Why Shoot a Butler (20 page)

Fountain nodded somewhat gloomily. "Yes, I expect he will," he agreed. "I shall be in all the morning."

"Well, if that's all," said Anthony, "I'm going back to bed. And I'd like to take a gun with me. I should feel happier."

"I'm sure I'm not surprised, sir," said the sergeant cordially.

"You come with me, Sergeant," invited Anthony. "What we both need is a drink."

Fountain was roused to his duties as host. "Of, course. What am I thinking about? You'll have a drink too, won't you, Amberley?"

Amberley declined it. The sergeant, eyeing him somewhat aggrievedly, murmured something about regulations, but allowed Mr. Corkran to persuade him. When he came back he was wiping his moustache and seemed to be on the best of terms with Anthony. As he drove away from the manor he informed Mr. Amberley that he didn't know when he had taken such a fancy to a young gentleman. "And what's more, sir," he said confidentially, "though I don't say he's right, there might be something in that idea of his about a homicidal maniac. After all, sir three murders, without any rhyme or reason to them. What do you think?"

"I think you and Mr. Corkran were made for one another," said Amberley. "The murders were not all committed by the same man. Dawson was killed by Collins."

"Eh?" The sergeant was startled. "But you never seemed to make much of Collins, Mr. Amberley! I've suspected him all along, but you…'

"The trouble is, Sergeant, that you suspected him of the wrong crime."

"Oh!" said the sergeant, rather at sea. "I suppose you mean something, sir, but I'm blessed if I know what. Did you make anything of what we heard up there?" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the manor.

"There were one or two points," replied Ambericy.

"That's what I thought, sir. I don't mind telling you I got my eye on that butler. I'd like to find out a bit about him. He'll bear watching. Crops up out of nowhere, so to speak, and knows more than what you'd expect. Not at all surprised to see us, he wasn't. Might have been expecting us. Well, I got a feeling about him, and when I get a feeling I'm not often wrong. That's your man, Mr. Amberley, you mark my words!"

Amberley glanced enigmatically towards him. "You've a marvellous intuition, Gubbins."

"Well, that's as may be, sir. But you wait and you'll see I'm right."

"I think, Sergeant," said Mr. Amberley, swinging round a sharp bend, "that you are nearer the truth than you know."

Chapter Fifteen

Felicity, upon hearing the news at breakfast, at once declared her intention of going over to see Joan that morning. Sir Humphrey accused- her of a morbid love of horrors, which imputation she quite blithely admitted. Sir Humphrey himself was very much shocked by what had happened and forbore to rate Frank for disturbing him in the small hours. Although he had so frequently asseverated that he took no interest in crime when not seated in judgement upon it, crime in Upper Nettlefold was assuming so wholesale an aspect that he was induced to inquire into it. From his nephew he got no more than the bare facts, which he said (several times) were shocking.

Mr. Amberley left the breakfast table in the middle of Sir Humphrey's dissertation on hooliganism in These Modern Times, pausing only to recommend his uncle to send his views to one of the Sunday papers. He told Lady Matthews not to expect him to lunch and went out.

Sir Humphrey, cut short in this summary manner, spoke bitterly of the lack of manners of the younger generation. His wife heard him out patiently, merely saying when he had done: "Never mind, my dear. Poor Frank! So worried."

"Was he, Mummy?" Felicity looked up.

"Yes, darling. Of course. Such a lot on his hands. I shall come with you this morning."

Sir Humphrey demanded whether she too had become obsessed with a morbid mania for horrors. She replied placidly that she had not, but she wanted to be driven into Upper Nettlefold.

"Do you mind going to the manor on the way back, mummy?"

"Not at all," said Lady Matthews. "Poor Ludlow. A hundred and two."

"A hundred and two what?" snapped Sir Humphrey.

"I forget, dear. Point three, I think. Temperature, you know."

Felicity was surprised to find, when she and her mother set out, that Lady Matthews' main objective was the Boar's Head. She was curious to know what she wanted to do there, but all Lady Matthews would say was that she wished Shirley Brown to come back to Greythorne.

Felicity had not imagined that her mother would feel so much interest in a stranger as reticent as Shirley. She looked rather sharply at her and accused her of having something up her sleeve.

Lady Matthews requested her to look where she was going. Felicity obeyed, but kept up the attack. She knew her mother very well and was aware that in spite of her vagueness Lady Matthews was often disconcertingly shrewd. She began to suspect that Frank had confided in her. It seemed unlike him, but she knew that he held her in considerable respect. Lady Matthews, however, denied that Frank had told her anything. Pressed further she became so inconsequent in her answers that Felicity gave it up.

Shirley was in the lounge when they arrived at the Boar's Head. It struck Felicity that she had a stunned look and that her smile of welcome was forced.

Lady Matthews said simply: "My dear, very uncomfortable for you here. Come back to Greythorne."

Shirley shook her head. "I can't. I thank you very much, but I think I'm going back to town. I - I don't really know."

Lady Matthews turned to her daughter. "Darling, butter. Could you?"

"I could, and I will," said Felicity, rising. "No one shall say that I don't know how take a hint."

She went away and Lady Matthews, casting a speculative glance at a man reading the newspaper at the other side of the lounge, said gently: "My dear, better tell Frank. I expect he knows anyway."

Shirley looked at her in a frightened way. "What do you mean?"

"All about yourself. Silly not to, because he could help you. Much the cleverest of his family."

Shirley said hardly above a whisper: "He can't know. It isn't possible. What - what have you guessed about me, Lady Matthews?"

"Can't talk in a public lounge, dear child. So unwise. They always do it in bad thrillers, and it invariably leads to disaster. But of course I guessed at once. I can't imagine what you're doing, but much better tell Frank. Don't you think so?"

Shirley looked down at her clasped hands. "I don't know. If he weren't working for the police. But he is, and I - I think I've been compounding a felony." She gave a nervous little laugh.

"It sounds very exciting," said Lady Matthews. "I'm sure he'd like to help. How does one compound a felony?"

"I'm in a mess," Shirley said, her fingers working in her lap. "I suppose I managed it badly. But it was all so difficult, and my - my brother - wasn't much use. And now things have gone so hopelessly wrong that there doesn't seem anything left for me to do except go back to town. I have thought about telling your - your nephew, only I'm half afraid to, because I don't really know him, and he - he's rather an uncompromising person, isn't he?"

"But so good to animals, my dear. I should tell him. Such a pity to give up now."

Shirley sat still for a moment, staring ahead of her. She drew a long breath. "Yes. I can't bear that, you know. Is Mr. Amberley - would he - could you ask him to come and see me, do you think?"

"Quite easily," said Lady Matthews, smiling. "But better come back to Greythorne with me."

"I —would rather not, please. You think I'm in danger, don't you?"

"No danger at Greythorne," said Lady Matthews. "Lots of burglars, but we can take care of you!"

"I'm quite safe, Lady Matthews. Did you see a flatfaced person hanging about outside this place?"

"There was a man," admitted Lady Matthews. "He reminded me of weddings. You know. The detective who guards the presents. So pathetic. Quite obvious, and they must feel very conspicuous."

Shirley smiled. "Yes. Well, I'm the present. He's watching me. Your nephew put him there."

"So like him!" sighed Lady Matthews. "Very disconcerting, but perhaps just as well. I'll tell him to come and see you. Does the poor man follow you all day? I feel I should be impelled to give him a bun or a penny or something."

"All day," said Shirley. "There's another one who relieves him. So you see I'm safe enough if- if somewhat impeded." She looked up; Felicity had come back into the lounge.

"Secrets all over?" inquired Felicity without rancour.

"No secrets, darling," Lady Matthews said, rising. "Shirley won't come to Greythorne. Dreadfully obstinate. Any time, my dear?"

Shirley managed to follow this cryptic utterance. "Yes. That is, I'm going to Ivy Cottage this afternoon, just to finish the packing and have everything ready to be fetched away. So if I'm not here I'll be there."

"Very well. I won't forget," said Lady Matthews. "Did you get the butter, darling? Whatever shall we do with it?" She drifted out, murmuring: "Toffee, or something. Why didn't I say oranges?"

At Norton Manor they found Joan looking white and frightened. Corkran, who was rather enjoying himself in the role of Protective Male, announced that he was taking her to stay with his people. Lady Matthews seemed to think it an excellent idea. The girl was obviously in a state of overwrought nerves, and even her step-brother, who was not usually perceptive, admitted that she looked ill, and would probably be better away from the manor for a bit. As soon as things had been cleared up he meant to take a holiday himself.

Joan did not want to return to the manor. It was as much as she could do to spend another night there, and so uncontrollable was her aversion from the place that she had said, a little hysterically, that she would rather not be married at all than be married from it.

Her betrothed seized the opportunity to suggest a quiet wedding in town and even advocated, though without much hope, a registrar's office.

Joan was ready to agree to anything, but Fountain put his foot down. He was quite willing to have the wedding in town, but it must be a function. After all, a great many guests had already been invited, and there was no justification for a hole-and-corner affair. Did not Lady Matthews agree?

Lady Matthews did. She thought Joan would feel quite different when she got away from the manor and heard no more talk of crime.

"All the same," said Felicity irrepressibly, "we've never had so much excitement here before. It'll be frightfully dull when it's over. I mean, just think of the past fortnight! We've had three deaths and two burglaries. I call that pretty good for a place like this."

"Burglaries? Who's been burgled?" said Fountain.

"We have, only nothing was taken. It was a real thrill."

"Time we were going," said Lady Matthews. "Humphrey won't like it if lunch is late."

"But I never heard about this!" Fountain said. "When did it happen?"

"Oh, the first was the day Daddy and I came to see you about poachers, and he borrowed that… ?" She caught her mother's eye and broke off, flushing.

"Borrowed the book?" Fountain said. "I remember. Is he ready for the other volumes yet? Didn't he say there were some more?"

Felicity stared at him. "I say," she said slowly, "did you send for it, or — or did Collins come on his own?

There was a moment's silence. "Send for it?" Fountain repeated. "Collins?"

"I thought there was something odd about it!" Felicity cried. "Daddy's fearfully fed up. Collins came and said you'd told him to fetch it back. Didn't you?"

"No," said Fountain. "No. Of course I didn't! He said that, did he? And did your father give it to him?"

"Well, yes, naturally he did. Was there something hidden in it after all?"

"My dear, too ridiculous," said Lady Matthews. "I'm sure just a misunderstanding."

"But, Mummy, don't you see? It's important! Only I'm pretty sure there wasn't anything in it, because don't you remember we looked, after the burglary? And Daddy would have noticed before that, because he was reading it." She wrinkled her brow, puzzling over it.

The smile had been wiped from Fountain's face; his eyes were fixed on her. He said: "I can't understand it at all. I'm most upset that such a message should have been given as coming from me. What on earth must your father have thought?"

"Well, he was slightly peeved," admitted Felicity. "Mr. Fountain, do you think we're on to a clue? Could there have been anything in the book?"

"If there was I've not the smallest idea what it could be," Fountain said. He turned aside and fumbled for a cigarette in the box on the table. "Sounds to me like a piece of damned officiousness."

Felicity was not satisfied. "Yes, but the burglary? The library and Daddy's study and the drawing room were all turned upside down, but not the dining room, and there was nothing taken. I believe Collins thought there was something, you know. He must have mistaken the book. What a sell for him! Daddy wouldn't have taken anything out of it, and it was never out of his hands, except for about ten minutes, when he left it behind at the Boar's Head when we went to call on Shirley."

Lady Matthews' mild voice broke into this speech. "Darling, such a lively imagination. But we really must go. Pray don't be upset, Mr. Fountain. All a misunderstanding. I'll tell my husband."

"I wish you would," he said. "I'm - most annoyed. Wouldn't have had such a thing happen for the world."

He seemed rather more put out than the occasion warranted and he relieved his feelings by turning on the butler, who had come in, and asking him roughly what he wanted.

Joan interposed. She had rung for Baker to show Lady Matthews out.