‘Did he actually call him that?’ asked Laura, interested in this unfeudal appellation.
‘He did, indeed. I thought it an apt description.’
‘Black Dog?’ said Laura. ‘Oh, yes! But Black Dog was in Treasure Island.’
‘Ah, but not on it, said Dame Beatrice, ‘and that, you know, may prove to be a very significant fact – or, of course, of no importance to us whatsoever.’
‘Treasure Island?’ said Stewart. ‘One never knows.’
Chapter 19
The Prodigal Son
‘From here the cold white mist can be discerned.’
Matthew Arnold
« ^ »
‘WELL!’ said Laura, when she and Dame Beatrice were again alone together. ‘What did you make of that?’
‘I do not think that Mrs Stewart’s son can help us any more than he has done. He told us what he could and it has not got us very much farther.’
‘What business do you think he had with Bradan?’
‘Just what he said. In other words, Mr Bradan’s firm was acting as a kind of carrier’s service. Beyond that, it was not for Stewart’s firm to enquire. I can see that Bradan’s business was perfectly respectable at first, but became illegal later.’
‘I wonder what Stewart’s did when they knew they’d lost the service?’
‘I imagine that the other directors were just as much relieved as Stewart was. Firms with a good reputation do not care to be mixed up with even the mildest of shady transactions, and there must have come a point when Stewart’s became suspicious.’
‘What do we do now?’
‘Well, of course, we might endeavour to contact Mr Bradan’s son.’
‘But he’s in prison.’
‘It might be interesting to hear his story. But, if I mistake not, I hear our dear Robert at the door.’
‘Well, I’m dashed!’ said Laura. Her husband was shown in by Célestine. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Come to eat you, my dear,’ stated Detective Chief-Inspector Robert Gavin, fondly embracing his wife. ‘How is the girl, after all this time?’
‘None the better for seeing you,’ responded his loving spouse. ‘Well, what’s the news?’
‘Very interesting,’ said Gavin. ‘Meanwhile, what’s to eat?’
Célestine, summoned from the kitchen, reported that Monsieur Robert’s wishes had been complied with, and that a steak and kidney pudding would be at Monsieur Robert’s disposal, together with potatoes and greens, in a matter of minutes.
‘Oh, many cheers,’ said Gavin. ‘Just what the doctor ordered.’
‘It is as monsieur ordered,’ retorted Célestine, tossing herself out. ‘Over the telephone today.’
‘I envy you, Dame Beatrice,’ said Gavin. ‘Your household never seems to change, except for my wife, who’s getting fat’ Laura hit him over the head with a folded newspaper.
‘And now, precious idiot, expound. We’ve been told of your exploits. Be precise,’ she said
‘Well, I can’t be terribly precise,’ said Gavin, relapsing into gravity. ‘I don’t think that what we’ve found out will do your case much good, Dame Beatrice, I don’t really believe that the rum-running, or even the arms racket, has anything to do with Bradan’s death.’
‘As I supposed,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘But I think I hear your meal going in. Away and sup. We will hear more when you are refreshed.’
‘Looks well, doesn’t he?’ said Laura, when her handsome husband had taken himself off to the dining-room. ‘Very bronzed and sunburnt.’
Dame Beatrice agreed.
‘I wonder how much money Mr Bradan left?’ she added. Laura looked surprised.
‘I thought we’d decided it was a revenge job. I certainly had that impression,’ she said. ‘Hadn’t we discarded the idea of a murder for gain?’
‘Well, it would not have been the first of those, child.’
‘I suppose,’ said Laura thoughtfully, ‘that rum-running and gun-running could be pretty lucrative. Yes, it’s quite an idea you have there. The only thing about all this which puzzles me – apart from the identity of the murderer, of course – is why you think the police are wrong about Bradan’s son. You do think they’re wrong, don’t you?’
‘What causes you to ask such a question?’
‘Oh, come, now, Mrs Croc. dear! If you thought they were right, you wouldn’t still be spending time on the case. Besides, as the police have pinched young Bradan and stuck him in the nick, they must believe that the murder was done for revenge on his part because he’d been disinherited. Now you think it was done to get Bradan’s money, and that looks like Macbeth.’
‘We shall know more when we find out how much Mr Bradan had to leave and exactly how he left it.’
‘I’d still like to know more about how the body got on to the island, or, in fact, whether it did. Do you suppose the inspector knows? If he does, he may not tell us. I suppose you’re going to use Gavin as a sort of stool-pigeon when we get to Edinburgh.’
‘I am not certain that I understand you.’
‘Go on with you! Of course you understand me. Gavin is to be our surety. The inspector will be tickled to death to meet him, and will spill all sorts of beans.’
‘Possibly in private to our Robert, but with a suggestion that the disclosures are for no ears but Robert’s own.’
‘Oh, no, that would be too bad. Anyway, he would naturally suppose that Gavin would pass the gen to the wife of his bosom.’
‘I am not at all sure about that, and, even if it were so, it might not be possible for the said wife to pass on the information to a third party – myself.’
‘Oh, well, let’s not cross any bridges until we come to them. I’ll go into the dining-room and tell him what we expect, shall I?’
At this transparent excuse for Laura to have her husband to herself for a bit, Dame Beatrice cackled, but not until Laura had gone out of the room. At the end of about three-quarters of an hour the two returned and seated themselves. Gavin gently patted his stomach.
‘Best meal I’ve had since I dined here last time,’ he said. ‘And now, Dame B., I am at your service.’
‘Well, what can you tell us?’
‘As I said before, very little that can help you. We found out – thanks to Laura and my own rather talented young son – that there were some interesting goings-on in the West Indies and so on with regard to liquor and guns, but what on earth can be the connection between them and the death of Bradan is, at present, beyond conjecture. In fact, nothing ties up.’
‘I’d better tell you about the Edinburgh murder,’ said Laura.
‘But, my dear girl, one doesn’t murder people in Edinburgh nowadays,’ said Gavin, looking incredulous. ‘It’s no longer done, particularly since the introduction of the Festival.’
‘Oh, no?’ said Laura. ‘Well, big boy, listen to this.’ She gave him a vivid but not an exaggerated account of the street death she had witnessed. ‘Mrs Croc. was not impressed at first,’ she concluded, ‘but now I think she believes that what I said was true. It’s been confirmed, you see, by an impartial and independent witness.’ She went on to tell of their various encounters with the young reporter Grant. Gavin listened without interrupting her until she concluded with the words: ‘So you see.’
‘Um – yes,’ he said. ‘I do see. Pity he doesn’t know, or won’t give, the name of this chap he says he recognised. The fact that he says the chap was in Bradan’s employment doesn’t help much, as you point out. Got any theories, Dame B.?’
‘Well, I have formed some during the investigation (which, now, properly, I should give up), but there is no proof.’