“Mr. Mason, Mrs. Manciple.”
“Oh yes, of course. Well — furniture, as I said, and quite a number of the Head’s books, the leather-bound ones from the old library. I was glad that they hadn’t left Cregwell altogether, and since none of us read Greek or Latin, it seemed…”
Henry interrupted the flow. “You were on good terms with Mr. Mason at this time?”
“Oh indeed, yes. In fact, you mustn’t think that we ever quarreled, Mr. Tibbett. The trouble between George and Mr. Mason only started a year ago, when Mr. Mason made that very generous offer for this house and George was so angry. I always stand by George in public, but between ourselves it seemed to me that he was rather hard on poor Mr. Mason. After all, how was he to know that we regard this house as a sacred trust? All he did was to make an offer…”
“Which your husband refused?”
“Naturally. That was when the misunderstanding started. Mr. Mason got the impression that George was holding out for more money, and he kept raising his offer. Each time he did so George got even angrier, and refused him even more bluntly. By the time Mr. Mason had grasped the fact that we weren’t prepared to sell at any price, the two of them were at dagger’s edge. All quite unnecessary, it seemed to me. Then Mr. Mason started on what George called his campaign of persecution — I dare say he has told you about it.”
“Yes,” said Henry, “he has.”
“So childish. But all the time Mr. Mason was coming to see me every so often and bringing me plants for my rock garden. He shared my fondness for alpine flowers, you see, and he was lucky enough to be able to order all sorts of rare specimens from Kew and elsewhere. He was so kind, Mr. Tibbett, bringing me cuttings and roots even when George was threatening him with solicitors’ letters over the right-of-way business.”
“I understand,” said Henry, “that Mason wished to marry your daughter.”
“Oh you’ve heard that, have you? Well now, Mr. Tibbett, it’s all a bit of a mountain in a teacup, if you ask me. Out of a molehill, I should say. Just like the house all over again. He wanted to buy the house; he made a good offer; and he was turned down. Then he wanted to marry Maud; he made a good — that is — a perfectly honorable offer; and once again he was turned down. I think the poor man was to be pitied rather than blamed. What had he done wrong?”
“Nothing, as far as I can make out,” said Henry. “But it was a bit sudden, wasn’t it? His falling in love with Maud, I mean?”
“I suppose you might call it sudden, but then, he hardly knew her until recently. Before, she was at the university, and then she went to the Sorbonne for a year. It was only when she took this job at Bradwood last year and started spending weekends at home…”
“At Bradwood?”
“Yes, the Atomic Research Station.”
“So Maud works for her uncle, does she?”
“In a way, yes. But there’s no question of nepotism, I do assure you, Mr. Tibbett. Maud is a fully qualified physicist, and she applied for the job and got it without Claud’s knowledge. He was quite dumfounded, he told us, when her name appeared on his desk as having been unanimously recommended for the job.” Violet Manciple hesitated for a moment, and then added, “I don’t feel quite so happy about Julian. Of course, I don’t interfere in any way, and Maud is old enough to make up her own mind. Don’t you agree, Mr. Tibbett, that if young people are not encouraged to use their initiative they will never…”
“Mrs. Manciple,” said Henry, “could we please get back to Mr. Mason?”
“Oh dear, there I go again. Yes of course. Mr. Mason. Well, what else can I tell you? The poor man was very struck by Maud, even though she is so much younger than he. And he was old-fashioned enough to come to me to ask my permission before he proposed to her. I thought it rather charming. Naturally I told him that it was entirely for Maud to say. I believe — I don’t like saying it, but one must be truthful — I believe that Maud was rather unkind to him. Laughed at him. So unmannerly. After all, Mr. Mason was paying her a great compliment, as I tried to explain to her. She seemed to find the whole thing ludicrous and a little disgusting. I think that is why she showed such a — a lack of courtesy. I’m afraid Mr. Mason was deeply hurt.”
“And angry?”
“Oh no. Julian was furious. I suppose that is understandable, but, after all, the engagement isn’t official yet, and Mr. Mason couldn’t have been expected to know about it. I said all this to Maud, but young people…”
“Now,” said Henry firmly, “we come to the day before yesterday in the afternoon and Mr. Mason’s visit. Will you tell me exactly what happened?”
“But nothing happened, Mr. Tibbett. That’s what makes it all so extraordinary.”
“Was Mason expected?”
“No, no. He simply turned up in his big car, at about half-past five. I heard the car from the kitchen and I came out into the hall, just in time to see George grabbing a gun from the cloak room and making off into the garden as fast as he could. He would go to any lengths to avoid poor Mr. Mason. Claud and Ramona were in the garden, and Maud and Julian had gone for a walk, so that Aunt Dora and I were alone in the house — except for Edwin, but he was having a nap upstairs.
“I went out to meet Mr. Mason and he told me he had brought me some cuttings for my rock garden. We brought them indoors together and talked for a while about alpine plants. Then Aunt Dora came downstairs and gave Mr. Mason a great pile of pamphlets from a spiritualist society that she’s very keen on. Between ourselves, I don’t think he was really keen on the subject, but he was very polite, as always. It did occur to me, though, that it might not have been an accident that he left the pamphlets behind when he got up to leave. For that reason, I didn’t say anything about them. I thought it would be more tactful, especially as Aunt Dora had gone upstairs again by then.”
“What did you talk about, Mrs. Manciple? Can you remember?”
Violet Manciple wrinkled her brow. “Nothing, Mr. Tibbett. Nothing important. Mr. Mason asked me was George down on the shooting range and I said he was. Mr. Mason said, wasn’t it dangerous at all, and I told him that it certainly wasn’t, or I wouldn’t allow it, and that anyway the Council had agreed it was safe. He changed the subject then — I expect he was a little embarrassed, since it was he that had lodged the complaint in the first place — and he asked me about Maud. Then Aunt Dora came in, and we had a conversation about the possibility of the survival of animals in psychic or astral form. It wasn’t very easy, because Aunt Dora kept on whistling.”
It took Henry no more than a split second to interpret this remark. “Her hearing aid, you mean?”
“That’s right. George blames it all on the National Health, but I think that she just won’t adjust it right. However…”
“Then your aunt went upstairs again, and Mr. Mason left. Is that correct?”
“Yes. I saw him out. He got into his car, started it up, and set off down the drive. I came back into the hall, and there was Aunt Dora coming out of the drawing room with the pamphlets. ‘Mr. Mason has forgotten these,’ she said, ‘and he was so interested. I must try to catch him.’ ‘He’s gone now, Aunt Dora,’ I said, but she was at the front door by then and she called out, ‘No he hasn’t, dear. He’s stopped the car.’ And she went out and down the steps, calling to him…”
Henry, who had been making some notes, frowned and said, “How agile is your aunt, Mrs. Manciple?”