The Shadow at Greystone Chase (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 10) (23 page)

Time was now pressing, and he paused to think. Assuming Jemima Winkworth did indeed possess an important document of which she was not allowed to speak, where might she have hidden it? About her person, surely—which was no good for William’s purposes. She was ill now, however, and under the care of nurses, who presumably would have discovered it when they undressed her, so that seemed to rule that out—unless she had stopped keeping it about her when she fell ill. William frowned, and opened the cupboard. Inside it were one or two good dresses and a heavy woollen coat. It was the wrong time of year for people to be carrying winter coats around with them, thought William. He took the coat out of the cupboard and looked in the pockets. They were empty. He was about to return it to the cupboard when he had a sudden idea. He laid the coat on the bed and ran his hands over the lining. At the front, just under the right sleeve, he heard something crackle, and his heart leapt. Taking out his penknife, he slit open the lining carefully and removed the thing that was contained inside. It was an envelope, grubby and crumpled, bearing the name of a firm of solicitors in Canterbury. This must be what he had come to find! Quickly, William looked to see if there was anything else inside the coat, but found nothing. He hung it back in the cupboard and glanced around to make sure that he had left everything in order. In her state, it was unlikely that Jemima would ever notice the letter had gone missing—and even if she did, it was needed by someone else now.

As quietly as possible, William emerged from Miss Winkworth’s bedroom and ran back down the stairs. As he emerged into the corridor by the entrance-hall, he saw the stern-looking matron he had spoken to earlier standing in close conference with a man whose work-coat and cloth cap declared him to be the real lift mechanic. The matron saw him at the same moment and her eyes widened. William’s heart sank.

‘There he is!’ she said, and took a step towards him.

As quick as lightning, William turned and ran back up the stairs.

‘That’s done it,’ he thought, as he heard shouts behind him. He ducked into the first empty room he saw and hid behind the open door. After a minute, he heard the sound of the matron’s voice and that of a man—presumably the mechanic—as they passed.

‘He must have come this way,’ said the matron. ‘We shall have to begin a search.’

‘We’ll not get far with just the two of us looking,’ said the man. ‘Why, he might run off any time he likes. While we’re searching one room he can duck out of another and be out of here in a trice.’

‘Hardly,’ said the matron. ‘Miss Longfellow has called for help, and is in the entrance-hall, watching the lift and the stairs to make sure he does not escape that way. We’ll find him, don’t worry. Now, suppose you start at this end. I shall go and fetch the maids.’

William heard the sound of footsteps retreating, followed shortly by a muttered grumble from the mechanic. At any second he expected the man to come in and find him. Instead, he heard what sounded like a match being struck, followed by the sound of the door to the room across the corridor being opened. After a minute, a familiar smell of tobacco could be detected. William decided to take a chance. He peered round the door. Across the corridor, through the open door to the room opposite, he could just see a pair of feet propped comfortably on a table. Evidently the visiting mechanic did not take the threat of an intruder as seriously as the matron did. There was no time to lose. William slipped out of his hiding-place and ran along to the end of the corridor. If the entrance-hall was under observation there was no use in trying to get out the way he had come in. It would have to be the window.

With a little struggle he lifted the sash and climbed out onto the window-sill. It was a narrow one, and he balanced precariously there for a moment, holding on to the lintel above, then pushed the window shut again with his foot, to disguise the evidence of his escape. He worked himself down into a sitting position and glanced back carefully through the window. The corridor was still deserted, but someone would surely be there in a second. The branch of the apple tree was only a few inches away, but it was too thin to hold his weight at this end. There was nothing for it: he would have to jump. He counted to three under his breath, then launched himself with as much force as he could towards a thicker part of the branch—a risky feat for an ordinary man, but William had had a colourful early life and had once been a performing acrobat and, while he was a little out of practice, it was still an easy enough trick for him. He caught the branch, which bent alarmingly but did not give, and hung there for a moment until he caught his breath. He then worked his way along carefully until he reached a place in which the branch would hold his weight easily, and pulled himself up.

For the moment he was safe, but there were people about and he could not risk dropping to the ground and running out through the gates. He would have to go out over the wall into the lane. He scrambled around the trunk to the other side of the tree and began to wriggle along a branch which extended across the wall, then stopped as he heard voices. In the lane below was Angela, talking to Colonel Dempster, who had evidently been walking his dog and was only too pleased to pass the time of day with the elegant Mrs. Wells. William cursed inwardly, for the branch beneath him was dry and seemed reluctant to hold his weight. He attempted to retreat, but there was a loud cracking noise and the branch gave a little. William froze. Just then, Angela glanced up and saw him. She made no sign, but returned to her conversation with the colonel. William held his breath.

At length it appeared that the colonel was preparing to pass on, for he gave a little bow and turned to depart. William gave a great sigh of relief, and at that very moment the branch snapped, depositing him without ceremony onto the top of the wall and thence into the lane, where he landed with a thud at Angela’s feet. Angela winced, and Colonel Dempster turned back and started at the sight of the young man lying winded on the ground.

‘What’s all this?’ he said.

‘Are you all right, William?’ said Angela in some concern.

‘I think so,’ he said.

Angela helped him into a sitting position, where he remained for a moment, rubbing his elbow.

‘I’m afraid the cat escaped,’ she said. ‘It seems it didn’t need rescuing at all. I’m awfully sorry. I do hope you haven’t hurt yourself badly. There was a little cat stuck in the tree,’ she explained to Colonel Dempster. ‘It looked so dreadfully frightened that I couldn’t possibly leave it there, so William very kindly agreed to go up and get it. But then it ran off, and so it was all for nothing, I’m afraid.’

‘That was very kind of you,’ said the colonel to Angela, ignoring the injured party who had done all the work. ‘I didn’t know you liked cats.’

‘Oh, I adore them,’ said Angela. ‘Poor William is always having to get them out of trees for me.’

‘Splendid, splendid,’ said the colonel.

At last they got rid of him and were able to ascertain that no bones had been broken.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ said Angela. ‘He turned up and I couldn’t get rid of him. I’m glad you’re not really hurt.’

‘I’ve had worse falls,’ said William.

‘Well, it seems you got in all right. Did you find anything?’

William grinned and produced the letter he had found in the lining of Miss Winkworth’s coat. Angela drew in her breath as she saw it.

‘Let’s go and get Freddy,’ she said.

F
REDDY HAD SEEN that the game was up at the nursing-home and had decided that, all things considered, it was better to withdraw before somebody put two and two together and realized what he had been up to. They found him at the hotel, where he was just about to order tea. Since William was the hero of the hour he was invited to join them, and the three of them sat in a quiet corner of the lounge while Angela examined Jemima Winkworth’s letter. The envelope contained three or four sheets of paper, which were grubby and much thumbed. Several of them consisted of typed lists of numbers and calculations.

‘A pension, by George!’ said Freddy. ‘Look, it’s just as I said! I always knew my enormous powers of the brain were wasted as a reporter. Why, with my deductive skills I ought to be running Scotland Yard. I shall write to them and tell them so. I expect they’ll offer me a job on the spot.’

‘Look at this,’ said Angela, and held out the letter which had accompanied the enclosure. Freddy read.

‘Aforesaid disbursements—tum-te-tum—shall be remitted by the aforementioned etc. etc.—on behalf of Roger Valencourt de Lisle—how they do like to rattle on, these legal fellows.’

‘Read to the end,’ said Angela.

‘“—on condition that the aforementioned Jemima Alice Winkworth shall not, now, or at any time, speak to anyone of her employment with the family of de Lisle of Greystone Chase, Denborough, Kent,”’ read Freddy. ‘“Failure to abide by the conditions of this agreement shall render it null and void, and any monies disbursed theretofore to the said Jemima Alice Winkworth shall be liable to be repaid at a rate of—” goodness, he even threatened to claim the money back with interest if she didn’t keep quiet.’

‘Yes,’ said Angela. ‘An inducement and a threat at the same time.’

‘Then it
was
Roger de Lisle who did it,’ said Freddy. ‘But you do realize this still doesn’t prove anything, don’t you? It looks suspicious enough, given the amount he was paying her, but the police won’t be interested without something more solid. And besides, they might reasonably point out that it merely suggests that Jemima saw
Edgar
do it, and that Roger paid her off to protect him, even though his scheme failed in the end.’

‘True,’ said Angela. ‘I think perhaps it’s time to go to Poplar and speak to the elder Miss Winkworth. She must know something of all this, surely.’

‘She won’t speak, though,’ said Freddy.

‘She’ll have to,’ said Angela firmly. ‘We must get her address off the colonel. What shall we tell him? I know—we’ll say we want to send her some flowers, or something.’

Freddy was dispatched in search of Colonel Dempster and Angela insisted on standing William high tea for his trouble.

‘After all,’ she said, ‘I couldn’t possibly have done it myself. But thanks to you it rather looks now as though we’re on to something. I hope Miss Winkworth won’t be too difficult.’

‘What if she won’t speak?’ said William.

‘Then I shall have to appeal to her better nature,’ said Angela.

The next morning, Angela and Freddy found themselves walking down a street in East London, looking for a particular house. The street was one of the more respectable addresses in Poplar, and it was clear that its residents were relatively well-to-do. At last they arrived at the number they were seeking. Its front door was painted a cheerful red, while the doorstep was as clean as a pin and the brass knocker had been polished until it shone.

‘I hope she’s in,’ said Angela, glancing about as she rapped on the door. ‘I’ve seen a few curtains twitch, and I fear the gossips will be licking their lips at the sight of us. The approval of the neighbours is everything in this sort of place, I understand.’

As she spoke, she saw another curtain twitch in the window by the front door, which was shortly afterwards opened by the elder Miss Winkworth. She was red about the eyes and wheezing a little, but she regarded them in cheery surprise.

‘Hallo, hallo, I know you,’ she said. ‘What brings you all the way to my little house?’

‘Miss Winkworth, we’d like to speak to you about your sister,’ said Angela.

A look of alarm crossed Miss Winkworth’s face.

‘She hasn’t taken a bad turn, has she?’ she said. ‘I hope she hasn’t caught my cold.’

‘No, no, it’s nothing like that,’ Angela hastened to assure her. ‘It’s about what happened at Greystone Chase.’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Miss Winkworth warily.

‘Your sister was a housemaid there, I believe?’ said Freddy.

‘Yes, but that was a long time ago,’ said Miss Winkworth.

‘Eleven years ago, to be precise,’ said Freddy. ‘Around the time of the murder of Selina de Lisle. We know she saw something and was paid to keep quiet.’

Miss Winkworth had gone pale.

‘I still don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said. ‘You’ve got the wrong person. Good day to you.’

She made to shut the door, but Angela produced the letter they had taken from Jemima’s coat.

‘We have proof she was paid a pension by Roger de Lisle on condition that she say nothing about what happened,’ she said. ‘It’s in this letter. I can read it to you if you like.’

‘Where did you get that?’ said Miss Winkworth. ‘Did you steal it from her? How did you get hold of it?’

‘Never mind how we got hold of it,’ said Angela. ‘It’s important evidence that might clear a man’s name and it oughtn’t to be kept hidden. Now, are you going to talk to us or not?’

Miss Winkworth seemed to sag a little.

‘Have you come to ask for the money back?’ she said. ‘Because she can’t pay it. You know the state she’s in.’

‘No, that’s not why we’re here,’ said Angela. ‘All we want is to know what happened.’