‘Did you find out whether Sir Jeremy ever went to India?’ asked Fenella. ‘I’ve often wondered whether he ever did, or whether he was trying to give himself some sort of alibi.’
‘You regard him as a possible patricide?’
‘It sounds horrible when you use that word.’
‘I did speak with the two women at the post-office. It appears that no correspondence passed between Seven Wells and India, but that proves nothing. If Sir Bathy or his wife knew that, very shortly after reaching Karachi, or wherever it was, Sir Jeremy would be out of touch with his mail, they may well not have troubled to write. Equally, we do not know for certain the terms which obtained between the father and son, although my own view, for what it is worth, is that Lady Bitton-Bittadon was a bone of contention between them. Another explanation could be that another post-office was used. The police are still trying to find out whether this might have been the case, but that sort of enquiry takes time.’
‘What is your own impression?’ asked Nicholas.
‘Oh, I think he went to India. My doubt is whether he went mountaineering there. I have some reason to think that he had been sent news of his father’s death before Sir Bathy was murdered. There is no doubt that he got back almost in time for the funeral.’
‘What!’ exclaimed Fenella.
‘But what has that to do with mountaineering?’ asked Nicholas.
‘I am not certain yet,’ Dame Beatrice replied, ‘but time will tell us all that we want to know, I think.’
‘I wish you’d tell me all I want to know,’ said Fenella.
‘I will tell you what I can, child.’
‘Well, one thing still puzzles me. How do you come to be mixed up in all this at all?’
‘I thought you knew that I had received an official communication from Assistant Commissioner Robert Gavin.’
‘Yes, but why should he have communicated with you? I mean, at that time, surely only one murder had been committed? I mean, so far as anybody knew, the Shurrocks and the others with them were alive and well. Why should the police have called in a psychiatrist to help solve a simple village murder?’
‘Because I asked them to do so,’ Dame Beatrice calmly replied. ‘The letter I received from Robert Gavin was in answer to one which he had received from me as soon as I heard of your adventures at the More to Come.’
‘Well, really!’
‘I happened to have read a short paragraph in the press reporting Sir Bathy’s death. I filed it, as I usually do, and then I must confess that I thought no more about it until you said that you had stayed a night in the same village because your car had broken down. I thought, even then, that somebody had made himself responsible for the damage to the vehicle, but I did not know, until a few minutes ago, that Nicholas was the culprit. However, I do not believe you had told me at that time the circumstances under which you first met him.’
‘I must get back to take prep.,’ said Nicholas. ‘So, if it hadn’t been for me, you would never have concerned yourself with the case at all!’
‘And now,’ said Dame Beatrice, when the young man had gone, ‘There is something else you may be able to tell me, my dear Fenella. Again it depends upon your memory.’
‘Oh, dear! Most unreliable, I’m afraid.’
‘It has not appeared to be unreliable so far. This is what I want to know, and to answer me you must cast your mind back to Mayering Eve when you broke in upon the meeting of the zodiac people.’
‘Oh, I can remember that, all right. In fact, I shall never forget it. I don’t believe I’ve ever felt so unwanted and unpopular in my life. When I die, the signs of the zodiac will be found engraved on my heart.’
‘Really? Well, now, how much can you recall of what you heard?’
‘Most of it, if not all. They were so extraordinary, and so unexpected, you know, those masked and gowned figures with their comic head-dresses, and they were rather frightening, too.’
‘Yes, I can well imagine that. Now please take your time, because your answers will be very important. First of all, can you remember which of the characters spoke and, roughly, what they said?’
‘Oh, yes, I’m sure I can remember which of them spoke.’
‘So you can also remember which of them did not speak.’
‘Well, that follows, doesn’t it? Scorpio spoke first. He put on the electric light and denounced me as an interloper.’
‘He? You are certain it was a man’s voice?’
‘Oh, yes, positively a man’s voice, and thick with local accent. I’m all the more certain, because I remember that the next person who spoke was just as definitely a woman and, what’s more, a “lidy”.’
‘The only cultured person there, I imagine. Do you think you would recognise the voice again if you heard it?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t like to bet on that. You know how it is with women of that class. You can’t go by accent, because they all have the same one!’
‘What did she say?’
‘She said: “She’s broken the magic number. She makes us thirteen.” (Meaning me, of course).’
‘How extremely strange!’
‘Why do you say that, great-aunt?’
‘Because you did not make them thirteen; you made them fourteen. There are twelve signs of the zodiac, it is true, but one of them is Gemini, so that twelve signs were represented but, actually, there were thirteen persons in the room before you entered it.’
‘Is that important?’
‘Psychologically it is of the most extreme importance, I hope. It supplies me with an arrow which may well bring down my quarry.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I mean that the speaker, Pisces, knew that one of the company was missing….’
‘Sir Bathy, I suppose you mean, but surely, by that time, they all knew that. He’d been dead for nearly a week.’
‘Ah, but the significant thing is that Pisces had forgotten for the moment that another Aries had
