“Her lawyer is Sir Crispin Briggs. He would point out we hadn’t a case. Jewellery was stolen. The fingerprints on the gun are those of Lady Rose, but also there are other fingerprints as well.”
“I am surprised Hadshire let you fingerprint his precious daughter.”
“We lifted her fingerprints from her office desk and typewriter.”
“I still think she’s done it. Probably had an accomplice. Go and interview her again. I still think we have a good case against her but I will leave it to your discretion.”
Meaning, thought Kerridge, that if I make a mistake, it’s all my fault.
So on the morning of Rose’s flight, Kerridge fought his way through the questioning press to the earl’s front door and knocked loudly. He had taken the precaution of telephoning to say he was coming. The door opened a crack and then wider as Brum recognized the visitor. A babble of questions shouted by the press followed Kerridge indoors.
“Pray inform his lordship that I wish to speak to Lady Rose again.”
Brum went off up the stairs. Kerridge waited a long time. Brum finally came back down and said, “His lordship is now prepared to see you.”
The earl was seated in the morning room with Lady Polly. “I think it necessary to interview Lady Rose again.”
“You’ll need to wait till Briggs gets here.”
The door opened and Brum reappeared. “My lord, Hunter informs me that neither Lady Rose nor Miss Levine are in their rooms and they have taken luggage.” Hunter was Rose’s lady’s maid.
He was followed by an agitated Matthew Jarvis. “The money’s gone from the safe, my lord. This note was lying in it.”
The earl took the note and scrutinized it. It was from Daisy. It said bluntly, “We have run away. The money will be replaced when we return. Yr. Humble and Obedient Servant, Daisy Levine.”
“Get Cathcart!” howled the earl.
“This is very bad, my lord,” said Kerridge. “Sir Ian Wetherby already considers Lady Rose to be guilty. Her running away will only confirm it.”
“Captain Cathcart,” announced Brum in tones of doom.
“That was quick,” said the earl. “I’ve only just told Matthew to get you.”
“I was already on my way.” Harry looked round at the strained faces. “What’s up?”
“Lady Rose has run away,” said Kerridge.
“How could she be so stupid?” raged Harry. “If the press gets to hear of this, she’ll be as good as hanged in tomorrow’s papers. Kerridge, we must get her back before this gets out.”
Kerridge said, “Do you remember last year when we had to smuggle them out of the house? They went out over the garden wall at the back.”
“Come on,” said Harry, “let’s look. My lord, make sure none of your servants breathes a word of this to the press.”
♦
In the garden they found the ladder propped against the wall. “We’ll go to the nearest cab rank,” said Kerridge. “They must have taken a hack somewhere. I’ll put out an alert that all ports and stations are to be watched.”
“If you do that, when she returns you will be obliged to arrest her. Let me find her and bring her back,” pleaded Harry.
“I could lose my job.”
“If Wetherby asks, tell him she’s had a nervous breakdown and you need to wait to see her again.”
Kerridge sighed. “I’ll give you a couple of days. I can’t hold out longer than that.”
♦
By diligent questioning, working all day and long into the evening, Harry traced them as far as Paddington station. A porter remembered two ladies, one heavily veiled and one cheeky one. He had put their luggage on the train and he’d heard the cheeky one saying they were going to Thurby-on-Sea. Harry checked the timetable. There were no trains to Thurby-on-Sea until early morning the next day. He returned to his car parked outside the station and said to Becket, “I’ve found out where they’ve gone. Thurby-on-Sea. We’ll set out first thing in the morning. I’m bone-weary. I need some sleep. It’ll be better if we drive instead of taking the train.”
“They may have journeyed on from Thurby,” said Becket anxiously.
“I know the place. It’s a dead-alive hole. They won’t be going any further. I need to let my anger calm down or I’ll strangle Lady Rose.”
“Perhaps I could go myself,” suggested Becket. “I don’t mind driving through the night.”
“No, Becket.”
♦
Rose and Daisy went back up to their rooms after breakfast the next morning. It had been raining during the night and the wind still howled with dreadful ferocity. They locked the doors and took off their disguises.
“I’m bored,” said Rose. “It’s like being under some sort of genteel house arrest. I know, I put some books in the bottom of my trunk.”
Rose had not completely unpacked. She searched through clothes and underwear, and then sat back on her heels with a cry of alarm.
Daisy came to join her. Lying in the bottom of the trunk beside three books was a bundle of letters. Rose selected one. It read, “Trollops like you shouldn’t be allowed to live. I’m coming to get you.” Rose picked up one after the other, reading feverishly.
“These are the threatening letters,” she said, turning a white face to Daisy. “Someone put them in my luggage.”
“What threatening letters?”
“Captain Cathcart said something about someone sending threatening letters to Miss Duval. He then said the letters were now missing. What are they doing in my luggage?”
“Someone’s trying to get you accused of the murder,” said Daisy.
“Whoever it is must have been watching and followed us,” said Rose. “There are very few guests. Did you notice anyone in particular?”
Daisy furrowed her brow. “Let me see. Last night was busier. There was that elderly couple; a travelling salesman, or said he was, talked loudly to the couple; a spinster-looking lady and a sort of youngish man.”
“What was he like? The young man?”
“I didn’t notice him much. Only a quick glance. He was seated at the table behind us. How would anyone recognize us with our disguises?”
“Someone who was watching the house and followed us from London. We’ll need to find somewhere else,” said Rose frantically. “And what do we do with these letters? If he can find us, the police can find us.”
“Burn them,” said Daisy, looking at the fire.
“They’re evidence!”
“They’re evidence against you!”
The door burst open and Rose let out a scream of terror. Harry Cathcart, tired and furious, having set out before dawn after a restless night, strode into the room. “What the blazes are you doing? Don’t you know you made yourself look even guiltier by fleeing? What’s that you’re holding?” He snatched the letters from Rose. “Where did you get those?”
“I found them this morning,” said Rose. “I was going to unpack and there they were in the bottom of my trunk.”
“So someone followed you. Wait here.”
Harry rushed out again.
Rose was beginning to feel irrationally angry. He should have said something like, “Thank God, you are safe.” Not berated her as if she were a guilty schoolgirl.
“Listen,” said Daisy. “The wind has dropped suddenly.”
“I’m nervous waiting here. Don’t you see, Daisy, that whoever tried to make me look guilty did the murder himself? So there is a murderer in this hotel.”
“If he’d wanted to kill us, he would have done so already,” said Daisy. “All he wanted to do was make you look guilty.”
Harry came back. “I’ve checked the hotel register. One man called Mr Terence Cramley left this morning. The others all seem respectable. I’ll go out and search the town for him. I’ve got a description. I’ll call at the station and see if he’s taken a train. Kerridge gave me only two days to find you. Pack up your things. We’ve got to get out of here.”