Surfeit of Lampreys

  Tinkerton said huffily that she followed Giggle downstairs. She remembered hearing Lord Wutherwood yell a second time. When he did that she was already some way downstairs. She joined Giggle in the car and remained there with him until the young lady came to fetch them. This came out inch by reluctant inch.

  Alleyn made very careful notes, taking her over the stages of her movements several times. She seemed to be perfectly sure of her own accuracy and repeated monotonously that she had seen nobody but Giggle and Michael, as she went along the passage, through the hall, across the landing and downstairs.

  “Please think very carefully,” Alleyn repeated. “You saw nobody else? You are absolutely positive?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “All right,” said Alleyn, cheerfully. “And now, what did you talk about all the afternoon?” At this sudden change of tone and of tactics, Tinkerton’s air of disapproval deepened. “I really couldn’t say, sir,” she said thinly.

  “You mean you don’t remember—”

  “I don’t recollect.”

  “But you must remember something, Tinkerton. You had a long chat with Lady Charles Lamprey’s nurse, didn’t you? It must have been a long chat, you know, because when you came out Giggle and Master Michael were playing trains and they didn’t do that until some time after your arrival. What did you and Nanny (Mrs. Burnaby, isn’t she?) discuss together?”

  Tinkerton primmed her lips again and said several things were mentioned.

  “Well, let us hear some of them.”

  Tinkerton said: “The young ladies and gentlemen came up.”

  “Of course,” said Alleyn amiably, “you would discuss the family. Naturally.”

  “They came up,” Tinkerton repeated guardedly.

  “In what connection?”

  “Mrs. Burnaby brought them up,” said Tinkerton, as if Nanny had suffered from a surfeit of Lampreys and had taken an emetic for it. “Miss Friede’s theatricals. I should,” added Tinkerton, “have said ‘Lady Friede.’ Pardon.”

  “I suppose you are all very interested in her theatricals?”

  A slightly acid tinge crept over Tinkerton’s face as she agreed that they were.

  “And in all the family’s doings, I expect. Did Lord and Lady Wutherwood often pay visits to this flat?”

  Not very often it seemed. Alleyn began to feel as if Tinkerton was a bad cork and himself an inefficient corkscrew, drawing out unimportant fragments, while large lumps of testimony fell into the wine and were lost.

  “So this visit was quite an event,” he suggested. “Have you been in the London house for long?”

  “No.”

  “For how long?”

  “We have not been there.”

  “You mean you arrived in London to-day.” She didn’t answer. “Is that what you mean? Where did you come from?”

  “From Deepacres.”

  “From Deepacres? That’s in Kent, isn’t it? Did you come straight to this flat?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Had his lordship ever done that before, do you know?”

  “I don’t recollect.”

  “When were you to return to Deepacres?”

  “Her ladyship remarked to his lordship, on the way up, that she would like to stay in Town for a few days.”

  “What did he say to that?”

  “His lordship did not wish to remain in Town. His lordship wished to return to-morrow.”

  “What decision did they come to?” asked Alleyn. Was it imagination, or had he got a slightly firm grip in the cork?

  “His lordship,” said Tinkerton, “remarked that he had been dragged up to London and wouldn’t stay away longer than one night.”

  “Then,” said Alleyn, “they had come to London solely on account of this visit to the flat?”

  “I believe so, sir.”

  “Where were you to spend the night?”

  “In his lordship’s Town residence,” said Tinkerton genteelly. “Twenty-four Brummel Street, Park Lane.”

  “At such short notice?”

  “A skeleton staff is kept there,” said Tinkerton. “Of course,” she added.

  “Do you know why this visit was undertaken?”

  “His lordship received a telegram yesterday.”

  “From Lord Charles Lamprey?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Have you any idea why Lord Charles wanted to see his brother?”

  Tinkerton’s expression of disapproval became still deeper. Alleyn thought he saw a glint of complacency behind it. Perhaps, after all, Miss Tinkerton was not altogether proof against the delights of gossip.

  “Her ladyship,” she said, “mentioned that it was a business visit. H’m.”

  “And do you know the nature of the business?”

  “It came up,” said Tinkerton, “on the drive during conversation between his lordship and her ladyship.”

  “Yes?”

  “I sat with Mr. Giggle in front and did not catch the remarks, beyond a word here and there.”

  “Still, you gathered—”

  “I did not listen,” said Tinkerton, “of course.”

  “Of course not.”

  “But his lordship raised his voice once or twice and said he would not do something that his brother wished him to do.”

  “What was that, do you know?”

  “It was money matters.” Something very like a sneer appeared on Tinkerton’s lips.

  “What sort of money matters?”

  “The usual thing. Wanting his lordship to pay out.”

  He could get no more from her than that. She showed no particular reluctance to answering his questions and no particular interest in them. He began to wonder if she had any warmth of feeling or any sense of partisanship in her makeup. As an experiment, he led the conversation towards Lady Wutherwood, and found that Tinkerton had been in her service for fifteen years. Her ladyship, she said mincingly, was always very kind. Alleyn remembered those lack-lustre eyes and that sagging mouth and wondered wherein the kindness lay. He asked Tinkerton if she had noticed any change in her mistress. Tinkerton said dully that her ladyship was always the same, very kind. “And generous?” Alleyn ventured. Yes, it seemed her ladyship was generous and considerate. Pressing a little more persistently Alleyn asked if she had noticed no mental instability in Lady Wutherwood. Tinkerton instantly became an oyster and to his next questions either answered no, or did not answer at all. She did not think Lady Wutherwood’s behaviour was so very peculiar. She could not say whether Lady Wutherwood was interested in the occult. Lady Wutherwood did not take any medicine or drug of any sort. Lady Wutherwood’s relations with her husband were not in any way unusual. She couldn’t say what sort of nursing-home it was that Lady Wutherwood went to. She did not notice anything very odd in Lady Wutherwood’s manner a few minutes ago. Her ladyship was upset, said Tinkerton of her own accord, and people often spoke wildly when they were upset. It was only natural.

  “Was that why you made signs to the nurse over her lady-ship’s shoulder?” asked Alleyn.

  “Her ladyship is suffering from shock,” said Tinkerton in a burst of comparative candour. “I understand her ladyship. I knew she ought not to be upset by questions. I knew she ought to be in bed.”

  It was the same thing when they came to the late Lord Wutherwood. He was, said Tinkerton, a very quiet gentleman. She wouldn’t describe him as mean nor would she describe him as generous. She couldn’t say whether he had understood his wife. By using the strictest economy of words Tinkerton managed to convey the impression that Alleyn was making an exhibition of himself and, if that was really her opinion, he was inclined to agree with her. He ran out of questions and sat looking at this infuriating woman. Suddenly he rose to his feet and, walking round the table, stood over her. Unlike most tall men Alleyn had the trick of swift movement. Tinkerton stiffened uneasily on the edge of her chair.

  “You know, of course, that Lord Wutherwood was murdered?”

  She actually t
urned rather pale.

  “You know that?” Alleyn repeated.

  “Everybody is saying so, sir.”

  “Who is everybody? You have been with Lady Wutherwood ever since it happened. Does she say her husband was murdered?”

  “The nurse said so.”

  “Did the nurse tell you how he died?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What did she tell you? Describe it, exactly, if you please.”

  Tinkerton moistened her lips. “The nurse said he was injured with a knife.”

  “What sort of knife?”

  “I mean a skewer.”

  “How was it done?”

  “The nurse said he had been stabbed through his eye.”

  “Who did it?”

  Tinkerton gaped at him.

  “You heard me, I think,” said Alleyn. “Who murdered Lord Wutherwood?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything about it.”

  “You know he must have been killed by some one in this flat.”

  “The nurse said so.”

  “It was so. Very well, then. You understand that if you can prove it was impossible for you to have stabbed Lord Wutherwood through his eye into his brain, you had better do so.”

  “But I said—I said I was downstairs when he was still calling her ladyship. I said so.”

  “How am I to know that is true?”

  “Mr. Giggle will have heard. He knew I was behind him. Ask Mr. Giggle.”

  “I have asked him. He doesn’t remember hearing Lord Wutherwood call a second time.”

  “But he did call a second time, sir. I tell you I heard him, sir. Mr. Giggle must have been too far down to have heard. I was behind Mr. Giggle.”

  “And you say you met nobody and saw nobody as you passed along the passage, through the hall, and across the landing?”

  “Only Mr. Giggle, sir, and he didn’t notice me. I just caught sight of his back as he went down and Master Michael’s back as he went into the other flat. Before God, sir, it’s true.”

  “You are voluble enough,” said Alleyn, “when it comes to your own safety.”

  “It’s true,” Tinkerton repeated shrilly. “I’ve said nothing that wasn’t true.”

  “You’ve been with Lady Wutherwood fifteen years yet you don’t know the name of the nursing-home she went to or why she went. You don’t know whether she is interested in the supernatural or whether she isn’t. You say she never takes any medicine or drug. Do you still insist that all three statements are truthful?”

  “I won’t talk about my lady. My lady hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s frightened and ill and shocked. It’s not my place to answer questions about her.”

  Her hands worked drily together against the fabric of her skirt. Alleyn watched her for a moment and then turned aside.

  “All right,” he said. “We’ll leave it at that. Before you go I want you to mark on this plan your exact position when Master Michael went into the other flat and when you saw Lord Wutherwood sitting in the lift.”

  “I don’t know that I remember exactly.”

  “Try.”

  He put his sketch plan on the table with a pencil. Tinkerton took the pencil in her left hand and, after consideration, made two faint dots on the plan.

  “Your statement will be written out in longhand,” said Alleyn, “and you will be asked to sign it. That’s all for the moment. Thank you. Good night.”

  “You were remarkably crisp with the woman,” said Curtis. “I’ve never heard you less amiable. What was wrong?”

  “She’s a liar,” said Alleyn.

  “Because she wouldn’t talk about her mistress? Wasn’t that rather commendable?”

  “Not because of that. She told a string of lies. Have a look at the statement later on and you’ll spot them.”

  “You flatter me, I’m afraid. Why was she lying, do you suppose?”

  “Not because she murdered Master,” grunted Alleyn. “It’s a right-handed job if ever there was one.”

  “She may be ambidextrous.”

  “I don’t think so. She opened and closed the door, marked the plan, and took out her handkerchief with the left hand. She used the left hand every time she ministered to Lady Wutherwood. She’s not our pigeon, unless she’s an accessory to the blasted fact. What do you think, Fox?”

  “I should say she’s got a snug job with her ladyship,” said Fox, glancing up from his notes and over the top of his glasses.

  “Well, I must be off,” said Curtis. “See about this P.M. Fox rang up the coroner. I’ll start first thing in the morning. Cairnstock has an operation to-morrow and said he’d come and have a look later on. Don’t expect we’ll find anything of interest to you. I’ll ring you up about mid-day. Good night.”

  He went out. Fox closed his note-book and removed his spectacles. Somewhere in the flat a clock struck eleven.

  “Well, Br’er Fox,” said Alleyn. “So it goes on. We’d better see another Lamprey. What’s your fancy? Suppose we follow Master Henry’s suggestion and talk to his mother.”

  “Very good,” said Fox.

  “We’d better let Lady Katherine go home. We can’t keep them all boxed up in here indefinitely, I suppose.” He looked at the constable. “My compliments to Lady Charles Lamprey, Gibson, and I’d be grateful if she could spare me a few minutes. And say that we shall not trouble Lady Katherine Lobe any further tonight. You won’t call them Lady Lamprey and Lady Lobe, will you? And warn the man on duty in the entrance that Lady Katherine is to be allowed out. She lives at Hammersmith, Fox. We’ll have to keep an eye on her, I suppose.”

  “She’s not exactly the cut of a murderess, is she?” Fox remarked.

  “You wouldn’t say so. You wouldn’t say she was the cut of a fairy, either, but apparently she vanishes.”

  “How d’you make that out, Mr. Alleyn?”

  “According to herself, she met Michael on the landing just as he was going into the other flat. Tinkerton saw Michael but didn’t see Lady Katherine.”

  “Perhaps the young gentleman made two trips, Mr. Alleyn.”

  “The young gentleman is our prize witness up to date, Fox. He tells the truth. As far as one can judge the family talent for embroidery has given him a miss. He’s a good boy, is young Michael. No. Either Tinkerton added another lie to her bag or else—”

  Gibson, the constable, opened the door and stood aside. Lady Charles Lamprey came in.

  “Here I am, Mr. Alleyn,” she said, “but I hope you don’t expect any intelligent answers because I promise you that you won’t get them from me. If you told me that Aunt Kit was steeped in Gabriel’s blood I should only say: ‘Fancy. So it’s Aunt Kit after all. How too naughty of her.’ ”

  He pulled out the arm-chair at the foot of the table and she sank down on it, taking the weight of her body on her wrists as elderly people do.

  “Of course you must be deadly tired,” Alleyn said. “Do you know, that is the one thing that seems to happen to all people alike when a case of this sort crops up? Every one feels mentally and physically exhausted. It’s a sort of carryover from shock, I suppose.”

  “It’s very unpleasant whatever it is. Would you be an angel and see if there are cigarettes on the sideboard?”

  The box was empty. “Would you like to ring for some,” Alleyn asked, “or would these be any use?” He opened his case and put it on the table in front of her with an ash-tray and matches. “They are your sort, I think.”

  “So they are. That is kind. But I must see that there are some here, because if we are going to be any time at all I shall smoke all these and then what will you do?”

  “Please smoke them. I’m not allowed cigarettes on duty.” He watched her light the cigarette and inhale deeply. Her hands were not quite steady.

  “Now I’m ready for anything,” she said.

  “It won’t be a solemn affair. I just want to check over your own movements, which seem to be very plain-sailing, and then I’ll ask you to tell me anything y
ou can think of that may help us to sort things out a little.”

  “I expect I’m much more likely to muddle them up, but I’ll try to keep my head.”

  “According to my notes,” said Alleyn, looking dubiously at them, “you went to your room with Lady Wutherwood and Lady Katherine Lobe and remained there until you heard Lord Wutherwood call the second time. Then, followed by Lady Wutherwood, you went to the drawing-room.”

  “Yes. She didn’t come into the drawing-room, you know. I hurried on ahead of her.”

  “To ask for some one to take them down in the lift?”

  “Yes,” she said steadily. “That’s it.”

  “Did you see anybody else on your way to the drawing-room?”

  “I think Mike was in the passage. Nobody else.”

  “And Lord Wutherwood was in the lift?”

  “I suppose he was. I didn’t look. He sounded cross so I rather skidded past, do you know?”

  “I see. And then you asked for some one to work the lift and Mr. Stephen Lamprey went out and worked it.”

  Alleyn felt, rather than heard, her draw in her breath. She said lightly: “No, that’s not quite right. You remember that we don’t know which twin went out.”

  “I think I know,” said Alleyn. “I’m not trying to trap you into an admission. We’ll leave it that a twin went out and you followed, as far as the hall, to say good-bye. Lady Wutherwood got into the lift and you returned to the drawing-room. That’s all right?”

  “About me—yes.”

  “I’ll ask you to sign it later, if you will. What I hope you will do now is give us some sort of side-light of Lord Wutherwood himself. I’m afraid many of my questions will sound impertinent. Perhaps the most offensive part of police investigation is the ferreting. We have to ferret, you know, like anything.”

  “Ferret away,” said Lady Charles.

  “Well, can you think of anybody who would want to kill Lord Wutherwood?”

  “That’s not ferreting; it’s more like bombing. I can’t think of anybody who, in their right minds, would actually and literally want to kill Gabriel. I expect lots of people have, as one says, felt like killing him. He was a frightfully irritating fellow, poor dear. Not a fragment of charm and so drearily ungay, do you know? I mean, it does help if people are gay, doesn’t it? I set enormous store on gaiety. But of course one doesn’t kill people simply because they are not exactly one’s own cup of tea and I suppose he had his grey little pleasures. He was passionately interested in plumbing and drainage, I understand, and carried out all sorts of experiments at Deepacres where one pulls chains when one would expect to turn taps and the other way round. So, what with his drains and his Chinese pots, I daresay he had quite a giddy time. And with Violet wrapped up in her black magic, you may say they both had hobbies.”