

‘
No!
No, don't go in there! It – it feels cosier sitting in just this little patch. The house seems so huge and empty when all the lights are on
____
'

‘Now, now, we mustn't let ourselves get nervy, you know!' said Mr Stock with an attempt at roguishness. ‘There, is that better?' He placed the lamp so that its light penetrated into part of the darkened drawing-room and thinned the close-packed shadows.

‘Thank you,' said Copper shakily. ‘You're very kind.'

A pulse was hammering in her throat and her eyes were wide and frozen as she stared into the shadows beyond the reach of the lamp. But behind their fixed gaze her mind was working frantically. She knew now who had murdered Ferrers and killed Dan Harcourt. And who, a short half-hour ago, had shot John Shilto.

The question mark in Valerie's notebook was no longer a query but the key piece to the jig-saw puzzle; and with it, as she had known it would, the other pieces had fallen into place. But there was still another and more difficult problem to face. How could she prove it? What could she do? For the moment, at least, she could do nothing. She must wait until Nick came, and tell him everything. Nick would know what to do …

And then, suddenly and horribly, her heart seemed to leave her breast and jump chokingly to her throat. For Valerie was speaking: ‘Good heavens, Leonard! You've got blood on your hands! You must have touched him!
Ugh,
how beastly!'

Leonard Stock looked down quickly at the palms of his hands, and his eyes widened as he looked. For the lamp-light that fell on them showed them smeared and blotched with red. But it was not blood …

Copper was on her feet and had flung out a frantic hand in a desperate attempt to check Valerie's next words, but she was too late: ‘No, it's not blood. It's only that stain off the woodwork of the balcony. Why, Leonard, you're covered with it! Where on earth have you
____
'

Then she stopped, and in the frozen moment that followed there sprang into her dilated eyes, fully fledged, the implication that hung on those words. Valerie stood up slowly, staring at him, her mouth dry and her hands shaking.

‘You!'
she said in a whisper.
‘It was you!'

*   *   *

Leonard Stock let out a long breath like a sigh and rose to his feet, stretching himself. And it was as though a harmless, dried-up twig had suddenly uncoiled and shown itself to be not a fragment of dead wood, but a live and poisonous snake.

‘Yes,' he said very softly — almost complacently, and as though he were speaking a thought aloud rather than answering a question. ‘Yes. It was I.'

‘It isn't true!'
said Valerie in a choked whisper. ‘It can't be true. You're only making fun of us, aren't you?'

‘No,' sighed Leonard Stock. ‘I would deny it if it were not for the fact that I made a slip just now. My very first slip — and a bad one. It was extremely careless of me, but I hoped that it would pass unnoticed. However, I'm afraid Miss Randal is sharper than one gave her credit for being. A pity.'

He chuckled. It was a remarkably unpleasant sound.

‘Yes,' said Copper steadily. ‘I did see it. It was a great pity.' Her eyes did not leave his face, but her ears were straining for the sound of voices that would tell her that Nick and Charles were coming.

‘For
you,
I fear,' said Mr Stock with another cold little chuckle. ‘Much as I regret the necessity, I can clearly see that I shall now have to add two more — er — perhaps I had better say
“eliminations”
to my list.'

Valerie's fingers closed over Copper's arm: ‘Scream, Coppy!' she said breathlessly.

‘No!' said Copper sharply: and Valerie's own scream died unuttered. She had forgotten that Leonard still held Ronnie Purvis's revolver. ‘Very wise of you,' grinned Mr Stock.

The lamp-light glinted wickedly along the barrel of the weapon he held in his hand, and the realization of their complete helplessness swept over Copper in a sickening wave. Beyond the stretch of the dark verandah there was a continuous coming and going of hurrying figures between the hall and the turret room. But none of them had entered the verandah. And since neither she nor Valerie could call out, for all the help they could give they might as well have been a mile away. Would Nick and Charles
never
come?

Crowding close on the heels of that thought came the blinding fear that when they did so, the cornered little maniac before her might be goaded into killing from sheer terror. Copper had no knowledge of firearms, but she possessed a hazy idea that a service revolver contained several bullets — was it six? Only one had been used for the murder of John Shilto, which meant that five remained. One for herself, one for Valerie. Still three left. Charles …
Nick!

Cold panic took possession of her brain: to be ousted by colder logic. Her taut muscles suddenly relaxed and she said quite steadily: ‘May I sit down? If I don't, I think I shall fall, and that might make rather a noise.'

Mr Stock grinned. ‘Of course. Very sensible of you. You too, my dear.' He gestured with the gun barrel at Valerie, who obeyed him; moving as stiffly as though she were a jointed doll, her dilated eyes still fixed upon the weapon in his hand. ‘Closer together, please. Thank you.'

Copper saw his eyes leave them for a brief instant and flicker towards the ballroom from where they could hear the sound of voices as a
chaprassi
called down instructions to someone in the hall below. Then his gaze came back again to the two girls, and slid from them to the windows behind them.

‘It's no good,' said Copper quietly and very distinctly. ‘You know quite well you can't kill us. You daren't fire that revolver because of the noise. And if you tried hitting either of us over the head, the other one would scream the place down and you'd have lost your last chance of escape.'

Leonard Stock nodded in grave agreement. ‘You're an intelligent young woman. Yes, I had just reached the same conclusion myself.
Hmm.
' He shifted his weight from one foot to the other with a little rocking movement and squinted down at the weapon in his hand, and after a moment or two he said: ‘I'll tell you what I propose to do instead …