There was the sound of a slap, and then Mr Jerry said evenly, ‘Do that again and I’ll kill you, you fat, disgusting toad.’
‘You! Don’t make me laugh. I’m off to bed.’
Rose heard the bedroom door slam. She waited and waited. She could hear Mr Jerry moving about and then the creak of a chair as he sat down.
After fifteen minutes of agony, there came a rumbling snore from the bedroom.
Then to her horror, she heard Mr Jerry say, ‘You can come out now. She’s asleep.’
Blushing furiously, Rose emerged from behind the curtain.
‘I came in to borrow a book,’ she said in a low voice.
‘I saw your feet under the curtain. Let’s go for a walk,’ he said amiably.
Rose followed him out of the room and down the stairs. ‘We’ll go out onto the terrace at the back,’ said Mr Jerry. ‘You know, I didn’t want to come. I told my wife I had business in the City to attend to. But she did screech so. She doesn’t like me, so why she wanted me along is beyond me. Ah, here we are. Nice and cool. Let’s sit down instead while you explain why you were spying. You were thick as thieves last year with Captain Cathcart during that business at Telby Castle, so I suppose the pair of you are up to something.’
Rose decided it would be better to tell the truth. ‘Your wife paid Mr Pomfret the sum of ten thousand pounds. I think Pomfret might have been blackmailing her.’
‘I challenged my wife over that. She said it was a loan.’
‘Mrs Stockton and Lord Alfred also paid Pomfret ten thousand pounds each,’ said Rose.
‘Blackmail! Oh, my dear, if only that were true,’ he exclaimed.
‘Why?’
‘Don’t you see, if it were indeed something so awful that she paid out that great sum of money and if I got my hands on it, I could divorce her. Captain Cathcart is investigating the murder, is he not?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I shall offer to pay him anything he wants to find me proof.’
‘Can you think what it might be?’
‘A man, perhaps. But what man? I mean, look at my wife. I will go back and search for you. And I will talk to Captain Cathcart later.’
‘I am so sorry I hid in your room.’
‘Don’t worry about it. You have given me hope.’
CHAPTER NINE
Robert Louis Stevenson
Dinner on the previous nights had been long, dull affairs. The guests mostly concentrated on the delicious food and largely ignored each other.
Lady Glensheil did not notice, mainly because she liked the sound of her own voice and filled in the long gaps with monologues about the state of the nation, the weather, and the difficulties of getting good outdoor staff. She would probably have complained about the difficulty of getting good indoor staff had not so many of them been waiting on the guests.
That evening, however, began badly over the soup and proceeded to get worse. Mr Jerry Trumpington had already been drinking quite a lot. His shoulders were usually hunched like a man expecting another blow, but for once he was sitting up straight. There were two hectic red circles on his cheeks.
‘What a jolly bunch we are!’ he cried.
‘Oh, do be quiet,
‘No, I won’t be quiet. For once in my bullied married life I won’t be quiet, you fat old frump.’
‘Mr Jerry, perhaps you would like to lie down?’ said Lady Glensheil in glacial tones.
‘No, I’m fine and dandy. The prison door has opened a crack. Do you know why we’re all here, hey?’ He pointed with his dripping soup spoon, first at his wife, then at Angela Stockton and Lord Alfred. ‘See those three? Each one of them paid the late and unlamented Freddy Pomfret ten thousand pounds. Blackmail, I think. So, dear wife, if the murderer and blackmailer is amongst us, I beg of him to supply me with whatever he has on my dear wife and I will pay him a fortune.’
Harry glared at Rose, who dropped her eyes to her plate.
‘You’re drunk,’ said Lord Alfred coldly. ‘If you can’t hold your wine, go to bed and stop making ridiculous accusations. The police have already questioned us. It is sheer coincidence that we all decided to help Freddy out. He demanded the same amount from each of us.’
‘Oh, Lady Rose!’ squeaked Maisie Chatterton. ‘Don’t tell me there’s going to be another death. Death does seem to follow you around.’
‘I’ll talk to you later,’ Mrs Jerry snarled. Mr Jerry merely grinned.
‘Listen to me, all of you,’ said Lady Glensheil. ‘We are all going to church in the morning, and I mean all. Now, let’s talk about something else. The situation in the Balkans is fraught. . .’
Her voice rose and fell inexorably through eight courses before she finally rose as a signal to the ladies to follow her to the drawing-room. But she turned in the doorway. ‘I think this evening we will break with tradition and the gentlemen will come as well.’
To everyone’s relief, Mr Jerry said he was going to bed. In the drawing-room, tables were set up for cards while Frederica Sutherland entertained them by singing Scottish songs and accompanying herself on the piano.
Harry drew Rose aside. ‘Why did you tell Jerry about the blackmail?’
So Rose told him about being caught hiding behind the curtain.
‘You shouldn’t have said anything,’ said Harry crossly. ‘Now they really will be on their guard.’
‘Oh, pooh!’ said Rose defiantly. ‘They must already have thought it odd that all three of them have been invited. Did you find anything in Lord Alfred’s rooms?’
‘Nothing incriminating.’
‘Did you bury the body very deep?’
‘No, we didn’t bury it. We took it off away to the Thames with his car and sank the both of them.’
‘So Daisy was right. He must have been following us. Where was the car?’
‘Outside the gates.’
‘But someone will find the body in the river.’
‘Don’t worry. The water was pitch-black and we wedged him behind the steering wheel of his car.’
Philip Hargraves, a blacksmith and motor mechanic, was walking along the upper reaches of the Thames outside the village of Maidenton with his teenaged son, Bertie, just as the sun was coming up. He planned to get in some early fishing before starting work.
It was a truly beautiful morning and the dawn chorus sounded from the trees along the grassy bank.
‘Look at that, Dad,’ said Bertie, stopping short. ‘Tyre tracks going straight into the river.’
Philip joined his son and together they looked down into the waters of the Thames. The water may have been pitch-black at night, but in the brightening rays of the sun it was still and clear along the stretch outside the village. There was a strong current in midstream, but by the bank the water was as clear as glass.
And so, looking down, they were able to see a figure in a car sitting on the bottom.
‘Better call the police,’ said Bert.
‘No, wait a bit,’ said his father. ‘Let’s get that car out first. I’ll go back and get the tractor and winch it out. You keep a look-out.’
‘But, Dad!’
