Envious Casca Read online

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘What about the valuation?’

  Stephen removed his pipe from his mouth. ‘On the last three years’ trading. Doesn’t the plot thicken?’

  ‘I suppose you know what you mean by that! I can only say that I don’t!’ snapped Mottisfont.

  ‘I just think that things have panned out very luckily for you,’ smiled Stephen.

  This remark provoked Mottisfont to such an explosion of wrath that not only Joseph, but Blyth too, intervened. While these three voices strove against each other, Stephen stood smoking his pipe, and grinning sardonically, and the Inspector divided his attention between his demeanour and those of Mottisfont’s agitated utterances which he was able to hear.

  Again and again, and with tears in his voice, Joseph begged Mottisfont not to say what he must later regret; but the only effect this had on Mottisfont was to make him shout that he had had enough of Joseph’s meddling ways, and would not be surprised to find that he had been in league with Stephen from the start.

  The obvious inference not only shocked Joseph, but gave him an opportunity of showing his audience that he could enact a tragic rôle just as well as the character-parts in which his wife said he was so good. Horror, grief, and righteous indignation all infused his voice as he refuted this accusation; and, as he turned away from Mottisfont, he almost tottered.

  The Inspector, though not unappreciative of the spirited scene he was witnessing, thought it time to bring it to a close. He said that he did not think he need trouble the actors any more at present. Stephen at once strolled out of the room; and after delivering himself of a few trembling remarks about the entire Herriard family, Mottisfont also went away. The Inspector looked at Joseph, but Joseph showed no disposition to follow suit. He said, when the door had shut behind Mottisfont: ‘Nerves play strange tricks on us poor humans! I think you, Inspector, must have seen too much to attach importance to the foolish things a man will say under nervous stress. This has been a severe shock to my old friend Mottisfont. It has thrown him off his balance. You must believe that!’

  ‘I do,’ replied Hemingway.

  ‘I consider there was a good deal of provocation,’ said Blyth dryly.

  ‘Yes, yes, I know there was!’ Joseph agreed. ‘Stephen has a wicked tongue. I’m not excusing him. But I think I may claim to know him better than most people and I can’t let this pass without saying that that remark of his was not by any means unprovoked. Mottisfont’s attitude to him ever since my poor brother’s death has been little short of hostile.’

  ‘Do you know why?’ asked Hemingway.

  Joseph shook his head. ‘There’s no reason, except that I’m afraid my nephew doesn’t lay himself out to be very agreeable. He wants knowing, if you understand what I mean. I can’t deny that he has – well, an unfortunate manner, very often, but it doesn’t mean anything. Then, too, I daresay Mottisfont was inclined to be jealous of him, the silly fellow!’

  ‘Would you say that he had an influence over your brother, sir?’

  ‘Well, hardly that, perhaps. But my brother was very fond of him. And Stephen cared a good deal for my brother too, whatever Mottisfont may choose to think. You know how it is, Inspector! My nephew is not the sort of man to show what he feels, and people are inclined to think him callous. Poor Mottisfont was terribly shocked by my brother’s death! Of course, Stephen was too, but he won’t show it, and that misled Mottisfont into thinking – well, I’m sure I don’t know what he thinks, but that unfortunate business of the cigarette-case made him say one or two things that were quite uncalled-for. But I think I put a stop to that. The old uncle has his uses!’

  ‘Mr Mottisfont thought the finding of that case in Mr Herriard’s room suspicious?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know that he went as far as that! In any event, I feel sure the cigarette-case means nothing at all. There are probably a dozen explanations to account for its having been found in my brother’s room.’

  ‘Mr Herriard,’ said Hemingway, ‘did you at any time tell your nephew about the will you helped your brother to draw up?’

  ‘No, indeed I didn’t!’ Joseph said quickly. ‘Why, it would have been most improper of me! You mustn’t pay any heed to what poor Mottisfont said! That I’d been hinting that Stephen was the heir! Now, I do assure you, Inspector, that I never did anything of the kind. The only person I ever said anything to – and then only in the most general terms – was Miss Dean.’

  ‘What did you say to her, sir?’

  ‘Really, I can’t recall my exact words! It was nothing you could possibly construe into – in fact, I told her my lips were sealed. And I shouldn’t have said that, only that – oh dear, oh dear, one tries to act for the best, never imagining that the most innocent motives may lead to all sorts of hideous complications! You’ll think me a sentimental old fool, I expect, but my one idea was to smooth out a few wrinkles, if I could.’

  ‘Between Mr Stephen and the deceased?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ admitted Joseph. ‘It’s no use trying to conceal from you that my poor brother was in a very bad humour, for I’m sure you’ve already been told that. His lumbago was troubling him, and there was this business of Mottisfont’s, besides the rather unfortunate affair of young Roydon’s play. I did my best to pour oil, and I will readily admit that I was on tenterhooks lest Stephen should upset all his chances by – by irritating his uncle. That’s why I spoke to Miss Dean.’

  ‘So that unless Miss Dean told him, you don’t think he had any knowledge of his uncle’s having made this will?’

  ‘Not from me! I don’t know what my brother may have told him, but I can assure you I never said anything about it.’

  The Inspector’s excellent memory again proved disconcerting. ‘But when Mr Herriard and his nephew had words after the reading of Mr Roydon’s play, didn’t Mr Herriard speak of making a few changes?’

  ‘Really, I don’t think I heard him! In any case, it was the sort of thing he might say if he was in a temper.’

  ‘But it would imply, wouldn’t it, that he had reason to believe that Mr Stephen knew of the provisions of this will?’

  ‘I suppose it would,’ agreed Joseph unhappily. ‘But you can’t mean to suggest that Stephen – Oh no, no! I won’t believe such a horrible thing!’

  ‘I’m not suggesting anything, sir; I’m only trying to get at the truth.’

  Joseph wrung his hands in one of his agitated gestures. ‘Ah, you think me a foolish old fellow, but I can’t but see what you suspect! I know that things do look black against my nephew, but I for one am convinced that the murder wasn’t committed by anyone under this roof !’

  ‘How’s that, sir? What reason have you to think that?’ asked the Inspector quickly.

  ‘Sometimes,’ answered Joseph, ‘intuition proves to be sounder than reason, Inspector!’

  ‘I’ll have to take your word for that, sir,’ replied the disillusioned Inspector. ‘I haven’t found it so myself. Of course, that’s not to say I won’t.’

  ‘Try to keep an open mind!’ Joseph begged.

  ‘I’m paid to do that, sir,’ said Hemingway, somewhat acidly. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll finish what I have to do here with Mr Blyth.’

  This was too pointed to be ignored. Joseph went away, his seraphic brow creased with worry. Blyth said, with a slight smile: ‘He means well, Inspector.’

  ‘Yes, that’s a vice that makes more trouble than any other,’ said Hemingway. ‘If you ask me, there very likely wouldn’t have been a murder at all if it hadn’t been for him getting ideas about peace and goodwill, and assembling all these highly uncongenial people under the same roof at the same time.’

  ‘I fear you are a cynic, Inspector.’

  ‘You get to be in my profession,’ replied Hemingway.

  The inspection of the rest of Nathaniel’s papers did not take long, nor was anything of further interest discovered amongst them. The solicitor was soon at liberty to join the rest of the house-party in th