Ne'er Do Well (17 page)

“I find if one does one's duty, one usually has one's reward. But I'm not too scrupulous. Her written confession is going to be suppressed. At least, I hope it is. The AC will have to decide.” He glanced again at his watch and got to his feet. “And now I must go. I hope to be back tomorrow. There's only one thing.” He turned and looked at me. “The Sisters may have a visitor twice a year. I have reason to think that Sister Helena is in the deepest distress. Would you allow Mrs Chandos
–
provided, of course, she consents
–
to go to see her tomorrow? All traces, of course, will be gone.”

“She'll jump at it,” said I. “I'll take her over myself.”

“In that case, will you send a note to Sister Geneviève? To say that she may expect her at, say, four o'clock?”

“Of course.”

“Very well. I'll write it now.”

The note which he wrote at my table was simple enough.

 

Dear Sister Geneviève,

The friend of whom I spoke will arrive tomorrow at about four o'clock. Please believe and assure Sister Helena that she will tell me nothing of what transpires. Not one single word.

 

Yours very sincerely,

Richard Falcon.

 

As I handed it back
–

“Now may I write to Mrs Chandos?”

“Of course.”

“I'd rather not show it to you.”

“I'm more than content, Superintendent.”

Falcon wrote a few lines. Then he folded the sheet in two and gave it to me. As I slipped it into my pocket
–

“Will you give that to her just before she enters the Home?”

“I promise.”

“Oh, one thing more. You'd better have a card for the constable at the gates.” He took a card from his case and wrote and initialled four words.

Pass bearer without question.

R F.

 

Two minutes later Falcon left the house.

As his car disappeared
–

“Dallas was right,” said Mansel. “What a man! And she was above suspicion. Not one in a thousand would ever have looked at her. Her exalted position and her commanding presence saw to that. To raise your eyes to her was
lèse majesté
. No one but Falcon would have done it, and no one but Falcon could ever have brought it home. If murder is done in a British Embassy, the one person you do rule out is the Ambassador himself. His great position, his standing forbid any other course… I must confess that it never entered my head.”

“I thought it was Paterson.”

“So did I.”

I drew in my breath.

“But what a fearful ordeal. I'm not surprised that he was all in last night.”

“He must have prayed she'd take poison.”

“Then why,” said I, “why did he catch her wrist?”

“I think that, when she coughed, he knew it was in her mouth.”

“Out of her mind of course.”

“Say rather fanatic. It comes to much the same thing. Falcon will certainly tell us when he comes back. Apart from anything else, my belief is this. It's perfectly clear that St Amant was a most attractive man. We know he was very handsome and had a remarkable charm. Selden said, ‘You couldn't help liking Jo.' Now the Mother Superior was a nun. She was a gaunt ascetic, who many years ago had subdued the flesh. But such was St Amant's charm that she had to respond to this, against her will. He actually made her laugh… Even to her, he proved irresistible. He had stormed that seemingly impregnable fortress in which was confined her heart. He had set the prisoner leaping. That night she scourged herself. And then she perceived that such a man was a menace, the embodiment of the serpent in human guise. And so she found it her duty to put him to death. You remember how she harped upon duty. She decided that it was her duty to commit this terrible crime.”

“I've no doubt you're right,” said I. “But Falcon can't read hearts. And if he can, it isn't evidence.”

“Oh, no. There's a lot behind it. But speculation is idle. We'll have to wait for him. But, you know, it's a great achievement. And it's tied up and posted, William
–
by registered mail. No one can ever dispute it.
A dose of Mafra, such as Sir William described, has lain on your dining-room table
. And Falcon found that in her room.”

I nodded.

“And more will be found in her.” I sighed. “She's cheated the gallows, of course. And the public won't like that. But a jury would have found her insane.”

“Far better like this,” said Mansel. “I mean, if she hadn't taken her life, the subsequent proceedings won't bear thinking about. I felt quite sick when he mentioned the women police. By the way, you'll have to tell Jenny.”

“Yes,” I said. “It's my job.”

I told her upstairs in her bedroom, when she came in.

“Listen, my darling,” I said, “Falcon has been and gone. I think he'll be back tomorrow.”

“Been and gone?”

“While you were out, my sweet. He couldn't wait.”

Jenny regarded me.

“What's happened, darling? You look so terribly grave.”

“It's all over, Jenny. The Mother Superior did it.”

“Richard!”

“She confessed and then took Mafra. There's not a shadow of doubt.”

Jenny burst into tears…

I let her weep in my arms.

When she was calm again
–

“It was better that way, my darling.”

My wife did not seem to hear me. Her eyes were looking out of the window at something she only could see.

“Now it's all over,” she said, “please let me go to the Home. I think, perhaps, they'll let me see Rosemary. I'm sure she loved Lord St Amant and he loved her. Before the war, I mean. And then, when she thought he was dead, she took the veil.”

As soon as I could speak
–

“Did she hint at such a thing? When you met her at Buckram, I mean.”

“Oh, no. But I'm sure I'm right.”

Now that I had been told it, so was I.

 

At a quarter to four on Sunday, I brought the Rolls to the gates of the Nursing Home. These were shut.

A constable stepped to my side, and I showed him Falcon's card.

“That's quite all right, sir.”

He nodded to a gardener inside, who opened the gates.

As I brought the car to the doors
–

“I may be some time, my darling.”

“Jenny,” I said, “I don't come into this. You're to stay just as long as you please. I've brought a book to read and I don't care how long I wait.”

Jenny smiled and nodded.

“I thought you'd say that,” she said.

“Oh, and here's a note from Falcon. Don't tell me what he says.”

Jenny read it and nodded. Then she folded it again and gave it back to me.

As I saw her out of the car, Sister Geneviève appeared at the head of the three, low steps. At least, I was sure it was she: and when we were back at Maintenance, Jenny said I was right. I saw her greet my wife. Then they turned together and passed out of sight.

It was nearly six o'clock before Jenny reappeared at the head of the steps.

As I left the car
–

“Come, Richard,” she said.

I mounted the steps and followed her into the hall.

There a sister was standing. Again I knew who it was.

“This is my husband
–
Sister Helena.”

I bowed, but she put out her hand, and I took it in mine.

When I met her eyes, I saw a quiet, grave smile on the peerless face. Falcon was right. She might have been the Madonna.

Suddenly I felt very humble and very much of the earth. At the risk of sounding foolish, I felt I should be on my knees.

A quotation came into my mind. ‘These are they which came out of great tribulation…and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.'

For a moment we stood in silence. Then
–

“God bless you both,” she said in her low, sweet voice.

And then she was gone…

Jenny never spoke, until we were halfway home, but when we had left the grounds, she slid her arm through mine and held it tight.

At last
–

“She wanted to see you, darling. You see, she remembered me, and she wanted so much to be able to remember you. She said she would pray for us both as long as she lived.”

 

After dinner that Sunday evening, Falcon took up his tale.

“I always felt very strongly that the murder had been committed by somebody on the spot. That is why I never fancied the Duchess. But it was Sir William's letter that started me off. This, as no doubt you perceived, put quite a fresh complexion upon the case. It gave it, let us say, a new look. For it made it perfectly clear that whoever did the crime was either connected with medicine or had some connection with France. Paterson was much in my mind. But, if indeed it was he, then he was a past master of the art of roguery. I set him aside for the moment and looked elsewhere. Always excepting the Duchess
–
and I must confess that she seemed to be leading the field by a good many lengths
–
there was only Dallas left, so far as I knew. And he was bed-ridden. I decided that I must find out who else of those in the running had some connection with France.

“That was on Friday evening, not quite three full days from the time the murder was done.

“Now for Saturday morning. Until that Saturday morning, the idea, which proved the correct one, had never entered my head.

“You'll remember that the Mother Superior had asked me to come and see her at half past ten. I hoped and believed this meant that, after a talk with her, Sister Josephine was going to open her mouth. As you know, I kept the appointment and I told you all that was said. But I didn't comment upon it. Neither did you. There was one obvious comment: but when you didn't make it, I knew you were waiting on me. And I valued your reticence, for I wasn't ready to comment
–
even to you.”

(Falcon did us more than justice. Mansel and I had, both of us, noticed the point: but had dismissed it at once, as being of no account.)

“The obvious comment was this.
Why wasn't Sister Josephine there
?

“I mean, she should have been there, to tell me herself. I could have asked to see her, but that would have made it clear that I wasn't content. And that was the last impression I wanted to give.

“I hope you will try to imagine my state of mind. Without any warning at all, a flashlight had illumined for an instant a bleak and terrible prospect of which I had never dreamed.
Why wasn't Sister Josephine there
? The temptation to weigh the implications of her absence was insistent: but I knew that I must not do that. I must concentrate as never before upon the conversation about to take place. And so I did.

“I listened to every word that the Mother Superior used. I marked the inflections she gave them. I watched her face and her hands. And when it was over, I wasn't satisfied. Our relations had certainly improved: but now they seemed to me to be improving too fast. I had done my best: but now she was making the pace. ‘We were perfectly right, Superintendent.' ‘Well, now, I must make a confession.' ‘So you see, the fault was mine.' And then, at the end, she actually rallied me…

“Now, if Sister Josephine had been there, and the woman had spoken like that when the girl was gone, I should have thought nothing of it. I had been attentive on Friday
–
had spared her and Sister Helena all I could. And so she wished to convey the favourable impression she had formed of my solicitude. But Sister Josephine hadn't been there. And so I began to wonder whether the Mother Superior was playing a game
–
seeking to win my goodwill, for that, of course, is the finest defence in the world.

“As I left her room, a sudden, sharp suspicion leapt into my brain. For all I knew, she had never questioned the girl. I could hardly wait to see Sister Geneviève. And yet I knew I must wait. If she liked to come to me, well and good. If not, then I could approach her on my return.

“I walked out of the house, proposing to prove the meadows for a quarter of an hour. As I went, I surveyed the position. I wanted to be quite sure that my values were sound. You see, a sudden idea will sometimes blind the brain. It's so attractive
–
dazzling you don't see some glaring flaw that will knock it right out. But so far as it went, I could find no fault in this. And so I applied my touchstone. Had the Mother Superior any connection with France?

“At once a true flashlight flared. Of course you've already seen it. I tell you, I felt ashamed. I'd let the fact go by me without a thought. St Geneviève, of course. I think she's my guardian angel, in human shape. ‘He used to speak French with her. I don't know what he said, but one day she laughed outright.'

“Now that was of great importance. It meant two things. First, that she could speak French extremely well. Many people can speak a language that is not their own. But those who can jest in that language are very few. Secondly, it meant that St Amant knew that she was a mistress of French.

“I didn't tell you, but I went to see Dallas at once.

“‘Good morning, Superintendent. You don't come to see me for nothing. What can I do?'

“I sat down and crossed my legs.

“‘You can cast your memory back.'

“‘Oh, dear. I'll do my best.'

“‘Except for the sisters, you were the only person to talk with St Amant here.'

“‘Paterson.'

“‘True. I'm not counting him. St Amant talked to you as a fellow patient, you see.'

“‘So he did.'

“‘He spoke of France. You asked him to come and see you next time he passed that way.'