Surfeit of Lampreys (35 page)

Nigel lost no time in making his appearance. Alleyn heard him hurrying along the passage and in a moment he burst into the dining-room.

“Look here, Alleyn,” Nigel cried, “I've got to talk to you.”

“Talk away,” said Alleyn, “but not at the top of your voice and not, if you've any mercy, at great length. I'm on duty.”

“I can't help it if…” Nigel broke off and looked at Gibson. “It's—I'd like to see you alone.”

Alleyn nodded good-humouredly at Gibson, who went out.

“Now what is it?” Alleyn asked. “Have you come to tell me I mustn't speak to your friends as if there's been a murder in their flat?”

“I've come to tell you it's utterly out of the question that any of them should be implicated. I've come to save them, if possible, from opening their mouths and putting their feet in them. See here, Alleyn, I've known the Lampreys all my life. Known them well. They're as mad as May flies but there's not a vicious impulse in the make-up of a single one of them. Oh hell, I'm not going about this in the right way! I got such a damned jolt when they told me what was up that I'm all anyhow. Let me explain the Lampreys.”

“Two of their friends have already explained them, this evening,” said Alleyn. “Their descriptions tallied fairly well. Boiled down to a few unsympathetic adjectives they came to this: ‘Charming. Irresponsible. Unscrupulous about money. Good-natured. Lazy. Amusing. Enormously popular.' Do you agree?”

“Nobody knows better than you,” said Nigel, “that people can
not
be boiled down into a few adjectives.”

“I entirely agree. So what do you suggest we do about it?”

“If I could make you understand the Lampreys! God knows what they've been saying to you! I can see that in spite of the shock it's given them they're beginning to look at this business as a sort of macabre parlour game with themselves on one side and you on the other. They're hopeless. They'll try to diddle you merely to see if they can get away with it. Can you understand that?”

“No,” Alleyn said. “If they're making false statements for the sheer fun of the thing, I've completely misjudged them.”

“But, Alleyn—”

“See here, Bathgate, you'd much better stay out of this. We had the same difficulty when we first met. The Frantock case is almost seven years old now, isn't it? Do you remember how hot you were about our work over that case? Because the people involved were friends of yours? It's the same thing over again. My dear old Bathgate, it's only fun being friends with a policeman when you're not also friends with his suspects.”

“Then,” said Nigel turning very pale, “do you suspect one of them?”

“They were in the flat, together with some eight other persons of whom there are also possible murderers. We've only been four hours on the damned case and haven't had much of a chance to thin out names. I tell you quite honestly, we've only got the faintest glimmering so far.”

“I'd risk everything I've got in the world on the Lampreys being out of it.”

“Would you? Then you've nothing to worry about.”

“I know. But I'm so deadly afraid of what they may take it into their heads to say. They're such lunatics.”

“So far, beyond a few superficial flourishes they haven't behaved like lunatics. They've behaved with an air of irresponsibility, but considering that they're working under police supervision they've managed to keep their misrepresentations pretty consistent. They've displayed a surprising virtuosity. They're nobody's fools.”

“Alleyn,” said Nigel, “will you let me stand by? I'm not pretending I'm any good at this sort of thing. ‘Oh God, you're only Watson' is my cry. But I—I would like to—to sort of look out for the Lampreys.”

“I don't think I'd advise you to do it. I tell you we don't know—”

“And I tell you I'm prepared to risk it. I'm only asking to do what I've so often done before. I'll cover the case for my paper. They've actually given me carte blanche for that. Did you ever hear of such a thing? Frid said it was a nice scoop for me. And so, of course, it is,” added Nigel honestly. “Better me than one of the others, after all.”

“You may stay if you think it advisable, of course. But suppose that as things fall out we find ourselves being drawn to—”

“I know what you're going to say and I'm convinced it's entirely out of the question.”

“Then you're in?”

“I'm in.”

“All right,” said Alleyn. “Gibson!” The door opened. “I'm ready for Lord Charles, if he can come.”

Alleyn had grown accustomed to Lord Charles's walk. It recalled vividly a year out of his own past. From 1919 to 1920 Alleyn's youthful and speculative gaze had followed tail-coated figures hurrying with discretion through the labyrinths of diplomatic corridors. These figures had moved with the very gait of Lord Charles Lamprey and Alleyn wondered if at any time he had been among them. He came into the dining-room with this well-remembered air, taking out his eye-glass as he moved to the table. There was a kind of amateurish gravity about him, linked to an expression of guarded courtesy. He was one of those blond men at whose age it is difficult to guess. Somewhere, Alleyn thought, between forty-five and fifty.

“You will be glad to hear, sir,” said Alleyn, “that we have nearly finished for to-night.”

“Oh yes,” said Lord Charles. “Splendid. Hullo, Nigel. Still with us? That's good.”

“He's asked for an unofficial watching-brief,” Alleyn explained. “Subject, of course, to your approval.”

“Do you mind, Charles?” asked Nigel. “As you know, I'm Alleyn's Watson. Of course, you'll tell me if you'd rather I made myself scarce.”

“No, no,” said Lord Charles, “do stay. It was our suggestion. I'm afraid, Alleyn, that by this time you must have decided that we are a fantastically unconventional family.”

The old story, thought Alleyn. It seemed to him that the Lampreys showed great industry in underlining their eccentricity.

He said: “I think it was a very sensible suggestion, sir. Bathgate is remarkably well equipped as a liaison officer between the press, yourselves, and the police.” This remark met with a silence. Nigel fidgeted and Lord Charles looked blank. Alleyn said: “As far as your own movements are concerned we've got a complete statement. You didn't leave the drawing-room from the time Lord Wutherwood arrived until the lift returned after the injury was inflicted?”

“No. I was there all the time.”

“Yes. Well, now, I think I must ask you for some account of your conversation with Lord Wutherwood after the others left you alone together.”

Lord Charles rested his right arm on the table, letting his hand hang from the wrist. His left hand was thrust into his trousers pocket. He looked a little as though he sat for a modish portrait. “Well, Alleyn,” he began, “from what my Aunt Kit tells me and from what I have already told you and Mr. Fox, I expect you will have guessed why my brother called to-day. I was in a desperate financial case and I appealed to my brother for help. This was the subject of our conversation. My appalling children tell me they overheard us. No doubt they have given you a highly coloured account.”

“I should like to have your own account, sir.”

“Would you? Well, I told Gabriel how things were and he—ah—he read me a pretty stiff lecture. I fully deserved it. I don't know how it is but I have never been able to manage very well. I think I may plead that I've had extraordinarily bad luck. A little while ago things seemed to be most promising. I ventured into business with a very able partner but unfortunately, poor fellow, he became mentally deranged and—ah—was foolish enough to shoot himself.”

“Sir David Stein?”

“Yes, it was,” said Lord Charles, opening his eyes very wide. “Did you know him?”

“I remember the case, sir.”

“Oh. Ah yes, I suppose you would. Very sad and, for me, quite disastrous.”

“You explained all this to Lord Wutherwood?”

“Oh, yes. And of course he scolded away about it. Indeed, we quite blazed at each other. It's always been like that. Gabriel would give me hell and we would both get rather angry with each other and then, poor old boy, he would come to the rescue.”

“Did he come to the rescue this time?”

“He didn't write a cheque there and then,” said Lord Charles. “That was not his way, you know. I expect he wanted me to have a night to think over my wigging and feel properly ashamed of myself.”

“Did he promise to do so?” There was a fraction of a pause.

“Yes,” said Lord Charles.

Alleyn's pencil whispered across his note-book. He turned a page, flattened it, and looked up. Neither Lord Charles nor Nigel had stirred but now Nigel cleared his throat and took out a cigarette case.

“He promised,” said Alleyn, “quite definitely, in so many words, to pay up your debts?”

“Not exactly in so many words. He muttered that he supposed he would have to see me through as usual, that— ah—that I would hear from him.”

“Yes. Lord Charles, your children, as you evidently have heard, lay in the corner there and listened to the conversation. Suppose I told you they had not heard this promise of your brother's, what would you say?”

“I shouldn't be in the least surprised. They could not possibly have heard it. Gabriel had walked to the far end of the room and I had followed him. I only just heard it myself. He—ah—he mumbled it out as if he was half ashamed.”

“Then suppose, alternatively, that I tell you they state they did hear him promise to help you, would you say that they were not speaking the truth?”

“Somebody once told me,” said Lord Charles, “that detective officers were not allowed to set traps for their witnesses.”

“They are not allowed to hold out veiled promises and expose them to implied threats,” said Alleyn. “It is not quite the same thing, sir. I'm sure you know that you may leave any question unanswered if you think it advisable to do so.”

“I can only repeat,” said Lord Charles breathlessly, “that he promised to help me and that I think it unlikely that they could have heard him.”

“Yes,” said Alleyn, writing.

Nigel leant across the table, offering his cigarettes to Lord Charles. Lord Charles had not changed his modish attitude. He looked perfectly at his ease, perfectly aware of his surroundings, and yet he did not notice Nigel's gesture. There was something odd in this unexpected revelation of his detachment. Nigel touched his sleeve with the cigarette case. He started, moved his arm sharply and, with a murmured apology, took a cigarette.

“I really don't think there's very much else,” said Alleyn. “There's a small point about the arrival of your three elder sons after Lord Wutherwood left. In what order did they come into the drawing-room?”

“The twins came in first. Henry appeared a moment or two later.”

“How long, should you say, sir? A minute? Two minutes?”

“I shouldn't think longer than two minutes. I don't think any one had spoken before he came in.”

“You didn't at once tell them that Lord Wutherwood had promised to see you out of the wood?”

“I didn't, no. I was still rather chastened, you see, by my scolding.”

“Oh, yes,” said Alleyn politely. “Of course. That really is all, I think, sir. I'm so sorry but I'm afraid I shall have to litter a few men about the flat for a little while still.”

“Surely we may go out to-morrow?”

“Of course. You won't, any of you, want to leave London?”

“No.”

“The inquest will probably be on Monday. I wonder, sir, if you can give me the name of Lord Wutherwood's solicitors.”

“Rattisbon. They've been our family lawyers for generations. I must ring up old Rattisbon, I suppose.”

“Then that really is everything.” Alleyn stood up. “We shall ask you to sign a transcript of your statement tomorrow, if you will. I must thank you very much indeed, sir, for so patiently enduring all this police procedure.”