Missing or Murdered (7 page)

After lunch Inspector Heather unburdened himself.

“Well, Mr. Vereker,” he began, “I've thoroughly cross-examined Farnish. He's a rum specimen, is Farnish. I don't quite know what to make of him.”

“His best manner is rather devastating,” replied Vereker. “Do you know, Heather, in Farnish's presence I always begin to shrink. My clothes seem too big for me and I have a strange sensation that I am being firmly assured that my ancestors did not come over with the Conqueror. What effect did he have on you?”

“Nothing of that sort, Mr. Vereker. But he's so confoundedly discreet. He never answers in a hurry, and then weighs every word he utters. You feel that he is fencing all the time, that he is determined you shall know no more than he wishes to let you know. Anyone would think he was hiding something.”

“Oh, he's a past-master at that sort of thing. You must remember that the life of a man like Farnish is apparently one long discretion. Have you any suspicion with regard to him?”

“I'm going to keep a watchful eye on him. As to my cross-examination of him, it uncovered nothing of any importance with regard to Lord Bygrave. His information was exactly what I expected it to be and revealed not a jot more than we both already know. Lord Bygrave left him in charge of the place until his return from Hartwood. There was nothing unusual in his lordship's behaviour prior to his departure. He said nothing out of the ordinary to Farnish before leaving, and Farnish entertains no ideas of any kind as to where his lordship has gone or when he may choose to return.”

“Farnish is a blank slate, inspector, as far as you are concerned?”

“Absolutely.”

“What is your next move?”

“I'm going to search the place thoroughly and look through all Lord Bygrave's papers.”

“Good; but let me warn you to be careful when exploring the undercroft. There's a well down there in which you may inadvertently find yourself unless you are careful. I should take Farnish with you and observe him closely but furtively while you are searching. You remember Carlton's explanation of his method of discovering an object hidden in a town simply by watching the feet of the man who had hidden it, and who was accompanying him. No? Well, never mind. But it was a brainy idea. I should not hesitate to make use of it.”

“You suspect Farnish?” asked the inspector quickly.

“I am not quite satisfied that he is innocent of everything connected with this affair. Merely an idea of mine, with very scanty foundations for it. Perhaps I'm entirely wrong—it's a duel between reason and the vague promptings of that shadowy faculty called intuition.”

“Not much use for intuition in these matters, Mr. Vereker,” sighed the inspector heavily and, rising from his seat, added, “Well, I think I'll have a good look round and examine Lord Bygrave's papers—at least those to which I can get access here. What are you going to do?”

“Oh, I'm going to read the most up-to-date novel of the day. I always carry it with me. It is so true to modern life—‘The Satyricon.'”

“May I ask who's the author?” queried the inspector listlessly.

“A Mr. Titus Petronius.”

“Perhaps he's a friend of yours, Mr. Vereker.”

“One of my best friends—but I've not met him. Perhaps I shall in the distant future. I hope so.”

The inspector made no further remark and left Vereker smiling, as he filled his pipe.

Vereker sat in an easy chair engrossed in his book for some time; then he suddenly closed the volume and rang.

Farnish appeared in response.

“Tell Walter I should like to speak to him, Farnish,” said Vereker, eyeing the butler closely.

Farnish's physiognomy was now, however, as unreadable as that of the Sphinx, and his manner the old unperturbed manner of the Farnish known to Vereker for so many years.

Walter was one of Lord Bygrave's footmen; a tall, slimly built man with raven black hair, carefully brushed and sleek. His head was a handsome head, shapely in the skull; his nose aquiline; his eyes dark brown and frank in their expression. Vereker had always liked Walter.

“There's nothing much wrong with a man who has a symmetrical skull,” was one of Vereker's favourite sayings. “Your brilliant men and scoundrels have all got asymmetrical heads.”

Lord Bygrave also had a sincere affection for his servant, and at times, when he felt in an expansive mood, extracted much private amusement from Walter's opinions and unconsciously humorous outlook on life generally.

When Walter appeared Vereker at once saw that the man had something to divulge, and had only been waiting to divulge it in what he felt was the right quarter.

“I can see he's simply bursting to impart information,” thought Vereker. “Heather has already cross-questioned him and probably learned nothing. I must handle him as gently as an egg—a very valuable egg.”

“Oh, Walter,” he began, addressing the footman, “I want to speak to you on a matter the nature of which you have doubtless already guessed.”

“Well, sir, I have an idea it's about his lordship's disappearance.”

“You say ‘disappearance,' Walter. Don't you think his absence may be easily explained? For instance, if his lordship extended his holiday you'd hardly call it disappearing?”

“If he extended his holiday without letting us know, sir, I'd certainly call it disappearing. His lordship never did such a thing in his life before.”

“Perhaps not, Walter, but there's no knowing what he might do under the force of circumstances never before encountered?”

“That's just what I think, sir; and some strange circumstances must have been the cause of his not returning on the date he said he would.”

“You noticed nothing peculiar about his lordship's manner of late?”

“Not of late, sir, but six months ago a very strange thing happened.”

“Oh! What was that?”

“Well, sir, I wouldn't tell you, only I know you were his lordship's greatest friend. I didn't say a word to Inspector Heather when he was questioning me, because, thinks I, if there's going to be a scandal about his lordship, I won't be the one to publish it. It's not my way, sir. Besides, his lordship has always been very good to me—a better master no man could wish for.”

“Scandal, did you say?” asked Vereker, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“Yes, sir. Where there's womenfolk there's nearly always a scandal. As his lordship once remarked—‘Walter,' says he, ‘I don't know whether the pleasure they give outweighs the trouble they create.' True words those are, sir. I never have anything to do with them—”

“Ah, so you're a misogynist, Walter, a confirmed misogynist?” interrupted Vereker.

“If that means keeping clear of trouble, sir, I'm one.”

“And what about a woman and his lordship. You don't mean to say—”

“Pardon me interrupting, sir, but this is exactly what happened, and I'm certain sure it has something to do with his lordship's disappearance. I said no good would come of it at the time. Six months ago a lady came to see his lordship. Very few people ever call on his lordship, but I know them, sir, by name and sight. His lordship rarely made new friends. This lady was a stranger to me, and what's more she was one of those handsome, bold as brass sort as you see on the halls. She walked up the drive and handed me a note for his lordship. I took the note to him myself, and on opening it his lordship started violently and turned very pale. He told me to show the lady into the drawing-room, and he followed her in a few minutes later. It would be a good half-hour before she left, and his lordship seemed very agitated, more agitated than ever I've seen him before. That's all, sir.”

“You've never seen the lady since?”

“No, sir.”

“Does anybody else know about this lady's visit? Mr. Farnish, for instance?”

“I think not, sir. I believe Mr. Farnish was away from the Hall that afternoon, and even if Mr. Farnish knew—” Walter hesitated and said no more.

“Go on, Walter, tell me everything you know. Tell me even your suspicions. I feel sure there's something wrong about all this business and I'm going to get to the bottom of it. You may rest assured that I shall employ the utmost discretion in making use of anything you may care to divulge.”

“Well, sir, Mr. Farnish always was a deep 'un. Not that I dislike him. We've always got on well together. But he was never what you call free in his conversation with any of us. Mighty big notion of his position, sir, he has. And of late—well, he's been more silent than ever, and sometimes downright queer. On one occasion since his lordship's disappearance he was a long while in the study by himself. Next morning he went off early to London without telling any of us his business. He left me in charge and just said, ‘I have to go up to London, Walter; I shall be back as soon as possible.' After he'd gone, sir, I took the notion into my head to have a look in his lordship's study. Naturally, I was curious as to what Mr. Farnish had been doing so long in his lordship's study—it was a room, sir, into which none of us servants was ever allowed to go. His lordship used to say, ‘Dust might be troublesome, but dusting was a damned noosance.' But when I tried the door I found it locked, and the key gone. Now the key was always in the door when his lordship was here or away, for I'm sure he had nothing to hide. He simply wouldn't have his books and papers put where he couldn't at once lay hands on them, and that was the only reason we were forbidden to enter his study.”

“Nothing more has happened since?”

“Nothing unusual, sir. This thing has been on my mind and worried me considerable, so I had made up my mind to tell you, sir.”

“Thanks, Walter; that's all I want to know.”

“Very good, sir,” replied Walter, and left the room.

He had not gone many minutes before Inspector Heather entered. He found Vereker engrossed in that up-to-date novel by Mr. Titus Petronius.

“Well, Heather, I can see by your face you've made a discovery,” said Vereker, looking up.

“A small discovery and a few more facts.”

“You've been in the study,” remarked Vereker at random.

“H'm, yes—I've been all over the place. How did you know I'd been in the study?”

“You've got a document in your hand with the words Last Will and Testament engrossed almost life-size on the back, and easily legible from here. The rest was pure deduction.”

“You're improving, Mr. Vereker. As for the discovery—I found one of the drawers of Lord Bygrave's bureau had been forced with an ordinary screw-driver. I asked Farnish if he could furnish me with a screw-driver, and he did.”

“It was the identical one?”

“It was.”

“By Jove, Heather!” exclaimed Vereker, but with little show of excitement.

“There doesn't seem much in it, though,” continued Heather thoughtfully, “because hardly had Farnish handed the tool over to me than he volunteered the information that his lordship had lost a key to one of his bureau drawers and had broken it open some days before he left—‘with the same screw-driver.'”

“You didn't believe him, of course.”

“I won't say that, but I noticed that of the several bundles of papers in the drawer all were tied with a proper reef-knot, and only one with a granny-knot.”

“And you deduced—?”

“Nothing as yet, Mr. Vereker, but I've taken the usual note. You know the contents of the will?”

“Yes—and I know you've taken a note that Farnish is left £500 under its terms.”

“Quite so. But from my interrogation of all the servants I find that Farnish neither drinks, smokes nor intends to get married. He's a careful, honest, punctilious man and devoted to his lordship.”

“Now, now, Heather, you're not going to tell me you're impressed by that stuff. I can already see you getting the handcuffs ready for dear old Farnish.”

Inspector Heather laughed and continued:

“They've just rung me up from headquarters and told me that about six months ago Lord Bygrave got his bankers to dispose of about £10,000 worth of registered securities, and had them transferred into bearer bonds.”

“Six months ago?” queried Vereker listlessly.

“Yes; but why?”

“Well, that was last May. Anything could have happened to them since then. Now, if this transaction had taken place just before Lord Bygrave's departure for Hartwood there might be some significance in it.”

“I can find no trace of them, anyhow. They're not at his bankers and they're not in his private safe here, and it is unlikely that he would carry £10,000 about with him on a holiday,” argued the inspector.

“Then I make another brilliant deduction, Heather—Lord Bygrave simply blewed them!” said Vereker.

“I've more news for you, Mr. Vereker,” continued the inspector. “Mr. Grierson rang up to say that he would like to see you. He is coming down from town and ought to be here in a few minutes. Meanwhile I think I'll go and send off some telegrams.”

After Inspector Heather's departure Vereker sank back in a comfortable arm-chair, lit his pipe and gave himself up to a lengthy reverie. There was a look of uneasiness on his face; it could hardly be termed annoyance, for it took a great deal really to annoy Mr. Algernon Vereker. This uneasy look was the signal that he had been suddenly confronted with the unexpected, and it was all due to Walter's story of the heavily-veiled lady's visit to Bygrave Hall. This sudden irruption of a female figure into the chaotic tangle of events which constituted the mystery of Lord Bygrave's disappearance was undeniably disconcerting.

“A woman in the case—the last damned thing I would have expected!” he exclaimed. “What earthly right has a woman to figure in this case at all? It discloses a facet of Bygrave's life the existence of which I had never suspected. It's enough to make me forswear the rôle of amateur detective for ever and to give up the quest here and now.”