It was eleven o'clock when Lady Matthews, playing Patience, heard the unmistakable sound of the Bentley coming up the drive. Her husband and daughter, who had failed to induce her to tell them what was on her mind, heaved two separate sighs of relief.
Lady Matthews raised her eyes from the card-table. "Quite all right," she said. "It's come out three times running. I wonder if he's brought her here."
They heard the butler's tread in the hall and the opening of the front door. A moment later Shirley, an odd figure in garments that palpably did not belong to her, came in with Mr. Amberley behind her.
Lady Matthews got up. "I knew it was all right," she said placidly. "So glad, my dear. Did you tell Frank?"
Shirley caught her hands. "He knew," she said. "I suppose I've been very silly. He says so anyway."
Sir Humphrey, who had put on his glasses the better to survey her, looked in bewilderment at his nephew.
Amberley grinned. "Admiring Shirley's get-up? It is nice, isn't it? It belongs to the landlady of a pub at Littlehaven. Do you mind going to your study? I've pushed the sergeant in there, he wants a warrant to arrest Fountain."
"I never did like that man," said Lady Matthews.
"Arrest Fountain?" repeated Sir Humphrey. "God bless my soul, on what charge?"
"Attempted murder will do to start with. The sergeant will tell you all about it. Aunt Marion, is the last post in?"
"Certainly, Frank." She drew an envelope out of her work-bag and looked at Shirley. "Do I give it to him, my dear?"
"Yes, please," said Shirley with a sigh.
Amberley took the envelope and tore it open. Before he drew out what was inside he looked curiously at his aunt and said: "What is this, Aunt Marion?"
Lady Matthews drew Shirley to the fire. "Probably Jasper Fountain's will," she replied.
"You ought to be burned at the stake," said Amberley. "It's a clear case of witchcraft. But only half of his will."
"Ah, that would account for it then," she said. "Better stick them together. There's some adhesive tape somewhere. My dear child, did he try to murder you? Do sit down!"
Amberley took the torn sheet of foolscap out of the envelope and laid it on the card-table. From his notecase he drew a similar sheet. "You seem to be quite sure I've got the other half," he remarked.
Lady Matthews put a log on the fire. "If you haven't, dear boy, I can't imagine what you've been doing all this time."
"I have." He went over to her writing-table. "Where is this tape? Can I look in the drawers?"
"Do by all means. Lots of bills. But I know there is some; Felicity, darling, tell Jenkins food for this poor child. And the burgundy. He'll know."
Felicity found her tongue at last. "If one of you doesnt tell me what it's all about immediately I shall have hysterics!" she said. "I can feel it coming on. Who are you and why have you got those ghastly clothes on, and- oh, what is it all about?"
"Don't worry her now, darling. She is jasper Fountain's granddaughter. She's going to marry Frank. So suitable. But I forgot to congratulate you. Or do I only congratulate Frank? I never know."
Amberley wheeled round, the tape in his hand. "Aunt Marion, you are a witch!"
"Not at all, Frank. Quite unmistakable. Engaged couples always look the same. Felicity, a tray and Burgundy."
Shirley interposed. "I'm very hungry, but not Burgundy, please, Lady Matthews. Mr. Am — I mean Frank - poured quarts of brandy down my throat when he rescued me. I really couldn't."
"Do as you're told," said Amberley. "That was two hours ago. And I think bed, Aunt Marion."
Felicity, who had come back into the room, went over to Shirley's chair and took her firmly by the hand. "Come on!" she said. "You're about my height. You can't possibly wear those clothes any longer. They give me a pain."
"She's going to bed," said Amberley.
Shirley rose gratefully. "I'm not going to do anything of the sort. I slept all the way home, and I'm not in the least tired. But I should like to get out of these garments."
"You may not think you're tired," said Amberley "but…"
"Oh shut up Frank!" interrupted his cousin. "Off course she isn't going to bed till all the excitement's over. Come on, don't pay any attention to him, Shirley. He's an ass."
Mr. Amberley retired, crushed, from the lists.
Ten minutes later another car drove up to the door, and Jenkins, patient resignation written all over him, admitted Inspector Fraser.
The inspector was torn between annoyance with Amberley for having kept him in the dark and delight at being about to make a sensational arrest. He assumed his curtest and most official manner, and took the opportunity to remark that the affair had been conducted in a most irregular manner. He then turned to Amberley, who was standing in front ofthe fire glancing through the evening paper, and asked him whether he wished to accompany the police to Norton Manor.
"Accompany you to Norton Manor?" repeated Amberley. "What the devil for?"
"Seeing that you've had so much to do with this case," said the inspector nastily, "I thought you might want to perform the actual arrest."
Amberley regarded him blandly. "I've no doubt you'll manage to make a mess of it," he said, "but there is it to the amount of work I'll do for you. I've given your case; now get on with it."
The inspector choked, caught Sir Humphrey's austere eye, and stumped out of the room.
When the two girls came downstairs again an inviting supper had been spread on a table in the drawing room for Shirley. It was easy to see that Felicity had coaxed the whole story out of her, for she was round-eyed with wonderment. She had provided Shirley with her ncwest frock, so that it seemed that the engagement had her fullest approval.
It was three quarters of an hour later when they heard yet another car drive up to the front door, and Shirley had just finished her supper and declared herself able to talk of the events of the day with equanimity. Sir Humphrey was not unnaturally anxious to hear his nephew's explanation of all that had happened since the murder of Dawson. Even Lady Matthews was roused to request Frank to tell them about it. At the moment, she said, it was like a jigsaw puzzle. You saw what was on each piece, but you couldn't fit them together to make a picture.
When he heard the car Sir Humphrey tut-tutted irritably. Were they never to be left in peace?
"I imagine it's the inspector," said Amberley. "He doesn't love me, but he knows better than to omit to notify me of the arrest."
It was not the inspector. It was Mr. Anthony Corkran followed by Sergeant Gubbins.
"Oh!" said Amberley. "Now what?"
Anthony was looking rather queer. "My God!" he said.
"Sorry, Lady Matthews. I've had a bit of a shock. Look here, Amberley, this is pretty ghastly! I mean to say - Joan's all in. Perfectly frightful! I've left her with the housekeeper. I shall have to get back almost at once. Just brought the sergeant over to report. The fellow's blown his brains out!"
There was a moment of rather shocked silence. Then Amberley began to fill his pipe. "I thought Fraser would make a mess of it," he commented. "What happened, sergeant? "
Lady Mathews said kindly: "Sit down, Sergeant. You must be worn out. Such a good thing, I feel. No scandal.
Basil Fountain, I mean."
The sergeant thanked her and sat down on the edge of a straight chair, clutching his helmet. Felicity took it away from him and laid it on the table. He thanked her too, but seemed uncertain what to do with his hands now that they nothing to hold.
"Get on, what happened?" said Amberley impatiently.
"Just what Mr. Corkran told you, sir. Fair mucked it, the inspector did."
"I thought you were looking rather pleased. No one's going to run off with your helmet, so stop staring at it. What - happened?"
The sergeant drew a long breath. "Well, sir, we went off to the manor, me and the inspector and a couple of constables. We was admitted by the man calling himself Baker, who we know about!"
"What is his name, Frank?" inquired Lady Matthews. "I couldn't remember."
"Peterson. I didn't think you'd ever seen him, Aunt."
"Yes, dear, I called at your flat once when you were out. Never forget faces. I'm interrupting you, Sergeant."
"That's all right, my lady," the sergeant assured her. "We arrived like I said, and this here Peterson took us into the library, where we found Mr. Fountain and Mr. Corkran. Mr. Fountain wasn't looking himself, but he wasn't put out to see the inspector. Not he. The inspector showed the warrant and said he was arresting him on a charge of attempting to murder Miss Shirley Fountain otherwise known as Brown. Fountain sort of blinked but he kept head all right. I tipped the wink to the inspector to get handcuffs on him sharp. Unfortunately the inspector wonildn't have it I knew better nor what he did, and instead of collaring Fountain and talking afterwards, he started in to tell him how the whole game was up, for all the world as though he'd discovered it himself. Regular windbag, he was. Of course when he let out about the young lady being rescued, Fountain could see the case was pretty hopeless. It's a queer thing, sir, but as soon as he heard that he give a sort of sigh like as if he was quite relieved. He said - which, surprised me that he was glad. "I never meant to do any of it," he says. "It was forced on me. I've been through hell," he says. Then he says: "I'll go with you. I'm damned glad it's over," he says - begging your pardon, my lady. Then he says: There's something I'd like to take with me," and moves towards his desk. Of course I hadn't ought to have spoken, not with the inspector there, but I couldn't help myself. "You stay where you are!" I tells him. "We'll get whatever it is you want." And I'm bothered if the inspector, just to give me a set-down, didn't tell him he could get it if it was in the room, and welcome. Told me to mind my own business and not teach him his. All in front of the two constables what's more, which he'll wish he hadn't done when it comes to the chief constable inquiring how it happened.
"Well, he lets Fountain go to his desk. Any fool could have told him what would happen. He opens a drawer and before you could say knife he'd whipped out a gun and blown his brains out."
"And Joan." said Corkran "was standing in the doorway."
"I'm sorry." said Amberley.
"So am I," Shirley said. "I know Joan Fountain hadn't anything to do with it. I didn't want her to be hurt by it all."
Well, as a matter of fact," said Anthony confidentially, "I don't think she will be, apart from this nasty little show tonight. I mean, he wasn't her full brother, and she never made any bones about the fact that they didn't get on. Bad shock, of course, and all that sort of thing, but you wait till I get her away from the manor." A thought occurred to him. "I say, I suppose the manor belongs to you now, doesn't it?"
Shirley said uncomfortably that she supposed it did. Mr. Corkran brightened considerably. "Well, that's something anyway," he said. "Never could stand the place myself. Altogether rather a good show. But I don't grasp it yet. Why were Dawsonand Collins popped off? What had they got to do with it? Come on, Sergeant! You seem to know all about it. Spill the beans!"
The sergeant said that it would come better from Mr. Amberley. Mr. Amberley, with unwonted politeness, begged him not to be so modest.
The sergeant coughed and shot him a reproachful look. "I'm no hand at talking, sir," he said. "And I wouldn't wonder but what there's a point here and there didn't happen to come my way."
"Frank shall tell us about it," stated Lady Matthews. "Someone give Mr. Corkran something to drink. The sergeant too. Or mayn't you?"
The sergeant thought that he might stretch a point seeing as how he was, strictly speaking, off duty, and had been since six o'clock.
Amberley leaned his shoulders against the mantal piece and glanced down at Shirley, seated on the sofa beside Lady Matthews. "I don't think I can tell you the whole story' he said. "There are one or two things it wouldn't do for the sergeant to hear about. Or my uncle, for that matter!"
"My dear Frank, pray don't be absurd!" said Sir Humphrey testily. "Why should we not hear the whole story? It is bound to come out!"
"Not unless I choose," replied Amberley. "To make it clear to you I should have to divulge certain illegal proceedings which might conceivably induce the sergeant to make two more arrests."
The sergeant smiled. "You will have your joke, sir. I don't know what you done, though I always did say and always will, that you'd make a holy terror of a criminal."
"H'm!" said Mr. Amberley.
The sergeant, who by this time would have compounded a felony sooner than be left in the dark, reminded him that he was off duty. "Anything you say to me now won't go no farther, sir," he assured him.
"Very well," said Amberley. He puffed for a moment at his pipe. "To go back to the start." He drew the crumpled will from his pocket and read the date - "which was on llth January, two and a half years ago, when Jasper Fountain made a new will. This is it. It was drawn up by himself on a sheet of foolscap and witnessed by his butler, Dawson, and his valet, Collins, in favour of his grandson Mark, or failing him, of his granddaughter Shirley. From which I infer that he had only just learned of their existence. Or he may have had a change of heart. It's quite immaterial , he left the bulk of his property to Mark Fountain and the sum of ten thousand pounds to his nephew Basil, who, under the previous will, inherited the entire estate. I find that he died five days later, which would account for the fact that no lawyer drew up this document. Jasper Fountain obviously feared he was very near death. What was done with the will I don't know, but that the two witnesses obtained possession of it at Fountain's demise is positive. Whether they tore it in half then or later, again I don't know. At some time or other this was done, the valet keeping one half and the butler having the other. Basil Fountain inherited the estate under the terms of the old will, and these two blackguards instituted a form of blackmail, holding the later will over his head." He paused and again looked down at Shirley. "You shall tell us why Dawson approached you," he said.
"I think he was afraid of Collins," she replied. "Collins wanted to get back his half. Dawson struck me as a timid sort of creature, not really cut out to be a blackmailer. I don't know how he discovered us." She flushed. "You see my father was - not a particularly estimable person. When he died my mother moved from Johannesburg and called herself Brown. Mark and I kept that name after her death, and when we returned to England. I wasn't proud of our own name. Mark didn't care much either way. However, Dawson found us and wrote to Mark. It was a most mysterious letter, hinting at the existence of a will in his favour and warning him of all sorts of danger. It's at my bank now. I thought I'd better keep it. Mark thought it was a hoax. I didn't. I came down to Upper Nettlefold to inquire for rooms.Ivy Cottage was to let, and I took that. It suited me better really, because of-because of Mark's - habits. 1 made Mark write to Dawson, telling him he'd meet him. That frightened Dawson; he didn't want us here, it was too dangerous. He came once to the cottage, but he was terrified of being seen there, and he wouldn't come again. He told us very much what you've heard from Frank. He wanted to get out - I don't think he was afraid of the police so much as of Collins. He offered to sell us his half." She broke off and looked towards the sergeant. "Of course I knew I was going against the law ill negotiating with him, but I couldn't put the matter into the hands of the police, because not only was the will torn in half, but if Collins got wind of the fact that the police were on to him he'd immediately destroy his half."
"Very awkward, miss," agreed the sergeant, who had been listening spellbound.
"The trouble was," Shirley continued, "he wanted a ridiculous sum for it, and naturally we couldn't possibly raise anything like the money until we came into possession of my grandfather's estate. It was rather a deadlock, but in the end we reached a compromise, and Dawson —principally, I think, because he was afraid if he held out we should make trouble with the police - agreed to trust us. He was to meet Mark on the Pittingly Road on his evening out and hand over his half of the will which seemed to me better than nothing. In return Mark was to give him a plain IOU for five thousand pounds."
"Hold on a moment, miss! Was your brother present when he was done in?" demanded the sergeant.
"You're off duty, Sergeant," Mr. Amberley reminded him. "We now come to my own nefarious conduct. You remember that I told you I wasn't sure that I was on your side?"
" I do sir," said the sergeant, regarding him round eyed.
"I informed you," proceeded Amberley, "that I had discovered the body of a murdered man in an Austin Seven saloon on the Pittingly Road. What I did not tell you was that standing in the road beside that car I found Miss Shirley Fountain."
The sergeant's jaw dropped. "Suppressing valuable evidence, Mr. Amberley, sir!"
"Exactly. But Fraser would probably have got her hanged for the murder if I'd spoken. Now you begin to understand why this very dull crime interested me so much. Dawson was alive when you found him, wasn't he, Shirley?"
Just alive. He knew me. He hadn't brought his half of the will. I don't know why not. Probably because he wanted to squeeze us for more money. Anyway he managed to tell me where it was. Then you came."
"You mean to tell me, sir," said the sergeant, "that you knew about this will, and all the rest, right from the start and never let on to us?"
"Not at all. I knew nothing. But I was interested. The only thing I knew was that the murder had been committed for the purpose of robbery. When I learned Dawson's identity I assumed that as it could hardly be money that he had, and as nothing of value was missing from the manor, it was in all probability a document. I made the acquaintance of Basil Fountain. It was on the occasion of my first visit to the manor that my suspicions were roused against Collins. He was rather to anxious to overhear what I had to say. What the conection between him and Fountain was I had no idea, but that there was one I was fairly certain. Fountain knew he was listening at the door, and he didn't want us to guess that. It seemed to me a point worth remembering, too, that Collins' alibi rested on Fountain's word alone. I was sufficiently interested to make a few casual inquiries about Fountain. Before I connected him with the crime at all, you, Aunt Marion, had divulged that you did not like him. I have a great respect for your instinct. You, Felicity, said that he was always grumbling about money. He kicked up a fuss about the cost of Joan's fancy dress. When I made his acquaintance that didn't fit in with his obviously generous, rather extravagant nature. He was the type of man who likes spending money. On the face of it, it looked as though he were hard up. Why? His fortune was considerable, and you, Anthony, informed me that he didn't go in for excesses. You described him quite accurately as a bonhomous sportsman. You also informed me that although he and Joan had never hit it off life had gone more or less smoothly until he came into possession of his uncle's estate."
"I seem to have told you the hell of a lot," remarked Anthony.
"You did. It was to you that I owed my knowledge of his fondness for the sea. You described his bungalow at Littlehaven to me and the super motorboat he had, which was capable of crossing the Channel. At the time that conveyed nothing particular to me. It came in useful later. You also told me that he had asked you to remain on at the manor, actuated, you thought, by funk. He did not want to be left alone there. That might have arisen from his undoubtedy gregarious nature. On the other hand it looked very much as though the presence of guests in the house was a protection. So it was. While you and Joan were there Collins had to walk warily. Fountain was beginning to be afraid of him. He knew that Collins had murdered Dawson, but he dared not give him away for fear Collins should counter with the real will - which Fountain undoubtedly thought he possessed in its entirety. That he didn't eliminate Collins then was due, I feel sure, to his perfectly sincere horror of death. If you remember, Anthony, Miss Fountain mentioned that on the occasion of my first meeting with her. He could not bear the thought of a dead body - even a puppy's."
"After the inquest you, Sergeant, told me of Dawson's money. It puzzled you. You could find no explanation for it. It was then that the thought that he might have been blackmailing Fountain crossed my mind. But what you, Shirley, had to do with any of this I had no idea until the night of the fancy-dress ball at the manor. You attended that ball, quite uninvited, in the costume of an Italian peasant-girl."
"Good Lord, was it you?" cried Felicity. "Joan and I wondered who on earth it could be, because you weren't there at the unmasking. I say, how perfectly thrilling of you!"
"Restrain your ardours, my love," requested Mr. Amberley. "When I discovered the contadina's identity I thought it worth while to keep an eye on her. It did not seem to me probable that she had gate-crashed the ball from a mere desire to be at an amusing party. Putting two and two together I inferred that she had seized the opportunity to get into the manor for some very definate purpose. Then I saw the Reynolds on the passage."
"Beg pardon, sir?"
"A portrait., Sergeant. The portrait of a lady of the late eighteenth century. The resemblance is most striking, Shirley. Fountain came upon me while I was studying this portrait, and from what he said I knew that he was unaware of your presence in the district. He was not much interested in the picture but remarked, with perfect truth, that the lady had the family beetle brows. He thought she was probably a great-grandmother but recommended me to ask the housekeeper."
"The main facts in my possession then were, briefly, these: that Fountain's butler had been shot with robbery as the motive; that a mysterious lady bearing a startling resemblance to the family had been present on that occasion and was now masquerading in the house in disguise; and that Jasper Fountain had had a son, then deceased, whom he had disinherited on account of his predilection for drink - and other things. It proved nothing, but was an interesting coincidence that Mark Brown also drank." He paused and pressed the tobacco down in the bowl of his pipe with his thumb. "We now come to the extremely reprehensible proceedings of Miss Shirley Fountain. Dawson having informed her that his half of the will was hidden in a certain tallboy, she went to find it. She was interrupted by the appearance of Collins, who was watching her with great interest. Both he and she left the tallboy, which was in the passage leading to the picture gallery, and went downstairs. A bad moment, wasn't it, Shirley?"
"Thanks to you!" she retorted.
He laughed "All your own fault, my dear. Well, when the two of them had gone I had a look in the tallboy myself and found the torn half of a will. Part of Jasper Fountain signature was on it, and most of the signatures of the two main witnesses. The names of the legatees were upon the other half, but the thing seemed fairly obvious in spite of that."
"In due course Shirley came back to the tallboy. Finding the will gone she leaped to the conclusion that Collins had been before her. Right?"
"Of course," she said. "What else could I think?"
"I'll tell you later," he said. "Collins, who came a few minutes later to secure the missing half, naturally ;assumed that Shirley had outwitted him. An engaging st;ite of mind on both sides."
Shirley interrupted. "Yes, I've no doubt, but why couldn't you have told me you had it?"
"My good child, once I had that torn paper in my possession there was very little you could tell me that I didn't already know. It was, in fact, infinitely better that neither you nor Collins should know who really had the will. Your combined antics were far more helpful to me than your confidence would have been. There was another reason too, which concerns you and me alone. To continue: On the following day I sustained a visit from Colonel Watson and agreed to take on the case. I now held most of the strings of it. I knew that there was a later will in existence which at least two people were painfully anxious to get hold of. Your anxiety, Shirley, led me to suppose that it was in your favour; Collins' anxiety confirmed my previous suspicion that he was blackmailing Fountain with it. It seemed probable that he held the missing half. The first thing to be proved was your identity, and the main problem was how to get hold of the rest of the will, which obviously existed. It was no case for the police, who wouldn't have acted on an entirely valueless half. I went up to London. I instructed my man Peterson to apply for the vacant post of butler at the manor and provided him with a faked reference, which reminds me that you gave him a bad moment over that, Sergeant."
"Ah!" said thec sergeant deeply.
"Quite. I thought it possible that he might manage to get hold of a clue to the will's hiding-place, but my chief object in putting him at the manor was to have someone watching Fountain's movements. It seemed to me that it could only be a matter of time before Fountain discovered who was living at Ivy Cottage, and when he knew that, anything might happen. On this same visit to town I visited the Times office to look through the back numbers for a notice of your father's death, Shirley. That represents the only occasion in my memory when you've let me down, Aunt Marion. Your recollection of dates is lamentable. He died five years ago, not three."
"Tiresome for you, dear boy," agreed Lady Matthews.
"It was. However, I found the notice at last and took down the address in Johannesburg. Then I sent a cable to a firm of inquiry agents there to ascertain whether he left any issue, and if so what became of the issue. To speed things up a little I also employed a private detective agency in London to trace the records of Mark and Shirley Brown."
"When I got back to Greythorne I found you there, Anthony. You gave me, though reluctantly, a valuable piece of information. You divulged that Fountain had received a letter from a firm of private detectives and that it had very much upset him. That could only mean one thing he was trying to discover what offspring his cousin had left and where they were. The fact that he was upset seemed to point to him knowing that both Mark and Shirley Fountain were actually at his gates. You told me next day that he had had a row with Collins. I imagine he had jumped to the conclusion that Collins was double-crossing him. Things were beginning to move rather quickly, and the devil was in it that while Collins still held that vital portion of the will it was extraordinarily hard to take any sort of action."
"Putting in a little detective work on my own I came to call on you, Shirley. That was a lucky coincidence. You, believing that Collins now possessed the entire will, had determined to try and buy him over and had sent for him to come and see you. He came because he thought that you held Dawson's half and might destroy his little game. I saw him leave Ivy Cottage. I imagine you must both have fenced very skilfully on that occasion, since neither of you was aware at the end of the interview that the other was not, after all, in possession of the missing half."
She smiled ruefully. "We did. We didn't even mention the word will."
"I should have loved to hear you," he remarked. "When Collins had left the cottage I entered it. You may possibly recall that I told you I had come for a piece of information which I managed to get. I ascertained that you had been in South Africa. Your kaross of King Jackal skins and your brother's artless conversation told me that. It was not proof, but good enough to go on with.
"The next move in the game was made by Fountain who rang up to ask me to go over to see him. He had all along been keeping a weather-eye cocked in my direction. He was nervous, and like most people in that condition he couldn't leave well alone. He had to try and put me off the scent. Between them he and Collins hatched up an extremely improbable story about Dawson to account for the butler's inexplicable wealth. It had its uses: I was able to hand it to the inspector to investigate. He liked it very much, and it gave him a little harmless occupation.
"While I was at the manor a disturbance occurred. Mark Fountain, under the influence of drink, came to the house with a hazy idea of forcing Collins to disgorge the will by threatening to shoot him. It was very awkward for Collins."
"Good Lord, was that why he kept on urging Basil to let the kid go?" demanded Corkran.
"Yes, that was why. And since Fountain, who didn't know Mark from Adam, had every intention of sending for the police, Collins was compelled to divulge his identity. If you remember, he used the words: "The young gentleman from Ivy Cottage," which instantly enlightened Fountain. That incident looked as though I was right in my theory about his letter from the detective agency. In fact, it was all fitting in very nicely. But Mark's idiotic conduct was a serious complication. I can't say that I actually expected Fountain to make an attempt on his life: I had no reason to suppose that he was the type to commit a murder; but it was a possibility one couldn't ignore. I had him watched, not in the least unobtrusively. I regret to say that I thought the mere knowledge that the boy was being shadowed would be enough to choke Fountainoff. He certainly wasn't pleased about it, but he wasnt as easily baulked as I'd expected him to be. I paid a visit to the manor just to let him know that I had put a man on to Mark. Incidentally I saw that Peterson was safely installed."
"'That evening I received the answer to my cable to Johannesburg. There was now no longer any doubt about your identity, Shirley, and I thought it well to pay a visit to Sergeant Gubbins to get him to tighten up the watch on Mark. Unfortunately I was too late. While I was at the police station the news of Mark's death came through." He paused and looked down at Shirley. "I'm sorry if this distresses you. I have something to say about it."
"Go on," she replied curtly.
"Mark," said Amberley, "did not fall into the river because he was drunk. He was drunk, of course very drunk — but he was pushed in. Being drunk, he drowned. It was a murder planned so cleverly that I doubt whether it could ever have been brought home to Fountain. Mark's habits were a byword in Upper Nettlefold; several persons had wondered aloud how it was that he hadn't stumbled into the river long since. It is also a wellknown fact that at this season of the year the mist that lies over the Weald after dark is nearly always pretty thick in that hollow where the road runs beside the Nettle. Fountain trusted to luck - or perhaps knew—- that Tucker would not be following Mark particularly closely. For Mark's death Inspector Fraser was indirectly responsible. He gave Tucker to understand that he was being put on to that job merely to humour a whim of mine."
The sergeant coughed. "Be making a report, sir?"
"I shall, Sergeant, but don't interrupt. Fountain gave out that he was going to London that afternoon. He probably did go. If he hadn't had any luck in what he meant to do I have no doubt that he would have repeated the manoeuvre next day. But he had luck. It all turned out as he had expected. He left his car probably in one of the lanes leading on to the main road and lay in wait for Mark beside the river where the fog was thickest. When Mark appeared he had only to push him over the bank. I don't suppose it required much strength, and in any case Fountain was a very powerful man. The river is fairly deep; Mark drowned, being too drunk to make any effort to save himself."
"Yes, but supposing he hadn't drowned?" objected Anthony.
"That would have been annoying for Fountain, of course, but not dangerous. If the boy had said that someone pushed him in, who would have believed him?"
"You would," said Anthony.
"Possibly, but although Fountain was suspicious of me he never knew how much I'd found out. No, the thing was safe enough - and it worked. Had the mist been less thick, had Collins not lost sight, temporarily, of Mark, it would not have worked. But Collins was too late to save the boy's life, though there is no doubt that he putt forth superhuman efforts to do so. From the moment that Fountain learned of his cousins' presence in Upper Nettlefold Collins was on the watch. He knew Fountain better than I did. His story about the cigarette case, Sergeant, was quite untrue, but I daresay Miss Fountain would have confirmed it, wouldn't you, Shirley?"
She nodded. "I was completely in his power. If he had the will, I dared not give him away. That was partly why I didnt confide in you. He suspected you from the start of knowing much more than the police."
"And therefore it was unsafe to confide in me lest I should betray my knowledge? Many thanks. Now, on the day following the murder Fountain came to call on me at Greythorne. Ostensibly his object was to inquire into Collins' presence on the scene. Actually he came to discover, if he could, what I was thinking and whether you, Shirley, were remaining at Ivy Cottage. I gave him to understand that I suspected Collins and also that you were rernaining at the cottage. Since he had eliminated Mark I expected him to make an attempt on you next, and my plan was to catch him in the act and arrest both him and Collins on two separate charges. I should have been able to do that very successfully had it not been for the well-meaning but disastrous zeal of Corkran. When I took you to the cottage to collect your things, Shirley, I unbolted the back door and appropriated the key. Having desposited you at the Boar's Head I motored back to Greythorne and rang up Peterson, telling him to keep an eye on Fountain and let me know if he left the house that night. You came into the room in the middle of that conversation, Felicity, and remarked that I had sweet telephone manners. Do you remember? Peterson rang me up just after midnight to say that Fountain had left the house and gone off on a push-bike. I then got on to you, Sergeant, and we drove to Ivy Cottage to await his arrival. Then, when things were panning out almost miraculously well, Corkran gave the alarm and Fountain escaped by the back door. You were rather fed up with me for letting him go, weren't you? To have stopped him would have been sheer folly. I couldn't prove a thing against him except that he had broken into a strange house. It had its amusing side, of course. Not only did you follow him, but Peterson, having caught sight of you pedalling down the drive, followed you both. Unnecessary but equally zealous. He didn't recognise you, and fearing that I might be surprised by two criminals instead of one, came along to lend a hand. I saw him when I went to bolt the back door, and he was ust going to come and speak to me when he caught sight of you, Anthony, and tactfully beat a retreat. "That was Fountain's first attempt to murder Shirley. It is my belief that he meant it to look like suicide - the reason being Mark's death. Not a bad idea. But I gave you a clue, Sergeant, and I think - I really think you ought to have guessed a little more than you did. I pointed out to you that whoever broke into the cottage evidently did not know that Miss Fountain owned a bull terrier. Collins did know that, for he had been to the place before. I am sad, Sergeant; sad and disillusioned."
"Yes, it was a nice clue, wasn't it, sir?" said the sergeant bitterly. "There might have been half a hundred people that didn't know that."
"But Collins did know," said Mr. Amberley.
"Yes, sir, and I don't mind telling you now that that's why I ruled him out," said the sergeant, fixing him with what he hoped was a hypnotic stare.
"Ananias," said Amberley. "You take my breath away." He put his pipe down on the mantelpiece and pushed his hands in to the front of his trousers. "Then," he proceeded "Uncle Humphrey took a turn."
" What?" said Sir Humphrey.
Amberley glanced down at him in some amusement.
" You did, sir. You went to talk to Fountain about poachers, and you walked off with the missing half of the will."
"What the devil are you talking about, Frank?"
"Which," continued Amberley imperturbably, "Collies had concealed in the back of the book you borrowed. I should like to know whether Collins saw you take that book away."
"Yes!" Felicity said. "He did, and now I come to think of it he tried hard to get it out of Daddy's hands. He offered to dust it, and to wrap it up, but Daddy refused."
"So there was nothing left to do but to burgle this house," said Amberley. "But as my uncle took the book up to bed with him the attempt to regain possession of it failed. When I observed the very curious nature of the burglary it gave me furiously to think. It was Aunt Marion who supplied the clue. She wondered why the books had been strewn about. I really thought I was on to it at last, but when Curiosities of Literature was brought to me there was no sign of the missing will in it. Nor did either you or Felicity, sir, call to mind that you had left the book for a few minutes in Shirley's keeping. I shall find that very hard to forgive."
"On the following morning Peterson rang me up to tell me that a woman, he thought Shirley Fountain, had telephoned to Collins."
"Yes, I remember that," interposed Corkran. "I told Basil, and he was jolly annoyed."
"I've no doubt he was. It would account for his following Collins that evening, just as I followed Shirley. She had an assignation with Collins at the pavilion by the lake. I spent a very boring day keeping an eye on her. The assignation was kept, but Fountain kept it too, and so did Peterson, whose job was to watch him all the time. Had Fountain managed to catch Shirley I think he would have killed her there and then. Happily he didn't find her. I did instead."
"But that assignation drove Fountain to desperate measures. If Collins was double-crossing him Collins also must be got rid of. And providentially my uncle had shown him a fairly good way of doing that."
Sir Humphrey bounced in his chair. "I?"
"Yes, you, sir. All your talk of poachers. I'm not blaming you. I even think it was a very good thing, for there is no doubt that Collins murdered Dawson and equally no doubt that we should have had great difficulty in proving it. But before Fountain could accomplish this design Collins made another attempt to get the fatal book back. Rather a bold attempt, but a successful one."
"Meanwhile Peterson was searching diligently through the rest of the books in the library without any success at all. It was an unnerving period. The will had evidently gone astray, and if by some malign chance it fell into Fountain's hands it would of course be immediately destroyed. When Collins, on discovering that it was no longer where he had put it, leaped to the conclusion that I had got it, and ransacked my room here, I was most relieved. It showed me that at least Fountain hadn't got it. If he had he would have taken good care to let Collins know he had burned it. On his way back to the manor from this house Collins was shot by Fountain, who, if you remember had spent most of the evening conveniently writing letters in the library.
"Again Fountain was a little too careful. He could not resist ringing up the police the same night. The reason he gave for doing that was rather too plausible. I never trust a plausible explanation. As soon as Peterson knew, he searched Collins' room for the half of the will but didn't find it. I expect you noticed, Sergeant, that he told me he'd found nothing when you had him in to interrogate him."
"That's right sir," said the sergeant. "Noticed it at once, I did."
"You're wasted in Upper Nettlefold, Sergeant," said Amberley.
"Well, sir, p'r'aps I wouldn't mind a change," replied the sergeant visibly gratified.
"Try the stage," recommended Amberley. He left the sergeant to think this out and continued: "Fountain now began to give himself away. Instead of saying as little as possible and leaving Fraser to make a muddle of the case, he had to try and improve it. No sooner had he got rid of Collins than he proceeded to knock the bottom out of the valet's alibi for the night of Dawson's murder. That was overdoing things. Up till that moment he had refused to believe that Collins could have done anything he shouldn't; similarly he had refused to sack the man in spite of his evident dislike of him. But when Collins was safely out of the way we were told that he had been sacked that very morning. Let me remind you, Sergeant, that you asked me when we left the manor what I made of it all. I told you that there were one or two significant points. Those were the points."
The sergeant, who was becoming reckless, said," I wondered whether you'd seen them too, Mr. Amberley sir."
"Fortunately," said Amberley dryly, "I had. It appeared to me that Fountain was getting into a tight corner and knew it. It was on the day after Collins' murder - this morning, in fact — that I took the precaution of paying a visit to Littlehaven."
"I was told you were investigating the murder," remarked Lady Matthews.
"Officially I was. I had no desire to let Fountain get wind of my real whereabouts."
"But, Frank, what made you go to Littlehaven?" asked Felicity.
"That motorboat," answered Amberley. "I hadn't forgotten the existence of a boat capable of crossing the Channel. I'm not going to pretend that I foresaw the use it would be put to. I didn't. What I did suspect was that Fountain, realising in what danger he stood, would have arranged a getaway in case things started to go wrong. The motorboat seemed the obvious way of escape. When I got to Littlehaven I made inquiries and discovered that she had been taken from Morton's Yard and moored to a buoy a little way up the creek, past Fountain's bungalow. She had been overhauled, and when I rowed out to take a look at her I found her all ready for sea. It looked as though my surmise was right, so I employed our friend the longshoreman to watch her and notify me by telephone the moment anyone took her out. This would have enabled the police to get on to the French ports and stop Fountain there. I still think that Fountain's original reason for having the motorboat in readiness was to provide himself with a way of escape. Once Collins was dead he hadn't the smallest desire to hurt Shirley. Without the will she could do nothing. Not one of his murders did he want to commit. I can quite believe that he spoke the truth when he said he had lived through hell. If he had never inherited his uncle's estate he would have remained what I think he was at heart - a cheery, kindly natured chap who only wanted a comfortable life and enough money to indulge his highly commendable tastes. The trouble was that he had regarded himself as Jasper Fountain's heir for so many years that when he found that he had been disinherited it was unthinkable for him to relinquish everything but ten thousand pounds. He had practically no private means, but had always received a large allowance from his uncle. He struck me as cunning when hard-pressed, but by no means a profound thinker. I am certain that he never visualised the possible consequences of his initial, and comparatively mild, crime. The two servants could be kept quiet by a little money, and although it wasn't by any means the sporting thing to do, no doubt he argued that Shirley and Mark couldn't miss what they had never known. He had been brought up to regard the manor as his, and I expect he felt that he was more or less justified in suppressing the later will. Once he had taken the one false step everything else was, as he said, forced on him. And I believe that he hated it and would have chucked up the sponge if he could have done so without landing himself in gaol." He paused. His audience sat silently waiting for him to go on. "But Fountain's mental processes, though interesting, are rather off the point. I said that once Collins was dead nothing was meditated against Shirley. That, I am convinced, is true. But fate in the person of my misguided cousin, dealt Fountain a blow. He learned from her of the adventures his book,
Curiosities of Literature, had been through. She told him how interested I was in that book and how there was nothing in it, and although she had not remembered to inform me that Shirley had had it in her possession long enough to find the half of the will hidden in it, she had no difficulty in remembering it for Fountain's benefit."
"That'll do," said Shirley, quite in her old manner.
"It precious nearly did for you," retorted Amberley. "Fountain knew then where Collins had kept the will, and he knew that you'd got it. Having gone so far he had to finish the job or be caught himself. You know what happened next. Had it not been for my never-to-be-toohighly commended aunt, you might now be at the bottom of the sea. As it was, she passed on the information to me together with Peterson's telephone message, and I just managed to get to Littlehaven in time. Guessing all the way too."
Corkran found his tongue. "Guessing! Is that what you call it?"
"It is," said Amberley. "I'd no certainty. Once I found he'd struck south it was the best I could do. Luckily it turned up trumps."
"Just a minute," said Shirley. "Can you - guess - why he chose that way of killing me, and didn't take the motor boat out and just drop me overboard? It's been puzzling me."
"Yes, I think so," he replied. "For one thing it would have taken too long, and he wanted to get away from Littlehaven as quickly as possible. For another, I believe he was horrified at what he was doing. Remember, he had that curious complex about dead bodies. Because of that he didnt kill you before he sent you out to sea. You told me he never spoke to you nor looked at you. I can quite believe that. The man was in hell, scarcely sane."
He strolled over to the table and took a cigarette out of the box and lit it. His eyes travelled from one shocked, enthralled face to another. "I think that pretty well covers the ground," he said. "An interesting little case."
"Covers the ground!" ejaculated Anthony. "Well, I don't know what anybody else thinks, but in my opinion you're a blinking wonder! And don't you tell me you knew all about it, dear old Sergeant, because I'll bet you didn't!"
The sergeant replied without hesitation. "No, sir, I did not. But what I do say is that if Mr. Amberley hadn't gone suppressing valuable clues, like what he did when he never let on about the young lady being beside Dawson's body, it would have been a sight better for everyone. Why, if I'd have known that, we'd have had the whole case solved in a jiffy!" He met Mr. Amberley's eyes and repeated doggedly: "In a jiffy, Mr. Amberley. I don't say you haven't done well for an amatoor, but what you wanted, sir, was a trained mind on to it. That's what you wanted."