The Affair of the Bloodstained Egg Cosy (11 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Body in the Lake

Deveraux ran his finger round the rim of his glass. 'I can't think why you should pick on me, Inspector. I've already told the Earl here everything I know, and I imagine he's passed it on.'

'He has, sir. But I'd like to hear it from you in your own words.'

'Certainly, if you think it'll help. Well, I was on the landing, a few feet from the top of the grand staircase—'

'Why?'

'Why? Oh, I see what you mean. I was on my way downstairs to get a book from in here.'

'I see. No doubt the storm had prevented you from sleeping.'

'Quite.'

'Fancy - and you an ex-naval officer, I'm told. So you started to make your way downstairs in the dark. Why didn't you switch on the light, by the way?'

'There was no need. I had a pocket torch.'

'Of course.' Wilkins tutted. 'Silly of me. Now where is your bedroom situated exactly, Mr. Deveraux?'

'On the corner of the main block and the west wing.'

'So you were going towards the stairs in an easterly direction?'

'No, actually I was going the opposite way. You see, I'd got a little way down the stairs when I heard somebody crossing the landing from east to west behind me. So I turned round to investigate.'

'Ah, now I understand.' Wilkins gave a satisfied nod. Then he frowned. 'But exactly why did you want to investigate?'

'I thought to creep about in the dark was rather suspicious behaviour.'

'It certainly was. The man didn't hear you?'

'No.'

'And why do you suppose he didn't see the light from your torch?'

'I didn't actually have it on at that time.'

'Creeping about in the dark, were you, sir?'

'Not creeping, Inspector.'

'No, of course not. I'm sorry. He was creeping; you weren't. Yet you heard him and he didn't hear you. There has to be a perfectly logical explanation for that, but unfortunately it escapes me. Could you enlighten me, please?'

Deveraux looked at him silently for a few moments. Then he chuckled. 'Well done, Inspector,' he said. 'You really got me in a corner. Very neat indeed. Looks as if I'm going to have to come clean. Ah well, I feared I'd have to sooner or later.'

He reached into his hip pocket, took out his pocket book, opened it and handed it to Wilkins. The Inspector looked at it without the flicker of an eyebrow, closed it and gave it back. 'Thank you, sir,' he said. 'I thought as much.'

During these exchanges Lord Burford and Richard had been looking more and more puzzled. 'What the deuce is going on?' the Earl said.

'Well, my lord, Mr. Deveraux has just shown me something which proves that he's in a line of work not all that far removed from my own.'

'What are you talking about? Feller's a writer.'

'I'm afraid not, Lord Burford. I owe you an apology.' Deveraux spoke in a quite unapologetic tone of voice. 'I'm under your roof by false pretences, I regret to say. I don't think there would be much point in my showing you this, as it wouldn't mean anything to you. But Mr. Saunders will recognise it, I'm sure.' He held the pocket book out to Richard.

Richard looked at it and nodded briefly. 'It's right enough, George. Every government minister is familiar with these. There's no need to name Deveraux's department, but as the inspector said, it's allied to the police and I imagine often works in conjunction with Scotland Yard. Thornton told me he knew your face, Deveraux. I suppose he's seen you in Whitehall sometime.'

' 'Pon my soul.' Lord Burford looked at Deveraux with something approaching awe. 'You mean John Buchan stuff, is that it?'

'Well, rarely so heroic, sir, but something like that.'

'And you're not a writer at all?'

'No.'

'And there ain't going to be any book?'

'I feel a frightful cad, but no, I'm sorry.'

'But I heard you talking about a pen-name - something George; naturally I noticed it specially.'

'Jonathan George. He's a friend of mine. Allowed me to use his name. Andrew Lewis doesn't exist.'

'Why are you here?' Richard asked him.

'I'm here on the Prime Minister's instructions.'

'The PM sent you?'

'He ordered my chief to send someone.'

'Why wasn't I informed who you really were?'

'Because it was important nobody else knew. And it is difficult for the average person to behave naturally to somebody in my line of work. If one person knows the truth, usually the others guess it.'

'I understand that. No doubt it's a sensible policy. But I wish I'd known, all the same.'

'I think everybody here will now have to be told that I'm not what I first claimed to be,' Deveraux said. 'But with the approval of you all, we'll let it be thought I'm a Scotland Yard man.'

'Then mind you remember to call everybody "sir" or "madam",' Wilkins said.

'I'll do my best - sir.'

'Are you able to say why the Prime Minister wanted you here?'

'I think I'm bound to, if we're going to make any progress,' Deveraux said. 'I'll tell you everything I know, Wilkins, on the understanding that it's top secret stuff. Mr. Saunders here and Adler, who is a very important man indeed in his own country, have been engaged in highly crucial talks in the last few days. Exactly what the talks are about, I have not been informed myself; but I do know that a successful outcome is considered vital. I don't think Mr. Saunders can tell us more than that, or indeed that we need to know more. But you'll realise it puts a different complexion on Adler's disappearance.'

Wilkins gave a deep sigh. 'Bad,' he said. He looked at Richard. 'Would it be improper to ask if anything took place during these talks which could account for Adler's disappearance?'

Richard shook his head. 'Nothing. I can tell you that the negotiations were not proceeding as smoothly as we could have hoped; we had run into difficulties. But it would have been absurd to suppose that this could be sufficient to cause Adler to cut and run.'

Wilkins drummed on the arm of the chair with his fingers. 'What was your brief, Mr. Deveraux?'

'I was told that a lot of people want to know what's decided here - or perhaps make sure nothing is decided. The PM wanted somebody on the premises just to keep an eye on things. My orders were simply to be alert for any unusual occurrence or suspicious circumstance, make sure nobody overheard any part of the talks - and just be here in case of emergency. Which I was - with singular lack of success.'

'Why exactly were you up tonight?'

'I've been making patrols of the whole house at irregular intervals during the nights. There were several reasons. Firstly, my department notified me on Friday that the telephone authorities had informed them that a call had been made from this house to a public kiosk in London at two-twenty-five that morning. This indicated that something fishy was going on here, and if one call had been made around that time, another one might be. So I decided to check the telephone room now and again each night. Secondly, I wanted to keep an eye on the music room. There was always a chance that if a spy was ' present, he'd try to plant a microphone there and run a lead to another part of the house. I checked in the room Friday and Saturday morning early, of course; but just finding a microphone wouldn't be enough I'd have to know who planted it. The only way would be to catch him red-handed. The planting would obviously be done at night, and if I checked the room frequently, there was a remote chance I'd catch him at it. Again, I made a habit of checking up on the guests - going to their doors, listening carefully, watching for lights, occasionally opening a door and peeping in. It was all a waste of time as things turned out.

'Tonight I left my room just before two-twenty. I went along the main and east corridors and down the stairs at the end. I checked in the 'phone room, then went back upstairs. I had intended to have another hunt round up there and then go down again and look in the music room and 'phone room once more later. But near the top of the stairs I heard footsteps approaching. I decided to follow them. Then - wham. Of course, as soon as I got to my feet I should have raised the alarm and rung the police. I ought to have realised I needed help. My only excuse is that for some time I was still a bit groggy - my mind not working at full effectiveness. And what with releasing Lady Geraldine, investigating the scream, and so on, there always seemed to be other urgent things needing to be done.'

'Quite understandable,' said Wilkins.

Lord Burford, who had begun to look a little restless, said: 'Look, this is no doubt all very important, but shouldn't one of you be doing something now, instead of talking about what's already happened? I'm personally not so much concerned with Adler and the Baroness as with Mrs. Peabody's diamonds. The Peabodys are my guests, and I'd like to see some action taken to try to recover the jewels before it's too late.'

'Oh, my lord, that's all been taken care of.' Wilkins was eager to explain. 'The alert went out within minutes of Mr. Saunders' call. We're already looking for the lady and gentleman - and the necklace. All the usual steps for major crimes have been taken - road blocks set up, and so on. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but I thought you'd have realised.'

Lord Burford looked a little abashed. 'Oh, I see. Sorry.'

'I'm afraid it will all be a waste of time, though,' Wilkins added.

'Why do you say that?'

'Well, it was half an hour after the alarm was set off that we were called.'

Richard said: 'We 'phoned as soon as we knew definitely what was wrong. Until then it was merely a question of a broken window and a couple of scuffles in the dark. It could have all been misunderstanding - an accident, or a practical joke, say.'

'I appreciate that, sir. I'm merely pointing out that if a getaway from Alderley had been planned for tonight, anyone with a fast car standing by, and with open country roads all round, could have been thirty miles away before we started looking. The other point is that, as regards the necklace, in a rural area like this, no thief is going to carry round something as hot as that when he can bury it and collect it when the hue and cry has died down. So if we were to catch the thief, he'd be unlikely to be in possession of the loot, and we couldn't prove anything. I'm not sanguine, my lord, not sanguine at all.'

'Then what do you propose to do now?' Lord Burford asked.

'I don't really know, my lord. Let me think.'

But Wilkins was saved from having to think very long because then the door opened and Merryweather announced: 'Dr. Ingleby.'

Ingleby was a tall young man with a mass of ginger hair and a cheerful manner. He had been the Alderley medical attendant now for three or four years, and was also the assistant police surgeon; so he needed to be introduced only to Deveraux. He accepted a drink and sat down.

'How's the patient, doctor?' Lord Burford asked him.

'Sleeping like a baby. And likely to continue to do so for some considerable time.'

'Can you tell us what's the matter with him?' Wilkins asked.

'It depends on how precise an answer you want. He's drugged, of course, but I can't say with what. A sedative of some kind - sleeping tablets, say. Do you know if he was in the habit of taking them?'

Lord Burford shook his head. 'I should think it was extremely unlikely.'

'I couldn't find any empty bottle in his room certainly.'

Deveraux said: 'And if he didn't take them himself . . .'

'Precisely,' said Wilkins.

Lord Burford said: 'Who on earth would want to dope Fotheringay?'

'I doubt if we'll know the answer to that,' Deveraux said, 'until after we've answered a lot of other questions.'

'He will be all right, will he?' Lord Burford asked.

'Oh yes. He's had a pretty big dose, but by no means a lethal one. Though I expect he'll sleep most of the day.'

'That,' said the Earl, 'is the first bit of good news I've had tonight.'

Dr. Ingleby turned to Deveraux. 'Are you the chap who took a blow on the head? Let's have a look.' He did so, then said: 'You'll live. Take a couple of aspirin before you turn in.' He looked at his wrist watch and got to his feet. 'Nearly four-thirty. I must go.'

Lord Burford stood up, moved across to the bell and rang it. 'Good of you to have turned out so promptly, Doctor.'

Then he looked up in surprise as, far too soon to be answering the bell, Merryweather entered. 'Excuse me, my lord,' he said, 'the police sergeant wishes to converse with Inspector Wilkins.'

The next second he was almost elbowed, aside by Leather, who hurried into the room without waiting for an invitation. He spoke urgently to Wilkins.

'Could you come at once, please, sir? It's very important.'

* * *

Jane let her gaze fall in turn on each of the other occupants of the drawing room. Strange that nobody had yet taken up that funny-looking policeman's invitation to return to bed. Though both Thornton and Evans looked as if they'd like to. Of the others, Lady Burford was clearly far too indignant at the very idea of such events taking place at Alderley, to consider sleep; Mr. Peabody was annoyed, too, but chiefly, Jane thought, with himself: it must have been a long time since anybody had made a sucker out of Hiram Peabody; Mrs. Peabody was obviously still extremely upset; and Nicholas Felman plainly anxious.

It seemed, in fact, that the only person in the house who was thoroughly enjoying the whole situation was Gerry. In spite of everything, Jane grinned as she looked at her friend's bright eyes and eager expression. There was nobody with a greater capacity for enjoying life than Gerry.

Jane's train of thought was broken by the entry of Lord Burford and Richard. Everybody stared at them expectantly. It was as though they'd all been waiting for this moment, had known that the events of the night were not yet over.

Lord Burford paused inside the door and looked round the ring of faces. At that moment Jane knew what he was going to say.

'I'm afraid I've got bad news.' His voice was grave. His eyes sought out Felman. 'Felman, I'm very sorry to tell you that Mr. Adler is dead.'