Tom Brown's Body

Bradley. 'Their behaviour since the murder has been what one would expect. What I would like to know is how their behaviour since the murder compares with their behaviour before the murder. I cannot be more explicit, for it is only since the murder that I have been privileged to make their acquaintance.'

'I don't think I can help. They seem just the same to me,' said Mrs Wyck. 'I know what you mean, though. You want to know of any actions which seemed innocent enough in themselves at the time, but now would look rather different if the Lovedays come under suspicion of having committed the crime.'

'I knew you would understand me,' said Mrs Bradley. 'Exactly that. Cannot you think of anything?'

'No, I can't. Besides, we are regarding this as a planned murder, aren't we? Do you really think it was? – seriously, I mean.'

'I really think it must have been. You see, there's not much doubt that if it had been done on the spur of the moment it would have been done differently.'

Mrs Wyck turned very pale, and Mrs Bradley apologized.

'The dog with the brick tied to its neck, you mean,' said Mrs Wyck, waving away Mrs Bradley's expressions of concern, and very rapidly pulling herself together. 'It does seem dreadful, and, as you say, probably planned; otherwise . . .'

'Miss Loveday referred to Mr Conway as a puppy,' Mrs Bradley went on. 'It was, perhaps, a revealing description. Our choice of words can disclose our secret thoughts in a way we do not always intend.'

'I see. You mean that her saying it that way provides, in itself, a clue,' said Mrs Wyck. 'I do see what you mean.'

Her tones were serious. Mrs Bradley nodded slowly and rhythmically.

'Mind you, there is no more reason, in a way, for suspecting Mr and Miss Loveday than for suspecting half a dozen other people,' she said, 'but they interest me very much. By the way, I wonder whether I might ask Mr Wyck an impertinent question?'

'Christopher would be prepared – more than prepared – to answer any question that would help to clear up this wretched business,' said Mrs Wyck, who had dropped completely her first assumption of lightheartedness and now looked the worried woman which Mrs Bradley knew her to be. 'He'll be down to dinner in a minute – yes, here he is, with the sherry. Christopher, Mrs Bradley has something to ask you. It has a bearing.'

Mr Wyck made no attempt to appear light-hearted. He poured sherry from the decanter, handed the glasses round, put his own glass on a small table, and dropped wearily into an armchair.

'A man from Scotland Yard is coming early to-morrow,' he said. 'I don't see what he can find out now. I'm sick to my soul of the police!'

'I wonder whether I know the man they are sending?' Mrs Bradley enquired.

'Detective-Inspector Gavin,' Mr Wyck replied.

'Good. He is engaged to my secretary. I am glad he is the one to come,' said Mrs Bradley, without betraying the fact that she had told the Chief Constable to ask for him. 'Now, look here, Mr Wyck, what I want to ask you may have some bearing on the case, and it is this: supposing there were a vacancy for a Housemaster – suppose, for example, it had been Mr Loveday, Mr Mayhew, Mr Reeder, or any other Housemaster who had been killed, and not Mr Conway – who would have received the appointment to the vacancy?'

'Well, it is a point I can only deal with unofficially, in a way,' replied Mr Wyck, betraying no surprise at the question. 'Officially, the governors fill the vacant posts here, from my own to that of the most junior member of the Staff. Unofficially, however, my own suggestions are almost invariably adopted. In the case which you postulate, my own choice would have fallen upon Kay. He is a sound fellow, a capable and quiet disciplinarian, and, although he is not particularly popular with the boys at present, I think time would tend to adjust matters, since there is nothing in his character, so far as I have been able to observe him, which boys would persistently and inherently dislike. Conway made a set at him, you know, and some sycophantic boys have followed that very ill-advised lead. Of course, John Semple is the man I myself should prefer as a Housemaster, but he is too young at present, and, besides, the governors do like our Housemasters to be married.'

'They take no exception to Miss Loveday's acting as her brother's housekeeper, though?' Mrs Bradley asked. Mr Wyck glanced sharply at his wife, but she smiled slightly and shook her head.

'Well, it is curious that you should raise that point,' said Mr Wyck, apparently reassured by his wife's reactions, 'because there has been considerable discussion at recent meetings about the position of Miss Loveday in that House. It has been remarked upon that she seems to be in charge of it and that her brother occupies a secondary position. I have argued against this theory, of course, but I have encountered a certain amount of scepticism which, I am compelled to admit, is not unjustified. However, Loveday's is not an altogether satisfactory House, as the fact that those two boys, Merrys and Skene, were able to break out at night would seem to indicate.'

'So that Mr Conway, even after the announcement of his engagement to Miss Pearson, would not have been your choice of a Housemaster?'

'No,' answered Mr Wyck decisively.

'Would it be impertinent to ask your reasons?'

'I have two reasons. The first is that poor Conway was most improperly biased towards boys. A boy such as Issacher, for example, and a really brilliant but somewhat eccentric lad, such as Micklethwaite, would have stood no chance with him. I should hesitate to place Prince Takhobali in his House, or any other Eastern, near-Eastern, or Southern boy.'

Mrs Bradley, who had not before encountered these tactful adjectives, nodded solemnly.

'I see,' she said. 'Sound. Very sound, if I may say so.'

'My second reason,' pursued Mr Wyck, disregarding the compliment, which he had applied to himself years previously, 'is that a master who confuses the married state with a merely temporary liaison is not the man to place in charge of immature natures.'

'I agree entirely,' Mrs Bradley replied. 'And now I wonder whether you would connive at deceitfulness?'

'Certainly,' Mr Wyck replied without hesitation. 'The morals of the head of a school are always elastic. What do you want me to do?'

'I should like to be present at the School plays, and then I want you to pretend that I am going away a couple of days before the end of term; but I mean to sneak back here again without a soul except David Gavin and ourselves being the wiser. Is that possible?'

'It can and shall be done. This means that you have definite suspicions of someone here?'

'Yes, I'm afraid it does.'

'I see. A little more sherry?'

Mrs Bradley accepted gratefully.

11. The Ladies, God Bless Them

*

Insinuating Monster! So you think I know nothing of the Affair of Miss Folly Peachum?

IBID. (Act 2, Scene 9)

'UNHAPPILY,' said Mrs Poundbury, 'we haven't a Hamlet in the House. You will appreciate that it is so much simpler to have at least the chief parts taken by boys in our own House. The rehearsals, you know, and just that last little ounce of whatever it is that puts the polish on the principals. We should have done Hamlet, without a doubt, had we had Issacher, who is quite the type, Gilbert says, and is, like most Jewish boys, quite marvellously fluid on the stage, but we haven't him. It really is unfortunate!'

Mrs Bradley remarked that to have a fluid Hamlet would scarcely be just to Shakespeare, and at this Mrs Poundbury relinquished serious platitudes for a girlish and attractive giggle.

'I've heard Gilbert on the heartrending subject of 'too, too solid flesh',' she observed. 'The trials of a schoolmaster's wife! However, what we are putting on is something much nearer to the