Sir Daynes was obviously interested. His knitted brow betrayed the fact. ‘Suppose this Welshman didn’t threaten him — nothing of that sort?’
‘Good heavens, no! You mustn’t start suspecting our Hugh.’
‘But he’d got it in for him?’
‘In the mildest possible way.’
‘Hmn,’ said Sir Daynes, and visibly made a note.
Brass continued his statement, which as far as it went corroborated that of Somerhayes. When the party broke up he had left Earle with Somerhayes and Mrs Page. He had gone to his rooms at the other corner of the huge establishment, and as far as he could testify, a quiet and heilige night was had by all. He was wakened by Thomas in the morning at between twenty and a quarter to eight. He found Somerhayes in the hall, about to cover the body with a blanket.
‘Did you form any impression of his… um… state of mind at the time?’
The room had warmed up, and Gently had left the hearth for a seat by the deep, stone-framed window.
‘State of mind…’ Brass swung round to him, a return of last night’s cynicism in his lively eyes. ‘Well, he was in a bad state of shock, of course. There isn’t much toughness about his lordship. He was as white as a sheet and as quiet as a dolmen. He showed me the bash, asked me if I knew anything, and then left me on guard while he ghosted off to tinkle you blokes.’
‘Would you say that his lordship was very fond of the deceased?’
Brass gave a little chuckle. ‘He wasn’t one of his ames intimes, if you know what I mean. But he was fond enough of him, just as we all were. Being American had something to do with it.’
‘How do you mean, Mr Brass?’
‘Why, his lordship is one of those types who find something mystical in the idea of America — it’s a symbol, you understand; it stands for spiritual youth and virility. Over here we’re bankrupt and done for. We’ve been at it too long; we’re suffering from hardened arteries. I daresay his lordship could feel the same way about Russia if his politics didn’t prevent it.’
‘Feller always had queer ideas,’ grumbled Sir Daynes, still guarding the hearth. ‘Turned Liberal when he was a young fool at Oxford — upset his father, I can tell you. Never been a Whig in the family since George the First.’
‘And you think Earle’s being American inclined his lordship to favour him?’ Gently persisted.
‘Certain of it.’ Brass waved his hand.
‘It would not have been held against him, for instance, if he had been making overtures to his lordship’s cousin?’
‘Janice?’ Brass’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. ‘You’re not going to tell me that the young heathen was making up to her?’
‘It did occur to me, Mr Brass.’
The artist guffawed his amusement. ‘Good Lord, what impressions people get. You don’t know your young American, Inspector. You don’t know Janice, either. Our little sex-delinquent exercised his charm on every frail, broad and doll who came within yards of him — including the housekeeper, who is no Ninon. You’re barking up the wrong tree there, Inspector.’
Gently shrugged. ‘You could be right.’
‘En tout cas, he wouldn’t have got any change out of Janice. She’s still carrying Des Page’s torch. She’s a Feverell too, you know — they take things to heart in that family. You can take my word for it that Janice P. is man-proof.’
Gently nodded indefinitely. ‘But supposing his lordship had formed a certain impression… his reactions would have been favourable?’
‘On the surface, anyway, I don’t see why not.’
‘But under the surface, Mr Brass?’
The artist made a wry face. ‘Christ knows what goes on under the sixth lord’s surface! I don’t know, and I’m not going to be led into hazarding guesses. I’m eating his salt, anyway. It doesn’t become me to tell tales out of school.’
‘This is homicide, you know…’
‘That’s why it’s dangerous to gossip.’
‘Anything pertinent is not gossip.’
‘Let’s say I’ve got nothing pertinent, and call it a day.’
Gently shrugged again and turned to peer out at the advancing twilight. Sir Daynes made some noises that to the knowledgeable betokened dissatisfaction.
‘You’re not holding anything back, eh… mistaken sense of loyalty and that?’
‘Damnation no! Didn’t I tell you at the beginning of this session that I’d got nothing for you?’
‘Just want to be sure, man… understand a thing like that.’
Brass departed as indeflatable as he had come, and Sir Daynes, wrenching himself from the matured and beautiful fire, joined Gently at the window. For a moment he stood there in silence, contemplating the dreary prospect, then he flashed a glance at the Central Office man that was the reverse of friendly.
‘Confound it, Gently… lay off Somerhayes,’ he mumbled, sotto voce. ‘I can see what you’re getting at… man and his pretty cousin. But it won’t do, I tell you, and what’s more I don’t like it. Things look black enough now for the poor feller… and I’m damn certain he’s in the clear.’
Gently hunched himself deeper in the ulster, which he hadn’t taken off.
‘I’m not getting at anything… I’m just following the ball,’ he replied.
‘Well, I don’t like the way it’s rolling.’
‘I’m not sure I do, either. But one thing is certain enough, if you follow it to the end… you’ll come to a point where a murderer’s bludgeon struck an innocent head.’
Sir Daynes snorted. ‘There’s another thing certain. I ought to blasted well order you back to the Manor to keep Gwen company! Hrmp, hrmp. I suppose it’s Mrs Page you want to see in here next?’
An interesting tray had been brought in soon after Brass was dismissed. It bore several bottles of varying silhouettes, a selection of glasses and some slices of iced cake reposing on a napkinned salver. This caused some awkwardness for Inspector Dyson, who had a strong sense of duty; but a proper ruling from Sir Daynes quickly relieved the situation, and soon two constables, one inspector, one chief inspector and a chief constable were fortifying themselves against the season and making good any gaps that might have appeared since lunch-time. Within bounds, it was a festive scene. The glamour was extended when permission was given to smoke, and Sir Daynes distributed the high-calibre contents of his cigar-case. One did not often see five policemen, two of them in uniform, puffing Havanas while they solemnly partook of vintage port and mellowed liqueurs, and some surprise was to be looked for in the face of Mrs Page when she appeared through the door. Sir Daynes hurried over to her and put a fatherly arm round her shoulders.
‘Don’t be alarmed, m’dear, don’t be alarmed. Only keep you a few minutes, y’know… Somerhayes just sent in a snifter to keep our spirits up.’
Mrs Page smiled, but it seemed to Gently that it required an effort. There wasn’t much colour in her transparent cheeks, and about her eyes, so like and yet so unlike her cousin’s, ran the suspicion of two dark circles. She sat down boldly enough, however, and Dyson, hurriedly getting rid of his cigar, was put a little out of countenance.
‘Like some sherry, m’dear… cherry brandy, perhaps?’
‘No, thank you, Sir Daynes. We have been drinking in the lounge.’
‘Bad business, eh? Bad business! Impossible to imagine who’d want to do any harm to a likeable young feller like that.’
Mrs Page bit her beautiful lips, and for a moment it looked as though she would burst into tears. The moment passed; she sat very upright. Sir Daynes, pulling up a chair, placed himself deliberately between her and Gently.
‘Now just give the inspector your full name and age and address, m’dear… that’s the ticket. Be twenty-nine for some years yet, eh? Now all you have to do is to tell us what you know about the feller, and anything you can remember about what happened after he came here…’
