Ne'er Do Well (3 page)

“He lunched with us,” said Jenny, “about six months ago.”

I nodded.

“He just drove up to the house and asked if we'd give him lunch. ‘Stay the night,' said I, ‘and we'll give you a bed.' ‘I wish I could,' says he; ‘but I've got to get on.' He was plainly terribly tired, and we made him lie down after luncheon and rest till four. That he should have turned to us did me a lot of good.”

“I rather fancy,” said Mansel, “that Falcon felt the same.”

“He thanked us so sweetly,” said Jenny. “When he was leaving, he took my hand in both his. Then he said, ‘Mrs Chandos, there are only two doors in England at which, if I needed comforting, I should knock. And the other door hangs in Cleveland Row.'”

“It's nice to know that,” said Mansel. “Falcon means what he says.”

 

‘Talk of the Devil,' they say…

Be that as it may, the very next afternoon Bell came in to say that Superintendent Falcon was on the telephone.

“Chandos here, Superintendent.”

“Six months ago, Mr Chandos, you gave me a generous inch. Now I am taking an ell. Will you be so very kind as to lodge me for two or three nights?”

“With very great pleasure, Superintendent.”

“I shan't be an ordinary guest, for I'm on the job. Out and about all day. My men will manage all right at
The Crown
at Ne'er-do-well: but it's going to be rather more crowded than I should like.”

“Arrive when you please. Your room will be ready and waiting in half an hour. We're all alone, except for Colonel Mansel.”

“What more can I ask? Goodbye.”

When I told the others, Jenny clapped her hands and dashed off to prepare a room and Oakham ran barking behind her and Mansel began to laugh.

“O fortunate Falcon!” he said. “And where is Ne'er-do-well?”

“Some ten miles off. It used to be rather nice, but it's more of a bus-stop now than anything else.”

“What brings him there, I wonder?”

“I can't imagine,” said I. “It must be important, though, for him to come down.”

“Highly important,” said Mansel. “Never mind. We're going fishing. Sufficient unto the hour is the richness thereof.”

I was never much of an angler, although I enjoy the pursuit: and if my surroundings are fair, I get as much pleasure of them as I do of the taking of fish. Which means, of course, that I am not a fisherman born, as Mansel is. Still, though my catch was nothing, I recall with infinite pleasure that Wednesday afternoon.

The water was retired and private, and we were the only people to move by its precious banks. A slowly moving mirror, it rendered all that it captured as never did glass, refining the gold of the sunshine, clothing with mystery the shadows and making magic out of the sway of a leaf. Jenny lay still between us, watching the life of the stream, and Oakham lay couched beside her, his eyes on her eager face. The turf was so fine and verdant, the neighbouring woods were so full, the air was so sweet-smelling, and the pattern of light and shade so ancient and so rare. ‘Now came still evening on…'

In the last twenty minutes Mansel landed two trout, but I had nothing to show when we made our way home.

Whilst we were changing, Falcon drove up to the door. But Bell took him up to his room, while Carson took charge of his car.

“Have I time for a bath, Bell?”

“Certainly, sir. I'll turn it on before I lay out your clothes.”

“I've no dress-clothes with me.”

“The mistress said you were not to think about that.”

That was as much as I heard, but Falcon was very quick and came in, looking very nice, as cocktails were served.

We naturally asked no questions, and he never mentioned his business till dinner was over and done. And then, in the library, Falcon opened his mouth.

“I know that you'll keep my counsel, so, if you would like to hear, I'm going to tell you what I've been doing today. It's a great relief to me to be able to talk.”

Jenny spoke for us all.

“It's very nice of you to put it that way.”

I glanced at the open windows and got to my feet.

“Perhaps you're right,” said Falcon.

Before I could ring –

“Oakham, darling,” said Jenny, “will be even better than Bell.”

“So he will,” I said.

Jenny led Oakham to the windows.

“Guard the terrace, Oakham: and growl if anyone comes.”

The great dog nosed her hand and then lay down on the sill.

Falcon looked at me.

“Wainscot Hall, Mr Chandos. You know the place?”

“Three miles from Ne'er-do-well. I know it by sight. It used to belong to the Barhams. Then a convent bought it and made it a nursing-home.”

“A very exceptional Home?”

“I've heard so and I can believe it. A nun's interpretation of duty is usually very fine.”

“I imagine it's hard to get into.”

“So I'm told.”

“Did you know Lord St Amant was there?”

I shook my head.

St Amant was a fine fellow, and very popular. Born in 1919, he first, so to speak, hit the headlines in 1941. He had been reported killed in the retirement on Dunkirk. He should have been listed as ‘missing, believed killed'; but a gunner, later killed on the beaches, had declared that he died in his arms, and such was the prevailing confusion that the wrong report was made. Fourteen months later, he had walked into the British Embassy at Lisbon. So he rose from the dead. He was at that time the Hon. Joris Eyot, his father's only son. He had succeeded to the title in 1945. As Lord St Amant, horses made up his life. He had won four Classic races and had ridden in the National twice. A personal friend of Royalty, a very good-looking man, his invariably debonair manner delighted the public's heart. He was a bachelor.

“I know him slightly,” said Mansel. “He's a most exceptional man. The very mould of good form.”

“Was,” said Falcon. “He was found dead this morning at six o'clock. An operation was performed on his jaw exactly a week ago. He was in excellent health and recovering fast. In these circumstances, the House Surgeon naturally declined to give a death-certificate. More. As a result of a communication which he felt it was his duty to make to the police, the Chief Constable saw the wisdom of calling us in at once: and I arrived at the Home at eleven o'clock today.

“As you will believe, the position is delicate. The dead man is not only a peer, but an eminent sportsman and a favourite with high and low. The Home is a Convent Home and above reproach. The inevitable publicity will be for the Sisterhood a dreadful ordeal. But the Law must take its course, and if we can do it, Justice has got to be done.”

Mansel drew in his breath.

“I don't envy you, Falcon,” he said. “You're on a shocking bad wicket, and that's the truth.”

“I realize that,” said Falcon. “The atmosphere alone puts you off your game. It's so embarrassing. I feel I'm a trespasser – as of course I am. I belong not only to the world which these holy women have renounced, but to a part of that world which women who are not nuns are taught to avoid. I'm not going to say they're hostile: but I have to keep my distance. And that doesn't help a policeman to get at the truth.

“I saw the House Surgeon first. He was there to meet me, when I got out of the car. He was summoned at six o'clock from his house in the grounds. By St Amant's night-sister. He arrived in ten minutes' time. The peer had been dead for two hours, but not more than four. He had seen him the evening before at eight o'clock. He was then in excellent form and looking forward to leaving in two days' time.

“‘I'm told,' said I, ‘that you think his lordship was poisoned.'

“The fellow looked rather worried.

“‘I knew that was coming,' he said. ‘I'm afraid I spoke out of turn.'

“‘I don't agree,' said I. ‘But why do you think he was poisoned?'

“‘Well,' he said, ‘of course I examined the body without delay. No marks at all. But – well, there was something about his expression which was not natural. When you see it,' he added, ‘you'll see what I mean.'

“‘Heart?' said I.

“‘Sound as a bell. He was one of the fittest men I've ever seen.'

“‘The room's under guard?'

“‘Yes, there's a constable there.'

“‘It was you that rang up the police?'

“‘Yes. The police-surgeon came along soon after eight. While he was here, orders came through to touch nothing until you arrived.'

“We'd been talking on the steps. As we entered the hall, a nun came out of a lodge.

“The doctor said who I was, and the nun just lowered her head and turned away.

“As we moved to a corridor –

“‘Will you take me to see the Mother Superior first?'

“The man hesitated. Then –

“‘Perhaps you're right,' he said. ‘Will you come this way?'

“My reception was very cold. However, I said my piece and gave what assurances I could. She heard me out in silence. Then–

“‘I'm told,' she said, ‘that an Inquest will be held.'

“‘I'm afraid that's so.'

“‘Understand this. I cannot and will not allow any sister here to attend.'

“‘Madam,' said I, ‘that is not a matter for me. The Coroner will summon whom he wishes to come to his Court.'

“‘But he'll listen to you, Superintendent.'

“I saw my chance and jumped in.

“‘His word is law, madam: but he will decide whom to summon upon the report of the police. The more help the police are given the more help they are happy to give. I can't say more than that.'

“‘You will please recommend that none of the sisters are called.'

“‘I can't promise that. I think his lordship's night-sister will certainly have to appear.'

“‘And if I refuse to release her?'

“‘That, madam, will be a matter for the Coroner. But if it is publicity which you desire to avoid, I can only tell you that such a refusal would treble the publicity which such a case must receive.' The woman's temper was rising: for all her icy calm, I knew that one of her feet was tapping the floor. So I thought it best to speak out. ‘And now please let me say this. So grave a matter as this cannot be hushed up. Lord St Amant has died a mysterious death. I am here to find out who or what caused that death. You will receive from me the utmost consideration: but that I should not swerve from my duty is as much to your interest as mine, for it must never be thought that your House has something to hide.' That brought her up to her feet: so I went on at once. ‘And now, by your leave, the doctor will show me the room.'

“With that, I bowed and left her, and the House Surgeon followed me out.

“As we came to the door of the room –

“‘I think,' he said, ‘that I ought to tell you this. First, to the Mother Superior the utter seclusion of her flock means more than life itself. Secondly, several of the sisters used to bear well-known names. The night-sister in question was a famous society beauty some years ago.'

“‘Oh, dear,' said I. ‘Do patients recognize her?'

“‘That, I can't say.'

“Then he unlocked the door, and we entered the room. French windows, which were wide open, gave to a terrace exactly as these do here, and a constable, standing outside, looked round to see who it was. He had been warned to expect me, so all was well.

“I'll give you the layout now.

“Six rooms in a row, all giving on to a terrace rather wider than yours. Broad steps, like yours, leading down into meadows, and, four hundred yards away, a country road. At either end of the terrace a wing of the house, so that the terrace is sheltered, except from the South. These rooms are reserved for male patients. In the recent, hot weather the windows have stood wide open, day and night.

“When I looked at the dead man's face, I saw at once what Dr Paterson meant. It wore a look of something more than surprise. It looked as though he had felt some strange sensation for which he could not account – and in that moment had died. His arms were bent and his hands were drawn up, palm downward upon the bed, as though he'd meant to raise himself up. But he hadn't had time.

“I looked at Paterson.

“‘He was asleep and woke to find his life ebbing.'

“‘That's the impression I have.'

“I went over the room. It was easy enough to inspect, as you will believe. Very simple, very clean. On the table beside the bed were a bell-push, a novel, a box of cigarettes, a lighter, a glass half full of water, and a dessert-spoon.

“I asked the doctor what the spoon was for.

“‘Probably,' he said, ‘for tablets. Of the nature of aspirin. No patient is given the bottle, but two or three tablets would be placed in the bowl of the spoon.'

“‘Was he taking tablets?' I said.

“‘Yes. He still had pain, and it used to wake him up.'

“‘I see. Was the pain severe?'

“‘Oh, no. But enough to keep him awake, unless relieved.'

“‘Was the bone diseased?'

“‘No, it was perfectly healthy. For no apparent reason a cyst had formed. That had to be cut out, or, sooner or later, the jaw would have broken in two. Spontaneous fracture, we call it. If it's properly done, the bone soon grows again.'

“‘Please tell me about these tablets you said he might have.'

“‘They're the latest thing, and they're called japonica. We use them all the time. They're harmless and swift in action. They have no ill effects.'

“‘Could a number be fatal?'

“‘Perhaps, if you took about thirty and had a weak heart. But the sister will only give them every two hours.'

“‘Any possibility of mistake?'

“‘None. All dangerous drugs are locked in a plate-glass case of which I have the key.'