Dance to Your Daddy

'I told Tancred that, but he wouldn't, and he begged me not to. He's such a baby, you know. He always runs away from anything awkward. To stifle my curiosity, do tell me whether he seduced all the women at Galliard Hall-or only one of them. There were three possibles, he told me. He always runs into trouble when I can't keep him under my eye. I suppose he takes after that naughty old great-uncle of his, don't you? You know-the one with all that lovely money. Tancred hoped the Provosts would come in for something, but it's all been left to one of the Lestrange girls. It seems he took a fancy to her and adopted her. Disappointing, don't you think?'

'I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Old Felix Napoleon, the old horror who's caused all this mix-up.'

'Do you refer to the death of the Reverend Hubert Lestrange, miss?'

'Not that, so much. I really meant the old Bluebeard's Will. Tancred went to bed with the heiress while he was staying at Galliard Hall, and she seems to have told him her troubles.'

'I wonder whether his version was the same as mine?' asked Dame Beatrice. 'Did he confide it to you?'

'Yes. He's quite a tender-hearted idiot where girls are concerned-a lot too tender-hearted for me to dream of going steady with him-and this girl seems to have given him quite a story. Seems she's out of the frying-pan into the fire. She'd been adopted by this old rip...'

'Felix Napoleon Lestrange,' interpolated Dame Beatrice.

'...and all went merrily until the old boy introduced a chorus girl, or some such, into the menage, and went such a bust on this female that for a long time-a couple of years, at least-the poor girl thought her inheritance was in danger, and that Felix the tomcat would marry this buskined beauty and she would cop the kitty when he died.

'Fortunately, this didn't happen. He gave the floosie the air when he found himself sinking, and the Will, so far as it goes, is as it should be, except for one small but all-important proviso. If the heiress goes cuckoo, or if she dies, Romilly Lestrange cops the lot. Well, of course, she's bound to die sooner or later-we all are-but, naturally, she doesn't want it to be sooner and she doesn't want it to be assisted.'

'You mean she doesn't want to be murdered by Mr Romilly,' said Kirkby unemotionally. 'Anything more, miss?'

'Well, it's all a lot of boloney, I think,' said Martha, 'but I don't suppose this murder business is going to make her feel any better about things, and she told Tancred she isn't only afraid of this Romilly, but also of the dispossessed chorus lady, who must also be gunning for her, and was expecting a baby by old Felix Napoleon and might show up at any minute, complete with child, and create hell and demand her rights and all that kind of what-have-you.'

'The baby would be illegitimate, miss.'

'Yes, but don't they have rights or something, these days? Heirs of the body, and so forth? Anyhow, be that as it may, this Trilby, according to Tancred, is in a real old spider's-web of intrigue and is talking of cutting her throat as the best way out of it.'

'This is all very interesting, no doubt, miss, but it doesn't help me.'

'Are you going to find out about this baby?'

'The question does not come within the scope of my enquiry, miss. Will you give me your account of the way in which you spent last Tuesday?'

Martha's account tallied almost word for word with Tancred's. Kirkby wondered whether they had rehearsed it.

'I'll have to get confirmation of their story,' he said. 'If the Reverend Mr Lestrange was already dead on the Tuesday, there's no point in finding out what the house-party did after that.'

'The coastguard stations, according to the Ordnance Survey,' said Dame Beatrice, 'are at Peveril Point and just south of the secondary road which leaves Worth Matravers for Ranscombe Farm. From neither spot would Dancing Ledge be visible, I imagine.'

'Probably not, ma'am. Well, if you'll drop me off in Shaftesbury, I'll have another word about Mr Tancred Provost with our chaps at the station. They'll take me to Wareham, and I'll work Provost's story back from there. He's a sufficiently striking-looking lad for the people in the tea-shop to remember. I don't suppose they get crowds of people on a Tuesday at this time of year. Then I'll tackle the post-office people at Langton Matravers.'

'Is there anything I can do in the meantime?'

'I hardly think so. When I've checked Provost's story (if I'm able to), I'll go along to Galliard Hall again and have another word with Mr Romilly.'

'Mr Giles Provost was there when you called, I suppose? He'd got back from the New Forest?'

'Oh, yes, but he'd nothing to tell me. He had been out with the New Forest Hunt all right, but that (if Tancred Provost's story is true) can't do anything to help us. I'll have to tackle him from the other end-his home- and find out what he was doing before he went to Galliard Hall. According to the housekeeper-although I think she's a lot more than that-there was bad blood between the Lestrange family and the Provosts, so the murder might tie up with a sort of vendetta. It seems a bit peculiar, if such was the case, that they had all been invited to Galliard Hall at the same time.'

'Yes, Mrs Judith told me that she had advised against having members of the two families in the house together, but that Mr Romilly had overruled her. He appears to have been amusing himself in an unkind manner at their expense. It seems that he had promised them, falsely, certain benefits, as an inducement to them to come and visit him.' 'What kind of benefits, ma'am?-monetary ones?'

'Well, not exactly. It seems that he promised Mr Tancred a publisher who would pay for printing his poems, and the schoolmaster, Mr Humphrey, a much better post. I have never met the Reverend Mr Hubert, of course, but Romilly spoke of getting him preferment of some kind.'

'That sort of thing? I see. Been less surprising, then, if Mr Romilly had been bumped off, instead of the Reverend Hubert, wouldn't it?'