The Affair of the Thirty-Nine Cufflinks (30 page)

'No! Nothing like that.' Timothy shook his head vigorously. He took out his handkerchief and dabbed at his lips. He cleared his throat. 'I'll tell you what did happen. I went upstairs at about 11 p.m. and straight to my bedroom. I undressed and then went to the bathroom next door. As I was leaving it, I saw someone coming out of Clara's room. I was surprised, but at that moment not unduly so. They didn't see me, just turned away and went round the corner into the east corridor.'

'And that would have been around ten or fifteen minutes past eleven, sir?'

'Yes.'

'Please carry on.'

'When I returned to my room, I found that somehow what I had seen had unsettled me. It seemed to me in retrospect that there had been something hasty and rather furtive about that person's movements. I wondered if the purpose of the visit could be something to do with Clara's threat. That caused me to start worrying whether she had had me in mind when she made it. I tried to read but I couldn't concentrate. I wasn't able to get Clara's words out of my mind. It was then I thought of a warning message. I always carry a little writing case with me and I keep a few postcards in it, as well as writing paper and envelopes. I spent some minutes composing a suitable form of words and then made my way to her room.'

'What time was this, sir?'

'I cannot be precisely sure. Probably between eleven forty- five and eleven fifty.'

'Carry on.'

'I meant just to push the card under her door. But the door fits very tightly and it wouldn't go under. There was no light coming through the keyhole, so I decided to risk going in. I left the door open behind me an inch or two, which gave me just enough light to see the position of the bed and not to bump into anything. I crept across to the bed and put the card on the bedside table. Everything was absolutely silent. I suddenly realised it was too silent. I have exceptionally sharp hearing and I should have been able to hear her breathing, but I couldn't. I became alarmed. I took a chance and switched the bedside lamp on. I saw Clara, just as you saw her later, Chief Inspector: lying across the bed, plainly dead, almost certainly murdered, and obviously by the person I had seen leaving the room. It was a frightful shock and I have to admit I did panic. I should, of course, have raised the alarm immediately, but my only thought was that I might be suspected. After all, what reason could I give for having gone to her room, after she was asleep? So I decided to return to my own room to try and think what I should do. I opened the door very cautiously - and actually saw the same person as before going down the stairs. I waited until the coast was clear, and hurried to my room. Then I remembered the card, which in my confusion I had left on the bedside table. It would serve no purpose now Clara was dead, might mislead the police, and — most important from my point of view — would almost certainly have my fingerprints on it.'

'There were no prints on it,' Wilkins said.

'No, later I remembered that before I went into Clara's room I noticed that the card had got quite dusty and dirty from my efforts to force it under the door. So I gave it a wipe all over with my handkerchief. Thereafter, I must have only held it by the edges, though I wasn't conscious of doing that. I knew I had to get it back, and I was also trying desperately to think of some way of directing suspicion onto the person to whom it belonged. But I had absolutely no proof of what I had seen earlier and if I mentioned it to you, it could easily seem that I was simply attempting to divert suspicion from myself. Moreover, I would have to explain why I was up. It occurred to me that if I could put something belonging to that person in Clara's bedroom, that might point the police in the right direction. George's talk about cufflinks at dinner gave me the idea. If, while that person was still downstairs, I could obtain one of his cufflinks and leave it by the body, that might do the trick. This person—'

Wilkins interrupted. 'Mr Saunders, this constant talk of a person is nonsensical. Concealing things doesn't do your credibility any good. Now, tell me who it was you saw.'

'Very well. It was Gregory.'

Wilkins looked across to where the MP was standing by the fireplace, but he didn't react in any way.

'Carry on, Mr Saunders,' Wilkins said.

'There is little more. I took a chance. I went to his room. It was still empty. I took a cufflink and left it in Clara's bedroom. I should point out that everything I did was intended to further the ends of justice.'

Gregory came forward slowly. 'No doubt my learned cousin expects me to splutter a lot of indignant denials. But why should I? Yes, I looked in to see Clara on my way to bed. To tell you the truth, I felt a bit sorry for her. She'd been bitterly disappointed and humiliated by the will and on top of that had made a complete fool of herself. She'd been stuck alone in her room all the evening, and I just wanted to show her that as far as I was concerned there were no hard feelings. I think she was grateful. We chatted for about five minutes. When I left her, she was perfectly well and I think a little more cheerful. The idea that there was something hurried or furtive about my movements is the fantasy of an over-active imagination.'

'What did you talk about?'

'I commiserated with her, said I didn't think Florrie meant to insult her, but was relying on the girls to see she was all right - nonsense, of course, but one has to say something - and that Florrie was very old and getting perhaps a little eccentric, and that she mustn't take it to heart. She thanked me, congratulated me on my few words at the funeral, said how kind Lavinia had been, and so on.'

'Her threats at the reading weren't mentioned?'

'No, I thought it was well to stay clear of them. As I was leaving, she did say she was very sorry about everything. A bit ambiguous, but that must have been what she was referring to.'

'And this was at about ten or fifteen minutes past eleven?'

'I suppose so. I couldn't say precisely.'

'Why didn't you mention this before?'

'Suppose I should have done. But I thought about it carefully and decided that it was quite irrelevant to your investigation. So I asked myself, why complicate things? Might look suspicious if I said I'd been to her room.'

'Not nearly as suspicious as keeping silent about it, sir.'

'I can't see it as suspicious. I went into her room while she was still up. I left openly, without even looking round to see if I'd been observed. I didn't creep into her room in the dark, for the purpose of leaving a frightening anonymous note, and then run like a scared rabbit back to my room and sit quaking in my shoes, without telling anyone, when I found her murdered — which is what Timothy says he did. He then goes on to say, simply on the grounds of seeing me leave her room half an hour earlier, that I was 'obviously' the murderer. This from a reputedly top rank barrister. Let's all hope to heaven he never sits on the bench. He'd be another Judge Jeffries! Worse, in fact: at least Jeffries never actually killed anyone with his own hands.'

'How dare you!'

Timothy positively bellowed the words. He jumped to his feet and strode towards Gregory, who took a hasty step backwards. Leather quickly and silently strode across the room, until he was standing a foot or two behind Timothy. Wilkins reached into his pocket, produced a boiled sweet, unwrapped it, popped it in his mouth, folded his arms and watched interestedly.

'You murderer!' Timothy shouted, seemingly totally out of control. 'You did kill her, you blackguard! She knew all about your kept woman in St. John's Wood. She was going to tell the papers. You went to her room to try and threaten or bribe her out of it, and when you couldn't you killed her.'

Gregory's face took on the colour of ripe beetroot. 'Liar!' he yelled. 'It was your drunken orgy she was going to tell about.'

'
Drunken orgy
? What the devil do you mean?'

'What else does that photo show?'

Timothy's eyes bulged. 'How do you know what that picture shows? It was you - you sent it!'

He started to make a lunge at Gregory. But Leather was quicker. In a flash his right arm had gone round Timothy's neck and his left under Timothy's arm and he had the lapels of his jacket in a firm grip. Timothy made a series of convulsive movements, desperately trying to break the hold, but without success. 'Give it up, sir,' Leather said quietly. 'I'm a fourth Dan.'

Timothy tapped the back of Leather's hand, and Leather immediately released him

Timothy coughed, then swung round to Wilkins. 'Ask him. Ask him how he knows about that photo.'

'No,' Gregory positively snarled. 'Ask him why he's so desperate to pin the murder on me.'

The next second they were shouting at each other again. Hardly a clear word could be picked out.

Wilkins raised his hands. 'Gentlemen, please.'

They ignored him. 'Please, please,' he repeated, but there was no effect.

Wilkins took a deep breath, '
SHUT UP
!'

His low, resonant voice filled the room. Gregory and Timothy both gave a start and at last fell silent.

'Thank you,' Wilkins said. 'I would remind you, gentlemen, that we are all guests of Lord Burford, whose daughter is at this moment lying unconscious upstairs, perhaps fighting for her life. Is this appropriate behaviour?'

They both had the grace to look guilty.

Timothy spoke first. 'No, it is not and I'm sorry. I rarely lose control, but the situation is somewhat exceptional.'

'I apologise, too,' Gregory said. 'My only excuse is that it is hard to remain calm when you can see the possibility of being charged with murder.'

'Very well,' Wilkins said. 'Let's see if we can get to the bottom of what did happen that night. Mr Carstairs, Mr Timothy has said he planted one cufflink in Mrs Clara's room. I suppose it was you who planted the other thirty-eight?'

'Don't know what you're talking about, Wilkins.'

'Then let me make it simpler. When did you first notice one of your cufflinks was missing?'

'None of my cufflinks is missing. Only brought one pair with me and I'm wearing them. See.' He pulled down his shirt cuffs to reveal a pair of gold links.

'I wonder if you would show those to Lord Burford, sir.'

Apparently with some reluctance, Gregory crossed to the Earl and held out his wrists. Lord Burford peered at the links. 'Why, those are mine. Recognise them anywhere. But do hang on to them, by all means. Now, please all excuse me. I must get back to Gerry.' He hurried out of the room.

'Seems pretty conclusive, sir,' Wilkins said. 'But before you comment, I want to say one thing to both you and Mr Timothy. You've both concealed things and hindered my investigation. If you hadn't done so, the case might have been solved before this. And I warn you that if there are any more lies or concealments I shall have no hesitation in charging you with obstructing the course of justice, which would do neither of your careers any good. Now, the full truth, if you please, sir.'

All right.' Gregory seemed suddenly to have shrunk an inch or two. He sat down on the arm of an easy chair and ran his fingers through his rather sparse hair. 'I went upstairs about a minute after Timothy and stopped in to see Clara, exactly as I told you, and afterwards went on to my room. I got all ready for bed but I couldn't settle down and after about fifteen minutes I decided to go and help myself to a drink. I put on my dressing- gown and went downstairs. Geraldine and Dorothy were in the drawing-room but I didn't feel correctly attired to join them. I knew there were some drinks kept in the billiard-room, so I went there and had a Scotch and soda - well, two to be quite accurate - and smoked a cigarette. I stayed down there about fifteen or twenty minutes, and then started back upstairs. I had nearly reached the top when I saw Timothy in the act of closing Clara's door. He had his back to me and hadn't seen me. There were dim lights in the hall and in the corridor, but nothing on the stairs, so I retreated half a dozen steps, until I was more or less in shadow. The next second I saw him practically run across the top of the staircase, going towards his room. I imagined he'd been trying to persuade her to keep quiet about whatever it was she knew about him. Well, I wanted another word with her myself—'

Wilkins interrupted. 'Why, sir?'

'What?'

'You'd had a reasonably pleasant conversation with her earlier, parted on good terms, so why did you want to see her again? Was it because
your
attempt to persuade her to keep quiet had failed and you wanted another go?'

Gregory hesitated. 'Not exactly. I hadn't tried to persuade her to keep quiet earlier, but I admit I did try to pump her. She was like a clam, though. I don't believe now she knew anything at all, but at that time I was convinced she did, and I decided it would be worth one more try to find out what, and what she intended to do. I had assumed she'd be asleep, but now it seemed clear she wasn't. I tapped on her door but there was no reply. That surprised me, because it was less than a minute since Timothy had left. I knocked a bit louder and when there was still no answer I opened the door. The light was out and I began to think this was rum. I turned on the light and, well, you know what I saw. I needn't bother to tell you my emotions. I closed the door behind me but apart from that just stood there, more or less rooted to the spot, trying to think, for five or ten minutes. It was plain Timothy had killed her - or else why wouldn't he have raised the alarm immediately? I was going to do so myself, but then I wondered if somebody might have seen me going in there earlier. I had absolutely no proof that I had left Clara alive and well, or that Timothy had been in there after me. What was more, as an MP, I would obviously be by far the most likely person to want to cover up any so-called guilty secret. But I just couldn't concentrate, with Clara lying on the bed like that, staring up at me. I had to go back to my room, to work out what to do.

'Almost as soon as I got there, I noticed something. When I'm staying in a place for just the one night, I don't usually bother to put my clothes away overnight. I'd brought a clean collar for the next day, of course, but no spare shirt, and I'd thrown it over the back of a chair. My tie, this black tie, had been on top of it. Now it was on the floor. Somebody'd been in there. I had a look round, to see if anything was missing - and at once noticed that one of my cufflinks, which I'd left half in the cuffs, ready for the next day, was gone.