A Javelin for Jonah

chapter

16

Breasting the Tape

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We’ve plenty of time to get back to the College for dinner,” said Laura, settling herself beside Dame Beatrice on the back seat of the car when she had wrapped up the picture and placed it on the front seat.

“Plenty of time, but no inclination, so far as I am concerned,” said Dame Beatrice. “We shall return to Joynings in the morning after I have telephoned Mr. Medlar to find out when he will be prepared to receive us.”

“Are we going to spend the night at home, then?”

“No. I have to see my son. He is expecting us at his house in Hertfordshire.”

“Oh, well, that’s not so far away as the New Forest, anyway.” Laura, who, with all her bluntness, had the instinctive courtesy she had inherited from her Highland ancestors, asked no more questions. They dined with Sir Ferdinand Lestrange, his wife and grown-up children, and then Ferdinand took them off to the library.

“I’ve managed to get most of the information you wanted, mother,” he said. “There seems to be nothing wrong with Martin Bagshaw, Gerald Wicks or Celia Jenkins. Of the others, well, you’ve heard about Gascoigne Medlar’s wife and that it was Henry Collier whose cross-examination by a prosecuting barrister in the magistrates’ court turned in favour of the defence and prevented Medlar’s having to stand trial.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with Henry,” said Laura. “Hamish likes him, and Hamish has always been a very good judge of character.”

“Yes, but, of course, Mr. Medlar’s gratitude did take the form of making Henry a partner in the very lucrative Joynings enterprise,” Dame Beatrice pointed out.

“But that means Henry stood to lose if Jones’s bad behaviour ended by wrecking the College,” said Laura, “and he would hardly want to do that. So pass, Henry! All’s well.”

“What about the others?” asked Dame Beatrice, turning to her son. “Did you obtain further information?”

“Lesley Cartwright lost her job as a result of a fatal accident at the grammar school where she was in charge of the dancing and gymnasium classes. The accident was directly attributed to her negligence, and the child’s parents sued her. She got off, but had to resign her job and was glad to get a post at Joynings. Miss Yale was head of a big boarding-school for girls in the Midlands. She led a holiday expedition in the Cairngorms and lost two children who fell to their deaths in thick mist. She gave up her headship and was content to find a refuge at Joynings. Barry Fitzroy was a house-master at a minor public school, and was one of those unfortunates who cannot help forming emotional relationships with boys. There was some sort of scandal—I can’t get precise details and I don’t think they would help you, even if I could, but it appears that some boys blew the gaff to their parents and Barry had to leave. He, too, was glad and lucky to get a post at Joynings.”

“His devil may have pursued him even there,” said Laura.

“How do you mean?” asked Ferdinand.

“I think he could have got himself emotionally entangled with Colin. It could have been that, as I see it, which made him so furious when Colin was injured. He was known to be fond of the boy.”

“Be all that as it may,” said Dame Beatrice, “it became increasingly clear to me, as it has to you, my dear Laura, that it was not to the advantage—indeed, it was very much the reverse—of any of the staff to destroy the College, and I can think of nothing which would be more likely to do that than the murder of a member of that staff, followed by the murder of one of the students. However, by this time, if the inspector has carried out my suggestions, tomorrow should see the end of the business and in a short time, comparatively speaking, Gascoigne Medlar and your friend Henry should be able to sleep peacefully and to carry on what I feel is quite a valuable piece of social work. I have no doubt whatever that by their efforts at rehabilitating these socially maladjusted boys and girls, they are preventing crime and even achieving happiness for the subjects of their experiment.”

“Gascoigne only does it for money,” said Laura, throwing cold water on these eulogies.

“Ah, but Henry does not, and Henry, I am sure, is the motivating force behind the reforms.”

“Do the police expect to make an arrest pretty soon?” asked Ferdinand, referring to what, to him, was the practical side of the business.

“In answer to your question, my dear Ferdinand, I am bound to admit that, so far, we have nothing to put before a jury, I’m afraid, although there are one or two interesting points which might repay investigation, for, as you will see, we may venture to suggest where that lethal steel head could have been put on the javelin, and through whose agency.”

“Good Lord!” said Laura. “But that’s the thing in a nutshell, isn’t it?”

“Not quite, although Ferdinand’s researches, which I do hope have not taken up too much of his time…”

“Oh, no, I put a very experienced firm of private jacks on to it,” said Ferdinand. “They ferreted out most of what I’ve told you.”

“Well, they have occasioned in me some serious misgivings,” said Laura. “I thought, from Mrs Croc’s hints”—she fixed an accusing eye on her employer—“that I’d begun to get a pretty clear idea of various possible murderers, and that it only remained to pick the right one, but now…”

“What were your conclusions, then?” asked Dame Beatrice, with an eldritch cackle.

“Medlar might have taken a chance, I thought,” said Laura, “if Jones was blackmailing him.”

“There is no evidence that Jones was blackmailing him to any serious extent. Jones had fine rooms and a large salary and seems to have been a law unto himself in many ways, but there is no evidence that he was ‘bleeding’ Mr. Medlar.”

“There was the Bertha Potts business.”

“What was that?” asked Ferdinand.