Duplicate Death Read online

  ‘What minute?’

  ‘I don’t know what the time was, not for certain. It must have been soon after seven. I heard a stealthy footstep in the hall, as if someone was walking on tip-toe, and I went to the door, like this, and there was Miss Birtley, just about to let herself out of the house.’

  The Chief Inspector was unimpressed. ‘Any reason why she shouldn’t have been letting herself out? When is she due to knock off each day?’

  ‘At six o’clock, unless Madam wished her to stay on. And so she did, Chief Inspector, for with my own eyes I saw her leave the house then!’

  ‘Then how did she get in again?’

  ‘Miss Birtley has a duplicate latch-key. I was considerably astonished to see her, and it seemed to me that she was taking care not to be heard. When I spoke to her, she gave a start, and seemed much discomposed.’

  ‘She did, did she? What had she come back for?’

  ‘She informed me, Chief Inspector, that she had omitted to take away with her the cheque handed to her this morning by Mrs Haddington, to pay the accounts with. I need hardly say that I should be reluctant – most reluctant I should be! – to get a fellow-creature into trouble, but at the time it struck me as being Odd. I won’t say suspicious, but definitely Odd. Knowing that Mrs Haddington had wished to speak with her before her departure, I requested her to wait while I ascertained whether Madam had any message for her.’ He paused, and added impressively: ‘Miss Birtley was very reluctant to do so. In fact, she did not wish me to go up to the boudoir. But I was Adamant! I went – and that was what I found! I do not know when anything has given me such a Turn, Chief Inspector!’

  ‘And what were your own movements?’ asked Hemingway.

  Thrimby was not to be so easily baulked. He said: ‘As soon as I realised that Mrs Haddington had been foully done to death, I commanded Miss Birtley to go into the library, and I sent immediately to request Mrs Foston, the housekeeper, to remain there with her until your arrival.’

  ‘And what,’ repeated Hemingway, ‘were your own movements?’

  ‘After the departure of Mr Poulton, which would have been at about a quarter-to-seven, as near as I can remember, I was in my pantry till I came up to lay the table.’

  ‘Yes, well, now suppose you were to tell me just who has been here this evening?’ suggested Hemingway.

  ‘I ought, perhaps, to tell you first, Chief Inspector, that I overheard a very unpleasant scene this morning between Mrs Haddington and Miss Birtley. I’m sure I would prefer not to mention the matter, but I feel it to be my duty to inform you that Miss Birtley addressed Mrs Haddington in what I should call threatening terms. She said that she wouldn’t be interfered with, and there were no lengths she wouldn’t go to, if she was goaded to it. Then she said, and, I must say, I was shocked, that if she couldn’t have Mr Harte – Timothy, she called him – she didn’t care what became of her. At which point, I thought it proper to intervene, which, Chief Inspector, I did. Quite murderous, Miss Birtley looked: I thought so at the time!’

  Hemingway listened dispassionately to this story. He was interested, but he disappointed the butler by betraying no signs of excitement whatsoever. He felt none. It was possible, in his view, that Miss Birtley had strangled her employer, but he had interrogated too many witnesses not to recognise spite when he was confronted with it. By dint of some skilful questioning, he elicited from Thrimby a fairly coherent account of the day’s happenings. ‘So, setting aside the doctor’s visit, no one came to the house between the time he left, and the time Mr Butterwick arrived? Very well! You say that Lord Guisborough called before Mr Butterwick had left the house. Did you see Mr Butterwick out?’

  ‘No, for I was engaged in showing his lordship up to the drawing-room. By the time I came downstairs again, Mr Butterwick had departed. I did not actually see Lord Guisborough out either, though I heard him go. His lordship, not waiting for me to show him out, slammed the door with considerable violence. Mrs Haddington seemed quite put out: in fact she spoke to me as I am not at all accustomed to be spoken to, actually coming to the head of the stairs to know what had kept me, which nothing had, Chief Inspector, but it is not my custom to go dashing upstairs! She then instructed me to say in future, if his lordship called or rang up, that she was not at home. It is my belief that Mrs Haddington did not, as one might say, fancy his lordship. Of course, it is not for me to venture an opinion, Chief Inspector, but one can’t help putting two and two together. What with his lord ship running after Miss Cynthia, till it is quite noticeable, and Mrs Haddington asking him to come to see her this afternoon, and then his lordship rushing out of the house, and Mrs Haddington saying what she did, one can’t doubt that she had told him it was no use him thinking of Miss Cynthia, for she wouldn’t consent. Miss Cynthia, I should mention, is under age. Strictly between ourselves, Chief Inspector, it’s common knowledge, in the Hall, that it’s Mr Harte Mrs Haddington wanted for Miss Cynthia. Well, when he first visited here, I must say I thought there was something in it. But then he seemed to get sweet on Miss Birtley all at once – and there has been a certain amount of unpleasantness, Miss Birtley being a young woman with a temper, and I regret to say, not always as civil as she might be. Really, I was quite shocked at her this morning; and naturally I couldn’t but recall the words she had with Mr Seaton-Carew, the night he was murdered. Almost the same they were, though I don’t precisely remember them now. Threaten ing, is what I should call them.’

  ‘Never mind about Miss Birtley for the moment! After Lord Guisborough left the house, what happened?’

  The butler reflected. ‘I went down to fetch the cocktailtray up to the drawing-room. I fancy Mrs Haddington must have gone up to Miss Cynthia’s room, for she asked me, when she came down, if I knew where Miss Cynthia was. Mapperley – that’s Mrs Haddington’s personal maid – thinks she went off to a party, but not having seen her go, I couldn’t say. She hasn’t yet returned.’

  ‘Just as well!’ muttered Hemingway. ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘Mrs Haddington went to see if Miss Cynthia was in the boudoir. It was then that Mr Poulton arrived, about 6.25, as near as I remember.’

  ‘Did Mrs Haddington seem pleased to see him, or not?’

  ‘Well, sir, I thought Mrs Haddington was better pleased to see him than he was to be here. I doubt if Mr Poulton has ever been in the house above twice or three times. I had the impression that he did not care for Mrs Haddington. But he is not a gentleman as shows his feelings. He asked for a private word with Mrs Haddington, and she took him into the boudoir, and that was the last time I saw her alive.’

  ‘I see. Tell me once again exactly what happened when the boudoir bell rang!’

  ‘When the bell rang,’ said the butler carefully, ‘I had of course been expecting it. I mounted the stairs from the basement, and when I reached the hall I saw Mr Poulton coming down the first flight.’

  ‘Was he in any way agitated? Did he seem quite as usual?’

  ‘So far as I could judge, he did. But I don’t know him well, and, as I say, he doesn’t give anything away. He was coming quite slowly downstairs, nor he didn’t hurry over putting on his coat. His car was waiting for him, and he drove off, as I told you.’

  ‘All right, that seems very clear,’ Hemingway said. ‘Did you say I would find Miss Birtley in the library?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I could not take it upon myself to allow Miss Birtley to leave the house. Mrs Foston is with her.’

  ‘All right, I know the way,’ Hemingway said.

  He found Beulah and the housekeeper seated one on either side of the electric stove in the library. Beulah had thrown off her hat, but she still wore her tweed coat, into the pockets of which she had dug her hands. She looked white, and frightened. Mrs Foston, who rose at the Chief Inspector’s entrance, had been quietly knitting. She folded up the work, and said: ‘If you please, sir, Miss Birtley and I have thought it best to send for Miss Cynthia’s aunt, Miss Pickhill.’

  ‘Quite right,’ sa