He addressed Frank Ambrose, but it was Brenda who replied. She gave a short laugh entirely devoid of merriment and said,
“Lydia and Irene! I don’t suppose either of them could hold their tongues if they tried! I can’t say I’ve ever seen either of them try.”
Frank Ambrose was frowning heavily. He said,
“They’ll have to-that’s all about it.”
“If they don’t?”
“They’ll have to.” He gave himself a kind of shake and straightened up. “I would like to say that I think too much is being made of what happened last night. I agree with Aunt Grace that he wasn’t himself-he couldn’t have been. The whole thing was extremely painful, and I can’t think why anyone should want to talk about it. I suggest that we stop doing so. It has nothing whatever to do with the police, and it has no possible bearing on the Governor’s accident. I propose that we now drop the subject.”
Grace Paradine said,
“I quite agree.”
After which there was a pause which was broken by Brenda Ambrose, who said in her most downright voice,
“I wonder what put it into his head. And I wonder if anyone did go and see him in the study last night.”
The colour ran up into Phyllida’s face. Elliot saw it because he was looking at her. And all mixed up with being angry and wondering whether anyone else had seen her flush, he was thinking that Lydia was right-she had got thin. And he hated that grey dress-it made her look like a ghost. But he supposed she would have to wear it. Insensate custom mourning-barbaric. His eyes met hers and forbade her to speak. Then he swung round on Brenda.
“That’s another thing the police will want to know-which of us saw him last? I was with him for a minute or two after I said goodnight in the drawing-room. If nobody saw him later than that, I suppose it rests with me.”
Grace Paradine’s glance just flickered over him.
“You went to see him in the study?”
“I did.”
“Do we ask why?”
“You do if you like-I don’t at all mind saying. He asked me to stay here last night because we had business together. I went to the study to say goodnight to my host. I wasn’t there three minutes, as Albert can testify. He saw me go in, and waited for me to come out again.”
Brenda fixed her light gaze upon him and said in the tone of one who makes a discovery,
“Albert-now that’s an idea! I don’t mind betting that it was Albert whom the Governor meant-I don’t mind betting it was. I wonder what he’s been up to-letting out official secrets, or hanky-panky with the cash? When you come to think of it, Albert’s much the most likely person.”
Elliot laughed.
“That, my dear Brenda, is exactly what Albert thought. That is why he was waiting for me. He said with perfect frankness that the family would try and put it on him, and he wanted an alibi. So he clung to me till well after midnight. It was rather like sitting up with the Encyclopedia Britannica. But I’m in a position to say that he never got a chance of going anywhere near the study until after the accident must have happened.”
“But no one knows when it happened-not exactly. How can they?” said Dicky.
Elliot looked round at him.
“Well, as a matter of fact they can, because it began to rain just after twelve, and the ground under the body was dry. The Superintendent says it was coming down hard. Albert and I were having drinks in the dining-room about then. It was nearly ten past twelve when we got back to my room and said goodnight. So I’m afraid it’s no good picking on Albert for the family skeleton.”
Brenda said, “Pity-” and with that the door opened and Albert Pearson came in.
“The Superintendent would like to see Miss Paradine.”
Grace Paradine got up.
“Perhaps I had better see him here. What do you think?”
Elliot said,
“Shut that door, Albert! Look here, we’ve agreed that it’s no use saying anything about what happened at dinner last night.”
Albert said,
“Oh, quite-let sleeping dogs lie and all that. But it’s not going to be so easy-is it?”
For the first time, Mark Paradine turned round. He had stood looking out over the wet gravel sweep, the frost-burned lawn, and wet, dark shrubberies which were all that were to be seen from this side of the house. It was Phyllida’s sitting-room which looked upon the river and had the view. Miss Paradine had contented herself with the lesser prospect.
It is to be doubted whether Mark knew what he had been looking at. He turned, and Elliot was conscious of some degree of shock. The dark skin had a greenish tinge. There was a tension of every muscle. The line of the jaw was rigid. The eyes had certainly known no sleep. He said harshly,
“What do you mean?”
Albert came a little farther into the room.
“Well, you see, it’s going to be awkward.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, they’re not satisfied. I’ve been there with them, and I’ve done my best, but they’re not satisfied.”
“How do you mean, they’re not satisfied?”
Mark’s hands were deep in his pockets. Elliot guessed at fists clenched hard. Everything about him seemed to be clenched. He began to have cold feet. He liked Mark.
Albert said in the voice which always sounded a little smug,
“Well, they’re not. They’re not satisfied about its being an accident.”
“What else could it be?” said Grace Paradine in deep indignant tones.
Albert turned to answer her.
“Well, they haven’t said, Miss Paradine, but it’s plain enough that they’re not any too satisfied. You see, there are a lot of scratches and abrasions which must have been due to his striking the parapet. Dr. Horton says he must have come up against it hard, and they don’t seem to think he’d have done that if he’d turned giddy. I’m afraid it’s going to be awkward.”
Chapter 15
Superintendent Vyner came in with something of the air of a docile bull in the traditional china shop. He was, as a matter of fact, uncomfortably conscious that his boots were not only large but muddy, and that the whole situation was, as Mr. Pearson had put it, awkward. Previous contacts with Miss Paradine had been over such pleasant matters as the provision of police for the marshalling of cars at social functions. There had also been handsome donations to police dances and police charities. Business was business of course, and duty was duty. He found it in his heart to wish that Dr. Frith, the police surgeon, was less positive about those cuts and bruises. Dr. Horton, now, he was all for making things easy for the family-hadn’t been their doctor best part of twenty years for nothing. But when Frith up and put it to him-well, there was no mistaking it, he didn’t see his way to contradicting him, not out and out. He’d have liked to, but he didn’t see his way to it. Cautious, and got his reputation to think about. Frith was one of the cocksure sort, but the way he put it you couldn’t help seeing he’d got sense on his side. If a man turns giddy he goes down in a heap, blundering. He don’t come up against a two-foot parapet hard enough to cut his trousers and take a bit out of his knee, to say the least of it. And when Frith says and sticks to it that those cuts and bruises were made before death, and you can see for yourself where the stone’s been knocked from the parapet-well, it’s no wonder Dr. Horton won’t go farther than to say that he don’t feel called on to express an opinion. The plain English of it was that it looked uncommon like Mr. Paradine having been pushed over that parapet, and the next thing after that was-who pushed him? There was no getting from it, it was awkward.
With these thoughts occupying his mind, he advanced into the room, and was aware of Miss Paradine, tall and dignified in a plain black dress. She inclined her head, bade him good-morning, and asked him to be seated. Looking about for a chair, he selected the one upon which Brenda Ambrose had been sitting, and wished the interview well over. The family had been dismissed. Miss Paradine was alone and gravely at her ease.