‘Oh, it is terrible, Septimus, terrible. But I have hardly given the unfortunate Eustace a thought because I have been so worried about Helen. What happened to my niece is a disgrace, it is an outrage.’
‘I expect the police thought they were acting for the best. Perhaps they had no choice in the matter because Mrs Ansell was found near the… because she was…’
‘How dare they arrest my niece! How dare they suspect her of having a hand in Mr Flask’s demise! Helen would not hurt a fly. She is not robust, you know.’
‘I never like to disagree with you, Miss Howlett, but from what little I have seen of Mrs Ansell she strikes me as being quite the opposite. She is robust, she is capable. She even hinted to me that her experience might be useful to her in her writing. For she is writing a novel, one of those novels they call a three-decker.’
‘I know, I know,’ said Julia, ‘but there are some experiences which a lady ought never to have, whatever the length of the novel she is writing.’
‘I was there,’ said Septimus, putting his teacup down in the saucer with particular care.
‘Where? Where were you, Septimus?’
‘I was near the river when Eustace Flask was… was murdered. I saw him.’
‘You saw him what, Septimus? You saw him alive, you saw him dead?’
At once Julia Howlett looked very alert, especially bird-like.
‘Both.’
‘I am afraid I do not quite follow you.’
‘I was visiting St Oswald’s. I do sometimes, when I want peace and quiet to think. I was walking in the graveyard and looking at the view of the cathedral over the river and through the trees. All at once, I heard a noise below me, from among the trees. And I saw someone making his way in haste through the branches and the undergrowth…’
‘Really, Septimus, you are not writing a three-decker novel. Less circumstantial detail, if you please. Who did you see?’
‘It was Flask. I recognized him by his coat, the bright green coat, like a peacock’s I have always thought. I was curious to see what he was up to. There is a path from the St Oswald’s graveyard leading to the river. I began to go down it. I am not sure what happened next but I rather think I stumbled over a tree root. Anyway I lost my footing and I fell over, and was badly winded and confused. I must have lain on the ground for some time. When I came to myself again, I was aware of strange noises from a spot further down. I went to investigate and I saw… oh, Miss Howlett, I saw a body lying there which I think was that of Mr Flask… I think he might have still been alive.’
‘ Think, Septimus. Aren’t you sure?’
‘It must have been him.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Nothing, I did nothing. I am ashamed to say that I was frozen with fear. And then I heard the sounds of someone coming from the other direction, from the river, and I responded by moving as fast as I could upwards, back to the graveyard of St Oswald’s. I suppose I was fearful that I too would be attacked. It was not my most glorious hour.’
‘It was not,’ Julia agreed.
‘My life has not been very full of glorious hours, Miss Howlett.’
In his distraction Septimus ruffled his hair so that it was more straggly than ever. He looked so woebegone that Julia reached across and patted his knee.
‘But I suspect many men, younger and fitter men, would have done just the same.’
‘Your niece did not, she was brave, she went to investigate. It may have been her who I heard coming.’
Septimus did not mention that he had also heard distant screams as he was stumbling through the graveyard, the screams of a woman. That would have been an admission too far. Miss Howlett would think even worse of him if he revealed that he had not gone back to assist.
‘Perhaps you are right in saying Helen is a robust girl,’ said Julia. ‘A little foolhardy too. But, Septimus, there is one thing which you can do – one thing which you must do – to make amends. You must tell the police everything which you have told me.’
‘I already have. I visited the police-house earlier today. I spoke to Superintendent Harcourt.’
‘Good, good. Your account is useful because it helps to exonerate Helen even more. Since you saw poor Mr Flask when he was already dead or dying and then heard a person approaching, a person who was most likely my niece, it confirms she cannot possibly be considered responsible for this heinous crime.’
‘That is what Harcourt said although he didn’t put it quite like that. The trouble is-’
‘What is the trouble now, Septimus?’
‘The Superintendent seemed to think I might have done the deed.’
‘You! That is as ridiculous as imagining that Helen did it. Almost as ridiculous.’
‘He established that I lodged with you, Miss Howlett. He was already aware of your, ah, friendship with Mr Flask. He asked whether I like the medium, whether I approved of him.’
‘Which you did not.’
‘Was it so obvious?’
‘You never said much but I could see from your expressions, even from your silences, that you were a sceptic.’
‘A sceptic not so much on my own account but on yours, Miss Howlett. I did not like to see Eustace Flask practising on you.’
‘I can look after myself,’ said Julia firmly. ‘But if you related all this to the policeman, I can see that you might have made him suspicious. But not so suspicious that he locked you up, like poor Helen.’
‘Perhaps I should have been locked up. It would be a fitting punishment, Miss Howlett, for my many failures. But I did not lay a hand on Mr Flask. And I do not believe that Superintendent Harcourt really thought I might have done. Instead he said something rather odd.’
‘Well?’
‘He said, “The more the merrier”.’
The Visitor from the Yard
Earlier that afternoon, a mystery had been solved. Detectives from Great Scotland Yard did not wear uniforms. The individual sitting in Superintendent Frank Harcourt’s room was wearing an ordinary suit, and if Harcourt had passed him in the street he would not have given him a second glance. He’d scarcely have looked more than twice if they were sharing a railway compartment. Inspector William Traynor, with his round face and bland gaze, was average in every respect. Harcourt began to relax slightly.
‘Welcome to Durham, Inspector. I do not think we have been privileged to receive a visit from Scotland Yard before. You have had something to eat, I hope.’
‘I bought a meat pie when I changed at Derby. But I would appreciate it if you could recommend a place where I might stay in the city for a day or two.’
The Inspector had come straight from the station. He travelled light, his only luggage a small portmanteau by his chair. Harcourt was about to suggest a couple of places when a better idea occurred to him.
‘We have some good hotels and lodging houses in Durham but it would be a pleasure if you would stay with us, Inspector. My wife would be delighted to meet a detective from Scotland Yard.’
Traynor nodded and was, in his quiet way, effusive in his thanks.
‘Although I am a bachelor, Superintendent, there is nothing that pleases me more than the sight of domestic felicity. Your invitation is appreciated.’
Harcourt was thinking such a guest would impress Rhoda. It will do my career no harm either when the Chief Constable gets to hear of it. And it would be better to have this stranger from the Yard in a place where I can keep an eye on him. But, on the heels of these thoughts, it occurred to him that he had yet to discover exactly what Traynor was doing in Durham. What was the urgent and confidential business that had brought him all the way from London?