“We mustn’t lose our common sense, you know, Alleyn,” said the Colonel. “A man’s record is always the best guide. You may depend upon it.”
“Uncle Flea, I wish I could think you’re wrong.”
“I know, old boy. I know you do.”
“The question is,” said Mrs. Forrester. “Which?”
Hilary threw up his hands and then buried his face in them.
“Nonsense!” said his aunt glancing at him. “Don’t playact, Hilary.”
“No, B! Not fair: He’s not play-acting. It’s a disappointment.”
“A bitter one,” said Hilary.
“Although,” his aunt went on, pursuing her own line of thought, “It’s more a matter of which isn’t guilty. Personally, I would think it’s a conspiracy involving the lot with the possible exception of the madman.” She turned her head slightly. “Is that the view of the police?” she asked, over her shoulder.
“No,” Alleyn said mildly.
“No! What do you mean, ‘No’?”
“No, I don’t think the servants conspired to murder Moult. I think that with the exception of Nigel they conspired to get rid of the body because they knew they would be suspected. It seems they were not far wrong. But of course it was an idiotic thing to do.”
“May I ask,” said Mrs. Forrester very loudly, “if you realize what this extraordinary theory implies? May I ask you that?”
“But of course,” Alleyn said politely. “Do, please. Ask.”
“It implies — ” she began on a high note and then appeared to boggle.
“There’s no need to spell it out, Aunt B.”
“— something perfectly ridiculous,” she barked. “I said, something perfectly ridiculous.”
Alleyn said, “I’m sorry to have to ask you this, sir, but there’s the matter of formal identification.”
Colonel Forrester said, “What? Oh! Oh, yes, of course. You — you want me to — to —”
“Unless there is a member of his family within call? There will presumably be relations who should be informed. Perhaps you can help us there? Who is the next-of-kin, do you know?”
This produced a strange reaction. For a moment Alleyn wondered if Colonel Forrester was going to have one of his “turns.” He became white and then red in the face. He looked everywhere but at Alleyn. He opened his mouth and then shut it again, half rose and sank back in his chair.
“He had no people,” he said at last, “that I know of. He — he has told me. There are none.”
“I see. Then, as his employer —”
“I’ll just get dressed,” the Colonel said and rose to his feet.
“No!” Mrs. Forrester interjected. She left the window and joined him. “You can’t, Fred. It’ll upset you. I can do it, I said I can do it.”
“Certainly not,” he said with an edge to his voice that evidently startled his wife and Hilary. “Please don’t interfere, B. I shall be ready in ten minutes, Alleyn.”
“Thank you very much, sir. I’ll join you in the hall.”
He opened the door for the Colonel who squared his shoulders, lifted his chin and walked out.
Alleyn said to Mrs. Forrester. “It can wait a little. There’s no need for him to come at once. If you think it will really upset him —”
“It doesn’t in the least matter what I think. He’s made up his mind,” she said and followed him out.
They hadn’t been able to make what Mr. Fox called a nice job of Moult’s body, owing to its being in an advanced state of rigor mortis. They had borrowed a sheet to cover it and had put it on a table in an old harness room. When Alleyn turned back the sheet Moult seemed to be frozen in the act of shaking his fist at the Colonel and uttering a soundless scream out of the head that was so grossly misplaced on its trunk.
Colonel Forrester said, “Yes,” and turned away. He walked past the constable on duty, into the yard, and blew his nose. Alleyn gave him a few moments and then joined him.
“Long time,” said the Colonel. “Twenty-five years. Quarter of a century. Long time.”
“Yes,” Alleyn said. “It’s a rather special relationship — the officer, soldier-servant one — isn’t it?”
“He had his faults but we understood each other’s ways. We suited each other very well.”
“Come indoors, sir. It’s cold.”
“Thank you.”
Alleyn took him to the library where a fire had now been lit and sat him down by it.
“No need for it, really,” said the Colonel, making tremulous conversation, “with all this central heating ’Illy’s put in, but it’s cheerful, of course.” He held his elderly veined hands to the fire and finding them unsteady, rubbed them together.
“Shall I get you a drink?”
“What? No, no. No, thanks. I’m perfectly all right. It’s just — seeing him. Might have been killed in action. They often looked like that. Bit upsetting.”
“Yes.”
“I — there’ll be things to see to. I mean — you’ll want — formalities and all that.”
“I’m afraid so. There’ll be an inquest of course.”
“Of course.”
“Do you happen to know if he left a will?”
The hands were still and then, with a sudden jerk, the Colonel crossed his knees and clasped them in a travesty of ease.
“A will?” he said. “Not a great deal to leave, I daresay.”
“Still — if he did.”
“Yes, of course.” He seemed to think this over very carefully.
“You don’t know, then, if he did?”
“As a matter of fact,” the Colonel said in a constrained voice, “he gave me a — an envelope to keep for him. It may contain his will.”
“I think we shall probably ask to see it, Colonel. Of course if it’s irrelevant —”
“Yes, yes, yes,” he said. “I know. I know.”
“Is it,” Alleyn asked lightly, “perhaps in that famous uniform box?”
A long silence. “I — rather think so. It may be,” said the Colonel and then: “He has — he had the key. I told you, didn’t I? He looked after that sort of thing for us. Keys and things.”
“You placed an enormous trust in him, didn’t you?”
“Oh that!” said the Colonel dismissing it with a shaky wave of his hand. “Oh rather, yes. Absolutely.”
“I think I’ve recovered the key of the padlock.”
The Colonel gave Alleyn a long watery stare. “Have you?” he said at last. “From — him?”
“It was in his pocket.”
“May I have it, Alleyn?”
“Of course. But if you don’t mind we’ll do our routine nonsense with it first.”
“Fingerprints?” he asked faintly.
“Yes. It really is only routine. I expect to find none but his and your own, of course. We have to do these things.”
“Of course.”
“Colonel Forrester, what is it that’s worrying you? There is something, isn’t there?”
“Isn’t it enough,” he cried out with a kind of suppressed violence, “that I’ve lost an old and valued servant? Isn’t that enough?”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” said the Colonel at once. “My dear fellow, you must excuse me. I do apologize. I’m not quite myself.”
“Shall I tell Mrs. Forrester you’re in here?”
“No, no. No need for that. None in the world. Rather like to be by myself for a bit: that’s all. Thank you very much, Alleyn. Very considerate.”
“I’ll leave you, then.”
But before he could do so the door opened and in came Mr. Bert Smith, dressed but not shaved.
“I been talking to ’Illy,” he said without preliminaries, “and I don’t much fancy what I hear. You found ’im, then?”
“Yes.”
“Been knocked off? Bashed? Right?”
“Right.”
“And there was three of them convicted murderers trying to make away with the corpse. Right?”