Traitor's Purse (6 page)

Hutch looked uncomfortable. ‘We’re not absolutely certain, sir. He didn’t do it himself, that’s one sure thing. The Chief Constable is on his way over now. More I can’t say, can I?’

‘Good Lord!’ Aubrey thrust his hands into the pockets of his loose dinner-jacket. Then he whistled and stood for a moment irresolute, staring at the blank wall. At length he turned abruptly. ‘I’ll fetch her,’ he said. ‘Mr Campion will tell you all he can. Apart from everything else this is rather unpleasant. The man lives on the Institute estate.’

He went out, leaving Campion with the two policemen. Hutch said nothing. He stood studying his notes, his head bent earnestly over the small bundle of old envelopes and loose half-sheets of paper on which he appeared to have made them. His hesitation was unnerving. Campion was fully alive to the dangers of his position. Any question about the drive home from Coachingford must, if he stuck to the story Amanda had told Anscombe, introduce the suicidally dangerous subject of hospitals. It was the delay he dreaded most. He was getting a sufficiently clear angle on himself to realize that whatever he might or might not have done, it was no ordinary straightforward crime of violence, and meanwhile there was clearly something of importance for him to do, and to do immediately, if only he could get some sort of line on what it was. What troubled him particularly
was
that he had a growing conviction that he had been nearing success when disaster had overtaken him. There was a sensation of discovery in the back of his consciousness, an impression that things were moving. Moreover, the curtain between this misery of ignorance and a very clear vision indeed was tantalizingly thin.

Hutch was looking at him with his now familiar half-smile, He was waiting as though he expected Campion to speak first. The man who could not remember took a deep breath.

‘How did Anscombe die?’ he enquired.

The policeman grinned. There was no other word for the terrifying secret leer which spread over his face.

‘We were going to ask you about that, Mr Campion,’ he said.

In the moment of paralysed silence which followed, the step in the doorway behind them came as a merciful release to Campion, and the brisk new voice sounded comfortably commonplace.

‘Hallo, Super. Mr Aubrey here? Oh, it’s you, is it, Campion? What a bad business, eh?’

It was the greeting of a familiar, anyway, and Campion turned towards the newcomer anxiously. He saw a heavy round man in early middle-age, with a distinctive ugly face and impudent eyes beneath brows as fierce and tufted as an Aberdeen’s. He conveyed energy and efficiency and the sturdy decisiveness which goes with a simple point of view and no nerves. It occurred to Campion that he looked like a man who did not believe in ghosts, but for the rest he was as much a stranger as anyone else in this new and confusing world. At the moment he was very full of the story.

‘I’m supposed to have dropped in for coffee,’ he said, ‘but the chap who let me in tells me you haven’t started to eat yet. He told me this dreadful tale about Anscombe, too. Poor old boy! He couldn’t face it, I suppose. Or am I letting cats out of bags?’

The Superintendent eyed him.

‘It wasn’t suicide, Mr Pyne.’

‘
Wasn’t
suicide?’ The newcomer seemed first astounded and then embarrassed. ‘Well, I’m glad to hear it,’ he said. ‘What a
gaffe!
Lucky there were only you two to hear me. I’m always putting my foot in it like that. There’s been a lot of gossip about, you know. You’ve heard it, haven’t you, Super? About the Secretaryship of the Masters.’

‘Seems to me I did hear something.’ Hutch was very cautious.

‘You must have done.’ Pyne’s eyes were amused beneath his tremendous brows. ‘It’s been told me in strictest confidence by everyone I’ve met in the last three months. I heard that the job, like all these hereditary offices, took a fine old packet to keep up, and that the old man was on the verge of a smash and had made up his mind to resign. Naturally, as soon as I heard he was a deader I thought he’d done it himself. One would. It breaks an old man’s heart to give up a position carrying a bit of kudos like that, especially when it’s been in the family for generations. The Bi-Annual Meeting of the Masters is sometime this week, too, isn’t it?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Is it? Very likely. They’re such a secret high-and-mighty body that they don’t trouble to publish a little thing like that.’ He laughed. ‘I like it,’ he said. ‘It appeals to the kid in all of us, that kind of mumbo-jumbo, even if it is only a sort of glorified parish council.’

The Superintendent looked frankly scandalized and Pyne, catching Campion’s eye, burst out laughing. It was a pleasant, open sound, a trifle high-pitched like his voice but full of limited humour.

‘We’re philistines, we Londoners,’ he said. ‘The Masters are sacrosanct down here in Bridge. I’m sorry, Super. I’m behaving disgustingly. Poor old Anscombe! I didn’t know him well, of course. I’d only met him once or twice. You didn’t know him at all, did you, Campion?’

‘I appear to have been the last person to have seen him alive.’ The remark seemed to be the most cautious he could make in the circumstances, but it was not altogether fortunate. Amanda, who followed Aubrey into the room at that
particular
moment, heard it and said the first and natural thing to come into her head.

‘I was there too,’ she said, ‘unless you saw him in the garden when you followed him in.’

Everybody looked at Campion. Aubrey and Hutch looked because they knew where Anscombe had died and Amanda and Pyne looked because the others were looking.

‘That’s right,’ said Campion. ‘I followed him into the garden with a parcel he’d left in the car. I didn’t catch him, though, so I put the package on the doorstep and went back.’

There was another pause after he had spoken and again it was broken by Pyne.

‘What an extraordinary thing to do, old boy,’ he said and laughed awkwardly.

Campion hesitated, remembering his reason for not ringing the door-bell, and meanwhile Amanda leapt to the rescue.

‘We were so late,’ she explained. ‘I was jittering in the car in case we didn’t have time to dress. I begged Albert not to be a moment and he wasn’t.’

‘How long would you say you were, sir?’ The Superintendent was making hieroglyphics on the back of one of his depressing envelopes.

‘I don’t know exactly. A minute and a half, perhaps. I went straight up the path and I came straight back again.’

‘You didn’t meet anyone or hear anything?’

‘No. What was there for me to hear?’

Hutch was magnificently deaf to the question.

‘I think I’ll ask you to step across with me, if you don’t mind, sir,’ he said briskly. ‘I’d just like to see exactly where you put that parcel. We haven’t come across it yet.’

‘I’ll come too, shall I?’ Amanda’s young voice was eager, as usual, and Campion found it very comforting. She at least was definitely on his side.

The Superintendent was dampening, however.

‘No, Miss – er – Lady Amanda. That’ll be quite all right,’ he said firmly. ‘I won’t disturb Mr Aubrey’s dinner party
more
than I can help. If I want any more from you I’ll know where to find you, shan’t I?’

‘You’ll come back later on, then, Hutch.’ Aubrey spoke for the first time since his return from the drawing-room and Campion, glancing at him, saw that he was annoyed by the whole situation. It was such an unexpected reaction that he noticed it and filed it for future reference. Such magnificent aloofness from the ordinary point of view was impressive. However, Aubrey caught his glance and evidently realized that he had betrayed a weakness, albeit a somewhat godlike one, for he smiled at Campion awkwardly and murmured apologetically, ‘It’s absurd, but I believe I’m worrying about my wretched duties as a host. One finds oneself doing incredible things like that.’ His complete frankness was disarming, as also was his sudden return of gaucherie. All the same he did not change his mind and Campion saw himself delivered over to Hutch, alone and unprotected.

While he had someone with him to use as a stalking horse he felt he had at least an outside chance of getting by with his damning disability undiscovered, but alone he felt that the Superintendent must detect him in five minutes. Some of his old alarm must have shown itself in his face, for as he turned from Aubrey, Pyne suddenly laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

‘I’ll come along with you,’ he said. ‘Any reason why I shouldn’t, Super?’

The touch of belligerence in the question was unmistakable and Campion was aware of Hutch’s bright eyes regarding him curiously. He forced himself to meet them squarely and to his intense relief and surprise the policeman shrugged his shoulders.

‘None at all,’ he said grudgingly. ‘We’ll go at once if you don’t mind. The Chief Constable will probably be there by now and we can’t keep him waiting.’

He led the way and they followed him, Pyne still holding Campion’s shoulder.

As Campion passed Amanda she looked up at him and winked. It was such a swift gesture and her face remained so
composed
both before and after it that he was hardly sure it had happened. At the same moment Aubrey touched her arm and drew her back into the hall towards the dining-room.

The three men made the short journey on foot. It was a ghostly night. The moon had come out of the clouds and was riding high and serene, her blunt horns cutting into the sky, but the ground-mist had become thicker, so that the Superintendent, marching along in front, looked like a ridiculous bust of himself, his head and shoulders alone clearly defined in the cold light.

They passed down the drive with the gravel crunching under their feet and out of the misty sea around them other buildings, some of them very square and modern, rose up on either side in the middle distance.

Pyne shook his head. ‘You can’t help handing it to Aubrey,’ he remarked, panting a little, for they were walking fast. ‘In seven years he’s turned this place from a museum into a living brain factory. There’s more valuable work done in these twelve acres than in any other place in the country. He’s got breadth of vision, that chap. I’ve never met such a personality, have you? It gets me every time.’

Campion hardly heard him, but his voice, friendly and matter of fact at his elbow, was very reassuring. He wondered how long he had known the man and what degree of friendship was theirs. It seemed ridiculous to think of it but they might be partners, or school-friends, or members of the same profession.

They passed through the wrought-iron gates and, turning on to an old and narrow pavement made of the thin rectangular flags of other days, they came up to the entrance through which Campion had last seen Anscombe disappear. There were several cars drawn up against the kerb and a shadowy figure in uniform came out to challenge them.

While Hutch was talking to him, Campion grew acutely aware of Pyne. The stocky man had become unnaturally still. He was standing on the pavement looking up at one of the high stone pillars of the gateway which rose up white in the moonlight.

‘Interesting?’ he murmured to Campion, and there was just a shade more than the ordinary casual question in the remark.

Campion looked at the gate pillar and saw nothing more than the heraldic leaden eagle on the top. It was a nice piece of period decoration but too small and in no way remarkable.

‘Charming,’ he said politely and turned back to the man. The light was deceptive but he thought he saw a gleam die out of the bright round eyes.

The Superintendent’s minion had stepped aside by this time, however, and the little procession moved on into the dark garden. Just before he passed behind it Campion glanced at the pillar again. He caught it at an angle and saw upon its smooth surface something he had not noticed before. His heart jolted violently and once again all the old dark anxiety, which was mingled with an exasperated yet fearful curiosity, swept down on him, strangling him like a garotter’s scarf. In shallow relief, and now outlined by the shadow which the angle gave it, the house number showed up clearly. It was a 15.

Campion’s first reaction after the shock was one of complete relief and his first impulse was to turn to Pyne as to a proven friend, a brother in some misty conspiracy and the first man in whom he could confide, but second thoughts brought misgivings. The dead man, Anscombe, had also indicated that he attached some special significance to the number, and he had not been a friend – or at least Amanda had not seemed to think so. It occurred to Campion that he was pinning a lot of faith on to Amanda. Pyne was friendly and evidently knew him well, perhaps even better than the girl. He fancied he was accustomed to having many friends. He decided to await his opportunity and put out a feeler on the subject. God knew it was as well to go cautiously!

Just then there was not much time for investigation. As he entered the drive Hutch crossed over to him and walked by his side, while, to his intense discomfort, he found that the sergeant had come up at his other elbow, separating him from Pyne.

‘Just show us exactly what you did, sir.’ Hutch spoke formally and it occurred to Campion that the words were very familiar, as if he had heard them many times before, which was absurd. He did what was required of him and pointed out the exact spot in the corner of the doorstep where he had deposited the bundle.

‘It was not a big parcel,’ he said. ‘It measured about six by five, I should think. I took it that it was a couple of books.’

Hutch seemed satisfied. ‘You just went away without ringing,’ he remarked.

It occurred to Campion that the literal truth, which was that he happened to be dressed up as a fireman and did not wish to be seen, might be misunderstood, so he repeated his original story about the hurry. The Superintendent made no comment.

‘One does things like that every day,’ said Pyne, obviously with only the best intentions. ‘They only sound so jolly fishy when something happens. You’re being damned mysterious, Superintendent. There’s no question of foul play, is there?’

‘There’s always a question, sir.’ Hutch sounded reproachful. ‘I’d like you to see him, Mr Campion. He’s been taken into the house. Lead the way, will you, Sergeant?’