was about to say, Lord Purleigh. I am merely attempting here to do what’s best for all concerned.”
Lord Bob scowled and waved his hand slowly, as if shooing away sluggish flies. He reached out, snared the brandy decanter, poured what was left into his glass.
Honniwell said to Doyle, “As I told you earlier, it’s an utter waste of time, sending this Inspector Marsh from London. The autopsy and the examination of the pistol will establish that, of course.” He turned to Lord Bob. “As to the rifle, Lord Purleigh, I shall inform you when that examination is completed.”
Lord Bob nodded. “Can’t wait.”
I said, “You know about Chin Soo, Superintendent?”
He gave me the faint smile he reserved for Pinkertons. Or maybe he reserved it for Americans. Or maybe it wasn’t reserved at all, and he gave it out to anybody he thought it was okay to smile faintly at. “Yes,” he said. “Mr. Houdini and Sir Arthur have explained that situation. I think it extremely unlikely that this person could make his way into Maplewhite. I agree with Lord Purleigh that the rifle that was fired this afternoon was most likely fired by a poacher. The man is long gone by now.”
He glanced at Lord Bob to see how he took that. Lord Bob didn’t take it at all. He was staring at the empty brandy decanter as though it were the philosophers’ stone.
“How do you explain the Winchester?” I asked him. “It’s been fired recently.”
“One of the servants, perhaps.”
“Uh-huh. But you’ll leave some police on the premises?” Another faint smile. “I shall be posting two of my men outside. I’ll see to it that they’re relieved in the morning.”
“Only two?” I said.
He let himself get faintly amused again. “I’m quite sure that two trained British police officers will be more than sufficient. And, in deference to Lord Purleigh and his guests, I wish to keep our presence to a minimum.” He glanced hopefully at Lord Bob.
“Long as they stay outside,” said Lord Bob, talking to the empty decanter. “Don’t want ’em in here. Tracking muck about.”
The Great Man said, “And you will not be informing the press?
“Not as to your difficulties, Mr. Houdini. I will of course defer to Lord Purleigh’s request. But, Lord Purleigh, I’m afraid the news of the Earl’s death will soon reach the newspapers.”
“Swine’s a swine for a’ that,” Lord Purleigh told the brandy decanter.
Honniwell nodded crisply. “Yes. Well, then. I must be getting back to Amberly. I came here only to make certain that Lord Purleigh wasn’t unduly troubled by the arrival of my men.”
He looked at Lord Bob, who ignored him again.
Doyle stood up. “Perhaps you’d permit me to accompany you, Superintendent.” More diplomacy.
“Certainly, Sir Arthur. Lord Purleigh.” Still peering at the brandy decanter, Lord Bob scowled and waved a limp hand. “Mr. Houdini.” The Great Man nodded. “Mr. Beaumont.” I nodded.
He had decided, I guess, that there was no point in asking me any questions.
Doyle escorted him from the hall.
The Great Man turned to Lord Bob. “Excuse me, Lord Purleigh. I shall be going to my room for a short while.”
“Bloody nincompoop,” Lord Bob told the brandy decanter.
The Great Man stood.
“Harry?” I said.
He looked down at me, his face cold. Without saying a word, he pursed his lips and looked away. Then he strode off.
Lord Bob was still studying the decanter.
I got up and went after the Great Man.
Doyle was coming back from the main entrance, and he intercepted me. “Mr. Beaumont?”
Chapter Twenty
“Yes?” I said.
“Well,” he said, and his wide pink forehead was creased with thought. “What did you think of our Superintendent?”
“Not a whole lot,” I told him.
“No. I gathered as much. But I’d like to assure you that he’s not truly representative of our police officials.”
“Good.”
“I’ve heard, for example, excellent reports of Inspector Marsh.”
“Marsh is still coming tomorrow?”
“Well, I doubt, personally, that Scotland Yard will give any great credence to Superintendent Honniwell’s report. He and his people spent only about ten minutes in the Earl’s room.”
“They took away the body?”
“For the autopsy, yes.”
“You think it was a suicide, Sir Arthur?”
He considered the question for a moment. “Let me put it this way,” he said. “I should like to persuade myself that if it was not a suicide, then all other human agencies have been entirely ruled out.”
“Human agencies,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Uh-huh.” I looked back at Lord Bob. He was still contemplating the empty decanter. I turned to Doyle. “You might talk to Lord Purleigh about moving the rest of the ammunition and locking it up somewhere.”
“The ammunition? Oh yes. Yes, of course. If it is Chin Soo, why should we provide him any more it?”
“Right.”
“An excellent idea.” He glanced at Lord Bob. “Lord Purleigh is rather under the weather at the moment. But I’ll have a word with Higgens.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you later.”
“Harry?”
Nothing.
I knocked on the Great Man’s door again. “Harry?”
Nothing.
I tried the knob. The door was locked.
I rapped again at the wooden panel. “Harry. Open the door.” Nothing.
I said, “It’s about Bess, Harry.”
I waited. After a long moment, I heard his voice on the other side of the door. “What about her?”
“Open the door,” I said, “and I’ll tell you.”
I waited.
Finally I heard a click at the lock. I turned the knob and the door opened. The Great Man was walking away, his back to me. He was naked except for a pair of the black briefs he ordered by the gross from France. I looked down at the lock. No key. There hadn’t been one earlier.
I said, “You used a pick to lock it. And unlock it.”
But where had he put the pick afterward? His hands were empty.
He turned to me and he moved his muscular shoulders in a small shrug. He wasn’t going to tell me anything he didn’t want me to know. He crossed his arms over his chest and he said flatly, “What is it about Bess?”
Probably he’d just thrown it across the room, behind the bed. “The Earl’s death,” I said. “It’s going to make the newspapers. The London Times for sure, and maybe the French papers, too. Bess is going to read about it, in Paris. You know she’s worried about Chin Soo. She’s going to wonder, maybe, if there’s any connection.”
He thought about that. “Perhaps,” he said. He lowered himself gracefully to the floor and lay down along the rug. He didn’t look at me as he locked his hands behind his head and began to do sit-ups. “I shall ask Lord Purleigh,”
