She sat for ten minutes or more, with the scent of the rose in her head, her mind slowly emptying, then filling again with languid dreams, imprecise and enchanting. Then she stood up and strolled across the grass towards the trees that were black shadows floating into the nearly black sky. She heard someone move.
“Harry?” she asked uncertainly.
“I’m not Harry,” a man’s voice replied.
She turned to run.
“Don’t be frightened,” he said. “I’ll go away. Look, I’m walking back towards the gate.”
Hester stopped. It was a sign of hysteria, to run away from strangers in the dark.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. She could see him now, dimly. He turned towards her. “Don’t come near me,” she said quickly.
“I won’t come near. I’ve been watching you in the garden. I know I’ve no right to be here.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I saw a man climb up a drainpipe.”
“Are you a policeman?”
“No, but I’ve been watching your house. He didn’t climb down again. Are you interested?”
“He’s in the kitchen. He’s going to work for us.”
“Do your servants always arrive by drainpipe?” he asked, and Hester laughed.
“Why were you in the garden?” she asked.
He didn’t answer the question immediately. “Tell me something? What’s the name of the man who came here to dinner – who came by car?”
“Reid. Maurice Reid.”
“Reid.” He sounded satisfied. “Have you known him long?”
“I don’t see why I should discuss—”
“Oh, you’re getting in a weak position,” he said. “Now you’ve told me his name, you’ll have to justify yourself. I don’t mind how long it takes you, I like your voice. In gratitude for the name, I’ll tell you why I’m here. I saw him in an underground in London, and I’ve followed him all day. But I didn’t know if it was the right man.”
“And is it?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll tell him you’re following him,” she said.
“Yes, I wish you would.”
“Why?”
“It will give him something to think about.”
“If you mean to do him harm, I’ll ring the police.”
“If I leave your garden, you’ll have no reason to ring the police. I’ll go now. Don’t forget to tell him he’s being followed. What’s your name?”
“Wade.”
“That can’t be all of it.”
“Miss Wade,” she suggested.
“Miss Wade, good night.”
“Wait,” she called, but he went away.
She went back into the house. Her father and Maurice were still talking. She knew it was possible to interrupt, to tell Maurice he was being followed, but he would look at her in amazement, he would think she was mad, there would be more questions and answers. The stranger had wanted her to tell Maurice – it was surely better not to act on the advice of strangers. The arguments swirled round in her head, then cleared away, leaving her to see that doubts of some kind were forming in her mind about Maurice. She watched his face carefully while she said:
“Maurice, there was a man in the garden. I spoke to him. He said he was there to follow you.”
She saw Maurice’s eyes drop swiftly with the effort of concentrated thought, then he looked up, still smiling.
“Some madman, I suppose,” he said. It seemed to her he spoke with great effort. “Perhaps we should search the garden?” he suggested slowly.
“He’s gone,” Hester said quickly. “He didn’t know your name at first. He may have been making it all up.”
“You told him my name?” Maurice asked sharply.
“What does it matter?” she said wearily. “It’s not as though you had anything to hide. I told him my name, too.”
“Hester! What – how could you come to talk to a strange man in the dark? He – might have been dangerous,” Wade said.
“Here I am,” she said impatiently, “so he wasn’t. As a matter of fact, I rather liked the sound of his voice. No, Father, don’t be upset. I’m not really as silly as I sound.” She crossed the room and kissed him. “He seemed very safe. And he’s gone now. I promise you.”
Maurice stood up. He looked less confident than usual. “Did you tell this safe young man where I lived,” he asked drily.
“I don’t think he was interested.”
Maurice walked round the room, and then said it was time for him to go. Wade accompanied him to his car, and then looked around the garden with a torch. As Hester had said, there was no stranger in the garden now.
INVESTIGATION (5)
THE story, as they remembered it, was like a damaged fossil found in the rocks: the story they offered was a handful of broken stone. Inspector Lewis sat now, patiently assembling the fragments.
“That’s all, absolutely all, about Wednesday?” he asked. “What happened about this Jackie?”
“We gave him a camp bed in the attic, in the room over Morgan’s.”
“This man in the garden – he said he was following Maurice Reid?”
“Yes, I told you.”
“Is that all you can tell me about him?”
They watched Hester gliding into the shelter of her secret thoughts.
“His name is Marryatt,” Wade explained. The words sounded like the prelude to a statement, but the statement didn’t follow.
“Do you know where we can find him?”
Hester shook her head.
Moira Ferguson leant forward. “Is he that dark young man who has been staying in the pub? The Australian?”
“Very possibly,” Hester said.
“Because if he is, he’s still there. I know about him, because we heard him come back in the middle of the night.”
“What night?” Lewis asked.
“Thursday night.”
“Let’s leave Thursday until we come to it,” Hester suggested.
“I don’t know what he’d been doing. It must have been one o’clock.”
“Hardly the middle of the night,” Hester said contemptuously.
“We heard him, because we live next the pub, and old Barnes was leaning out of the window, shouting. Harry said he, the Australian, Marryatt I mean, had probably been murdering Maurice. And something about murdering sleep.”
“Macbeth, sir,” Sergeant Young said in his low, explanatory voice to the inspector, while Hester stared at Moira as if she was looking for a place to insert a knife.
“Harry said Marryatt was staying there just to get his hands on Maurice and it was lucky for Maurice he was going to Dublin on that plane. But it wasn’t lucky for him after all,” Moira said.
“Can you tell us more about this Marryatt?” Lewis asked Hester stolidly.
“I can’t. Not like that. One thing is always bound up with another. I don’t want to say any more about him. Give him a chance to explain his own actions. If he’s at The Running Fox, why not see him there? Or bring him here, and let him hear her repeat what she has to say,” Hester said.
“I think we’ll have to get hold of this Marryatt,” Lewis said. He looked at his watch. “We mustn’t keep you people from your lunch,” he said in a hungry voice. “Suppose we ask this Marryatt to come here after lunch, for a friendly discussion? Or do you object? Would you sooner I saw him alone, at the station?”
“I’d sooner he was here and heard what Mrs Ferguson has to say against him,” Hester said.
Lewis levered himself out of his chair. “Then we’ll see you all after lunch. You were awake at one o’clock on Thursday night, on Friday morning, that is, Mrs Ferguson?”