The effect of this calm pronouncement was slightly ludicrous. Rudolph Mesurier blinked at him in a bewildered manner and said: “Then - then I might just as well have admitted I was out? But I don't understand what you're driving at!”
“It is always better to speak the truth,” said Kenneth smugly. “Witness my own masterly conduct of this highly intricate case.”
“I daresay,” responded his sister. “But did you speak the truth?”
“That, my love,” said Kenneth, “is for the police to find out.”
“Oh, I wish you'd shut up!” Mesurier said, exasperated. “It's all very well for you to lie there and sneer, but I'm in a damned awkward position.”
“So are we all,” replied Kenneth, quite unmoved. “Moreover, this new development gives Tony a nice, pure motive for murdering Arnold. Tell me, Tony, would you really murder Arnold to protect Rudolph's fair name?”
“Yes, of course I would!” said Antonia bristling. 'I don't mean that I approve of him embezzling funds, because, as a matter of fact, I think it's a poor show, but I wouldn't let Arnold prosecute him if I could stop it. If it comes to that, wouldn't you have murdered him for Violet's sake?”
“Don't confuse the motives. I murdered him for the sake of his money. You've got the noble motives: and Rudolph's is the sordid one.”
“No more sordid than yours!”
“Oh yes, darling! Comes under the same heading as card-sharping and shop-lifting.”
Giles interposed. “Shut up, Kenneth. None of this leads anywhere, and it isn't particularly pleasant for Mesurier. Were you out in your car on the night of the murder, Mesurier?”
Rudolph looked uncertainly from one to the other. “Don't be coy,” recommended Kenneth. “We all know you were by this time.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I was,” Rudolph said, taking the plunge. “That's what makes it so frightful.” He began to walk jerkily up and down the studio. “When that detective asked me, I denied it. I mean, what else could I do? They can't prove I was out. It would be absolutely circumstantial evidence, and it seemed to me my best plan was to stick to it that I was at home. Only now you -” he looked at Giles - “say if I was out in my car, I couldn't have done the murder, so…” He stopped and gave a nervous little laugh. “So now I don't know what to do.”
“With any luck,” remarked Kenneth, “we'll foist this murder on to Rudolph.”
“I don't call that funny,” said Mesurier stiffly.
“Depends on the point of view. It would be much funnier than having you as a brother-in-law.”
Antonia bounced up out of her chair. “Damn, you, shut up!” she said fiercely. “If if comes to that I'd a lot sooner foist the murder on to Violet than have her as a sister-in-law! I don't see that Rudolph's any worse than she is.”
“Thank you, dear,” said a smooth voice from the doorway. “How sweet of you! And what am I supposed to have done?”
Kenneth sat up and swung his legs off the sofa. “Darling!” he said. “Come right in and join the party. A good time is being had by all.”
Violet Williams still held the door-knob in one gloved hand. She was charmingly dressed in a flowered frock and a becoming picture hat, and carried a sunshade. She raised her plucked eyebrows and said: “Are you sure I shan't be de trop?”
“You couldn't be. Tony was only retaliating in kind. You know Giles, don't you? Come and sit down, ducky, and listen to the new revelations.”
Mesurier made a movement as of protest, but Antonia very sensibly pointed out to him that Kenneth was bound to tell Violet all about it anyway, so he might as well get it over. As Kenneth's attention seemed for the moment to be engaged by Violet, who had gone over to the sofa, and was speaking to him in a low voice, Mesurier seized the opportunity to ask Giles why his car should be supposed to constitute an alibi.
“Well,” Giles answered, “if you murdered Arnold and drove back to Town in your own car, who disposed of Arnold's car?”
This unfortunately caught Kenneth's ear, and he instantly said: “Accomplice.”
“I hadn't got an accom - I mean - Oh, for God's sake, stop shoving your oar in!”
“An accomplice, if you like,” said Giles. “But who?”
“Tony, of course.”
“Kenneth, dear, you really oughtn't to say things like that, even in fun,” Violet reproved him gently.
Antonia, however, was inclined to regard her brother's suggestion with interest. “You mean we hatched the plot between us, and I lured Arnold to the stocks while Rudolph followed in his own car and did him in? That's no use, because I spent the night at the cottage, and I shouldn't think I'd have had time to burst up to town again with Arnold's car and have motored back. Anyway, I didn't, so that's out. I knew Giles would think of something.”
Mesurier drew a long breath. “What a fool I was not to think of that myself! Thanks a lot. Of course it absolutely lets me out!”
“Oh no, it doesn't!” said Kenneth. “You might have had another accomplice, or tacked your own number plate on to Arnold's car.”
“Too clever,” objected Antonia. “Rudolph would never have thought of anything as wily as that, would you, Rudolph?”
“That's the worst of these people who set out to commit a murder and leave everything to chance,” said Kenneth.
Mesurier decided to ignore this, and, turning to Giles, asked him if he was sure the alibi was good enough. Giles rather damped his optimism by replying that he was not sure of anything.
Violet, who had been playing idly with the clasp of her hand-bag, raised her large, unfathomable eyes to Mesurier's face, and asked in her well-modulated voice why he had been at Hanborough that night. “Please don't think I'm being impertinent!” she said. “But I couldn't help wondering. It seems so funny of you, somehow.”
It was plain that her question took him aback, quite plain enough for Kenneth, who mounted on to the back of the sofa and said: “Now, infidel, I have you on the hip!”
Mesurier cast him a look of goaded hatred and answered: “I can't see what that has to do with it.”
This somewhat weak rejoinder had the effect of setting his betrothed against him. Antonia said severely: “Giles can't possibly help you if you're going to behave like an idiot. You must have had some reason for going to Hanborough that night, and it merely makes you look very fishy if you won't say what it was.”
“Very well, then!” said Mesurier. “If you will have it, I went down with a mad idea of throwing myself on Vereker's generosity, but I thought better of it, and came back again.”
“The only thing I have to say is that I must have another drink,” said Kenneth, getting up off the sofa and strolling over to the sideboard. “The more I hear of Rudolph's story the more convinced I am that we can push all the blood-guilt on to him with very little trouble.” He measured out a whisky-and-soda. “Anyone else have a drink?” As no one answered, he raised his own glass to his lips, drank half the whisky, and came back to the sofa. “The theory I'm working on at the moment is that Arnold's car never left London,” he said.
Antonia frowned. “Yes, but that means he must have motored down with Rudolph, and he wouldn't have.”
“Of course he wouldn't, and, considering all things, who shall blame him? The point is that Rudolph murdered him first.”
“Oh, how ghastly!” shuddered Violet. “Please don't!”
Mesurier was looking rather pale and very angry.
“Very clever!” he said. “And pray, how do you account for the fact that there are no bloodstains in my car?”
Kenneth took another drink. “You wrapped the body in an old mackintosh,” he replied.
“Which he afterwards burned in his bedroom grate,” interpolated Giles dryly.
“Oh, no, he didn't! He cut the maker's name out of it, tied it round a boulder and dropped it into the Hammerpond at Huxley Heath,” said Kenneth.
“That's good,” approved Antonia. “But you haven't told us how he managed to murder Arnold without being seen, and get his body into the car.”
“When you have quite finished amusing yourselves at my expense,” said Rudolph furiously, “perhaps you will allow me to tell you that I very much resent your attitude!”
Antonia opened her eyes at him. “I can't see what on earth there is to get annoyed about. After all, Arnold was our relative, and if we don't mind discussing the murder, why should you? We weren't even going to be sure about it if you did it.”
“It seems to me,” said Rudolph, his voice trembling a little, “that I am to be cast for the role of scapegoat!”
“I'm afraid,” said tiles in his calm way, “that you don't understand my cousins' - er - purely intellectual interest in the crime. If you'd prefer not to talk about it there's no sort of reason why you should.”
“Except, of course,” put in Kenneth, “that when I'm put in the witness box, I shall be bound to say that I thought your manner hellish secretive when we talked it over.”
“You're more likely to be in the dock,” said his sister unkindly.
“In that case,” replied Kenneth, finishing his whisky-and-soda, “I shall bring in the embezzlement-motif. Sauve qui peut.”
Mesurier thrust his hands into his pockets and forced his lips to smile. “I rather fancy a jury would see that occurrence in a more reasonable light,” he remarked. “I don't pretend that I was justified in doing what I did, but there's no question of - of theft. I've already paid back a great deal of what I borrowed.”
“The point is, Arnold didn't look at it in a reasonable light at all,” said Antonia.
“There I take issue with you,” said Kenneth immediately. “I don't hold any brief for Arnold, but I can't see why he should be expected to be pleasant about it. You can't pinch a man's money, and then say, "Thank you for the loan" and pay it back in driblets. I don't in the least blame Arnold for cutting up rough, and, what's more, no jury would either. They'll see that Rudolph's got a motive for murder that makes mine look childish.”
“I'm perfectly well aware I'm in an awkward hole,” Mesurier said. “But it's no use you or anyone else trying to fasten the murder on to me. I never owned a knife like that in my life, for one thing, and for another -”
“Just a moment,” interrupted Giles. “A knife like what?”
A wave of colour mounted to Mesurier's face. “A - a knife capable of killing a man. I naturally assume it must have been some sort of dagger. I mean, an ordinary knife could hardly -”
“You saw Arnold Vereker after he was dead, didn't you?” said Giles.
There was a moment's silence. Violet gave a shiver, “You're making me feel sick. Do, do let's talk of something else!”
“You can't be sick yet, darling. Rudolph's going to make a full confession.”
Mesurier's eyes were fixed on Giles's face, but at this he veiled them suddenly, and put a hand to his breast-pocket and drew out his cigarette-case. He opened it, took out a cigarette, and put it between his lips. There was a match-box on the table, and he walked over to pick it up. “Yes,” he said, lighting his cigarette. “You're quite right. I did see Vereker after he was dead.”
“You just happened to be passing that way,” nodded Kenneth.
“No, I went down to Ashleigh Green on purpose to see him. When I got to the village my headlights lit up the stocks. I didn't know it was Arnold then. I got out and went to inspect.”
“And finding it was Arnold, came home again.”
“Well, why not?” demanded Antonia. “If Arnold was dead there was no point in staying.”
“He might have tried to do something,” Violet said in a low voice. “He might have called for help.”
“A womanly thought, sweetheart. Rudolph, why didn't you?”
“I didn't want to get mixed up in it. I saw there was nothing to be done.”
“What time was all this?” inquired Giles.
“I don't know. I mean, I'm not sure. Somewhere between twelve and one in the morning.”
“At which salubrious hour you were going to knock Arnold up for a friendly chat,” observed Kenneth. “The whole story seems to me to want revision. Personally I should jettison it, and think out a new one. The moths have got at this one pretty badly.”
“Well, I wasn't going to knock Arnold up,” Mesurier said, throwing away his cigarette. “I've - I've been through a pretty bad time over this, I don't mind telling you. Vereker meant to ruin me. He could have, easily. Even if he didn't win his case, the mere fact of my being in such a case would absolutely finish me. I - I was utterly desperate. Didn't know which way to turn. I knew Vereker was going down to Riverside Cottage; I heard him tell Miss Miller so. Of course, I was mad, but I meant to follow him there and shoot him, making it look like a burglary. I'd been to the cottage once. I knew it was fairly remote, and I knew a place where I could hide my car. I thought - if I broke into the place - I could conceal myself behind the bookcase in the hall, and when Vereker came down to investigate, I could shoot him from there and make a getaway before anyone else came on the scene. That's my story, and if you don't like it you can just do the other thing!”
“You've only to tell me what the other thing is and I'll go and do it at once,” promised Kenneth. “The story makes me want to weep. My poor sister!”
“Yes, but there's just one thing,” said Antonia seriously. “It's so dam' silly that people are quite likely to think it's true. Don't you agree, Giles?”
“It's quite possible,” said her cousin.
“Well, if that's your opinion why not let us all in on it?” said Kenneth. “Let's all say we burgeoned off to kill Arnold, but found someone else had done it for us.”
“I shouldn't advise it,” replied Giles. “It's not the sort of story that bears being told a second time.”
“Second time!” exclaimed Kenneth scornfully. “It had whiskers on it when Rudolph dug it up.”
“It happens to be true,” said Rudolph. “And it isn't any weaker than the story you told. Personally I thought that the thinnest thing I'd ever heard.”
“Yes, I quite see that,” said Antonia, trying to be fair, “but Kenneth's story was a much better one, all the same, because you can't disprove it, and it doesn't place him anywhere near Ashleigh Green. I really don't think much of yours, Rudolph. Can't you think of something better? We'll all help, won't we?”
“Speaking for myself, no,” replied Giles.
“Then I think it's pretty mouldy of you. Kenneth, what do you think Rudolph had better say?”
“I won't have a hand in it,” said Kenneth. “My first idea was the best: let Rudolph be the scapegoat. It's the best solution all round. He's only a nuisance as it is.”
“He may be a nuisance, but you needn't think I'm going to let him carry the blame for you!” Antonia flashed.
“Who said it was for me? Aren't you in on this?”
Giles intervened once more, his eyes on his wristwatch. “This is all very enthralling, but may I remind you, Kenneth, that I came here to talk to you of something quite different? I suggest that we close this entirely arid discussion.”
“Certainly!” said Mesurier, his eyes smouldering. “I'm leaving in any case. I may say that if I'd known the sort of thing I was going to be treated to I should never have come. Though I suppose I might have guessed! Oh, please don't trouble to show me out!” This last savagely polite remark was cast at Antonia, who, however, paid no heed to it, but followed him into the hall, carefully shutting the door behind her.
Kenneth drifted back to the sofa. “Well, with any luck that ought to bust up the engagement,” he observed.
“What you need is kicking,” replied Giles, without heat.
“Oh no, I don't! You can't pretend that you think it would be a good thing for Tony to marry that sickening lizard. Besides, Murgatroyd doesn't like him.”
“Mr Carrington,” said Violet suddenly, “what did you think of his story?”
He glanced down at her. “Nothing much. I've heard more improbable ones.”
“Somehow I don't like him,” she said. “And if he really had nothing to do with it why didn't he call for help?”
“Panic, Miss Williams.”
She looked rather contemptuous. “Yes, I suppose so. Personally I've no use for people who lose their heads in emergencies. Do you want to talk privately with Kenneth?”
“Lord, no!” said Kenneth. “It's only about money. How much can I have, Giles?”
“I'll lend you what you want for your immediate needs,” replied Giles.
“Are you trying to put the wind up me?” demanded Kenneth. “Has anything gone wrong with the Will?”
“No, nothing at all,” said Giles. “But apart from the fact that it wouldn't look too well for you to draw on the estate within three days of Arnold's death, there's a little formality to be attended to before the executors will advance you any money. We must prove Roger's death.”
“What a bore!” said Kenneth. “How long is that likely to take?”
“Not very long, I hope. How much do you want?”
“Would three hundred break you?” asked Kenneth persuasively.
“I can just stand it. I'll make out a cheque for that amount now, and you can write a formal receipt while I'm doing it.”
In the middle of this labour Antonia came back into the room and announced that Rudolph had gone.
“Well, that's one good thing, anyway,” remarked Kenneth. “Still adhering to his story?”
“He swears it's perfectly true.”
“He'd better go and swear it to old Hannasyde and see how he takes it. You've got to have faith to swallow a chestnut like that.”
“I must say I thought it was pretty fatuous myself,” admitted Antonia. “I didn't like to pour much more scorn on it, though, because he was a trifle ruffled. The trouble is, he doesn't altogether understand us when we speak, Kenneth.”
Giles looked up, half smiling. “Rather a grave disadvantage in a life-partner, Tony.”
“I know. It occurred to me about half an hour ago. I do hope I haven't made another mistake.”
“It would be rather difficult for the average man to understand you when you speak, as you call it,” said Violet. “I must say, I think a great many of your remarks are extremely odd, to say the least of it.”
“Bless you, darling,” said Kenneth, blotting his receipt. “What a commonplace mind there is behind that lovely face!”
She flushed. “If you think me commonplace I wonder you want to marry me.”
“I've explained it to you before, my sweet. I worship beauty.”
“Yes, so you say, but I notice that doesn't hinder you from running after perfectly ordinary-looking girls like Leslie Rivers.”
“Jealous little cat,” he remarked. “I've known Leslie for years. There you are, Giles. I'll pay it back as soon as I touch. Thanks, by the way. I can now buy you a vulgar ring, beloved.”
“I don't want a vulgar ring, I can assure you. Simply because I happen to prefer diamonds to any other stone -”
“You shall have a slab of a diamond, my pet. A large, table-cut one, which no one could possibly suppose a fake because it's so improbable.”
“Are you going to blow the whole of that on a ring?” inquired Giles.
“I should think so,” replied Kenneth. “Because if I'm the heir the bills can wait over. And when I get my hands on the Vereker fortune, Violet, you shall have a string of pearls as well, and some carved jade ear-rings. How's that?”
“I shall love the pearls, but I don't know that I care awfully for jade. You see such a lot of it about.”
“God help the poor wench!” groaned Kenneth.
Giles screwed on the cap of his fountain pen.
“Postpone hostilities till I've gone,” he requested. “You haven't forgotten it's the Inquest tomorrow, have you, Tony?”
“As a matter of fact, I had, but I remember now that you mention it. You said you'd run me down in your car. Do you mind if I bring one of the dogs?”
“Yes, I do. I'll call for you round about ten o'clock. Show me out, please. Good-bye, Miss Williams: so long, Kenneth.”
Antonia took him out into the hall “Giles, I've made the most shattering discovery,” she said awe-inspiringly.
“Good God, Tony, what is it?” he asked, amused.
“Rudolph and Violet. Soul-mates. I can't think why I didn't realise it before. They've got the same type of mind. Do you think I ought to point it out to them?”
“No, I don't,” he said firmly. “I should leave them to find it out for themselves. Do you really mean to marry Mesurier?”
“Well, I thought I did,” she replied, wrinkling her brow. “He can be awfully attractive, you know, though I must say he doesn't shine much under adversity.”
“Tony, you impossible brat, are you in the least in love with him?”
“I don't quite know,” said Antonia sadly. “To tell you the truth, Giles, I'm not at all sure what being in love is like. I thought I was at one time, but I seem to have gone off Rudolph a bit lately. It's really very difficult.”
“I should give him the push if I were you,” he recommended.
“No, you wouldn't. Not when he's in trouble,” said Antonia.
“Then the sooner he gets out of trouble the better.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “But the question is, will he get out of it? That car alibi is all very well, but the more you think of it the more you can't help suspecting that there's a snag in it if only you could find it. You know, this rotten murder's beginning to be a scourge instead of a blessing. Who did it, Giles? Have you got any idea?”
“No, none at all. I have a feeling that we aren't anywhere near the truth yet. It wouldn't surprise me if something totally unexpected cropped up suddenly.”
“Oh, why?” she asked, interested.
“I don't know,” said Giles Carrington. “Just a pricking in my toes.”