Thirteen Guests (20 page)

“It may be quite a useful thought,” answered Kendall. “Now, then, we'll go back to the house and you'll show me that passage, and the cook's room. If the poison is still in his little cupboard—well, we'll see.”

Chapter XXX

Origins of Evil

The Chinese cook was interested, but showed no emotion when he received an order to meet the inspector in his bedroom. He entered blandly, glanced at Thomas, and waited. Kendall did not keep him waiting long.

“I understand you keep some poison in that cupboard over your bed,” said Kendall, driving straight to the point.

“You tell him that?” asked the cook, glancing again at Thomas.

“Yes, he told me,” replied Kendall. “I made him. Is it true?”

The Chinaman gave a little shrug, then nodded.

“You know it is wrong?”

“To you, not to me,” answered the Chinaman.

“Are you ill?”

“Once I had velly bad pain.”

“I'm sorry. But I'm afraid I must see that poison.”

“You take it away?” inquired the Chinaman.

“I'm asking to see it.”

For a few moments the Chinaman did not move. Perhaps he was summoning philosophy to combat a grief his placid features did not reveal. Then, with another little shrug, he moved quietly to the head of the bed and took a key from his pocket.

“Don't touch the front of the cupboard!” exclaimed Kendall suddenly.

The Chinaman obeyed, carefully inserted the key, turned it, and opened the small door.

After that, something did happen to his face. Kendall was watching it in preference to the cupboard. Amazement shot momentarily into the usually inscrutable eyes. But the moment passed. The smooth features became quiet again.

“Do you sleep heavily?” inquired Kendall.

There was an alarm clock by the bed.

The Chinaman did not reply; he turned towards Thomas, whose mouth was gaping.

“Well?” said Kendall.

“I never took it—I swear I didn't!” muttered the butler, his forehead wet.

“Some one did,” answered Kendall. He addressed the Chinaman again. “Have you any idea who?”

The Chinaman remained silent, his eyes still on Thomas.

“Was he the only one you told?” Kendall demanded sharply.

“Nobody else,” replied the Chinaman.

“Do you read in bed?”

“Velly bad habit.”

“What time did you go to bed last night?”

“Eleven.”

“And went to sleep at once?”

“Yes.”

“Were you disturbed in the night?”

“No.”

“Did you wake up at all?”

“Not till the clock sound.”

“And that was?”

“Six.”

“This poison. What was it?”

“I bring it from China. You do not know it. Velly quick. No pain. Velly sensible to stop pain.”

“What was it in? Box? Bottle?”

“Little glass tube.”

“Fluid?”

“Yes.”

“Easily poured into something?”

“Velly easy.”

“Such as a flask.”

“Yes.”

“Or you could drink it straight from the tube?”

“Velly easy.”

“Thank you. That will do. Leave the cupboard open and the key where it is. You may have to find a bed somewhere else to-night. I want this room, and it will be locked. Out of it, the pair of you—and no talking!”

He followed them out and locked the door. The Chinaman faded away into the shadows, but in response to a word Thomas followed the inspector along the passage.

“I didn't take it,” repeated Thomas dully.

“I haven't said you did,” answered Kendall. “Have you anything more to tell me?”

“I don't think so, sir.”

“Think again. About Miss Wilding?”

“No, sir.”

“About Chater?”

“No, sir. At least—”

“Go on!”

“It's not important, but I don't want to keep anything back. This morning there was another little scene. He had me in his room and told me I'd got to be ready to do anything he wanted. It was shortly before they all went to the Meet. Then Bessie happened to come along the passage with a tray, and after he'd sent me out he called her in. She didn't want to go, and she was only there for a few moments. I took it that he did it to spite me, knowing how I felt.”

“Very likely. Of course, it didn't make you love him any more?”

“No, sir.”

“But that was
after
the poison had been stolen, so it wouldn't affect what happened last night.”

“Of course—that's right, sir!” exclaimed Thomas, brightening. “I'd forgotten that.”

His relief was almost pathetic.

“Then here's something to remember, Thomas,” replied Kendall, as he beckoned to the approaching sergeant. “Many people who never dreamed they could commit murder have done so through jealousy. Watch yours. It's no good. Not to anybody.”

He moved away from the butler and went to meet the sergeant.

“More fingerprint work for you, Price,” he said. “Cook's room this time. See if you can find anything on the cupboard over the bed. Also on the key to it. But I'm afraid I'm going to be disappointed—people are too wise nowadays to leave obvious clues about, and I was too late with the key anyway. Bad slip, that. Anyway, have a shot. Here's the key to the bedroom door, and see nobody else gets hold of it.”

“What was in the cupboard?” asked the sergeant.

“A child could guess,” answered Kendall. “Poison. Details later. I've got to see Miss Wilding.”

But as he reached the top of the stairs to the first floor he heard footsteps behind him. He turned and found Bultin's face looming at him languidly.

“Would a small glass tube, empty, be of any interest to you?” inquired Bultin in a bored voice.

“Where the devil did you find that?” exclaimed Kendall.

“It's in the studio,” answered Bultin, “inside the leather turn-up of Chater's hat. Oh, and you needn't trouble to interview Miss Wilding. I've had a little heart-to-heart with her, and Body No. One was her husband.”

“Oh,
was
he?” retorted Kendall. “Well, you can go and have another little heart-to-heart with her, and tell her that he wasn't! He had one wife already!”

Chapter XXXI

Almost the Truth

“Before reconstructing the events at Bragley Court which I was called upon to investigate,” wrote Detective-Inspector Kendall in the final pages of his packed note-book, “I will briefly set down certain salient facts connected with the principal dramatis personae, as revealed by the various interviews and conversations already described, or as deduced from other information or discoveries.

“Henry Chater. Professional blackmailer. (Already known.) Original name, Rawlings. Dismissed from his father's business. Served term of imprisonment under name of Green. Swore would never repeat experience. (Refer current records.) But repeated the offences. Married under name of Chater. Situation at time of visit to Bragley Court: Had Sir James Earnshaw (q.v.) under his thumb, and received invitation through him. Object of visit, to keep his eye on Zena Wilding (q.v.) in order to increase pressure on Mark Turner (q.v.). Also to find fresh possible victims. Affairs getting in a tangle. Short of cash. (Refer letter to Mark Turner.) Probably feared Turner behind cool demeanour. Probably feared Earnshaw also. May have feared others. Previous observations indicate that fear was dominant, though usually well hidden, in his character, and that his criminal habits were developed through original weakness—that ‘first slip' that leads to others—rather than through a natural bold callousness. Health not good. Fond of drink, but had been warned against strong drink. Safe deduction—unhappy with his wife.

“Mrs. Chater. No information about her. Depressed, neurotic woman, probably suffering from acute repression. Probably, or possibly, one of Chater's victims.

“Sir James Earnshaw, M.P. Public character in terror of his past. Succeeded Chater in his father's business, forged his employer's signature on cheque, was not prosecuted, but Chater in due course discovered this, using the knowledge for blackmailing purposes. Arranged Chater's invitation to Bragley Court, under pressure, but in a mood to rebel.

“Zena Wilding. Actress. Believed herself to be Mrs. Mark Turner. Met Turner three years ago on tour, had affair with him, and as result went through form of marriage. Hated him, and left him immediately, never acknowledging marriage publicly, and trying to shake him off.

“Mark Turner. Actor. Unsuccessful. Failure due to wine, women, and natural lack of talent. Never told Zena Wilding he was married, and after his affair with her, he married her in the hope that his real wife would never turn up. She did not, but Chater did, Turner's real wife being Chater's sister. This explains Chater's knowledge. Mrs. Turner died soon afterwards, but this did not make the marriage with Zena Wilding valid. Chater threatened Turner that he would expose true position to Zena Wilding, and bled Turner, who in his turn sponged on Zena Wilding. She gave him money to keep him out of the way. This was one reason why Turner wanted the truth kept from her—she would never have married him a second time, and he would have lost his hold over her. Another reason was that he continued to desire her, and retained his hope that one day she would return to him. Chater increased pressure and threatened to expose him to Zena Wilding at Bragley Court. Turner made counter-threat of following Chater to Bragley Court. Chater wrote again, explaining Turner's delicate position to him, conveying further threats, making further demands, and telling him not to be a fool. (See correspondence found in Turner's bag.)

“Leicester Pratt. Artist. Painting picture of Lord Aveling's daughter, Anne. Made suggestions to a maid, Bessie (q.v.), that she would make a good artist's model.

“Bessie Hill. Maid at Bragley Court. Definitely attractive, and engaged to Thomas Newson (q.v.).

“Thomas Newson. Butler. Mad with jealousy. No brains. Weak, impulsive, acting on the moment, and regretting afterwards. Angry with Pratt for suggesting Bessie should be a model. Angry with anybody who looks at Bessie.

“Leng. Chinese cook. Kept poison in cupboard over his bed, to put himself to permanent sleep should he ever desire it.”

Kendall paused in his writing. He had come across trouble of most kinds; had watched men suffer mentally and physically; had seen their edifices crumble to the ground. “Do any of us know what lies ahead of us?” he reflected. “Even the most confident? Shall I mark this Chinaman down a wise fellow?”

He resisted the temptation, stretched, and resumed:

“In the following reconstruction, I shall confine myself as far as possible to matter bearing directly or indirectly on the five mysteries which succeeded each other in this order: (1) the ruining of Pratt's picture; (2) the death of the dog, Haig; (3) the death of Mark Turner; (4) the death of Henry Chater; and (5) the disappearance of Mrs. Chater. Where times are mentioned, it will be understood that in most cases these are approximate.

“It is interesting to note that the particular form assumed by the tragedies moving towards Bragley Court were largely dictated by nothing more than a spasm of jealousy that had nothing whatever to do with them, but we must begin the reconstruction at just over four and a half hours before this spasm occurred, when the 12.10 train from London drew in at Flensham station. Four guests were on this train—the Rowes and Harold Taverley—but our attention concentrates on a fifth passenger who alighted. Mark Turner.

“He was not concerned with the four guests. He may have seen them leave by car for Bragley Court, but the guests he was interested in, and who he knew were due to arrive that day, were not on this particular train.

“So he waited for the next, filling in the time by taking strolls (never without the black bag he had brought with him), and having lunch at the inn by the station—the Black Stag. When at the inn he sat by the window overlooking the platform. He was in a highly-strung condition.

“But the next train, arriving at 3.28, gave him another disappointment. It brought two more guests—Mrs. Leveridge and John Foss, the latter an accidental one—but not the guests he was watching for.

“Turner did not give up. Nothing would have induced him to. He was a man with a fixed purpose from which it would have been impossible to divert him. He found that the next train would not arrive till 5.56, took another stroll (still keeping his bag with him), returned to the inn at five, and had tea. He left the inn just before the 5.56 drew in, and he saw Zena Wilding, the Chaters and Bultin alight.

“He was standing near the car that was waiting to take them to Bragley Court. He intruded himself in front of the woman who believed she was his wife—Zena Wilding. Confused and terrified (not only because she hated the man, but because his presence might interfere with her plans and Lord Aveling's interest in her), she pretended not to know him and entered the car. Chater, with sang-froid, pretended similar ignorance, and coolly offered a light to the fellow he was blackmailing. But he uttered a quiet warning and then entered the car himself. The car drove off.

“What Turner's exact intention was at the station is not quite clear. He may merely have wished, at this point, to ascertain the arrival of the Chaters and his alleged wife, or some scheme may have gone awry through accidental circumstances or the momentary loss of nerve. I am inclined to think, however, that up till now Turner's purpose was more fixed than his plan, and that he followed blind impulse when he started running after the car.

“But he did not have to run far, and it is possible that he had already noted the woman's bicycle against the gate in his previous strolls. In any case, he stole it, and probably rode it faster than it had ever been ridden before.

“He reached Bragley Court about twenty minutes after the car. Avoiding the front entrance, he found his way round to the back, and hid the cycle in a shed. The cycle was placed on a pile of straw in a dark corner, and the bag was concealed beneath the straw. Later he would need both, but for the moment he wanted to be free to reconnoitre.

“He began to approach the house from the back, passing near the studio.

“Physical passion and physical desire are at the root of countless tragedies. Nearly two hours previously it had driven another man to commit a crime (though not so great a crime as Turner contemplated), and this other man was already repenting his action. Let us at this point consider the case of Thomas, the butler.

“Pratt had twice suggested to Bessie, Thomas's fiancée, that she would make a good artist's model. Pratt may not have meant it seriously, but Thomas, the inflamed, jealous lover, took it seriously. His jealousy and possessiveness swept over his judgment, drowning it. He followed Bessie, quarrelled with her, and acting upon a sudden, uncontrollable impulse when accident gave him the opportunity, he entered Pratt's studio at a time when it was inadvertently unlocked, and ruined the picture Pratt was painting.

“He had committed this act at about ten minutes to five, while Turner was returning to the Black Stag for his tea, but the act had not yet been discovered. And now Thomas was back in the studio, wondering whether he could find any means of remedying his vandalism.

“It so happened that, also at about this time, Harold Taverley was returning from a stroll.

“Time now becomes an important element in the sequence of events, and the following time-table will explain how the clock now played its part in joining separate stories and weaving them into a tangled whole. While the exact times given below could not be sworn to in a court of law, they may be taken as sufficiently accurate to cover present purposes:

“6.33 p.m.—Turner leaves cycle in shed, concealing his bag in the straw.

“6.35 p.m.—Thomas enters the studio, and wonders whether he can get rid of the blemish he has made on the picture.

“6.38 p.m.—Turner, making his way towards the back of the house, finds himself by the studio. He hears some one behind him. This is Harold Taverley, returning from a short stroll in the wood. He dives into the studio. Thomas, terrified, imagines it is Pratt, and exclaims (with characteristic lack of intelligence), “I didn't do it!” Turner claps his hand over Thomas's mouth. Taverley moves towards studio, to look at the picture of Anne (which he dislikes), but hearing sounds assumes that Pratt is there, so changes his mind and enters the house by the back door. Either then or earlier, he has dropped a cigarette-end near the studio door.

“6.40 p.m.—Taverley meets Mrs. Leveridge by back door and gives her a cigarette.

“6.43 p.m.—Taverley enters his bedroom just as Pratt is leaving his own bedroom to go to the studio.

“6.45 p.m.—Pratt, having seen Taverley enter his room, reaches back door, and finds Mrs. Leveridge still there, smoking the cigarette given to her by Taverley. They chat for about five minutes—otherwise events would have taken a different course, and Pratt would have reached the studio before Turner had completed his business with Thomas. Mrs. Leveridge mentions that Taverley gave her the cigarette, and Pratt notices, later, the cigarette-end, of the same brand, outside the studio door. This makes Pratt at first suspect Taverley of having ruined his picture.

“6.50 p.m.—Pratt leaves Mrs. Leveridge, crosses the back lawn, and approaches the studio. By these times it will be seen that twelve minutes have elapsed since Turner and Thomas met, and during these twelve minutes Turner has taken advantage of the position to make use of Thomas. He threatens to expose Thomas unless Thomas consents to deliver a note secretly to Zena Wilding. He scribbles the note, which says, ‘Open the back door to-night at 1 a.m., or there will be murder. I mean it. I'm desperate. I must see you.' He puts the letter in an envelope, addresses it to Zena Wilding, and seals it. Thomas leaves just before Pratt arrives. Turner has no time to escape, and hides behind a big canvas. Pratt enters studio. Discovers the outrage on his picture. Does not discover Turner.

“6.55 p.m.—Pratt leaves studio, locking it and pocketing key. Finds Taverley's cigarette-end.

“6.56 p.m.—Thomas has been hovering nearby, wondering what will happen if Pratt finds Turner. Pratt now sees Thomas, and makes a grab at him, but Thomas hits him and runs. It is too dark where the encounter takes place for Pratt to identify Thomas.

“6.58 p.m.—Mrs. Leveridge has left the back door and gone inside, but Pratt now finds Chater there, talks to him, and leaves him. Chater, scenting trouble, spots Thomas, and watches him.

“7.15 p.m.—Thomas gives Zena Wilding the note as she is about to go up to change for dinner. Chater, who has spied on Thomas, suddenly appears, and contrives to see the writing on the envelope before Miss Wilding can escape with it. He recognises the writing.

“This incident had far-reaching results. Chater was designedly late for dinner, because he wanted an opportunity to search Miss Wilding's room for the note. He did not find it, for Miss Wilding burnt it. He may have found the ashes. But before taking his place at the dinner-table, he heard voices while passing through the hall, and listened to a conversation between Thomas and the Chinese cook, Leng. Thomas, in his morbid mood, was asking Leng how he would commit suicide if he ever decided to, and Leng replied that he had some painless, quick-working poison in a locked wall-cupboard over his bed.

“Whether the idea of securing the poison occurred to Chater then or afterwards is a moot point, but he did not act upon it at once. He went to the dining-room, and I incline to the theory that it was not until his encounter with Thomas at 1 a.m. that the idea came to him, or at any rate crystallised. His motive in securing the poison is also a matter for conjecture. He may have wanted it for a particular person. He may have considered that some particular person, such as Thomas, might want it for him. Or he may have considered that it would be useful to possess the poison, in case the need for it should ever arise.

“One thing we do know. When he stole the poison he left his visiting-card behind him in the form of a fingerprint.

“Before reconstructing the events of that night, let us ask why Turner, who all this while had been a prisoner in the studio, apparently made no effort to escape. He remained in the studio from the time Pratt locked him in till 1 a.m.