‘Yes, madam?’
‘Edward and I did go to the castle that night, but we were there looking at the extent of the excavation before Malpas arrived. Edward tackled him when he turned up and got a very dusty answer which made us both very angry, but after some hot words had been exchanged we returned to the hotel.’
‘Yes, I checked that, madam, but you both went back to the castle later, did you?’
‘Not Edward. I was so angry and restless when we went up to our room that I knew it was useless to think about going to bed. Edward retired as usual, but I said I was going on to the flat part of the roof to get some air, and that was all I intended to do when I said the words. My husband and I occupy separate beds, so I knew I should not disturb him when I came back to the room, for he is a very sound sleeper and soon drops off.
‘When I stepped out on to the leads I saw Malpas silhouetted against the night sky and it occurred to me that perhaps pleading with him to leave Edward’s walls untouched might prove more effective than anger, especially as I am a woman.’
‘You left the hotel by way of the fire escape, I suppose.’
‘Yes, I did. There are only two doors, both at the ends of corridors, on to the fire escape staircase, so I knew that nobody in the hotel would see me, and I was very quiet. Like many people of my build, I am very light on my feet.
‘It seemed a long way to the castle and my fear was that Malpas would have given up his star-gazing before I got to the keep, and to waylay him on his way to his hotel did not seem a very good idea, as his only thought would be to get to bed, not to stay on the road and listen to me.’
‘But you found that he was still on the tower.’
‘I had a torch, the one Edward had used when we were inspecting the trench, so I lighted my way into the keep. I knew, of course, that Bonamy and Tom would not be there, so the coast would be clear. I made my way up that newel stair with great caution and—’
‘I wonder Professor Veryan did not hear you. Even with the aid of an electric torch and however light on your feet you are, you must have made some sounds as you climbed up.’
‘As to that, I cannot say. All I know is that when I reached the top of the tower Malpas had his telescope to his eye and his back towards me.’
‘Could you see as much as that in the dark, madam?’
‘Well, I had switched off my torch, but these summer nights are not really dark and on that particular night the sky was clear and luminous. I spoke his name, but he was absorbed in his star-gazing and answered vaguely, “Oh, it’s you again, Lilian.” So I spoke sharply. “Malpas,” I said, “you must do as we wish and leave our work alone. It is intolerable of you to make plans to destroy it.” He retorted that his work was of greater importance than ours. This made me very angry indeed and I used a weapon of which I am now ashamed, and which I am certain caused his death.’
‘Dear me, madam,’ said Mowbray, ‘I hope you realise what you are telling us!’
‘Of course I do. Dame Beatrice, I spoke to him of Susannah. She used to take walks at night, you know. Most of them were to meet Nicholas. Everybody, I suppose, soon knew about those, but the others were visits to Malpas on his tower. I do not claim that intimacy took place, although Lady Chatterley’s Lover appears to indicate that it can take place anywhere and under the most uncomfortable circumstances, but meet they did. I had seen them from the hotel roof, as I had seen Malpas himself that evening. I threatened him, Superintendent. I pointed out that exposure would ruin Susannah’s career and could also threaten his own. I gave him until the end of the following morning to make up his mind to give me a written pledge that he would give up any interference with our work. I added that I was still in two minds whether I would not, in any case, inform against the two of them. It is my contention that, when I left him, the unfortunate man threw himself off the tower.’
‘That is a very interesting theory, madam,’ said Mowbray.
‘Well, aren’t you going to write it down and ask me to sign it? I suppose it is a confession of blackmail, isn’t it? I threatened him, you know.’
‘Thank you for your co-operation, but I hardly imagine we shall be troubling you further, Mrs Saltergate.’
‘You mean I can go?’
‘Certainly, madam. There is nothing, so far, on which I can charge you.’
‘Well,’ said Dame Beatrice, when, looking both relieved and deflated, Lilian had gone, ‘they say that confession is good for the soul, but the mind is my province and I think she will be relieved to have got that particular confession off hers.’
‘You don’t see Professor Veryan as a suicide, ma’am?’
‘It has been said in John Peer’s Laws that suicide is the sincerest form of self-criticism and, from all I have heard of Professor Veryan, I doubt very much whether it would ever have occurred to him to criticise himself so adversely. I think Superintendent, that the truth, by this time, is plain to see, for it seems obvious to me that Sandgate and Wicklow, with or without assistance from Goole, murdered Stickle and Stour. I imagine that, if you question the wretched Goole, you will find that, although Sandgate had met none of the castle parties at that time, he knew all about the site and was already in association with Stickle and Stour and knew, as they did, all the stories about buried treasure.
‘To begin with, he relied upon the two men only for information about the progress of the work and the movements of the various parties. From them he learned that the whole site, so far as they knew, would be deserted on the night of Veryan’s death. At that stage I think all he had decided to do was to take a look around the excavations and no more than that.
‘What Stickle and Stour had not disclosed, because at so early a date they did not know of it, was that the castle, after all, was not entirely deserted. There, with his telescope, on top of the tower was Veryan. They could excavate for the treasure only at night, and he could study the heavens only at night. He had to be eliminated before they could search for the treasure themselves. The vandalism had to be done so thoroughly that, with any luck, the various parties would give up in despair and go home, leaving everything clear for the treasure-hunters.’
‘So Sandgate or Wicklow, or both, murdered Veryan, you think, ma’am, but why Stickle and Stour?’
‘Sandgate and Wicklow must have had some sort of row with Stickle and Stour. The two workmen then decided to give up their daytime work and concentrate on finding the treasure for themselves. On the evening Stickle and Stour were murdered, the other three had found the two navvies doing a little night-work on their own, once the castle and its environs were deserted when the young people moved into the cottage and Dr Lochlure to a hotel. There seemed every chance that the workmen might light upon the treasure first, and that could not be risked. Sandgate and Wicklow also felt they had been double-crossed.’
‘Wouldn’t Sandgate have noticed that a lot of extra digging had been done? On the other nights, I mean, when, presumably, he and Wicklow turned up at the usual time to do their own treasure-hunting?’
‘No, because he did not know how much digging had been done legitimately under Tynant’s supervision during the day. He did not care to appear on the site too often during the morning working hours, I fancy. He probably left his car in the village and sent Goole ahead to reconnoitre. What caused the row with the navvies in the first place I do not know, but nothing makes a man so doubtful of his associates as a lust for wealth.’
‘Well, it will be a big help if I can catch them in the act of trying to dig up a body which is no longer there.’
‘I think so. Incidentally, I was interested in Goole’s kindly suggestion to you. Laura knows where to procure a hazel twig.’