The Return of Captain John Emmett

intended.

'That is quite an offensive accusation to make against a professional man. I'l let it pass but I think it is time you went, Mr Bartram. Quite why I would want to blackmail a woman like that escapes me.'

As Chilvers turned away, Laurence said, 'You wanted to blackmail her firstly because you were anxious that your cruelties at Holmwood should not be given any publicity, particularly by an experienced nurse. Even the most indulgent father might think twice about leaving an enterprise that he had built up with care and kindness in the hands of a cruel, dishonest owner. Secondly, your wife's attachment to John Emmett, though unreciprocated except in terms of friendship, might have provided him with evidence of your shabby treatment of a woman you had a duty to protect. Thirdly, and crucialy, I believe you had a strong physical attraction to Mrs Bolitho, which you wished to consummate in any way you could. You were yourself a married man at the time. Mrs Bolitho might have needed coercion, even had she not found you repelent.'

He looked steadily at Chilvers, who stepped forward, clenching and unclenching his left hand as it hung by his side. Laurence was wiling him to lash out. It was twelve years since he had won his house cup at boxing, but he was leaner and perhaps fitter than the man opposite him. Chilvers may wel have made the same judgment, as he stepped back slightly.

'I am not going to stand for one more minute of this. You may have been bewitched by Mrs Bolitho and her bastard child, but I most certainly have not. You have no proof of the existence of any letters. Al this is conjecture. Fantasy. I might remind you that the first time I met you, it was you, not I, who were acting under false pretences. Kindly leave my house. If you return I shal cal the police.' He rang the smal bel on the table.

'I'm not sure you would actualy want the police here and I may wel visit them myself as Miss Emmett's representative, but I'm leaving anyway,' Laurence said, more calmly than he felt. 'Should you want to reconsider your statements, here is my card.' He laid one down on the table. 'Should you remember that, after al, you do have any of Captain Emmett's possessions, perhaps you would contact me?'

Chilvers picked up the card, looked at it briefly and threw it on to the coals.

Laurence had an overwhelming urge to punch Chilvers, regardless. His fingers curled into a fist as he measured up the precise spot on Chilvers' jaw where he would land it. Chilvers licked his lips and the corner of his eye twitched.

'I warn you to stay wel away from Mrs Bolitho,' Laurence said, taking a smal step forward. 'You may be right in thinking I could not make my accusations stick. You may wel have destroyed the letters, once they were no use to you as an implement to batter Mrs Bolitho into surrendering. You may not be a thief and a predator, but, I think, colectively these accusations might do you harm if brought to the attention of the right people. A fusilade. It's a military term. You won't know much about its effects. Wise men under such fire keep their heads down.'

Chilvers started to speak but Laurence wouldn't let him interrupt.

'John Emmett was unwel and unable to defend himself. Mrs Bolitho is al too able to defend herself, but vulnerable because of her circumstances. I, however, am neither unwel nor vulnerable. I have absolutely nothing to lose, whereas you, I think, do. I can assure you I shal do the very best I can to bring you down without a moment's hesitation if you cause Miss Emmett or Mrs Bolitho any further distress. I shal speak to your father, the police, the Law Society and my friends in the national newspapers.'

Laurence wondered briefly whether he could indeed presume upon his very new acquaintance with Tresham Brabourne.

And you may find that the reputation of Holmwood and, indeed, its history come under intense scrutiny. Maybe even enough to make your dying father reconsider his disposition of his property and save his patients from your attentions.'

Laurence reached the front door before the maid who was hovering uncertainly with his things. His last words had been pure bluff, a performance fired by adrenalin, and his heart was beating heavily and fast. As he took his hat and scarf from the girl, he was unable to resist looking back to see whether Chilvers was stil in view. The man had folowed him into the hal but now stood with his back to him, looking upwards. His spine, Laurence noticed with a smal satisfaction, seemed straight. At the top of the stairs he caught a flash of blue on the upper landing. It was Mrs Chilvers, he thought, moving out of sight before her husband could see her.

Chapter Thirty-one

As he strode down the drive he wasn't sure whether he had achieved anything, yet he felt invigorated. He was quite happy to walk the distance to the station in the fresh air. Having taken such an instant dislike to Chilvers the first time he'd met him, there was a sort of gratification in finding his first impressions borne out by everything Chilvers had said during this encounter. Laurence had accomplished nothing of substance, yet he felt pleased with the day. He suspected Chilvers was a man few people stood up to. His only worry was whether the man was capable of taking out his il temper on his wife. Laurence recaled Vera Chilvers' bruises. The thought of her husband with his hands round her neck was too imaginable, but how could she escape from him and would she want to?

He had clarified to his own satisfaction that there had been a letter or letters belonging to John; that Chilvers had indeed appropriated them; that he had discovered the nature of John and Eleanor's relationship as wel as Nicholas's parentage; and that, once the letters had failed to bring about the desired outcome with Eleanor Bolitho, he had probably destroyed them. Whether they gave any insight on John's state of mind would never now be known. Yet George Chilvers' very hostility made his depiction of John convincing. If John was restless, chalenging the staff, wanting to go to London, and had risked being imprisoned in his room, then he was no longer the withdrawn, silent man Mary had spoken of. Things had changed. Laurence was glad that old Dr Chilvers, at least, had seen something special in John, that he had moderated his harsh treatment and had perceived an improvement. Al this would be happily received by Mary.

Yet his triumph began to fade as he realised that any doubts as to John's death being suicide were borne out by this new account of his last weeks. George Chilvers had made no effort to hide his dislike of John. Was that dislike sufficient for him to have wished him dead? Mary had said that Chilvers had driven around in his car looking for John after he got away. Was it possible that, far from intending to take him back to Holmwood, he had set out to remove him permanently? Could Chilvers have taken a gun from a previous patient?

By the time the train came, the adrenalin had subsided. He dozed, off and on, much of the way back to London. Feeling more or less revived when the train drew in, he decided on the spur of the moment to take a diversion past the Daily Chronicle's offices. He knew it was a gamble. It was far too late to find Brabourne there but the paper itself was presumably open at night and it would be worth the cab fare to pick up the cuttings the journalist had promised. Brabourne had been as good as his word and the doorman handed him a plump brown envelope. Opening the flap, Laurence saw it contained several folded pages of newsprint. He tucked it into the inside pocket of his coat.

His flat was cold when he got in and the larder was distinctly bare, but he prepared a plate of cold mutton,