“I may say, however, that I have never regretted my decision to stay on here, never for a single moment. And we’re over the hump now. My daughter Maud, who has blessedly inherited the brains that by-passed me, has at last finished her expensive education and has gotten herself a good job. So things are looking up, you see.
“As far as I am concerned, I have achieved what I set out to do, what the Head charged me to do. This house is still the center of the family, the focal point, as Father wished. Maud was brought up here, and when I am gone, she and her husband will take over the place and bring their children up here. Do you understand now, Mr. Tibbett, why I turned down Mason’s offer?”
“Yes,” said Henry slowly. “Yes, Major Manciple, I understand. What I don’t understand is why was Raymond Mason so keen to buy this house?”
Manciple shifted in his chair a shade uneasily. “I hardly like to say this, Tibbett,” he said, “but the man was a social climber. As I told you, I found him pleasant enough at first, but people like John Adamson never really took to him. He tried to impress people, you see. John’s told me, for instance, that if Mason spotted him coming up to the Lodge he’d quickly shove away the lurid paperback he was reading under a cushion and whip down some learned-looking tome, so that he could greet John with — ‘Ah, Sir John. I was just dipping into Horace,’ or some such nonsense. That was just the sort of thing that annoyed John, but then he’s a bit of a snob I fear. English, of course. One has to make allowances. And then the Village people — they didn’t regard Mason as — as well…” Manciple cleared his throat loudly. “You know what villagers are like. Worst snobs of the lot. I suppose Mason imagined that if he owned Cregwell Grange they’d have to accept him as a landed gent.”
“He could surely have bought a large country house anywhere in Britain,” said Henry.
Manciple smiled and shook his head, “Oh, no. Dear me, no. That wouldn’t have done at all. I can tell that you never knew Mason or you’d realize that the one thing he would never accept was defeat. Cregwell it was that had given him the cold shoulder, so Cregwell it was that had to be conquered. I never saw a man’s mind more set on anything. It was as if the devil himself was driving him.”
It seemed to Henry that the Irish brogue was growing more pronounced.
“Now, what are the big houses around here? Well, there’s Kingsmarsh Hall, which has been the seat of the earls of Fenshire since the sixteenth century. Mason could hardly have bought that. There’s Priorsfield House, but that includes several hundred acres of arable farming land, and Mason had no mind to be a farmer. So that leaves Cregwell Manor, John Adamson’s home, and this place. Now, John’s a wealthy man and certainly wouldn’t dream of selling. Whereas, I — well — let’s say that I looked a pretty fair bet.”
“I see what you mean,” said Henry.
They looked at each other and there was the suspicion of a twinkle on each side of the desk.
“So,” Manciple went on, “Mr. Raymond Mason made up his mind that he would buy Cregwell Grange. And then he found that it wasn’t for sale. So what did he do?”
“Proposed to your daughter,” said Henry.
“No, no, no. That came later. His next move was a campaign of deliberate persecution directed against me, trying to make my life such a misery that I’d up and leave the place of my own accord.”
“What sort of persecution?”
“Every sort you can think of. First of all, it was the little bit of a garage that I had Harry Simmonds build for Maud’s little car. Mason tried to prove we’d no right to put up more buildings on the land. Then he found some right of way or other across the fields from the Village to the river and accused me of blocking it. Fortunately, I was able to prove that not a living soul had used it for a hundred years so that it had safely lapsed. But it was all very unpleasant. Then he started on about my range. He knew very well that shooting was my great hobby, clay-pigeon shooting. Well — not precisely clay pigeons, because they’re so devilishly expensive; I’ve invented a device of my own I’ll show you later. Anyhow, he knew how keen I was and that I had this range built in the garden. Miles away from Mason’s cottage, of course, but still he had to complain — about the noise. About it being dangerous. Petitioned the Council about it. Well, of course, I had him there. I simply rang John Adamson and Arthur Fenshire, who pretty well run the Council between them, and his petition was dismissed. Still — it wasn’t nice, you know.
“Then he began reporting me to Sergeant Duckett for riding my bike without lights; said my chimneys were smoking; objected to my compost heap; claimed I had no license for the new boxer pup, and her only three months old. I really can’t describe what I suffered at that man’s hands, Tibbett. That was why I was so prompt about reporting it to Duckett when that gun disappeared. I wouldn’t have put it past Mason to take it himself and then run me in for not reporting it.”
“I thought that things were better lately,” said Henry.
“I don’t think I’d call it better,” said Manciple gloomily. “Out of the frying pan into the fire. When he found his foul schemes weren’t working, he suddenly changed his tactics to something even more sinister. Became charming and affable, the good neighbor. He flattered my wife, brought her plants for the rock garden, and so on. And then it came out that he was making up to Maud. Can you imagine the bare-faced cheek of it? He actually proposed to her!”
“She’s a very attractive young woman,” said Henry. “I can understand any man falling in love with…”
“Falling in love be damned!” Major Manciple was vehement. “The fellow simply calculated that a suitable wife would be even more effective and much cheaper than a suitable house. And he knew that Maud would inherit this place one day. Of course Maud just laughed at him. Told him that she was unofficially engaged to Julian and that it would soon enough be official. You haven’t met Julian, have you?”
“Not yet,” said Henry.
“Delightful young man. Quite delightful. Anyhow, even that bit of news didn’t deter Mason. He kept on pestering my daughter.”
“I imagine she was quite able to deal with him,” said Henry. “Miss Manciple strikes me as being extremely capable.”
“That’s the funny thing,” said George Manciple. “I’d have said the same. But the last few days, I’ve had a curious feeling that — well — that she was afraid of Mason.”
“Afraid?”
“Yes. You’ll have to ask her about it yourself. I haven’t liked to; it was all rather awkward you see. Ten days ago Julian had this great row with Mason, and threatened to — that is…”
“Threatened to do what, Major Manciple?”
“Oh, nothing. Just a figure of speech. Julian simply warned him off pretty sharply, and told him that if he came bothering Maud again, he’d…” Again Manciple stopped.
Henry grinned. “I can imagine the dialogue,” he said. “Fortunately threats like that are seldom meant seriously, otherwise the murder rate would be a lot higher than it is. However, I now understand why you put Maud and her fiancé on your list of people with motives.”
“Well,” said Manciple, “there you are. That’s how things stood.”
“You put Mrs. Manciple on the ‘Motive’ list,” said Henry. “Why?”
“Why? Why? Because she’s my wife, of course. Her reasons would be the same as mine.”
“I see,” said Henry. “Now, will you tell me exactly what happened yesterday? From your point of view.”
“Very little to tell. I’d invited the family for the weekend to meet Julian, before we put it in The Times and made it official. Edwin arrived on Thursday and spent nearly the whole of Friday down on the estuary in a punt, fishing.”