Call for the Baron Read online

  Mannering looked surprised. ‘Yes, but I’m no great shakes.’

  ‘Good,’ said Morency. ‘There’ll be a golfing party tomorrow morning, weather permitting, and I’ve checked up now that everyone plays except Miss Markham, Vere, and—’ He glanced across at Defoe and the Chancellor. ‘You follow?’

  Mannering smiled. ‘Yes, I’ve got it.’

  Morency, Defoe and Gresham, then, would be at the house on the next day, and the rest of the party, but for Martin and Hilda, would be playing golf. It was a good way of holding a conference without being too obvious. But why the two exceptions?

  Defoe came towards them, and they changed the subject. Defoe was genial company, with a constant fund of good stories. It was hard to believe that behind his twinkling brown eyes there were the secrets of the Bank of England, and a knowledge of finance and economics probably unrivalled. It was harder to believe that Gresham was here to discuss matters which might alter the course of the war.

  At that moment Vere came into the room leaving the door open.

  Mannering was glad that he did, for otherwise he would not have heard the cry from upstairs. It was Cecilie calling, her voice strained and high-pitched.

  ‘No, no, no! You can’t!’

  Mannering was the first out of the room. He saw Cecilie running down the stairs well ahead of Bristow, with Tring in the rear. Bristow’s face was set, and he looked livid. Cecilie looked frightened out of her life – and in her hand was a small automatic which she waved wildly. She saw Mannering but did not stop her headlong flight. As she reached the hall she drew up and turned the gun towards her breast.

  Mannering jumped at her.

  He knocked her arm away, and the gun went flying. In the scuffle Cecilie’s face pressed against his shoulder.

  ‘They’re in my room,’ she muttered hoarsely. ‘The jewels – don’t let the police find them, I didn’t take them.’

  Then she started to scream again, her cries piercing through the hall. Bristow gripped her wrist, not unkindly.

  Mannering said: ‘What the devil are you doing to her, Bristow?’

  ‘I’ve charged her with theft,’ said Bristow sharply, ‘and I’ll thank you not to interfere, Mr Mannering. I’m sorry, Miss Grey, but you are quite at liberty to get legal advice. If you’re innocent you have nothing at all to fear.’

  From his expression Mannering knew that he doubted whether she was innocent – while Mannering knew now that the jewels, which would serve as reasonable proof of her guilt, were in her room.

  And – she had a gun.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Armitage Lets Himself Go

  Bristow sat back, pressing his hands against his forehead. He had wanted everything to go quietly and without fuss: instead, the whole house had been disturbed, and now there was not one of the guests who did not know that Cecilie Grey was under arrest for the robbery. Moreover he had seen the expression of sharp disapproval on the face of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and he expected a summons to that gentleman at any moment.

  Damn the girl!

  It seemed an open-and-shut case against her. She had had the opportunity for the robberies, she had a motive – he knew that Lady Usk kept her stepdaughter on an allowance that was absurdly low – and she had refused to give any explanation of her meeting with Woolf, or of her walk in the grounds of the previous night. She had had the opportunity of getting at Lady Usk’s purse more easily than anyone else. Up to there it was all circumstantial, Bristow acknowledged to himself, but reasonable, even if hardly strong enough to justify an arrest.

  Then Anderson and Bennett, making discreet inquiries in the servant’s hall, had learned that Cecilie had been seen in her stepmother’s room ten minutes before Lady Usk’s cry had brought Mannering and Armitage. The maids – two of them, who had been going round turning the beds down – were quite definite about it.

  Bristow had at first decided to hold his hand convinced that the girl did not work alone, but the murder of Woolf had demanded quick action, and the fingerprints found on Armitage’s safe decided him to act.

  As Mannering suspected, Bristow saw the possibility that the girl had spot-lighted Woolf so that the murderer could shoot. Whether the actual gunman was in the house, or someone from outside, he did not know, but Bristow believed that if the girl was arrested it would start things moving. His aim was to get the robberies and murder cleared up before the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Defoe and Morency started their conversations. This, of course, had been foiled by the scene in the hall.

  He writhed at the memory of it, seeing again in his mind’s eye the girl as she ran screaming down the stairs, determined to cause a disturbance. And then she had banged into Mannering – and been silent for some seconds.

  Bristow wondered about those seconds. How much of her screaming had been genuine, and how much had been put on for effect? For the gun had proved to be empty.

  There was a tap on the door, and Anderson came in. ‘Well, Anderson?’

  ‘Mr Gresham would like to see you, sir, in the study.’ Bristow pushed his chair back. ‘Who else is with him?’

  ‘Mr Vere, sir, Mr Morency, and Sir Eustace Defoe.’ Bristow shrugged, and muttered something under his breath.

  He reached the study, and tapped, feeling depressed, angry with Cecilie, and a little anxious about the reception likely to await him. He was not cheered when he saw the uncompromising face of Gresham, behind Vere’s desk, Morency quite expressionless, and Defoe with lips set tightly.

  ‘You sent for me, sir?’

  ‘Yes, Inspector.’ Gresham’s voice was acid. ‘I’m sorry that you found that disturbance necessary.’

  ‘I assure you, sir,’ said Bristow evenly, ‘that I did everything with the utmost discretion. Miss Grey was hysterical.’

  ‘There was surely some way of preventing a chase,’ said Gresham. ‘Do I understand that she is under arrest for the jewel robbery?’

  ‘On suspicion, yes, sir.’

  ‘And on no other charge?’

  ‘Not at the moment, sir,’ said Bristow. ‘There is something else which I have to report, sir. I sent a message to you—I hope you received it.’

  ‘This is the response,’ said Gresham coldly. ‘What has happened tonight?’

  Bristow’s voice sank to the same temperature. ‘Miss Grey met a man in the grounds, sir. I believed it to be in connection with the robbery, and followed her. I kept her under observation. While doing so the man was shot by someone as yet unknown.’

  ‘Shot!’ Defoe almost shouted the word, and Morency stood up abruptly.

  ‘Is he badly hurt?’

  ‘He’s dead, sir.’

  ‘Good God!’ exclaimed Defoe. ‘Shot under your eyes, Inspector!’

  ‘As you know, sir,’ said Bristow quietly, ‘the grounds were watched, and all exits to the house are under observation. I brought six men with me for that purpose. In spite of it a man or woman entered the grounds, shot the man, and escaped. Someone also went off in a car. Whether it was the murderer or not, I can’t be sure.’

  ‘Are you telling me, Inspector’ – Gresham’s voice sounded dangerously quiet – ‘that the murderer escaped?’

  ‘It was impossible to prevent him, sir,’ said Bristow. ‘The black-out was too intense, and there was practically no light.’

  Morency spoke for the first time. ‘Inspector, when you say you are not sure whether the murderer was the man who went off in a car, are you suggesting that he is in the house?’

  ‘That remains a possibility, sir.’

  Defoe’s voice, sharpened by anxiety, now broke in. ‘Bristow, do you understand the full implications of this? With you on the premises, safes can be opened, and strangers appear in the grounds at will. You have no check, apparently, on the movements of guests and servants. At our special request you were sent down to make sure that the weekend was not disturbed unduly by yesterday’s occurrence. You seem to have failed completely.’

  ‘I can think of nothi
ng I have left undone, sir. There appears to be no connection between the crimes committed here, and your visit.’

  ‘Are you quite sure about that?’ Morency asked quietly. Gresham turned a startled eye towards the American, who went on: ‘It did occur to me, gentlemen, that this might be an effort to disturb us. An atmosphere of murder and robbery is hardly conducive to amicable discussion, and none of us at the moment is feeling at his best.’

  ‘You—think—but no, Morency, it’s too far-fetched,’ Defoe muttered. He took out a handkerchief and trumpeted loudly. ‘I can see your point, of course, but I don’t think we’ve anything to fear in that respect. Eh, Bristow?’

  ‘I can only say that it is possible, sir,’ said Bristow coldly. ‘You know, of course, that Mr Morency is being watched.’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ Gresham’s voice was sharp. ‘But the two men are under your surveillance, aren’t they?’

  ‘We’re watching very closely, sir,’ said Bristow,

  Gresham drummed his fingers on the desk.

  ‘All right, then, Bristow. I suppose the black-out conditions do make it more difficult for you. But you’re charged with seeing that all the documents brought here by us are kept safely. You understand that?’

  ‘Just where are they?’ Defoe demanded.

  Vere spoke for the first time.

  ‘In the strong-room, Defoe, I told you. You’ve examined it, Inspector, haven’t you?’

  ‘It would be difficult to break into,’ admitted Bristow.

  ‘But not impossible?’ drawled Morency.

  Bristow came near to losing patience.

  ‘I’ve never known a safe or a strong-room that is impossible to force, sir. I think Sir Eustace will agree with me that given the right circumstances the vaults at the Bank of England could be entered – that’s why there is a day-and-night guard. There is one here, also, and the guard is armed.’

  ‘Guard?’ asked Gresham. ‘Singular, Bristow?’

  ‘I’ve had a man there all day, sir, but there will be two during the night. If you would care to come down to see the precautions I’m sure you will feel satisfied.’

  ‘I think we will,’ said Defoe.

  Gresham nodded, and they went downstairs together, Bristow and Vere in the lead. In the hall, Armitage and Mannering were talking. As he saw Bristow, Armitage, very red in the face, took a step towards him, but Mannering held him back.

  Bristow scowled as he went along the passage by the staircase. He was grateful to Mannering for preventing Armitage from interrupting then, but he sensed that Armitage was upset by the arrest of the girl, and he wanted no more complications. He unlocked a door which led to a short flight of stone steps.

  ‘You see,’ Vere explained, ‘this is the only entry. There’s no other way of getting to it.’ He stood aside, as Bristow unlocked an iron-studded door. He had to exert considerable force to get it open wide enough for the others to go through.

  They were in a room, no more than three yards square, which was lined with safes of the most up-to-date type. The keyholes were small, but Bristow demonstrated the way in which they opened. The first door was a dummy, a sheet of steel half-an-inch thick. The second was of steel padded with asbestos, and the third showed the safe. Bristow flicked on a torch.

  ‘Everything is there,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you’ll confirm that, gentlemen.’

  Gresham looked through the envelopes.

  ‘Four in all – that seems all right, Bristow.’

  ‘Had we better look inside?’ Morency asked.

  Defoe shrugged. ‘It hardly seems necessary, but, since we’re here—’ He took a knife from his pocket and slit the first envelope.

  ‘Six safes in all,’ Gresham said ruminatively. ‘What is in the others, Bristow?’

  ‘I understand that Mr Vere keeps his valuables here, sir.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Vere spoke without turning round. ‘Not that there’s much left these days.’ He laughed wryly.

  ‘Well, Defoe, are you quite satisfied?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Defoe. ‘Except – couldn’t there be a man inside the vault, Vere?’

  ‘Inside? I don’t know, I’d never thought of it. It would get a bit stuffy after a bit, I expect. There’s a ventilator, though. I had one put in ten years or so ago, after I was locked in by mistake. I thought my time had come,’ he added off-handedly.

  ‘I could put a man in, and have the door opened every half-hour,’ said Bristow.

  ‘But that would mean two men here, and none watching,’ said Morency.

  ‘A third man could be watching,’ said Bristow patiently.

  ‘In that case, I think it’s a good idea,’ Morency said. ‘You’ll forgive me for being so insistent, I know. The vault by itself would be all right at normal times, but with so much happening that we cannot understand, I’d be happier if we took this added precaution.’

  Bristow led the way decisively back to the hall.

  ‘I’m glad that’s arranged, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘and I’ll see that it’s put into operation at once.’

  ‘Right you are,’ said Gresham. ‘Oh, Bristow – what do you propose doing with that girl? Is she staying here?’

  ‘I don’t think so, sir,’ said Bristow. ‘We can’t lock her up in a room all night with one of the men – we can’t spare a man for that anyhow, and it would give her cause for complaint. She’ll be better off in Winchester.’

  ‘Are you putting her in a cell?’

  ‘It isn’t necessary, sir, for tonight. I’ll have to get in touch with London before I decide whether to ask for a first hearing in the morning. There’s no Court on Sunday, so it will have to be left for a day. But in any case, I don’t feel inclined to let her stay here. She might find a way of causing further disturbance.’

  ‘That’s reasonable,’ said Gresham. ‘Get her into Winchester then, Inspector. I wonder what the weather is like?’

  He peered through the front door, but a bluster of wind sent rain spattering into the hall, and Gresham drew back and closed the door quickly.

  Bristow had gone to make the arrangements. It fell to Anderson to be locked inside the strong-room, and Tring to open the strong-room at half-hour intervals. Bennett was to stay outside, hidden by a curtain.

  That decided, Bristow went to Cecilie’s room.

  The plainclothes man with her looked uncomfortably towards his superior, and motioned to the huddled figure on the bed. Bristow’s face hardened, for he was coming to the conclusion that the girl could put on a show of grief or hysteria whenever she wished. But his voice was not unkindly.

  ‘Get some clothes for the night, Miss Grey, and what else you’ll need,’ he said.

  She took no notice, and Bristow frowned.

  ‘All right, Wilson. If she doesn’t start packing in five minutes, telephone Mrs Vere. She’ll come and do it for her.’ Bristow went out, and as he did so was confronted by Mannering and Armitage.

  Still red in the face, Armitage tackled him at once.

  ‘Oh, there you are! Bristow, what the devil are you playing at? Haven’t you the sense to see that the girl could not do anything like robbing her own mother?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. I act on evidence, not sentiment.’

  ‘Evidence my foot! What is it?’

  ‘I can’t disclose it,’ said Bristow patiently. ‘I assure you that Miss Grey will be well looked after.’

  ‘It damned well looks like it!’ shouted Armitage. ‘You’ve nearly driven her to suicide as it is! What the blazes do you mean by frightening the life out of her?’

  ‘Easy,’ said Mannering quietly.

  ‘Easy be damned!’ Armitage shook Mannering’s hand aside, and advanced on Bristow, his fists clenched and his manner threatening. ‘Are you going to let that girl go, or—’

  Mannering gripped his arm.

  ‘That’s enough, Tommy.’

  ‘You keep out of this,’ snapped Armitage, and he pushed Mannering roughly aside. He was trembling, and his face had tu
rned a choleric red. ‘Let’s have this clear, Bristow. I—’

  ‘It is quite clear.’ Bristow’s voice was sharp and incisive. ‘You are interfering in a matter which does not concern you, Mr Armitage, and also interfering with the proper course of justice. I hope I don’t need to tell you of the seriousness of that offence?’

  Armitage, however, was now past common sense. Before Mannering could stop him he lunged forward.

  Bristow pushed him authoritatively aside. His eyes met Mannering’s.

  Mannering nodded, and Bristow turned to the stairs.

  Armitage drew a deep breath.

  ‘Go on, tell me I’ve been a bloody fool,’ he muttered ungraciously, and without another word went heavily towards his own room. Mannering passed a hand across his forehead, more puzzled than ever by Armitage’s temper, and yet relieved that a serious crisis had not developed. He was glad Bristow had taken the sensible course: there was a lot to like about Bristow.

  Lady Usk’s door opened.

  ‘What—what was that noise about, Mr Mannering?’

  ‘Tommy rather lost his temper, nothing worse.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Lady Usk. ‘About Cecilie, I suppose. Won’t you come in for a little confidential talk, Mr Mannering?’

  Mannering eyed her with scarcely veiled dislike, noting that Cecilie’s plight seemed to give her more pleasure than concern. Brusquely he said: ‘I’m afraid there isn’t time, Lady Usk.’

  ‘Such a pity,’ said Lady Usk. ‘Well, if you must go, you must. If you see my husband you might tell him that I’ve a headache, and won’t be down again.’

  Too confused to think much about Lady Usk, Mannering hurried down the stairs. From the moment that Cecilie had whispered to him he had felt disquiet, almost alarm. He wondered whether Bristow had any idea that the jewels were in the girl’s room, and if he had, whether he was leaving them there in order to trap an accomplice.

  It was feasible, and even likely.

  Mannering went in search of Lorna. She was coming out of his room, and turned back when she saw him. He did not like the sombre expression in her grey eyes.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘here we are.’