The Gazebo (23 page)

JACK HARRISON WAS in a most dazed and uncomfortable frame of mind. He was not a man of marked ability in any direction. He had entered a family business, Harrison and Leman, General Importers, at the age of eighteen, detached himself from them to serve through the first World War, and returned when it was over with a wounded shoulder which still occasionally gave him trouble, and an immense thankfulness at finding himself back in the office. He was not clever, but he was painstaking, courteous, and trustworthy. In due course he became a partner and inherited a considerable fortune from two bachelor uncles. He was universally liked, but after a slightly patronizing manner. At least one woman had cared for him deeply, but he had most unfortunately married Ella Crane. He would have been happy with Emmy Lester and he was not at all happy with Ella, but it never occurred to him that there was anything he could do about it. He did what he could to avoid rows and the occasions for them, but it was uphill work and he wasn’t very good at it.

That there should have been a row, and a major one, in front of two police officers, one of them a member of the local force, was a terribly shaming thing. The figure destroyed by Ella’s uncontrolled rage was Meissen ware and had belonged to a several times great-grandmother. He might have received a cut over the eye which could have affected his sight, and worst of all, the scene, its sound, its fury, its violence had blown upon the smouldering resentments of the last two or three years and fanned them into flame. It wasn’t right to hate your wife, to wish vainly that you hadn’t married her, and that there was any way in which you could be rid of the burden of her presence. And if this was wrong, what was to be said about the promptings of which he was now and then aware. It shocked him very much that there were moments in which he was conscious of a desire to strike Ella, to see her shrink away from him and be afraid.

Into this unhappy frame of mind there came like a catalyst a note from Nicholas Carey. It had been dropped in at the letter-box by Nicholas himself, after which he rang the bell and walked away without looking back or waiting for Mrs Ambler the daily parlourmaid to open the door. She brought the note to Jack Harrison in his study and told him she had just seen the back of the gentleman going down the drive – ‘He didn’t wait any time at all, just dropped it in and walked away.’

He opened the note and read what Nicholas had written.

Dear Jack,

I think I’m practically certain to be arrested today. It’s a stupid business, and I shouldn’t think it would come to anything, but there you are — an arrest is indicated, and I imagine that most people would vote for me as the likeliest suspect. I don’t know where they’ll put me, but you can come and see me if you like. You had better collect some dope as to who would be a good solicitor for this sort of thing. I don’t imagine that the old boy who settled up Uncle Oswald’s estate would make much hand of it. Sorry for the general upset and scandal.

Yours,

Nick

The confusion in Jack Harrison’s mind cleared. As long as there were several courses open you could turn first to one and then to another and consider following it. You could, and probably did, reject them all and just stand still and do nothing. But as he read Nick’s letter the uncertainties which had surrounded him like a fog thinned away and he could see quite clearly what he had to do. He couldn’t let Nick be arrested. Nobody in their family had ever been arrested as far as he knew. Nick was engaged to Althea Graham. They had been on the point of marrying. Althea was a nice girl and a good daughter, and she hadn’t had a fair deal. And then there was Emmy. If Nick was arrested it would hurt Emmy very much indeed. She was kind and good. She didn’t deserve to be hurt. He couldn’t allow Nick to be arrested. He put the note in his pocket, went into the hall, and considered whether he should put on a coat. No, the afternoon was a warm one, and there was no sign of rain.

He put on his hat, opened the front door, and went down the drive. If Nick expected to be arrested he would go and see Althea Graham first. It was quite probable that he would be there now. He didn’t want to butt in, but he couldn’t, no he really couldn’t let Nick be arrested.

THE FRONT DOOR of The Lodge having been opened to him by Miss Silver, Mr Harrison found himself rather at a loss as to what his next step should be. He went into the dining-room because Miss Silver seemed to expect him to go into the dining-room. In a vague kind of way he remembered hearing that Althea Graham had someone staying with her, and he supposed the lady who admitted him to be this someone, though he did not know her name. She relieved him of this part of his embarrassment by pronouncing it clearly and firmly, to which he responded by giving her his own and explaining his presence.

‘I have no wish to intrude, I do assure you of that, but Nicholas Carey is my cousin and I am very anxious to see him – very anxious indeed. I thought perhaps he might be here.’

Miss Silver inclined her head.

‘He is in the drawing-room with Miss Graham. I do not feel that they should be disturbed.’

Jack Harrison took hold of one of the dining-room chairs. He did not know how hard he was gripping it until afterwards, when he discovered with surprise that there was a red weal across his palm. At the time he did not feel it at all. He only felt a painful increase of the confusion and distress in his mind. He heard his own voice.

‘He is saying good-bye to her. I had a note from him. He expects to be arrested.’

‘Did he tell you that?’

‘Yes – he wrote me a note. He said he thought he was certain to be arrested. I can’t let that happen, can I?’

Miss Silver observed him with care. He was in a state of considerable distress, and he had something on his mind. She was too experienced to mistake the signs, and in fact Jack Harrison was past making any effort to conceal them. He said, straining at the words,

‘I didn’t want to have to say anything. You see, my wife comes into it – but I can’t let Nicholas be arrested. He hasn’t anything to do with it, so I can’t let them arrest him, can I?’

She said, ‘No, Mr Harrison,’ and looking past him, saw through the window the gate on Belview Road swing in. Frank Abbott and Detective Inspector Sharp came through it and began to walk up the flagged path towards the house. She said, ‘Just a moment, Mr Harrison,’ and went to let them in.

After one glance over his shoulder he stood where he was, bearing down upon the chair and watching the door. Miss Silver closed it behind her. He heard a murmur of voices and thought, ‘She is telling them what I said.’ These were the police officers who had come to his house yesterday. They had come to question Ella. He would have to tell them his story. Here. Now. It was too late to go back. Miss Silver was telling them what he had said. There was no going back. In a way it was a relief. He would tell them just what had happened and be done with it.

They were coming into the room now, the Scotland Yard man, and Inspector Sharp, and Miss Silver. Chairs were pulled out and they sat down. He sat down too. His hand and arm were numb. The Scotland Yard Inspector said,

‘Miss Silver tells us that you want to make a statement with regard to the murder of Mrs Graham. Is that correct?’

His own voice astonished him. It was louder than usual and at a higher pitch as he said,

‘You are going to arrest Nicholas Carey, aren’t you? He wrote and told me. I didn’t want to have to say anything, but I can’t let him be arrested. It wouldn’t be fair, because he really hadn’t anything to do with it at all.’

Frank Abbott said,

‘Just a moment, Mr Harrison. If this statement involves yourself, I had better warn you…’

Jack Harrison shook his head.

‘No – no – I hadn’t anything to do with it either. It’s just that my wife is involved – to a certain extent – and of course not in the murder. But…’ He broke off. ‘Perhaps I had better tell you what happened.’

Inspector Abbott said he thought it would be a very good plan, and Inspector Sharp got out a notebook. Jack Harrison waited until they were ready for him. Miss Silver, sitting at the end of the table, watched him. They all watched him. When he began to speak his voice had lost the high strained pitch, it was lower and more natural. He sat back in his chair, his right arm hanging stiffly. An earnest, conscientious person who had been much perplexed in mind and was now doing his best.

‘It was that Tuesday evening. We had been to a bridge party at the Reckitts’. We got back at about half past seven. When we had had our meal I went into my study – I generally do in the evening. I left the door ajar. I wanted to know if anyone came to the house, or if my wife went out. After the daily maids have gone there is no one in the house but ourselves.’

Frank Abbott said,

‘Mrs Harrison was expecting someone?’

‘She was meeting a friend. I didn’t know where they were meeting.’

‘What friend?’

‘A man called Worple – Fred Worple. My wife had been on the stage – she knew him then. He turned up here a week or two ago. He has relations in the town. He met my wife again, and they have been seeing a good deal of each other. I didn’t care for the friendship. Worple is a shady, flashy type, and I told my wife that it wouldn’t do her any good to be seen about with him. She was angry, and she said she would do what she liked.’

‘Yes, Mr Harrison?’

There was rather a long pause before Jack Harrison went on. He was looking at Mrs Graham’s polished dining-table, but what he saw was his own study table with the ink-stained blotter, and the telephone fixture on the right. He saw himself putting out a hand and lifting the receiver. He said,

‘I had a call to make. When I took up the receiver my wife was talking on the extension in her room. She said, “All right, Fred – half past ten or a quarter to eleven,” and then she rang off. So you see, I knew that she was meeting Worple, but I didn’t know where. At a quarter to ten I went into the drawing-room and told her I was going to bed.’

‘You have separate rooms?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Next to each other?’

He shook his head.

‘It’s a big house. It’s been in the family a long time. I have the room I used to have when I came to stay as a boy. My wife’s room is at the other end of the house.’

‘Well, you went to bed?’

He shook his head.

‘No, I went to my room and waited. One of my windows overlooks the side door. I thought if my wife was going out, or if she was letting anyone in, that she would use this door. The front door bolts make quite a noise when they are drawn back. So I put out my light and sat by the window and waited. I went on waiting and nothing happened. I thought I wouldn’t do anything until a quarter past eleven, and that then I would go along to my wife’s room and see whether she was there, because there were two other doors which she might have gone out by. My watch has luminous hands. At twenty past eleven my wife came out of the side door and went on round the house and out of sight. I was all ready to follow her in a dark raincoat and tennis shoes. It takes just five minutes to walk from Grove Hill House to The Lodge. I want to make it clear that I could see my wife in front of me all the way. When I turned the corner into Hill Rise she was standing still – in fact I very nearly ran into her. On the other side of the road a woman was running down to the corner, and the bus was coming down Belview Road. When it came to the corner by The Lodge it stopped and the woman got in. I was only about three yards away from my wife. As soon as the bus had gone she ran the rest of the way and went in by the tradesmen’s entrance of The Lodge. It is right on the corner and runs along by the hedge to the little yard outside the back door. As soon as she turned in like that I guessed that she had been meeting this man Worple in that kind of a summerhouse at the top of the Grahams’ garden. They call it a gazebo. Of course you will have seen it, because that is where Mrs Graham’s body was found. I don’t know why she went there. She always goes to bed very early. I let my wife get round the house, and then I followed her. When I came out on to the path that goes up the garden I could see her ahead of me. I want you to be quite clear that except while I was following her round the house she was never out of my sight. Is that quite clear?’

Inspector Sharp nodded and said, ‘Oh, yes, Mr Harrison.’

Jack Harrison went on in the same precise and methodical manner which he had used throughout.

‘I could see her, partly because I was looking for her, and partly because I have very good night vision. Neither she nor any other person could or did see me, because by the time they were heading my way I was standing still against a dark background.’

Frank Abbott said sharply,

‘The other person? What other person?’

Jack Harrison looked faintly surprised.

‘There was a man in the gazebo. As you know, there are steps going up to it. When my wife had reached the top step, a man rushed past her, knocking her down.’

‘Do you mean that he hit her?’

‘Oh, no, I don’t think so. He was just in a hurry to get away.’

‘Mrs Harrison must know whether he hit her.’

The surprise became more apparent.

‘I haven’t spoken about it to my wife. She has no idea that I was there.’

‘All right, go on.’

He did so in a meditative tone.

‘If she lost a stone out of her ring as you say she did, then I think it must have happened when she fell. Her hand could have struck the jamb.’

‘Very likely. But go on about the man.’

‘He came running down the path very fast. I stepped into a garden bed to avoid him. There is a little step down to the yard outside the back door. He must have forgotten it, because he tripped and came down sprawling. He was up again in a moment and ran round the house and away.’

‘Did you recognize him?’

Jack Harrison shook his head.

‘Not in the way of seeing his face. But it wasn’t Mr Worple.’

‘How do you know it wasn’t?’

‘He wasn’t tall enough. Mr Worple must be not far off six foot. As this man went past me be was not much taller than myself, but there was a good deal more of him. Not a tall man, but broad. A heavy man by the way he fell.’

Miss Silver had said nothing all this time. She listened, and she watched with keen attention. She did not herself feel any difficulty in identifying the man who was broad but not tall, and who fell heavily, with Mr Blount.

Frank Abbott said,

‘What happened after that?’

Jack Harrison replied in the simplest manner.

‘He got up again.’

‘You did not try to stop him?’

‘I had no reason to do so. It was not until next day that I had any reason to suspect that he had probably murdered Mrs Graham.’

Frank Abbott said,

‘Well go on. He got up…’

‘And rushed away. My wife was getting to her feet at the entrance to the gazebo. If she was expecting to meet Mr Worple, and I think there is no doubt that she was, it must have been a great shock to be knocked down by a violent stranger. She came limping down the path towards me, breathing in a distressed manner. I stood perfectly still behind a clump of hollyhocks and let her go by.’

Frank Abbott leaned forward across the polished table.

‘Did she go into the gazebo?’

Jack Harrison shook his head.

‘Oh, no – she hadn’t a chance – she was knocked down on the threshold.’

‘But afterwards – when she got up again?’

‘Oh, no. She was groaning and getting up – I could hear her all the time. I think her one idea was to get away. She came down the steps and down the path and went round the house and out into the road. And then she went home.’

‘You’re sure about that?’

‘I followed her. When she got inside the drive she stood for a bit. There is a path that goes off to the left through a shrubbery. I went that way because I wanted to get in first. I had some thoughts of locking her out, but I considered that she had been very badly frightened, and that it would be a cruel thing to do, so I just went up to my room and left the door unlocked.’

‘You are sure she came in?’

‘Oh, yes. I waited by the window until I saw her come round the house and go in. I had set my door ajar, and I heard her come up the stairs and go away to her own room.’

‘You didn’t speak to her about what had happened, either then or next day?’

‘No.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘I didn’t wish to have a scene with my wife.’

Having been privileged to witness one of these conjugal scenes, the two Inspectors believed him. Frank Abbot said,

‘You said nothing to her at all even when you had heard about Mrs Graham’s murder?’

‘No, I didn’t say anything.’

‘Mr Harrison, you must have realized the importance of your encounter with this man on the scene of the murder. He was at any rate an intruder upon private property, and his behaviour is, to say the least of it, highly suspicious. He hasn’t any business in the gazebo. He knocks a woman down and makes a bolt for it when he is discovered there. You must surely have realized that it was your duty to go to the police?’

‘Oh, yes. But you see my wife was involved.’

Frank Abbott’s light, cool gaze rested upon him.

‘We have a witness who heard Mrs Graham speaking to someone in the gazebo at just after twenty past eleven. This witness was frightened and ran down to the corner to catch the bus. If, as you say, the bus was at the corner and a woman was running down towards it when you turned into Hill Rise, this witness’s statement is confirmed, and it becomes clear that Mrs Graham was murdered between the time when she was heard to call out and the moment when you saw this man whom you have described rush out of the gazebo.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘You did very wrong not to report the matter at once.’

Jack Harrison said,

‘I suppose I did. But I wouldn’t have let an innocent person be arrested – I had quite made up my mind about that. That is why I have come to you now. My cousin said he was going to be arrested, and I couldn’t let that happen.’

‘Well, I think we shall have to have another interview with Mrs Harrison. You’re sure she doesn’t know you followed her?’

‘Yes, I’m sure. What I wanted was to avoid having a scene.’

He hesitated, and then came out with,

‘There’s just one thing more…’