‘There is no evidence of any mystery.’
‘Oh, but do you think I would be here in my official capacity if there were no evidence of it? There is a very strong presumption indeed that Professor Veryan was murdered. I am not at liberty to give away information which is known to the police, but you may take my word for it that they now have suspicions that the death may not have been an accident. You stated that you spent the Sunday night in question at the Horse and Cart hotel with your wife. Do you wish to enlarge upon that statement?’
‘Enlarge upon it?’ Edward’s expression changed. He ceased to look like an affronted sheep and merely blinked at Dame Beatrice before resuming his usual appearance of giving courteous attention to the person with whom he was in conversation. ‘No. You have told me what I wanted to know. Veryan’s death was no accident.’
‘To you I hardly needed to put it into words.’
‘You flatter me, indeed you do. If what you tell me is true (and I am certain it is), I suppose I must be the chief suspect.’
‘Why should you suppose that? Good gracious me! If every time two eminent scholars fell out, the result was the murder of one of them by the other, we should soon be very short of first-class brains. Co-operate with me, please, and let us have a true picture of how you spent that Sunday evening and night.’
‘Very well. So far as the night itself is concerned, my previous story needs no alteration. From midnight onwards I was in bed. What I did not disclose and what I had suggested to my wife that she did not mention, was how we spent the later part of the evening.’
‘Why did you want to conceal what you did?’ ‘Because I was ashamed of it and ashamed of having involved Lilian. I acted the despicable part of a spy and persuaded my wife to assist me.’
‘Did you find out anything to your advantage?’
‘I confirmed my impression that the completion of Veryan’s trench must inevitably ruin the foundations of one of my flanking-towers. I also satisfied myself that, if one of his secondary burials had been under the land on which my wall and flanking-towers were built, all trace of it would have been lost when the castle’s outer defences were erected.’
‘So what becomes of his insistence to complete his trench?’
‘Were he – had he been a mean-minded man, I would put it down to sheer cussedness and a determination to make a thorough nuisance of himself, but Malpas, although cussed, was not mean or small-minded. I think he had some reason for completing the circle of his trench which he did not disclose to me.’
‘Can you guess what it was?’
‘No, I can think of nothing. I have approached Tynant on the matter, but he can offer no explanation. As perhaps you know, he has agreed to extend the trench away from my wall and towers and to give up his excavation short of the tower which is in jeopardy.’
‘At what time did you and your wife return to your hotel?’
‘Oh, between eleven-thirty and midnight. The porter can tell you. I had asked him to stay up and let us in.’
‘Thank you, Mr Saltergate. Will you ask for Mr Tynant?’
‘Well!’ said Laura, when Edward had gone.
‘Yes,’ agreed Dame Beatrice, ‘it begins to look as though Mr Saltergate can be eliminated.’
‘I thought the opposite. With Veryan out of the way, Tynant is prepared to play ball. It was very much to Saltergate’s advantage to get rid of Veryan.’
‘Time will show what happened. When Mr Tynant comes in, I want you to disappear. Do not return unless I send for you.’
‘You think he may have some deep, dark secrets to disclose?’
‘I think that he and possibly Dr Lochlure will speak more freely in your absence than in your (or anybody else’s) presence. There, I think, he comes.’ Laura slid out as Tynant entered. ‘Ah, Mr Tynant, I believe you would like to amend the story you told to the police,’ said Dame Beatrice urbanely.
Nicholas hitched up the knees of his impeccable trousers and seated himself.
‘I wouldn’t like to,’ he said, ‘but I suppose I must. What do you want – a love story?’
‘That would be most agreeable and would pass the time at our disposal very pleasantly.’
‘But it wouldn’t be what you’re here for.’
‘Who can tell? Commence. I am all agog.’
‘You will have to tell me where to begin.’
‘How long have you known Dr Lochlure?’
‘On and off, for about two years.’
‘Why haven’t you married her?’
‘Lack of filthy lucre. You can’t expect a girl like her to settle for a cottage and live on home-grown potatoes.’
‘And your own tastes,’ said Dame Beatrice, with an eye on his beautiful clothes, ‘do not run that way, either.’
‘Look, I know better than to fence with you, Dame Beatrice. You want me to confess that, with Veryan out of the way, I stand a good chance of being offered the chair of archaeology at my university. Very well, I admit it. They can hardly pass me over. All the same, I didn’t kill him and I can’t tell you who did.’
‘Ignoring the fact that I have had your story already from the police, will you tell me, in as much relevant detail as you think fit, exactly how you spent the weekend of Professor Veryan’s death?’
‘I can’t, without involving Susannah.’
‘Then by all means involve her. When I release you, I shall talk to her. She will have every chance of refuting your statements, should she think it well to do so. Remember, too, that only those indiscretions which lead to crime are of any interest to the police and, in this case, to me. They and I pool all our information, you know.’
‘I know I am high on the list of suspects. At least, I shall be if the police can ever prove that Malpas Veryan was murdered. But, if I caused his death, should I confess so freely that, because of it, I have every prospect of stepping into his shoes?’
‘And, I understand, of having half his fortune for a research project. There was no need for you to confess to something which is bound to be common knowledge very soon. Do tell me what was behind the story of the mouse.’
‘What story of what mouse?’
‘The mouse which provided you with an excuse to remove Dr Lochlure from Miss Broadmayne’s home.’
‘Sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is this another version of the Isle of Man’s talking mongoose?’
‘I still hope that you will give me an account of how you spent the Friday, Saturday and Sunday, especially the Sunday night on which Professor Veryan died.’
‘I have already given a full account to the police.’
‘I am still wondering whether you would care to alter that statement in any way?’
‘No, I wouldn’t. Whether it is exactly accurate or not is beside the point. It’s a good story and I don’t propose to depart from it. It doesn’t matter what young Fiona has told you. I am not risking Susannah’s reputation by admitting that I slept with her.’
‘Although you did. Very well, Mr Tynant. Please ask for Dr Lochlure to come in.’
‘I insist upon hearing the questions you put to her.’
‘If she has no objection, neither have I.’
‘You mean that?’
‘Please ask the policeman on duty to send her in.’
Nicholas walked to the door. There was a short colloquy at the end of which Susannah, raising her voice a little, said, ‘Certainly not. Listeners hear no good of themselves. I shall see Dame Beatrice alone, as everybody else has done. Do you want tongues to wag even more than they’re wagging already? Don’t be tiresome.’ With that, she entered the room and shut the door.
‘Ah,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘I am glad to know that you can manage your men.’
‘Men? In the plural? You flatter me, Dame Beatrice.’
‘I think not, unless all but one of the male sex are blind. Would you prefer to have my secretary sit in on our conference?’
‘You are such an intimidating inquisitor that I rather think I would like to have someone else present. May I ask her to come in? She is in the corridor.’