Envious Casca Read online

  ‘The chances are you won’t,’ the Inspector said unemotionally. ‘What did Mr Joseph and Mr Stephen do?’

  ‘They thought at first he’d fainted, like I did myself. Mr Stephen sent me off to fetch some brandy. By the time I’d come back, they’d discovered Mr Herriard was dead. “That won’t be wanted,” Mr Stephen said, meaning the brandy. “He’s dead.” I give you my word I nearly dropped the tray, it was such a shock to me!’

  ‘Must have been a shock for Mr Stephen and Mr Joseph too,’ said the Inspector.

  ‘Oh yes, it must indeed! Mr Joseph was quite distracted, rubbing poor Mr Herriard’s hands, and seeming as though he couldn’t believe he was dead. Very devoted to Mr Herriard, he was.’

  ‘Was Mr Stephen much upset?’

  ‘Well, Inspector, Mr Stephen’s not one to wear his heart on his sleeve, as the saying is, but it stands to reason it must have upset him, particularly when he hadn’t been on good terms with Mr Herriard, by all accounts. He looked very white, and spoke to me very curt. He told me he could do with the brandy himself, and he took the tray out of my hands, and told me to go and ring up the doctor. Mr Joseph was nearly crying, and he said not to speak of Mr Herriard’s death to anyone else. He was a bit upset by Mr Stephen’s manner, Mr Stephen having a rough tongue, as anyone will tell you. But there’s many as will cover up what they feel by a rough manner, and I didn’t set any store by anything Mr Stephen said, for I saw his hand shaking, and I could see he’d had a jolt. What’s more, Mr Stephen doesn’t get on with Mr Joseph, being crossgrained, and never having liked Mr Joseph’s coming to live at Lexham, by all accounts. Mr Joseph sort of brings out the worst in him, if you take my meaning.’

  ‘Jealous of him, was he?’

  ‘I wouldn’t like to say that, Inspector, though I have heard it said that Mr Stephen was afraid Mr Joseph would put his nose out of joint. But I never believed that, because Mr Stephen’s no fool, and anyone could see Mr Joseph’s as innocent as a newborn babe, with no more notion of that kind of thing than nothing at all. In my opinion, it was just Mr Joseph’s way that got Mr Stephen’s goat.’

  ‘H’m!’ said the Inspector. ‘You like Mr Stephen, don’t you?’

  ‘I’ve never had any cause to dislike him. He’s always been pleasant enough to me, whenever I’ve waited on him, which I often have.’

  ‘Got a temper, by what I hear.’

  ‘Yes, like Mr Herriard he is, in some ways, except that he’s not one to tell the world what he’s thinking, by any means. You knew where you were with Mr Herriard, but Mr Stephen’s no talker, and you wouldn’t get to the bottom of him in a hurry. And I don’t think the worse of him for that.’

  ‘No reason why you should,’ said the Inspector, closing the interview.

  Maggie, when summoned to the morning-room, twisted her apron between her fingers, and said in a frightened gasp that she didn’t wish to get anyone into trouble. When her alarms had been allayed, and she had been permitted to unburden herself of a highly coloured account of her own reactions to the crime, which included such interesting details as Coming Over Ever So Queer, and suffering equally from palpitations and a total inability to believe that anyone could have murdered the master, she admitted that she had seen Miss Paula and Mr Roydon go into Miss Paula’s room, and had heard the murmur of their voices, the door having been left ajar. Later, when she had come up the backstairs with Miss Paula’s dress, which she had gone downstairs to fetch, having had it in the kitchen to dry, because of the stain on it which Miss Paula had asked her to wash out, she had caught a glimpse of Miss Paula outside the master’s door, just coming away, as though she had been in to speak to him.

  There was nothing more to be got out of her, nor did an interrogation of the rest of the staff produce any other information than that Mrs Fratton, the cook-housekeeper, had no expectation of ever recovering from the shock; that the kitchen-maid had been having strong hysterics all the evening, her being a seven-months child, and delicate from birth; and that Preston, the head-housemaid, had seen Disaster in her teacup only the day before, and had told the rest of the staff to Mark her Words, there was Trouble coming for Someone.

  By the time the Inspector, confronted by a gustily sobbing kitchen-maid, had somewhat hastily informed Mrs Fratton, who supported and encouraged this damsel by adjurations to give over, and stop acting so silly because the policeman wasn’t going to eat her, that he had no more questions to ask, the experts upstairs had finished their various tasks, and Nathaniel’s body had been conveyed to the waiting ambulance.

  Several finger-prints had been discovered upon the panels and handle of Nathaniel’s door, and upon various articles of furniture in the room. Some of these were Nathaniel’s own prints, as might have been expected; and although the others would have to be identified there did not seem to be much hope that this line of investigation would prove to be very helpful. The expert was engaged, Sergeant Capel told the Inspector, in taking the finger-prints of all the inmates of the house, a task calling for a great deal of tact and patience, since Valerie Dean was tearfully sure that her mother would object, and the female half of the domestic staff apparently considered the operation to be the first step to the gallows.

  Both doctors were agreed that the blow had been dealt with a thin knife, and that death had followed within a few minutes, but no trace of the weapon had so far been found. A careful inspection of the windows had not revealed any sign of the fastenings having been tampered with, and although finger-prints were clearly visible upon the glass it was expected that these would prove to be the valet’s, since he freely admitted that he had shut the windows some time before Nathaniel had come upstairs. The door-keys belonging both to the bedroom and the bathroom would be subjected to a more minute inspection, and the ventilator above the bathroom window had already been exhaustively studied, without, however, yielding any clue. The only article of interest which had been discovered in Nathaniel’s room was a flat gold cigarette-case, which had been found on the floor, lying half under the armchair beside the fire, out of sight of a cursory survey of the room.

  The Inspector looked narrowly at this. It bore a monogram composed of the letters S and H. ‘Any finger-prints?’ he asked.

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘What, none?’

  ‘No, sir. I reckon they got rubbed off.’

  ‘I suppose they must have. All right, I’ll take charge of it.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said the young detective.

  ‘And I’ll see Miss Paula Herriard again. Send her in!’

  This second summons to the morning-room apparently discomposed Paula, for she came in presently with a heightened colour, and more than her usual impetuosity. Without giving the Inspector time to speak, she demanded angrily what more he could possibly want with her. ‘I call it utter incompetence!’ she said, scorn vibrating in her voice.

  The Inspector was unmoved by this stricture. Plenty of people, he reflected, when they were frightened tried to conceal it under a blustering manner. He thought, watching her restless hands and over-brilliant eyes, that Paula was decidedly frightened. ‘I should like to go over your evidence again, miss,’ he said, turning back the pages of his notebook.

  ‘Bright!’ she commented, with a sharp, unmirthful laugh.

  He paid no heed; she didn’t even annoy him; in fact, the more she lost her temper the better pleased he would be. ‘You stated, miss, that when you went up to your room to change for dinner, you didn’t come out of it again until you joined the rest of the party in the drawing-room.’

  Her eyes were fixed on him, never wavered from his face, but he thought she breathed more rapidly. ‘Well?’

  ‘Do you wish to add anything to that?’ asked the Inspector, giving her back look for look.

  He had rattled her, just as he’d known he would. He could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes, the half-concealed alarm. He could have sworn she’d play for time, and she did, saying defensively: ‘Why should I?’

  ‘My in