‘Obviously. I shall never forget it. But I don’t think there’s very much I can tell you.’
He appeared to wish not to continue the conversation and stirred uncomfortably.
‘You were one of five officers dining together in the mess that night,’ Joe persisted. ‘Did you know each other well? Was it by arrangement that you met?’
Somersham considered this for a moment. ‘Five of us were there? No, we didn’t know each other particularly well so it was by pure chance that we were there in the mess together that evening. The other officers and their wives had all gone off to a midnight picnic. So what you were left with in the mess was, I suppose, the social misfits of the day. Carmichael ’s wife was ill and had cried off. Forbes the MO stayed behind on duty and the rest of us, all bachelors, couldn’t be bothered. Funny sort of entertainment if you ask me. I suppose Jonno – Simms-Warburton – would have gone like a shot if Dolly Prentice had been going but everyone thought she was in Calcutta with Giles.’
‘Simms-Warburton was in love with Dolly?’
‘Weren’t we all to some extent! But Jonno more than most. In our different ways we were all captivated by her. She deserved better than Prentice. He was not liked.’
‘Not liked?’ Joe queried. ‘Wouldn’t you put it stronger than that?’
‘All right, Mr Policeman. He was cordially disliked. It wouldn’t be too much to say he was cordially detested. Many were frightened of him. I wasn’t of course, but many were.’
‘And yet I’ve heard it said that he’s much respected by the men?’
‘Oh, yes. Very popular with the men. And the natives, the Indians, of all sorts, they eat out of his hand. But the officers have never been able to get along with him. It’s impossible to be easy in his company. He deliberately sets out to offend. He had nicknames for all of us – I was Silly Billy Somersham – still am! But Forbes, the MO, was a special target. Bullied him, you could say. Seemed to think he wasn’t quite up to the standards of the regiment and was always having a go at him. No cause to do that. Chap was a perfectly good doctor.’
‘And what were his relations with Carmichael?’
‘ Carmichael hated him. They should have been at level pegging in their career but it was always Prentice who was one jump ahead. Hard to live with that.’
‘So what we have here is an impromptu meeting of the Prentice Appreciation Society? But what about the fifth man? Dickie Templar. Did he have cause to hate Prentice?’
‘Dickie Templar?’ Somersham barely seemed to recall the name. ‘Oh, Templar! Passing through on his way to the frontier. No. He’d been here all of two minutes. Shouldn’t think he’d managed to work up a hatred in the time. Dickie. He was the one who spotted the fire.’
‘Tell me what happened then.’
‘Well, what do you expect happened? The fire was spotted. Our horses were right there. We got on them and rode out to Prentice’s bungalow. We weren’t on duty, you know. I mean, no reason for us to investigate… no reason at all. The Queen’s were dealing with everything. Good fellows… did their best… but they couldn’t save the bungalow. They go up in no time at all. Thatch, weeks of hot weather drying everything out. Go up like matchwood. Not a hope. Bandits did it. No doubt about that. Never has been. Dolly never stood a chance. The guilty men were caught and punished, as you probably know. No, Sandilands, it’s no use raking about in the ashes of the Prentice fire to solve your mystery. It doesn’t compare with the tragedy of Peggy’s death. That I really do want to know about! Are you any nearer to knowing what happened to Peg?’
‘Yes,’ said Joe. ‘Very much nearer.’
With a clatter a pony was led out and Somersham excused himself. ‘I ride at this time every day,’ he said without further explanation, mounted and was gone.
On return to his bungalow, Joe was glad to see Naurung deferentially in attendance and greeted him cheerfully.
‘The sahib is about to eat his breakfast,’ said Naurung. ‘I will wait.’
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ said Joe, ‘and that is an order. I’ll give you a cup of coffee and you’ll come and talk to me while I have my breakfast.’
Reluctantly Naurung entered and, as gingerly as ever, took a seat on the edge of a chair while Joe lifted a cover. to reveal two perfectly poached eggs on toast.
‘Right. Now, tell me what you have turned up.’
‘The sahib asked me to discover what Superintendent Bulstrode was doing on the night of Mrs Somersham’s death.’
‘Had he an alibi?’
‘Yes, I have to tell you that he has an alibi.’
Something in his manner caused Joe to look up. It would have been impossible for the dignified Naurung to be wrestling with suppressed laughter, but that, it seemed, was what was happening.
‘I have informers, police spies perhaps. They are everywhere. Men and women. I have a small fund and out of this I pay for useful information. I let it be known, indirectly of course, that I was interested in the doings of the Police Superintendent that evening. I started my enquiries among the women of the town. You will understand that they know everything. Bulstrode Sahib believes that he conceals his tracks but I will say that this is not so. It would be impossible to do so.’
He paused for a moment and Joe said in encouragement, ‘Good, Naurung. Just what I would have done in London. What did you find?’
‘Acting on information received, and pursuant to your instructions, I am having the Superintendent watched. It seems that he often visits the Shala-mar Bagh. This is a disreputable, oh very disreputable house. And my information is that he often spends long times there and that he was indeed there for three hours at the time of Mrs Somersham’s death.’
‘Three hours is a long time in the circumstances,’ said Joe. ‘Not visited many brothels myself and things may well be different in India but I would have thought that for the needs of most, an hour would be enough?’
‘I thought so too,’ said Naurung. ‘And for that reason, on Thursday, I set off to follow the Superintendent myself.’
For a moment Joe was embarrassed as he compared Naurung’s assiduous pursuit of his duty with the self-indulgent way he had gone off picnicking with Nancy. But Naurung was not aware of any uneasiness and carried on with enthusiasm.
‘He looked at me. He didn’t recognise me.’ Naurung looked pleased with himself. ‘You yourself have said it, sahib, Indians are invisible to English people. I took off my uniform and put on Indian clothes. He looked through me. I wasn’t there. Bulstrode Sahib sees only a uniform, he does not see Naurung Singh.
‘I entered Shala-mar Bagh where I have never been before and spoke to the doorman – a great big, warlike Rajput. But less warlike when I offered him a rupee to look the other way while I entered. Bulstrode was nowhere. He had disappeared. Then I noticed a small door ajar and I opened it. It led me to a passage at the back of the establishment. I followed it to a courtyard I did not know existed, a pretty courtyard where several small children were playing and, at the far end, I saw Bulstrode going towards a house built into the wall. Two beautiful young Bengali girls came hurrying out to greet him and take him by the hand and then a large lady also appeared and greeted him.’
‘This begins to look bad,’ said Joe, shaking his head.
‘I thought so too, sahib, but then, when I was wondering what to do next, the small children who had been absorbed in their game heard the cries and looked up. They threw down their toys and ran to Bulstrode and jumped at him shouting, “Daddee!” ’
‘Good Lord! Are you saying…?’
‘Yes, sahib! I had discovered his secret! You will remember that Bulstrode Sahib put aside his Bengali woman when he married an English lady?’
‘Yes, you told me. And the memsahib went back to England, you say, with her baby?’