Fault in the Structure

‘Big lies.’

‘Good. That man, if I mistake not, is a murderer.’

‘Ciel! En verite, madame? I go round with Henri tonight to be sure he lock and double-lock all doors. I am glad it is also windows which can be locked since the attack on the life of madame last year.’

‘Yes, Mrs Gavin insisted on the window fastenings. That will be all.’

‘I could wish,’ muttered Celestine, as she went to the door, ‘that the good Georges and Madame Gavin were here to protect madame.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Dame Beatrice, whose ears were keen, ‘I shall now load my little revolver and keep it handy, but I think our visitor, having proved my mettle, is most unlikely to return.’

She rang up the Chief Constable and told him of the visit.

‘What did he come for? What was his object, do you suppose?’ he asked.

‘I think he had been in touch with Miss St Malo and took fright at what she told him of my visit to her. He has much on his conscience and for that reason he probably takes fright very easily. I think he decided to come along and take a look at me and my establishment just to see how the land lay. He found it harsh and inhospitable.’

‘Well, apart from the telephone directory – you public figures ought never to allow your names and addresses to appear in that, you know – I suppose it’s easy enough to find out from Who’s Who where you live and all about you. Are you going to ask for police protection?’

‘Because a man calls on me and stays less than ten minutes?’

‘You say he gave a false name? How did you know it was Lawrence?’

‘I did not know. He answered to a description my son once gave me of Lawrence. Besides, like that son, I have a suspicious mind and I am always wary of strangers, especially of strangers who try to bribe my servants. For all these reasons, I guessed who my visitor was.’

‘Do you think you were wise to let him know you had recognised him?’

‘I did it deliberately. It will be interesting to find out how he reacts, if he reacts at all.’

‘It may be interesting, but it won’t be very pleasant if he cuts your throat,’ said the Chief Constable grimly. ‘Do, at least, let your village bobby know that a suspicious-looking stranger has called on you. If nothing more than your visit to Coralie St Malo has put wind up him, he must be in a rare old funk, and so am I, knowing that he’s on the loose in your neighbourhood.’

‘Very well. If it will ease your mind I will drive into Brockenhurst and acquaint the police with my fears.’

‘Your fears? That will be the day!’ said the Chief Constable.

Dame Beatrice had been placed under police protection once or twice before, although she herself had never asked for it; the safety measure had been taken either by Laura Gavin or by Sir Ferdinand Lestrange on his mother’s behalf. On this occasion, however, she kept her word to the Chief Constable and was assured: ‘We always keep an eye on your place, ma’am, the nature of your occupation being what it is with the Home Office. Some of your murderers have plenty of friends outside.’ So, having done what she could, Dame Beatrice dismissed Lawrence from her mind.

Some days went by, the little pile of manuscript (to be typed when Laura returned) grew a little bulkier, correspondence was dealt with and, for a change of occupation, Dame Beatrice paid visits to her rose-garden to snip off the dead blooms, and so time passed.

The Chief Constable wrote to tell her that Chief Superintendent Nicholl was back in charge of the Lawrence case, but, so far, had no progress to report, all further attempts to break Lawrence’s alibi having failed. As for Coralie St Malo and Mrs Lawrence’s brother, Bill Caret, all enquiries concerning them came to nothing.

So matters stood and so they remained. Laura and George returned to the Stone House and at the end of September the university’s Long Vacation ended. Routine of a pleasant, peaceful kind was re-established at the Stone House and the only surprise, if such it could be called, was that Lawrence had not returned to resume his northern university lectureship, but had resigned it on the grounds that he was now ‘a man of property’ domiciled in the south.

CHAPTER 11

« ^ »

Off he goes, as nimble as a tadpole,

Only more bullet-headed.

Laura, fortified by her holiday, settled down readily and happily again at the Stone House, her days filled with interesting and pleasurable occupations; but she needed very little sleep and during the wakeful watches of the night she turned her thoughts time and again to the murder of the second Mrs Lawrence and to Lawrence’s abortive visit to Dame Beatrice.

One morning, when Dame Beatrice’s manuscript was typed and had been posted, she said at breakfast:

‘There must be some way of breaking Lawrence’s alibi.’

‘Unless he committed the murder, he does not need an alibi, dear child.’

‘I don’t like that visit he paid you when George and I were both away. I think he’s our murderer all right and if only that alibi isn’t an alibi at all, the police ought to be in a position to charge him.’

‘I believe him to be the murderer of old Sir Anthony, and I think Mrs Lawrence had some evidence of this. I