11
Private and Other Conversations
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What makes you think the girls whom the two men students picked up can help with establishing the time of death, ma’am?’ asked Mowbray.
‘Well, most of the adults have taken it for granted that the caravan was empty at the time of Professor Veryan’s death. It now appears that the young people may have slept in it on all three nights of that weekend. The young men heard nothing, so I think they were in my paddock, as they claimed, but there is just the chance that one of the girls may have heard Veryan cry out as he fell, particularly if the fall was involuntary.’
‘Even if one of the girls did hear something, ma’am, it won’t help unless she looked at her watch at the time, but it’s worth a try.’
‘You said you had finished that sonnet of yours,’ remarked Fiona.
‘Oh, yes. I don’t think it will do for my collected works, but I still think it’s too good for the college magazine. Do you want to read it?’
‘No. You read it aloud to me.’
‘Very few poets do justice to their own work when they read it aloud.’
‘Betjeman does.’
‘My father says de la Mare didn’t. He once heard him and Edith Evans read his work alternately.’
‘Never mind that. Have a bash.’ Fiona stretched herself on the sands. The poet gave a preliminary cough. ‘Here goes, then,’ she said. ‘No rude comments.’
‘Of course not; nothing but admiration. Has it got a title?’
‘No. I simply call it Sonnet. It goes:
‘Put out the light and be my body’s balm.
I have more need of you than you of me;
But at the hearts of maelstroms there is calm -
The endless patience of Eternity;
And so, though fine the line ’twixt love and lust,
Fear you no ill nor any purpose dire,
For in the end, dear heart, we are but dust,
The residue of Love’s consuming fire.
Too soon the all-impatient dawn will break,
And, with it, Night’s sweet symphony be mute,
So, while we have the time, let Orpheus make
A music with his lyre and Pan his flute.
Put out the light. Let Eros have his way.
Minds invent lies, but bodies never may.’
‘Hm!’ said Fiona, raising herself on one elbow. ‘A bit derivative, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t see how that can be avoided. One reads so many things that, in the end, it becomes very difficult to sort out what is original from what one has unconsciously absorbed.’
‘That last line isn’t true, anyway. Look at prostitutes and gigolos and those sort of seedy adventurers who make love to silly rich women for their money and marry them.’
‘The line belongs in the context. I wasn’t thinking about prostitutes and gigolos and seedy adventurers.’
‘You know I’m likely to find myself in trouble, don’t you? – about Veryan’s death I mean,’ said Fiona.
‘That smooth-talking policeman made it plain. He knows you spent the weekend alone in an empty house, but, after all, I told him I spent it with people I couldn’t possibly identify. Anyhow, you have to have a motive for murder and neither of us had any reason to kill Professor Veryan.’
‘I read somewhere that the police don’t bother all that much about motives. What they go for are means and opportunity.’
‘Well, I suppose you had the means and we both had the opportunity. I can’t prove I was in London and you can’t prove you spent Sunday night at home.’
‘I had the means? What means?’
‘Well, I’ve been turning things over in my mind. I have a strong visual imagination and I think I can see what happened on that tower.’
‘So can everybody else. The coping is very low and is broken away and Veryan was a tall man. Somebody gave him a shove and over he went.’
‘You couldn’t be sure that would happen. People standing on their feet have a lot of resistance to a push or shove. I have thought of a much better way.’
‘Then I wouldn’t tell that detective, if I were you.’
‘I don’t think it would work in my case; I’m not big enough or strong enough, but an average person could do it.’
‘Which average person do you have in mind?’
‘Nobody in particular.’
‘Come on! You can trust me.’
‘Can I? Susannah Lochlure couldn’t. You let her think your parents would be at home, and that she would go riding and play golf and there might be a small, select dance on the Saturday night. It’s no use denying it. I heard you. You must have known you were lying to her.’
‘Will you give me a copy of that sonnet? I like it very much. May I have it?’
‘Yes, of course. All right, then, the average person in my mind is Edward Saltergate.’
‘And the method?’
‘I envisage Veryan seated on the broken wall with both hands holding his telescope to his eye. You know the way he always sat leaning right back with his knees together—’
‘And his hands clasped behind the back of his head—’
‘In this case holding the telescope, as I say. Well, all the average person would have to do is to make a swift dive at his legs, get him behind the knees and tumble him over backwards. He could not possibly save himself.’
‘There are two objections to your choosing Saltergate.’
‘He’s the one with a motive.’
‘I thought we agreed that motive was of secondary importance. I can pick holes in your theory. For one thing, you couldn’t be certain that your method would kill a person. It might only injure him and then he could testify against you. My other objection is that, as soon as anybody else climbed the tower, Veryan would automatically lower the telescope and certainly would not be taken by surprise. In fact, if the visitor was Saltergate and he came by night, I’m sure Veryan would have been on the alert and very suspicious.’
‘He despised Edward. He would not have been afraid of him. Then, once Edward had done the job, you see, he could have got down from the tower, picked up Veryan’s head and smashed it down on that pile of stones to make sure.’
‘I had no idea you were so bloodthirsty.’
‘All poets are bloodyminded. Didn’t you know?’
‘More work for the police, then,’ said Mowbray. ‘I’ll send my sergeant. He’s a lady-killer and a snake in the grass. I have faith in his future. He should go far.’
Detective-Sergeant Harrow sought out Bonamy who, with Tom, was filling in a narrow causeway over the trench so that it could be crossed and another row of pegs inserted in order that a second trench inside the first one could be dug when the two workmen had finished their present assignment.
‘Can you spare a minute? I’ve orders from Mr Mowbray,’ he said. The young men straightened their backs. ‘He wants the names of the two young ladies you have been in the habit of dating since you’ve been here. We have the name of the pub you frequent.’
‘Oh, Lord! Dame Beatrice has blown the gaff on us!’ said Tom. ‘Look here, Virginia and Sarah had nothing whatever to do with this rotten business. They’ve never so much as met anybody here except ourselves. You are not going to badger them.’
‘Far from it, I assure you, sir. The top brass are just clearing the dead wood out of the case. Our only concern is to make sure of your alibi for the time of the murder. You see, so far as our information goes, you and these young ladies were the only persons actually here at the castle at the time of Professor Veryan’s death. Mr and Mrs Saltergate were in the village, but not, of course, at the castle. All we need is confirmation that you and the ladies were actually in the caravan on that Sunday night. Once that has been established, we can eliminate you from our list of suspects. Have they surnames?’