Crime at Tattenham Corner (16 page)

We understand that Peep o' Day, the late Sir John Burslem's wonder colt, who was scratched for the Derby at the last moment owing to the owner's lamented death, has finished his racing career. He has been sold by Lady Burslem to Señor Ramon da Villistara, one of the biggest breeders in Argentina, for £45,000. Peep o' Day will leave by an early boat and on reaching La Plata will proceed at once to the Ramon da Villistara stud-farm, which with the adjacent
estancia
stands some distance north of Rosario da Santa Fe. It is rumoured that Señor da Villistara has decided that Peep o' Day shall serve only his home mares. Enormous fees are said to have been offered by other owners and to have been refused by the Señor, who possesses some of the finest brood mares in the world. The breeding of Argentine racehorses is Señor Ramon da Villistara's great hobby, and it is for the furtherance of this and the introduction of the best English strain that Peep o' Day has been purchased.

“Is there any truth in this paragraph?” inquired Mrs. Aubrey Dolphin, tapping the
Daily Wire
smartly with the cigarette she was about to light.

The two sisters – she and Lady Burslem – were sitting in the latter's sitting-room at 15 Porthwick Square. To the general surprise Sophie Burslem had persisted in staying in town all through the summer, even when the exigencies of the inquest would have allowed of a visit to the country.

For the inquest had formally concluded now, in a very unsatisfactory fashion, since the verdict that Sir John Burslem had been shot but that by whom the shot had been fired there was no evidence to show.

“Most unsatisfactory verdict,” the public called it and raised a great outcry about the supineness of the police and the deficiencies of the C.I.D. These sentiments were coupled with adverse comments on the non-discovery of Sir John Burslem's murderer and scornful inquiries as to what had become of his valet, Robert Ellerby. It spoke volumes for the failure of our police system that a house and its inmates should be under police observation and that a man should absolutely disappear from that house and that the C.I.D. should find no trace of him, dead or alive.

But these scathing comments of the public, like the police investigations, produced no result, and the whereabouts of Robert Ellerby, like the question of the murderer of Sir John Burslem, remained a mystery.

The widowed Lady Burslem remained in seclusion and grew thinner and more shadowy looking day by day. The tragic look in her eyes went to the hearts of those who loved her. But she spoke of her excellent health and invited no sympathy. So far as Inspector Stoddart had been able to ascertain, there had been no attempt at communication either on her side or Sir Charles Stanyard's. And the inspector's thoughts were more often busy with the person to whom the half letter of Lady Burslem's that Forbes had brought to him had been addressed than he would have cared to confess.

Mrs. Dolphin rapped the paper again and repeated her question:

“Is there any truth in this paragraph?”

Lady Burslem glanced at the paper listlessly.

“About Peep o' Day? Oh, yes, he is sold to Villistara.”

“You got a good price for him,” Mrs. Dolphin remarked. “But I wonder whether Sir John would have liked him to go to Argentina? He was so proud of Peep o' Day, and so anxious that English racing should prosper always.”

“Ah, he quite approved,” Lady Burslem said at once. “He – you know I get into communication with him through Kitty, Mrs. Jimmy Burslem. She has séances at her house nearly every week, and they almost always manage to get through to him.”

“Really, Sophie.” Mrs. Dolphin sat back in her I chair and crossing her legs gazed at her sister in amazement as she lighted her cigarette – “how you can talk such arrant nonsense amazes me! Is it likely that John, who detested Mrs. Jimmy in his life, should spend his time in communication with her after his death?”

Lady Burslem's lips quivered slightly. “Death alters everything. Heaven forbid that we should take our enmities and dislikes into the next world. And John lets me know his wishes through Mrs. Jimmy.”

“I expect his wishes mostly concern Mrs. Jimmy's,” said Mrs. Dolphin sceptically. “Give poor Kitty a tenner or something of that sort, probably. I suppose you will be told to give her a good piece of Peep o' ‘Day's price.”

“I don't think so,” Lady Burslem dissented. “A good deal of that will be invested in Argentina. John had a great belief in the future lying before that country when its resources are fully developed.”

“Had he really?” Clare Dolphin's tone was not convinced. “Did he say so in his lifetime? Or did he communicate this belief of his through Mrs. Jimmy?”

“Oh, I have heard him say so heaps of times,” Lady Burslem said decidedly. “And I don't think you should scoff at communication with the dead, Clare. Look at all the clever people who do believe in it: Oliver Lodge and – and heaps of others.”

“I was not scoffing at communication with the dead,” Clare Dolphin said, regarding her sister with pitying eyes. Heaven forbid that I should. But I don't imagine that Sir Oliver Lodge has much to do with Mrs. Jimmy's little game. What I object to is her exploitation of you for her own ends.”

Lady Burslem drew her lips together in an obstinate line with which her sister was only too familiar. “I don't agree with you at all. I am getting quite fond of her. She has done everything she could to help me since John's death.”

“And that is precious little, I expect,” Mrs. Dolphin remarked. “Well, Sophie, I am sorry you have taken this quite extraordinary liking to Mrs. Jimmy. But we cannot all think alike. I want to know where you are going abroad and when. Now that this tiresome business is over I suppose you can go when you like.”

“I suppose so,” Sophie said languidly. “Oh, yes, of course I can. But there is a lot of business to be done in connexion with John's affairs. Still I must have a change. Forbes is going next week and I have engaged a new maid, an Italian. So I think I shall go to the Italian lakes first, then work round to Biarritz and perhaps go on to Madrid. I have always wanted to see the Escorial.”

“I don't think that is at all the kind of change you want,” Clare Dolphin said decidedly. “Racing about like that! And who are you going to take with you, may I ask? I am sure you are not fit to go by yourself, and I could not possibly manage it. I must go to Scotland with Aubrey. He will not hear of anything else. If you would come with us –”

Lady Burslem shook her head. “You are very kind, but I couldn't,” she said decidedly. “I was there, you know, last year, with him – John. I must go somewhere I have never been before – somewhere I can try to forget.”

Mrs. Dolphin shrugged her shoulders. “Well, if that is how you feel I can do nothing. But you will take Pam.”

Sophie smiled faintly. “How we should both hate it! No, Pam will go to her friends, the Stanmore- Greens, probably yachting. I shall be all right.”

“You cannot go with only a maid – a strange maid too!” Mrs. Dolphin's eyes were wide with amazement.

Lady Burslem's smile deepened, though there was little enough of real amusement in her eyes.

“Why not? You seem to forget that I shall be alone – always – now.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Do not be a sentimental idiot, Sophie!” reproved her sister, delicately flicking her cigarette ash into the tray. “You have had your time of mourning for John Burslem – quite long enough in my opinion – and now it is your duty for your own sake and that of your relatives to pull yourself together and buck up. And as for being alone always – rot! You may have been fond of your husband, no doubt you were – a great deal fonder than I ever gave you credit for being, for that matter – but you are young, you have your life before you. As for being alone always – well, I expect you will tell a very different tale this time next year. Of course you will marry again and have children of your own, and –”

“Clare!” Lady Burslem sat up, her cheeks flushing, her eyes sparkling with anger. “Once for all, I shall never marry again. Please to understand that. It is wicked of you – wicked to suggest such a thing.” Mrs. Dolphin regarded her sister with unmixed amazement.

“Very well. Do not excite yourself, my dear girl. For the future the subject shall be strictly taboo. But we shall see.”

Two little vertical lines that were new, and yet were rapidly becoming habitual to Sophie's brow, deepened now.

“You certainly will,” she said coldly. “But now, Clare, I have to see Mr. Burrows on urgent business. He rang me up just before you came.”

“And who in the world is Mr. Burrows?” Clare Dolphin inquired, staring at her sister.

“The manager in the City,” Sophie said quietly. “At least the manager of one of the departments. John himself was his own general manager of course. And he gave me so many lessons that so far I have got on fairly well. But I shall have to look out for another manager soon. It is almost too much for me.”

Clare Dolphin drew a long breath.

“I should jolly well think it was. I am sorry for John's business if you are going to have much to do with it. I remember what a mess you always made of your accounts when we were girls and had to manage our own allowances.” 

“This is a very different matter,” Lady Burslem said listlessly. “John always said I was the best pupil he ever had, and I have had the most complicated papers sometimes to go through. They say down at the office I am quite wonderful.”

“So I should imagine!” her sister said dryly. “I wonder how many more surprises you have in store for us, Sophie.”

“I don't know,” Sophie said carelessly. “But I must see Mr. Burrows. You can stay in the room if you like. It is something about some minerals that are only to be found in the Urals. We must get the sole rights if it is possible to come to any permanent agreement with the Russian Soviet Government.” Clare Dolphin's eyes opened wider than ever.

“I shall certainly stay in the room and hear your conversation with this Mr. Burrows,” she said decidedly. “Urals – and minerals and Soviet governments! I shall find it most intriguing, I am sure.”

They waited a few minutes in silence until Mr. Burrows was shown in. He carried a portfolio of papers and looked what he was, a prosperous business man. Lady Burslem introduced him to her sister and then drew her chair up to a small table. Mr. Burrows placed his papers upon it and began to make his explanations in a low voice. To Mrs. Dolphin all that she could hear appeared to be so much Greek. She was amazed to find her sister, though speaking little, making her few observations in a thoroughly capable, intelligent fashion, evidently meeting with Mr. Burrows's entire approval.

At last he rose and gathered his papers together. Lady Burslem laid her hand upon them.

“You must leave them with me for a few days, Mr. Burrows. I never seem to grasp things until I have gone into them by myself.”

Mr. Burrows bowed. “It is, of course, important that you should perfectly understand both what we want and the concessions and securities that we are prepared to offer, and to accept from the Soviet Government. You will see –”

Clare Dolphin could contain herself no longer.

“Really, Sophie, how did you get to know anything of the Soviet Government or – or concessions or anything?” she burst out.

“I told you John taught me,” Lady Burslem said simply.

The manager turned to Mrs. Dolphin. “Lady Burslem is a marvellous woman. Her grip and insight into business affairs is simply wonderful. And when it comes to international complications Sir John himself could not have had a clearer vision. Really, I say sometimes it is like what they say in the Bible – the mantle of Elijah hath fallen upon Elisha. Certainly the spirit of Sir John seems to speak through Lady Burslem. She makes rough notes on the margin that might have been written by Sir John himself. Sometimes it seems to me that even her writing is getting like his. Last time when the deed came back, if I had not known, I should have said one of the side notes had been written by Sir John himself. It was just his turn of the ‘s'.”

“H'm! Well, it becomes more and more astonishing,” said Mrs. Dolphin, getting up. “She never could write for nuts. You know the awful scrawl you used to perpetrate, Sophie.”

“Now,” said Inspector Stoddart, “we shall have things our own way, and if there is anything to be found in 15 Porthwick Square we shall find it.” He rang a loud peal at the door of Sir John Burslem's town house as he spoke.

Lady Burslem had been as good as her word. She had departed for Italy with only her maid and a courier. The household staff had been given an indefinite holiday with wages and board wages. And though, as Elsie Spencer had said, all the servants had been warned that they must keep in touch with the police, they had departed to their several destinations well pleased at the prospect of leaving 15 Porthwick Square and its gruesome secrets behind. The house was now in the hands of caretakers. Rumour had it that before long it would be put up for sale, as Lady Burslem had been heard to say that she could not stand the prospect of living in it alone. As soon as the inhabitants were well out of the way Inspector Stoddart had applied for a search-warrant and obtained it, and he and Harbord were now on their way to put it into execution.

The door was opened after a delay which raised the inspector's ire, and a woman in a rusty black gown appeared. Inspector Stoddart recognized her at once as of the old-fashioned caretaker type. He stepped inside, Harbord following.

“It is our duty to go through this house. We shall disturb you as little as possible.”

The woman looked thoroughly taken aback and tried to put herself in the way.

“It is more than my place is worth, sir, to let you in. It is her ladyship's orders that no strangers are to be allowed in the house at all while she is away.” Inspector Stoddart held out his card.