Dance to Your Daddy

'I think we should manoeuvre without prejudice. You will be fully enlightened, I trust, when we have spoken with the manager of the hotel.'

The manager remembered Dame Beatrice and Laura. Kirkby produced his credentials and asked for the privilege of a few words in private. The manager's apartment was on the first floor, to which he preceded them and, after offering them chairs, he closed the door and went over to the sideboard for drinks.

'I hope nothing wrong with the hotel,' he said, offering beer to Kirkby, sherry to Dame Beatrice and whisky to Laura.

'Nothing at all,' said Kirkby cheerfully, looking at the froth on his beer with a connoisseur's eye. 'Far from it, so far as I know. Actually, I'm here with what you might call a watching brief. I've come at Dame Beatrice's invitation. She wants to ask you some questions about a gentleman who was resident here up to the day of his death.'

'Mr Felix Lestrange, I take it,' said the manager. 'A lively old gentleman, if I may say so, but a generous guest. Lived here for years and became a law unto himself, as they will, you know, old people, especially when they're financially independent and in a position to pay for their fancies.'

'And Felix Napoleon's fancies lay in the direction of young women, I believe,' said Dame Beatrice.

'Oh, well,' said the manager, returning to his chair with a glass which contained a finger of whisky and a great deal of soda-water, 'I never believed the story that one was his granddaughter, and the other his great-niece, you know. Still, they all had separate rooms and I've no doubt he squared the chambermaids when necessary, and I will say that all three of them were very discreet. It was the secretary, who also claimed to be some sort of a nephew to the old gentleman, who was the cause of the upset, I imagine.'

'A granddaughter and a great-niece?' said Dame Beatrice. 'Yes, you appeared to mention two girls when we were here before. The trouble is, you see, that there is some confusion about the terms of the late Felix Napoleon's will. I am here to try to establish which of the two girls my late cousin intended should be his heiress, and which was to remain without benefit. I am hoping that you can help me.'

'Then why the detective-inspector?' asked the manager.

'I'm investigating a case of murder which may tie up in some way with Dame Beatrice's enquiry,' Kirkby replied. 'Oh, nothing whatever to do with you. This happened in Dorset, so it could hardly be further away from your hotel. Don't give it a thought.'

'I wish you to describe these girls,' said Dame Beatrice, 'and then to tell us what you meant by your reference to Willoughby Lestrange, the secretary.'

'Oh, if that's all-that's the young man who was murdered in mistake for his brother, or some such, isn't it? The head waiter drew my attention to a piece in the paper about it, but I can't say I took much notice. The two girls? Well, the one he brought with him-she was not much more than a child at the time-this would have been some years ago, of course- was a slightly-built, dark-haired, dark-eyed young thing, quite pretty and very shy. The two of them, she and Mr Lestrange, lived on terms of close relationship, and the girl, of course, was at boarding- school. It was during term-time that the old gentleman entertained his other ladies. As I said, he was very discreet. There was never any open scandal, and, until the granddaughter blotted her copybook with the secretary, there had never been any other ladies of her grandfather's fancy about the hotel when she came home for the holidays. Of course, the business with the secretary came long after she had left school.

'Well, she left school when she was, I should guess, seventeen or eighteen years of age, by which time Mr Lestrange had been resident here for some years. Then he took her travelling abroad for the best part of a couple of years and, when they came back, the party numbered four-the old gentleman, as lively and genial as ever, the secretary, the dark young lady, whose name was Rosamund, and a fair young lady of about the same age, who didn't sign the book because the old gentleman signed for the whole party, so we never found out who she was, except that he claimed she was his great-niece.'

'But you heard her name?' suggested Dame Beatrice.

'The old gentleman called her Trilby, but I think that was by way of being a joke between them, because the granddaughter and the secretary both called her Dora. Well, it was pretty clear that Mr Lestrange had picked her up somewhere on his travels. Mind you, she was a lady, if you understand me. She wasn't gutter-trash. She was polite and very correct in public, but there were rumours among the staff that I had to deal with pretty drastically, because the old gentleman, what with his regular payments, his drinks and his cigars, was a valuable guest and the last thing I wanted was to lose him.

'Well, there was no open scandal-never was, so far as the old gentleman was concerned-until it became pretty clear that there was something very wrong with the granddaughter. To begin with, the old gentleman neglected her in favour of the other girl, and she was thrown far too much into the society of the secretary. The parties would all go out together, but, after a time, they did not come home together. It was always Miss Rosamund with the secretary, whose name was Mr Willoughby Lestrange, and Miss Dora with the old gentleman. The secretary and Miss Rosamund were always back well before the other two, and reckoned to go up to the old gentleman's suite, but rumours began to circulate that they really went into the secretary's bedroom, because the desk had orders to put a call through to Number Thirty-six as soon as Mr Felix and Miss Dora arrived at the front door.

The next thing we knew was that there had been a terrible row and that Miss Rosamund had been sent packing. Miss Dora and Mr Willoughby stayed on, although Mr Willoughby looked pretty hang-dog for the next few weeks. However, a letter came for him one day with an Italian stamp on it, and that seemed to cheer him up no end.

'Well, as you know, in 1966 the old gentleman died. The funeral took place from here, and, when it was over, Mr Willoughby left, but Miss Dora stayed on until after probate was granted. What expectations she had I don't know, but she was in high feather until a gentleman turned up here, signing in as Mr Romilly Lestrange. He said he'd heard of the old gentleman's death, had been sent a copy of the Will, and had flown over from South Africa to see whether he could be of any help to his niece. The upshot was that he and Miss Dora went off together, and that's as much as I know.'

'You never believed that Dora was his niece, I suppose?' suggested Dame Beatrice.

'I was pretty certain she wasn't, but what was I to do? The new gentleman's name was Lestrange, and Mr Felix had always claimed that Miss Dora was his great-niece, so it wasn't up to me to say anything. None of it affected the good name of the hotel, and it was none of my business, anyway.'

'You never discovered what had become of Rosamund, of course?'