Ne'er Do Well (4 page)

“I sent the constable off to bring the photographers in: and when they had done, all the stuff on the table was treated for fingerprints.

“While this was being done, the House Surgeon went away. He had things to attend to, of course, and patients to see.

“I walked out on to the terrace and, presently, down the steps. I stood there looking all round, for you never know. And then I saw a tablet, lying to the right of the steps. I was very lucky to see it, for the grass was three inches long: but the tablet had lodged halfway through. I sought high and low for another, without success. That tablet's in London now. I can't believe it will yield any finger-marks, but at least tomorrow morning I shall be told what it is.”

“That's one of the tablets,” said I, “which the night-sister put in the spoon?”

“I think so. They were taken away, and others were put in their place. Whether anyone saw me find it, I do not know. I've mentioned it to Rogers, but nobody else.

“Soon after that, the local superintendent arrived, and the police-surgeon with him. They had an ambulance with them. Paterson returned, and the body was taken away. (The two did the post-mortem together this afternoon. Portions of certain organs are being analysed now.)

“There was a built-in wardrobe. Inside were the dead man's clothes and other personal effects. A chequebook, a note-case, a gold wrist-watch, a small bunch of keys.

“I turned to Paterson.

“‘By your leave,' I said, ‘I shall take charge of these. And if the clothes can be packed, I'll take them with me when I go.'

“‘I'll see to that, Superintendent. By the way, he was wearing a ring.'

“‘I know. Please take it off this afternoon.'

“Then I asked about the night-sister.

“‘She's resting now,' said Paterson. ‘She should be asleep.'

“‘What time does she come on duty?'

“‘At eight o'clock.'

“‘Can I see her at three?'

“‘I can't say yes, Superintendent. The Mother Superior can.'

“‘I understand. Now, of the six rooms here, I see this is Number Four. Who is in Three and Five?'

“‘The patient in Number Three is in a very bad way. He's kept under morphia most of the time.'

“‘I see. And Five?'

“‘He's quite fit to be seen. A highly intelligent fellow. Rather sardonic humour. Man of the world.'

“‘May I know what he's here for?'

“‘Operation on his knee. Delayed result of a car smash a year or two back.'

“‘Capable of walking?'

“‘Oh, no.'

“‘Lord St Amant could walk?'

“‘Oh, yes. I know that he strolled on the terrace yesterday afternoon. I believe he went in and saw Dallas.'

“‘Dallas is Number Five?'

“‘Yes.'

“‘Can I see him in five minutes' time?'

“‘I'll arrange that at once.'

“I gave certain instructions to Rogers and asked the local superintendent to police both gates, for I knew that by then the Press would be on the way. And I asked him to let them know that I'd see them at half past six.”

“You always do that,” said Mansel.

“I find it pays.

“Then I walked up to the windows of Dallas' room.

“‘At last,' he said. ‘Superintendent Falcon, I think. Kenelm Dallas, at your service. I've awaited your arrival with impatience. Pray sit down in that very uncomfortable chair. Austerity is the watchword in convents today. It was not always so. If we may believe – but I stray from the matter in hand.'

“I sat down in the chair and accepted a cigarette.

“‘With impatience?' I said.

“‘Oh, don't let me raise your hopes. I have but a button to put in the offertory bag. I fear that's a solecism. Offertory is a noun.'

“‘I don't despise buttons,' I said.

“‘All in good time. And now please question me.'

“‘You knew that Lord St Amant was in the room next to you?'

“‘Not until yesterday. But he was ‘walking wounded', which I am not. And as he was passing those windows, I called to him. And so he came in and sat down. A very pleasant fellow – I wish I'd met him before. He promised to look me up next time he visited Paris. I live in France, you know. The service is more expensive, but just as good as it was. And if the money is there, the French are far too shrewd to toy with
Egalité
.'

“‘Who told you that he was dead?'

“‘Paterson. A steady, dutiful man, as no doubt you've observed. Tea is always brought to me round about six o'clock.'

“‘By the night-sister?'

“‘Yes. This morning it didn't appear. Instead, I heard goings and comings, and those, in haste. Then somebody must have felt faint, for Paterson spoke from the terrace – ‘Let her sit on the steps and see that she holds her head down.'

“‘I rang then and at last a strange sister appeared. I desired to see Paterson at once. After two or three minutes he came and told me St Amant was dead. ‘What of?' said I. ‘I don't know.' And then he was gone.

“‘Well, that gave me food for thought. It meant, of course, an Inquest, and there was a kettle of fish. Great pressure would be put upon Paterson – to which, I was perfectly sure, he would never yield – to sign a certificate. Dracona would kick with cold fury against the pricks. Sister Helena would be distraught. That's the night-sister – a very attractive girl, as you will agree.'

“‘I haven't seen her yet.'

“‘A pleasure to come. She's going to be your star turn. At the Inquest, I mean. My God, what a film this would make! Well, the day-sister brought my breakfast, which is the night-sister's job. She's older and level headed. Not even a hydrogen bomb would throw her out of her stride. Sister Geneviève. I looked at her and smiled. ‘Is Sister Helena better?' She looked at me very hard. Then, ‘I think so. She's lying down.' ‘I'm very sorry,' I said, ‘about everything.' ‘Pray for us all,' she said: and with that, she was gone. Then the local police arrived – I saw them upon the terrace: they came that way. So I had fresh food for thought.'

“‘What did you think about?'

“‘Murder,' said Dallas. ‘Till then, the question of murder had never entered my head. And so I began to cast back…

“‘I nearly always wake about four o'clock. The pain seems to call me then. So I take two japonica tablets, and after a little I go to sleep again. St Amant told me it was the same with him. This particular spot must receive some broadcast of Nature's about that time. Say rosy-fingered dawn is taking her bath. Last night I woke as usual, but when I switched on my light, I saw it was a quarter to two. Well, I didn't think much about it, but I took my tablets and went to sleep again.'

“‘Pain?'

“‘Nothing to speak of. But I thought that if I took them, I might not wake again. Nor I did – till nearly six.

“‘Well, there's my button, Superintendent. Something woke me up at a quarter to two. A footfall, perhaps. I don't know.'

“‘Windows wide open?'

“‘Yes. Often enough the sisters come in that way.'

“‘And that is all you remember?'

“‘All I remember – yes. But I have a definite feeling that there was something else. Some impression that I received. But I cannot recapture it.'

“‘When you say impression…'

“‘That's as near as I can get – for the moment. I have a feeling that I was aware of something.'

“‘Something unusual?'

“‘I can't go as far as that. It may have been nothing of importance – the rustle of a habit, for instance.'

“‘I understand. If it should return to your mind…'

“‘You shall have it at once.'

“We talked for a few minutes more, when I took my leave.

“I saw the day-sister next. She is a notable woman: and, as Dallas said, of a type that nothing could shake. If only she'd been on night duty… I mean, there's a witness for you. No Coroner's Court would faze her. Reserved, of course, but natural. But she, of course, was off duty. The Sisters have their own quarters at the back of the house. When she bade St Amant goodnight, he was in excellent form. St Geneviève, he called her. When she protested, ‘Come, come,' he said; ‘between saints…'

“‘I think,' I said, ‘that he had all the virtues.'

“‘You knew him, Superintendent?'

“‘Unhappily, only by repute. And sight, of course. I've seen him many a time.'

“‘He was the sort of man that other men die for, Superintendent. I can see any one of his servants giving his life for his. I'd only known him a week, but I would have done so gladly – without a thought. He was incomparable.'

“I made no answer to that – I didn't know what to say. After such a tribute as that, any condolences would have been out of place. Besides, she was very near tears.

“After a little, I asked if he had had visitors. So far as she knew, none. Letters? She had seen none. After all, he was only in for eight days. Pain? Not very much after the first two days. He never complained. Talked a lot of his horses. Had given him japonica tablets once or twice. But not for the night. That was the night-sister's job. She went off duty at eight and came on at eight. Retired between ten and eleven. Up at five.

“‘A long day, sister?'

“‘I think the older one gets, the less sleep one wants. I shall be sixty next month.'

“‘I'd have put you much younger than that.'

“She smiled.

“‘It's the regular life.'

“‘Sister Helena's younger, I think.'

“‘Very much younger. She's only thirty-two.'

“‘I hope to see her,' I said, ‘at three o'clock.'

“‘I'll see to that. I'm off duty, you see, from two till four.'

“‘You're very good. In another room perhaps.'

“‘I think that would be best.'

“Then I drove back to the village. The Chief Constable was at the police-station, and he and the superintendent and I had half an hour's talk. Coroner's Inquest on Friday. Well, that's all right. I arranged to see him at five, to suggest the witnesses. The Mother Superior is a by-word. An autocrat, and said to be terribly strict. The staff undoubtedly fear her. So do the tradesmen. If a workman is sent for, the man drops everything else. Her custom's worth having, of course; but it's more than that. I asked if they'd met her. The Chief Constable shook his head. The superintendent replied, ‘First time this morning, sir: and I don't want to meet her again. She might have been made of black ice. What d'you propose? she says. I said a man on the terrace and one at the gates. And the door of the room to be locked, an' the House Surgeon keep the key. My lawyer's coming, she says. If you exceed your duty, he'll deal with you. I'll say I was glad to get out.'

“The Home has a big reputation in Ne'er-do-well. Said to be very expensive. Big men come down from London to operate. Spare rooms in Paterson's house, so that London doctors and surgeons can stay the night. The sisters never leave the grounds: sometimes seen in the meadows, walking in pairs. The porteress is a tartar – the back-door one. The baker, butcher etc. have to watch their step. Their bills are never questioned, so the Home gets only the best. Plenty of fuel in the winter, though everyone else goes short. Nobody ever knows what patients are there. Some of the staff live out, but they never talk. ‘She's got them all where they belong, if you ask me.'

“Then I got through to London, to say that all was well. I never like saying much on an open line. I had some lunch and dictated a short report. I told them the name of Lord St Amant's Bank – I got that from his chequebook of course – asked them to get hold of his lawyers and arrange for a clerk to go to his place in Berkshire with one of our men. Curfew Place, not very far from Ascot. That I had got from the Home. And they had his cousin's address, as the next of kin. He's the heir. The Chief Constable's wiring to him.

“At a quarter to three I was back at the Nursing Home. I took Rogers with me and told him to see the head gardener and learn what he could. Are the grounds patrolled at night, and that sort of thing. Then I visited the men at the gates and told them to watch for the Press. ‘If any reporter gets past you, that's a dereliction of duty – I'll run you myself.'

“As I entered the house, Sister Geneviève came out of the porter's lodge. ‘Will you come this way, Superintendent?' Presently she opened a door on which was the letter C, and I followed her into a chamber which was simple, but not austere. A writing-table, a bowl of flowers and two or three easy chairs. By the window a nun was standing, looking out. As she turned, ‘Superintendent Falcon – Sister Helena,' said Sister Geneviève. Then she withdrew, and we two were left alone.

“We both said ‘How d'ye do.'

“‘What beautiful roses,' I said. ‘Your head-gardener must be an expert.'

“‘He's very good.'

“‘I rather expect that this is a consulting-room?'

“‘Yes, it is one of three.'

“‘I shall be a little time, so may we sit down?'

“She took an upright chair and set it with its back to the light. I took my seat on the arm of an easy chair.

“She's a most beautiful girl. Really lovely features and large brown eyes. High breeding stood right out, but her countenance had been refined by the holy life she had led. I've never seen a Madonna that rang so true.

“‘Sister Helena, I'm going to be very frank, and I'm sure you'll be frank with me. I'm out of Scotland Yard and I've come to try and find out why Lord St Amant died. It's a very tragic business. He was such a splendid man.' Her eyes were upon the ground, but I saw she was breathing fast. ‘Now I know that you were his night-sister. How many patients were in your charge last night?'