The Gazebo (24 page)

‘What is it?’

‘When this man fell there was a sound as if he had dropped something. He might have had it in his hand, or perhaps it fell out of his pocket – I don’t know. The yard is paved and it made a sort of metallic sound against the stone. I had a torch in my pocket, and when my wife had gone away round the house I switched it on. I found the thing quite easily, and by hurrying after her I was able to come up as near to my wife as I wanted to.’

Frank Abbott said,

‘And what did you pick up?’

Jack Harrison dived into the pocket of his raincoat and produced an object wrapped in tissue paper. He unwrapped it, holding it gingerly, and laid it down upon the table. It was a forked rod made of metal. Frank Abbott looked at it, Inspector Sharp looked at it, Miss Silver looked at it. Jack Harrison said,

‘I don’t know what it is, but I took care how I picked it up. I really only touched the ends of the fork – if you want to try it for fingerprints.’

Frank Abbott said in his most expressionless voice,

‘The really up-to-date dowser affects a metal rod.’

NICHOLAS AND ALTHEA had been together for an hour. They had not spoken very much. He had come to say good-bye. Memory brought back to both of them that other time five years ago when they had said good-bye in the gazebo. Then it had been for five long, cold, sterile years which had taken youth, joy, everything. But he had come back. The dead years were restored again. Life flowed in and the wilderness blossomed. If he went now, not to the risks and dangers of far places but to the cold unsparing judgement of the law, perhaps this was the very last time that they would see each other except with bars between them – the very last time that they would touch, or kiss, or say a word that others did not hear. And yet on the edge of such a separation they had no words to say. And if they were to touch, how could they bear to part? To each of them there was present the thought that it would be better to make an end, to wrench away and have done with this long unconscionable dying of all that had been just within their grasp.

When presently Miss Silver came into the room there was half the width of it between them – Althea in the sofa corner, her face quite drained of colour, her hands clasped rigidly upon the black stuff of her skirt; Nicholas at the window with his back to her, staring out at the path and the road beyond the gate. Three men had come through the front door and shut it behind them. They went out by the gate and turned the corner into Hill Rise. They were Detective Inspector Sharp, Detective Inspector Abbott, and Jack Harrison. Nicholas wondered why they had not arrested him. Behind his back Miss Silver gave the slight cough with which she was wont to call an audience to attention and said,

‘Mr Harrison has made a very important statement.’

The two Inspectors and Jack Harrison walked up Hill Rise and turned into Grove Hill Road. Frank Abbott noted that it did take just five minutes to reach the front door of Grove Hill House. In the porch Jack Harrison said apprehensively,

‘You won’t want me, will you?’

The reply being in the negative, he exhibited considerable relief, remarked that they had better ring the bell, and slipped away round the house to the side door.

When the maid had gone to summon Mrs Harrison and the other two were alone in the drawing-room, Sharp said,

‘I wonder what she’ll smash this time. The poor chap’s afraid of her, you know. What do you think about that statement of his?’

‘I should say it was true.’

And with that the door opened and Ella Harrison came in. She wore the same plaid skirt as before, but the jumper and cardigan were scarlet instead of emerald, and the effect was even more startling. She had on a good deal of make-up, and she looked as if her temper might get away with her at any moment. Without even the slightest of greetings she said,

‘Well, what is it now? I suppose you think I’ve got nothing to do but answer a lot of stupid questions! And I don’t have to answer anything I don’t want to – I know enough about the law to know that!’

She had a challenging look which Inspector Sharp avoided. Frank Abbott met it coolly.

‘I think it would be better it we were to sit down. I think you can help us, and I think you would be well advised to do so. The fact is, a very detailed statement has been made with regard to your movements on Tuesday night.’

‘What do you mean about my movements? I hadn’t any movements! We came home from the Reckitts’ at seven o’clock and we didn’t go out again.’

‘Mrs Harrison, if you persist in that statement you may find yourself in a very serious position. You did go out on Tuesday night at about twenty minutes past eleven. Perhaps you do not know that you were followed, and that the person who followed you has made a detailed statement as to where you went and what you did.’

The shock was overwhelming. It was abundantly plain that Jack Harrison had spoken no more than the truth when he stated his wife had no idea that he had followed her. She took a hesitating step with her hand out before her as if she could not see. When Sharp brought up a chair she dropped on to it and sat there panting, her colour mottled and patchy under the rouge and powder. Frank Abbott said,

‘We have this statement, and I believe it to be a true one. If you will tell us just what happened from your own point of view, and the two accounts correspond, I think you will find that you have nothing to be afraid of. What you must understand is that nothing but the truth is going to clear you.’

She said in an altered voice,

‘Who followed me?’

‘Your husband. He says you were only out of his sight three times, and that for the briefest possible space, from the moment of your leaving the Grove Hill drive until your return to it. If you will give us your account of what happened during the same period, we shall be able to compare it with what your husband says. If the two accounts agree – well, you can see for yourself that their credibility will be considerably strengthened.’

He was talking partly to give her time. She had received a sudden and unexpected blow. She said in a difficult voice,

‘He followed me?’

Frank Abbott said briskly,

‘And has given a most circumstantial account of everything that took place. Now, Mrs Harrison, only a very stupid woman could fail to see that from your point of view it is absolutely necessary that your statement and your husband’s should correspond. If you and he are describing the same incidents and you are both telling the truth, they will, but the slightest deviation from what really happened, the least shade of falsehood, and you will be aggravating the dangers of your position. As you say, you needn’t speak if you do not want to, but you will be very foolish indeed if you refuse.’

He could see that she was pulling herself together. Her colour was returning to normal. She took one or two long breaths, straightened herself in her chair, and said,

‘My husband really did make a statement?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘How do I know you’re not having me on?’

‘You can ask him yourself.’ Then, turning to his colleague, ‘Do you mind, Sharp – I expect he will be in his study.’

While the Inspector was out of the room Ella Harrison sat eyeing Frank Abbott. The beautiful grey suit, the tie and the handkerchief in discreet shades of bluish grey, the immaculately polished shoes, the mirror-smooth hair, the long elegant hands and feet, the cool assured manner, produced an odd mingling of antagonism and respect. She had an impulse to disturb that polished calm, to scream, to throw anything that came handy, but it was an urge that died frustrated. There wouldn’t be any china broken at this interview. Something shrewd and commonplace got the upper hand, something which knew which side its bread was buttered, something that had always made it its business to take care of number one.

When Jack Harrison and Inspector Sharp came into the room she swung round on them. Jack looked nervous, and well he might. He only came just across the threshold and stood there against the door when he had closed it. She said sharply,

‘So you followed me on Tuesday…’

‘Yes, I followed you.’

She gave an angry laugh.

‘Taking a bit of a risk, weren’t you? If I had really met Fred he’d have knocked your head off!’

Frank Abbott intervened.

‘Mr Harrison is here to satisfy you that he did follow you on Tuesday night, that you were only out of his sight whilst turning the corner between Grove Hill Road and Hill Rise, and for the brief time that it took you to skirt the Grahams’ house on your way to the back garden, and on your return from it. Is that correct, Mr Harrison?’

He said, ‘Oh, quite.’

‘Then we needn’t trouble you any further. I take it, Mrs Harrison, you are now satisfied that your husband did follow you, and that he has made a statement as to what he saw and heard. What about it?’

She watched Jack Harrison go out of the room and shut the door before she answered. If she could have had five minutes alone with Jack to find out what he had told them… She might as well think about having the moon. There was nothing for it, she would just have to stick to the truth. She turned round, gave Frank Abbott a hardy look, and said,

‘All right, I’ll play.’

She made her statement, and Sharp took it down. There was some gloss at the beginning. Fred Worple appeared as the old friend whom she couldn’t ask to the house because Jack couldn’t bear her to speak to another man.

‘You’ve really no idea how dull it’s been. Not what I should say was the best way to keep your wife fond of you, but if a man’s jealous he’s jealous, and that’s all there is about it. So when Fred turned up – and mind you, we’d been real good friends – what was the harm in slipping out to a cinema or meeting him somewhere?’

‘And you met him in the gazebo at The Lodge?’

She hesitated, bit her lip.

‘Well, I did once or twice. The Grahams used to be in bed by ten o’clock unless Winifred was playing bridge, and she didn’t often play at night. She was by way of being an invalid, you know, but if you ask me it was mostly put on. She liked being fussed over and she didn’t want Thea to marry… Where was I?’

‘Meeting Mr Worple in the gazebo.’

She gave him an angry look.

‘It was just once or twice when the weather was fine. I wasn’t going there on Tuesday. He was coming here, but he didn’t come.’

There was rather a prolonged pause.

‘Yes, Mrs Harrison?’

‘Oh well, you might as well have it. He was making up to Thea, I’m sure I don’t know why, and I got it into my head that he might be there with her.’

‘That wouldn’t seem very likely.’

She tossed her head.

‘You don’t think about what’s likely when you’ve been expecting someone and they don’t turn up! I thought he might have done it on purpose – I thought he might be with Thea – I thought perhaps he might be expecting me to come to the gazebo. So I went.’

She went on from there to turning into Hill Rise. She had seen a woman run down to catch the bus at the corner of Belview Road. She had slipped in through the tradesmen’s entrance at The Lodge, and she had gone round the house and up the garden to the gazebo.

‘I went up the steps, and just as I got to the top one I had the most awful fright. Someone came barging out and knocked me over. I was thrown against the door and came down smack. I suppose that was when the stone came out of my ring. I know I hit my hand, because it hurt all night afterwards.’

‘It was a man who knocked you down?’

She said quickly, ‘It wasn’t Fred Worple – not tall enough. Besides Fred wouldn’t.’

‘Do you know who it was?’

‘I could make a guess.’

‘Well?’

‘That man Blount that was offering for the house. What did he want it for? I thought it was him at the time, snooping round after everyone was in bed and asleep.’

‘You thought it was Mr Blount. Did you recognize him?’

‘No, I can’t say I did.’

‘Well, go on, Mrs Harrison.’

She stared at him defensively.

‘There isn’t any more. You don’t suppose I was going to stay there after being knocked down like that? I got up and I went back home as quick as I could.’

‘Did you go inside the gazebo?’

Her temper flared.

‘How do you mean, did I go into the gazebo? What do you take me for? I suppose poor Winifred Graham was lying there dead, wasn’t she? If I’d gone into the gazebo I’d have fallen over her! Do you really suppose I’d have come away and left her lying like that? Because I wouldn’t! I don’t know what you think people are made of! Why, she mightn’t even have been dead!’

The Inspector wrote that down, as he had written all the rest. Frank said,

‘Oh, I don’t think there is any doubt that she was dead.’

THE INQUEST ON Mrs Graham was held next morning. Althea described how she had found her mother’s body, medical evidence was taken from Dr Barrington and from the police surgeon who had carried out the autopsy, after which the police asked for an adjournment. The funeral took place early the same afternoon. Miss Silver was thankful when both these events were over.

Althea gave her evidence simply and clearly and took part in the funeral service with quiet self-control. Nicholas sat beside her in the church and slipped a hand inside her arm at the graveside, but it was necessarily a day of severe and continued strain.

Nicholas came back to the house, and Miss Silver left him and Althea together. As far as their personal problem was concerned the outlook had brightened. Nicholas had not been arrested, and in the light of the Harrisons’ statements it was now in the highest degree unlikely that any charge would be brought against him.

Frank Abbott went up to town to confer with his superiors, and presently found himself making for Cleat in a police car driven by Sergeant Hubbard, who was wearing a suit the twin of his own in everything but cut, and a handkerchief, a tie, and a hat which were reverential copies. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but it must be admitted that when owing to a calamitous difference in personal appearance the imitation approximates to parody, the result may be a severe strain upon the temper of the person imitated. There were times when Detective Inspector Frank Abbott was amused, and there were times when he was exasperated. This was one of the times when he was exasperated.

But the afternoon was a fine one, Sergeant Hubbard a very good driver, and once clear of London and its suburbs the scenery extremely pleasing. There was also the satisfaction of feeling that the case was practically in the bag, and that Jack Harrison had been prompted to unburden himself in time for the mistake of arresting Nicholas Carey to be avoided. The Press is not backward in looking after its own. The Janitor had a reputation. He thanked his stars that it had not been afforded a chance of living up to it.

Down at Cleat it was a very pleasant day. Mr Blount suggested an expedition to the cinema in a neighbouring town. Rillington was only five miles away, an agreeable bus ride. He invited Lizzie Pardue to accompany them and offered to stand treat, first tea at the Arcadia and then the cinema conveniently placed on the other side of the Square. Lizzie was thrilled. She hadn’t been brought up to have treats, her father having had very strong views as to woman’s place being in the home. What did they come into the world for if it wasn’t to do the cooking and the scrubbing and the bearing and rearing of the children, and where did all these things take place if it wasn’t in the home? Outings, junketings, gallivantings and such like – you’d only got to look around and you could see what come of them! Lightmindedness! Tittle-tattling! Gossiping! Idleness! And downright evil doing! ‘Look at those there suffragettes! What like of shameful carrying on do you call that? See’d it with my own eyes I did, forty years back and more! Votes for Women, they said! And what come of it? Two great wars and bombs adropping all over the place!’

Under this régime and with her nose very firmly held to the grindstone, Lizzie grew up with very little to distract her from the stricter ways of industry, and old Mr Pardue had his house kept like a newpin and an obedient daughter always at hand. Tea at the Arcadia and a cinema to follow were the height of dissipation. She put on her church-going clothes, a black coat and a skirt handed on by the Vicar’s wife after the Vicar had gazed disapprovingly at it and remarked, ‘Really, my dear, I don’t think you can wear that any more even at a funeral,’ and a rather crushed black hat with a piece of red ribbon tied round it and a bunch of daisies to cover the knot.

Mrs Blount wore the shapeless clothes in which Miss Silver had seen her. She had travelled down in them, and she put them on just as she put on her hat without so much as looking in the glass. If it crossed her mind to wonder why Sid who never took her anywhere should be taking them to the cinema, it was in the vaguest possible manner. In fact everything in her mind was vague. It was a relief to be at Cleat, it was a relief to be with Lizzie Pardue, it was a relief to have a room of her own. She had slept heavily on the narrow truckle bed. She didn’t feel very far off sleep as they sat in the Rillington bus. In fact she did nod and sit up again with a start when Lizzie nudged her. After that she kept her eyes wide open and fixed them on the road. It made her feel a bit giddy, but anything was better than to have Sid notice that she had nearly dropped off.

She need not have worried. Mr Blount was perfectly aware of her confused state of mind and very well satisfied with it. It wouldn’t do for her to go to sleep in the bus, but all to the good if she were to appear vague and drowsy. They had had a pot of tea after their midday meal, and the tablet which he had dropped into her cup should just do the trick nicely. It wouldn’t send her off, but it would make things easier all round.

The Arcadia Café was very full and very noisy. Lizzie Pardue enjoyed it to the full – the clatter of plates, the buzz of voices, and the continual rush and roar of the traffic outside. She had two cups of tea, scone and butter, three fancy cakes, and two chocolate biscuits. Milly Blount drank two cups of tea. They were scalding hot and they made her feel better. Aunt Lizzie kept pressing her to eat, but she didn’t feel as if she could. Every time that Lizzie Pardue pressed her Mr Blount felt a difficulty in restraining himself. He couldn’t even frown because of wanting everyone to notice that his wife wasn’t herself and how kind and considerate he was being. But if he had to pay for two teas like the one Aunt Lizzie was having, it was no good saying he wasn’t going to be put out about it, because he was. Fancy cakes and chocolate biscuits for a woman who was going to be dead and out of his way before the day was an hour older – well, there wasn’t any sense in it, was there? Fortunately Milly was having enough sense to say no. He said loud enough to be heard by the people at the next table,

‘You’re not eating anything, my dear. Are you not feeling well?’

She was glad when they came out into the air, but when they had crossed the pavement and came to the kerb she hung back. The cinema stood at one corner of a four-crossway, and they were on another. There was a lot of traffic, and the noisy rush of it made her feel giddy again. When the lights changed Sid put his hand on her arm and guided her to the island in the middle of the road, and there they had to wait until they could cross to the other side. A lot of people were waiting too, the island was crowded.

Rillington is an old place with narrow streets and picturesque houses which motorists would like to see pulled down and antiquarians are prepared to battle for to the death. The struggle continues in the Press and in the local Council Chamber, but so far the antiquarians have held the position. The four wide roads which converge upon the town become four bottle-necks as they discharge their contents into what is known as the Square. It follows that cars and buses must of necessity pass very close to the islands. They stop when the lights are against them, but as soon as the green light goes on they go forward as fast as the local speed limit will allow, and sometimes a good deal faster. A bus-driver with the way clear before him and no policeman in sight is apt to chance his luck.

The police car which contained Detective Inspector Abbott and Sergeant Hubbard turned into Rillington High Street and approached the Square. Held up by the red light before they reached it, Frank Abbott noted the Arcadia on the right and thought briefly that a cup of tea would be agreeable but they had probably better not stop and anyhow there wouldn’t be anywhere to park. As his gaze travelled back across the street it rested upon the crowded island just ahead of them. It looked as if a lot of people had crossed from the side where the café stood and been caught up there. The red light ahead had changed to amber, and as his eye reached it the green came on. The whole line of traffic began to move and their own car with it.

It was at this moment that Frank saw and recognized the Blounts. Mrs Blount was on the very edge of the island. There was a woman next to her in a black coat and skirt and a black hat with a red ribbon round it. Mr Blount was not next to his wife nor immediately behind her. Frank opened the nearside door and got himself and his long legs out on to the pavement. He called out to the astonished Sergeant Hubbard, ‘Get her parked and come back!’ and proceeded across the traffic in the direction of the island in a highly dangerous and exasperating manner. So far his actions had been largely automatic. Looking back upon them, he was aware that they had been prompted by the simultaneous and vivid appearance in his mind of a number of pictures. There was Miss Silver saying earnestly, ‘I am deeply concerned about Mrs Blount.’ There was Mrs Blount herself on the edge of a stream of traffic which would presently be going very fast. There was the crowd on the island behind Mrs Blount. And there was Mr Blount, not so near his wife as to come under suspicion but near enough to exert pressure at a critical moment. And away in the mental background but still discernible, Mr Blount’s father who had broken his neck falling down the stairs in his own house, and the first Mrs Blount who had gone down under a train. Money in it for Mr Blount on both these occasions, and money to come to him if anything were to happen to the present Mrs Blount. Dead men tell no tales. If Mrs Blount had a tale that she might tell, she wouldn’t be able to tell it. Not if she was dead.

All these things were suddenly and menacingly present as he came up out of the traffic and stood in the lee of the island. There was no standing-room on the island itself. He didn’t want to attract Mr Blount’s attention, but he had got to be within reach of Mrs Blount. He began to edge along in front of the island. Two women looked at him angrily, and a man said, ‘Where are you shoving to!’ The cars that had been waiting for the lights to change had all got away now, and the oncoming traffic behind them had put on speed to get across the Square before they changed again. Everyone was watching them go by. Time was getting short – the lights would go again at any moment. A scarlet bus was speeding up to get across in time. It was going to pass so near the island that the people in the front row made an involuntary movement to step back. Only there wasn’t any room to step back. The people behind began shoving in order to keep their places. Somebody shoved Mrs Blount so hard that she lost her footing on the stone kerb and plunged forward just as the bus came roaring past. Lizzie Pardue screamed and made an ineffectual snatch at her coat sleeve. Mrs Blount herself didn’t scream. She felt a paralysing terror, a paralysing certainty that this was death. And then, quick and hard, the grasp of a hand upon her outflung arm. It was a man’s hand and it was strong. It held her back from where she would have fallen under the front wheels of the bus. It jerked her sideways past Lizzie Pardue and the bus went by. The scarlet paint on the side of it brushed her shoulder and left it sore and hot right through the stuff of her coat. When her mind began working again the lights had changed and the traffic had stopped. Room had been made for her on the island. The man who had saved her had his arm about her shoulders, holding her up. Lizzie Pardue was sobbing and crying, and Sid was standing looking at her and saying,

‘What happened, Milly – what happened?’

Milly Blount said, ‘You pushed me.’