Part 15 (1/2)
The sergeant heard the news of Lady Harte's arrival with the look of a terrier scenting a rat, but the inspector shook his head. ”She's a caution, she is,” he said. ”Well, I ask you! Fancy a lady of her age, and with a family and all, careening about on the backs of camels the way I'm told she does!”
”It isn't my taste,” agreed the sergeant. ”In fact, there's only one thing worse than a camel ride, in my opinion, and that's an elephant ride. But the point is, she's not careening about on a camel. She's here. This is interesting, Chief. Brings in a new motive. Mother love! What did you make of her?”
”Energetic, determined woman, with a one-track mind and plenty of courage.”
”She'd need to have, hobn.o.bbing with a lot of gorillas,” remarked the inspector. ”Generally you're safe to rule the women out when it's a case of shooting, but I dare say her ladys.h.i.+p wouldn't think twice about pulling a trigger. I'm bound to admit the tale she put up was a thin one, and it don't seem natural she wouldn't let her people know she was coming home, but you've only got to talk to the servants up at Cliff House to know she's a regular cough drop.”
”I certainly noticed that, although her husband and her elder son were surprised to see her, they didn't seem to be surprised that she hadn't let them know,” agreed Hannasyde. ”At the same time, I think the fact that she landed in England on the day before Clement Kane's murder, coupled with her subsequent behaviour, requires investigation. I've no doubt we shall find that her story, as far as she has told it, is quite true. She came home in a hurry to fight a by-election; whether she already knew of Silas Kane's death is, I think, uncertain. If she knew of it, it seems just within the bounds of possibility that she might have conceived the idea of shooting Clement and thus winning a fortune for her own son. That would account for her decision to stay with the old nurse-who, she herself admits, would certainly lie on her behalf-or James Kane's. There's a great deal I haven't fathomed in Lady Harte, but one thing she couldn't help showing me, and that was her feeling for her elder son. I should say he's the very apple of her eye. She greeted Sir Adrian and Timothy with affection, but her whole face changed when James Kane walked into the room.”
The sergeant nodded wisely. ”I've seen 'em like that often. What's more, I'd as soon handle a nest of wild cats.”
Hannasyde smiled but said: ”Oh, she seems quite reasonable. Did it strike you that Oscar Roberts was keeping anything back, Hemingway?”
”No,” replied the sergeant, looking interested. ”Got something on him?”
”Oh no, not that! But apparently he's seen fit to warn James Kane that he may be the next victim.”
”Paul Mansell!” said the sergeant instantly. ”Now I come to think of it, he did drop a hint we'd do well to keep an eye on Pretty Paul. Said he was anxious to cooperate with us too. Funny what a lot of people you meet who fancy themselves as detectives.”
”Well, I don't know,” said Inspector Carlton. ”He didn't strike me as being a know-all, not Mr.
Roberts. Come to think of it, he may see a bit more than what we do, not being official.”
”That's always possible,” agreed Hannasyde. ”I'll have a talk with him.”
His talk with Oscar Roberts, however, was not productive of very much. Roberts admitted that he had let drop a word of warning in Jim's ear, but when Hannasyde asked him what grounds he had for thinking a warning necessary, he hesitated for a moment and then looked frankly at Hannasyde and said with the shadow of a smile: ”I'd like you to get this, Superintendent: it's not my intention to hold out on you. If I were to stumble on something that might help you, believe me, I'd be right along at the police station with it.”
”Very kind of you,” said Hannasyde. ”It would certainly be your duty. Am I to understand that you had no grounds for warning Mr. Kane that his life might be in danger?”
”Call it a hunch. And maybe I'm wrong at that.”
”Oh, a hunch!” Hannasyde said, an inflexion of contempt in his voice.
Roberts' smile broadened. ”I kind of figured you'd feel that way about it, Superintendent, which is why I kept my mouth shut. I don't know what you think of the case, but to my mind, when two men who don't see eye to eye with their partners die within a fortnight of each other, it's time to sit up and look around.”
Hannasyde said dryly: ”I think I ought to warn you, Mr. Roberts, that that kind of innuendo, unsupported by evidence, is actionable.”
”Sure,” agreed Roberts amiably. ”Go right along and tell Mr. Paul Mansell I said it, if you wish, Superintendent. Maybe he'll bring an action against me. And maybe he won't.”
This enigmatic remark rather annoyed Hannasyde, who told his sergeant later, with unaccustomed acerbity, that he hoped Timothy Harte and Oscar Roberts between them would succeed in clearing up the case for him.
”I don't know about Terrible Timothy,” replied Hemingway; ”but it's my belief Roberts is a downy bird. Give him his due, he was onto old man Silas having been pushed off the cliff from the start.”
”So he says. We've no proof that Silas Kane was murdered.”
”That's true,” conceded the sergeant. ”Of course, if Lady Harte shot Clement, it looks as though the old man wasn't murdered. If you were to ask my opinion, I should say that this case is my idea of a mess. However, I'll see what I can get out of Master Jim's faithful nanny.”
”James Kane was out joy-riding in that speedboat of his today,” said Hannasyde inconsequently.
”Well, it may be his idea of pleasure. It wouldn't be mine,” said the sergeant. ”What with camels and speedboats, they seem to me an unnatural lot. There's some sort of a motorboat race billed to take place in Portlaw this month. Young Timothy tells me his brother's entered for it, so I dare say he'll be cavorting about in that boat of his a good bit.”
”Either he has an easy conscience or a cast-iron nerve,” said Hannasyde. ”I'm not sure which.”
”Bit of both,” said the sergeant. ”Gets it from his mother, I expect. Most mothers 'ud try and stop him monkeying around with racing boats and cars, and I don't know what besides; but according to what young Timothy tells me, there's nothing her ladys.h.i.+p likes better than watching her sons get up to dangerous tricks.”
He was only partly right, for Lady Harte, hearing of the forthcoming race from Timothy, said that she was glad Jim was going to have some amus.e.m.e.nt after the stress of the past few days, but she wished he were a stronger swimmer.
Timothy, though offended with Jim for not having taken him out in the boat, never let anyone but himself criticise the paragon, so he said perfunctorily: ”Oh, he can swim all right, Mother!”
”All right!” said Lady Harte with great energy. ”I want my sons to do everything well! Always remember, Timothy, that mediocrity is fatal! Whatever you do, you must make up your mind to excel at it. Look at me!”
Jim came into the room at that moment and, hearing, only the last part of this invigorating speech, promptly asked: ”What for, Ma?”
”Success!” answered Lady Harte. ”I've always succeeded because I make it my business to do everything thoroughly. I hate half-measures. It's about your speedboat. You ought to be able to swim.”
”But I can swim!”
”Not nearly well enough,” said his mother sternly. ”There's a tide race here too. Not that I wish to keep you tied to my ap.r.o.n strings, for I don't. Did you want me for anything in particular, darling?
I shall be down as soon as I've sorted this collection.”
”Yes,” said Jim firmly. He cast an eye over the chaos reigning in the room and added: ”You'd better let one of the skivvies put all this junk away.”
”Look here, are you going to take me with you when you try the Seamew out properly, or aren't you?” demanded Timothy belligerently.
”I'm not. I'll take you some other time.”
”Well, I call it absolutely rotten of you! I bet I can handle her as well as you can, what's more!”
”Clear out now! I want to have a chat with Mother. You've had your innings.”
”I don't see why, just because you--”
Mr. James Kane interrupted this speech by advancing purposefully upon his young relative. Mr.
Harte retreated in good order, promising vengeance.
Jim shut the door upon him. ”Getting altogether too uppish. Can you bear a shock, Mother?”
Lady Harte looked up from the task of stowing clothes away haphazard in a large chest of drawers and stared at him with foreboding in her eyes. ”You're engaged to be married!”
He laughed, his brows lifting in surprise. ”How did you know? Quite right.”
”Of course I'm right! What else could it be? Who is it?”
”It's Patricia Allison.”