Mingled With Venom

‘Yes, I believe it is, but, in this case, it will benefit Margaret Denham.’ She walked with him through the basement of the house and he let her out by the front door.

‘Do you remember, in a story of King Solomon’s Mines, a terrible old person called Gagool?’ he asked as he opened it.

‘Dimly but sufficiently. Why?’

‘She smelt people out. I think you smell people out, dear old lady.’

‘I have been reading my mother’s diary,’ said Maria to Fiona. ‘It seems that she was in the habit of disbursing sums of money to Parsifal Leek. She told me about it once, I remember.’

‘I knew,’ said Fiona. ‘As her secretary, there were very few, if any, secrets that she kept from me.’

‘You never mentioned anything of her giving money to Parsifal. I should have known nothing of it had she not mentioned it on that one solitary occasion.’

‘It was nobody’s business but her own.’

‘It was the business of us all if it diminished our patrimony.’

‘I suppose one ought to say matrimony, except that that means something quite different.’

‘Are you still thinking of marriage?’

‘No. My only hope would be Garnet, your son, and I would rather be your friend than your daughter-in-law. I have never seen that as my relationship to you. Besides, Blue would not want me as a sister, even if Garnet wanted me for his wife.’

‘It is a pity she married Parsifal. He is not worthy of her. No wonder she wanted to adopt a son.’

‘He is more like Garnet’s son than Parsifal’s.’

‘He has always despised Parsifal, I think, and little wonder.’

‘No, I think he has always had a protective feeling towards him, as I feel Blue has. She must often regret her marriage. In fact, she confessed as much when I was staying with them after I had quarrelled with madre.’

‘What are we to do about that poor girl Denham? She is continually on my mind. I am sure—more sure than ever, as time passes—that she is not the guilty party.’

‘I had hoped that Dame Beatrice, who has such a reputation for finding out the truth of these matters, would have come up with something by now. As she has not, I think we must conclude that Denham is guilty.’

‘I wish I could come to that conclusion. The trouble is, as we’ve said before, if it wasn’t Denham it must have been one of us, and that’s unthinkable.’

‘But is it so unthinkable? The charge against the girl rests only on two things: she had been dismissed from this house and the poison plant was dug up in her sister’s garden. I could make out an equally viable case against Diana, Rupert, Gamaliel and Parsifal.’

‘Gamaliel?’ said Maria, surprised.

‘He knew he had found favour with madre and he must have heard a great deal of speculation about the terms of her Will. He may have thought he would be mentioned in it and decided to benefit himself sooner rather than later.’

‘He would not have hit upon the method used. He would simply have set about her and killed her.’

‘What about the other three, then?’

‘Neither Diana nor Rupert had any expectations from her. Rupert’s only motive would have been revenge for her unkindness with regard to his parentage, and I simply do not believe that would have carried him as far as murder. Rupert is not a man of strong passions. If he were, he would have divorced Diana long ago and married you.’

‘Well, that leaves Diana and Parsifal.’

‘Oh, my dear Fiona, if that is the choice, there can be no doubt which of them it would be. Diana had nothing to gain. Parsifal had every expectation, now realised, that both Blue and Gamaliel—oh, and, of course, Garnet— would come in for something. He had everything to gain from my mother’s death. He was like the woman in Tagore’s story. He had his coffer and his store in all of their houses.’

‘Well, I suppose there is nothing we can do about it.’

‘No, it must be left as it is. We have nothing but suspicion to go on and there is the family to consider.’

Bluebell was packing up her painting things when Dame Beatrice and Laura got back to the hotel. They were chatting with her—Dame Beatrice meanwhile turning over in her mind the various ways in which the impulsive Gamaliel would break the news of Parsifal’s confessed guilt to his mother—when the youth himself, damp-haired but now wearing a track-suit, came cantering across the courtyard.

‘Ah’ he said to Bluebell, ‘you must come home at once. There is to be a great contest of gladiators, two against one. I am the one. This great spectacle is to be staged on our small beach while the tide is going out. I am taking on Parsifal and Garnie. You shall see how well I have learned to defend myself. It will be two men against a sixteen-year-old youth. I shall be giving away many stones in weight, not to speak of fighting against four arms and two bodies.’

‘I don’t like the idea of it,’ said Bluebell, ‘but if the men have agreed I suppose there is nothing I can do. Incidentally, it is not respectful to refer to your father as Parsifal.’

‘It is not respectful, no. The question is whether I respect him. I search my heart and I find that I do not.’

‘Why not?’ demanded Bluebell, with an edge to her voice which was the result of anxiety and not indignation.