Who Killed Charmian Karslake? Page 14

  “I am Inspector Stoddart. I saw Mrs. William Walker in London the other day. She spoke to me of you, and I thought it was possible that you might be able to help me.”

  Ruth Heddle shook her head.

  “I don’t know as I can, sir. ’Twas a terrible thing to kill that poor young lady, but I don’t think as I can do anything to find out who the man was. I would willingly if I could.”

  “Well, if you will just answer a few questions, it may help more than you think.”

  “I’ll do my best, sir, if you will be pleased to walk in.”

  She stood aside and the inspector, as he bared his head, thought that the long, low kitchen was one of the pleasantest into which he had ever looked. The day was cold, but coals were comparatively cheap at Hepton with its proximity to the colliery district, and a bright fire burned on the hearth. The floor was of red brick and a round deal table stood near the fire-place, and it and the floor were as clean as scrubbing could make them. The stone walls were thick, as all the walls were at Hepton, and on the wide window ledge there were plants in pots – primulas, sweet-smelling hyacinths, anemones. A big bunch of daffodils stood in a jug on the table. The arm-chairs were both of the Windsor variety; evidently Ruth Heddle was not inclined to yield to the comfort-loving tendencies of the age. She drew forward one of the chairs.

  “If you will be pleased to take a seat, sir –”

  The inspector sat down with alacrity. Ruth Heddle stood over by the fire-place.

  “I hear you have always lived in Hepton, Miss Heddle. But if you don’t sit down I certainly cannot.” Ruth Heddle put out her hand.

  “Please sit still, sir. I will take this chair, though maybe it seems a bit unbecoming –”

  “It would be very unbecoming if you stood up, I think,” said the inspector, pulling forward a chair for her. “Hepton born and bred, are you?”

  “Ay, that I am!” Ruth assented. “I have lived in this cottage and looked after the fowls up at the Marsh Farm ever since poor Mrs. Carslake died. I was with her and her poor mother a matter of twenty years or more. Then when Miss Lotty went away I came here –”

  “But you were born here at Hepton, I think you said?” the inspector pursued.

  Ruth nodded.

  “I was that, sir. I was born and lived there for the matter of that, till I was a woman grown; I lived in the little white cottage you will see on the right Canal bank as you go out of the town – pretty near a couple of miles out it is, though.”

  “The Canal bank!” The inspector pricked up his ears. “The Canal bank!” he repeated. “There seem to be quite a lot of houses along the Canal bank.”

  Ruth shook her head.

  “No, sir. You are making a mistake. On one side, the right, there are just three and that’s all until you reach Marshlands. There aren’t many cottages built at Hepton, and what there are are all up past the Vicarage on the Bourton Road. Three there used to be on the right bank of the Canal and three there are now; though they do talk of pulling one of them down. It is a tumbledown place and there’s been nobody living in it for years.”

  “Ay! I believe I know the one you mean,” the inspector said in an interested tone. “Didn’t a man called Peter Hailsham live there once?”

  “Why, of course he did!” said Ruth Heddle, her eyes wide open in her surprise. “Years and years ago, that is. Rag-and-bone-picker he was, and we never knew anything of him beyond passing the time o’ day. Sold ginger-pop too, he did, when he was past the picking. All the lads in the place used to go there for it. Even the young gentlemen from the Abbey when they’d been out boating they’d call in and have a glass, I have heard. But my mother always brought us up to keep ourselves to ourselves.”

  “Very good plan too,” the inspector said approvingly. “Anybody can see that Hepton folk are well brought up, the most of them anyway. Peter Hailsham has been dead for some years, I understand?”

  “Some years! Old Peter!” Ruth stared at her interlocutor. “I should just about think he has. More years than I should care to count. Why, it must be a matter of twenty odd since old Peter died. Passed away sudden like in his sleep. Dr. Brett said it was heart disease and it was a wonder he had lasted so long.”

  “You don’t know any other Peter Hailsham, Miss Heddle? A much younger man – relative perhaps?”

  “I don’t know, sir.” Ruth’s eyes were still wide open in surprise. “I never heard of old Peter’s kin, nor where he came from, nor anything. Children of his own he didn’t have, for he was never married, not as we ever heard of. Another Peter Hailsham. No, there was never another in these parts.”

  “Yet, do you know, I think there was,” Stoddart said quietly. “He was in Hepton the other day from what I was told.”

  Ruth’s surprise obviously increased. “Well, if he was I never heard of him. I can hardly believe it.”

  The inspector waited a minute.

  “Well, I may be wrong, of course. You spoke of a third house on the bank. I found that the other day. A lot of children there, aren’t there?”

  “I don’t know, I am sure,” Ruth said, pulling herself up in her chair. “The folks that were there when we were are all gone years ago. And a good thing for Hepton they are, though it may be as I didn’t ought to say it.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” the inspector said comfortingly. “We can’t pick and choose our words when we are among friends, and I hope you and I are going to be friends. Why was it a good thing for Hepton when those people in the third cottage went away?”

  “’Twasn’t so to speak people,” Ruth went on. “’Twas one woman; Gossett the name was, Sylvia Gossett she called herself – a play-acting sort of name I always thought it was. She died in the Cottage Hospital over at Bowbridge, and her children – well, I don’t know what become of them. For quite a family she had.”

  “Oh!” The inspector’s tone was expressive of a good deal of understanding mingled with inquiry. “What was she like, this Mrs. Gossett?”

  “Which she was never called, not even as a matter of civility,” Ruth Heddle said firmly. “Sylvia Gossett she was always called when anybody spoke to her at all, which wasn’t often except by them that ought to have known better.” Ruth pursed up her lips and shook her head.

  Stoddart asked himself whether he was wasting his time unearthing an ancient local scandal, or whether it was possible that he held in his hand one of the threads that would ultimately lead to the unravelling of the mystery that overhung the fate of Charmian Karslake.

  After a pause Ruth Heddle went on:

  “As for what she was like, Sylvia Gossett was a big, upstanding woman with a very red face – for it was said that she took a drop too much on occasion – and a shock of red hair that was always all over the place. She died over at Bowbridge – something brought on by drink it was that ailed her, and I never heard any more of the Gossetts.”

  Red hair! A shock of red hair! The inspector thought of a certain face he had seen quite in the majesty of death with the lovely auburn hair standing round it like an aureole. But was it – could it be possible that beautiful, vivid Charmian Karslake had had such a beginning as this? He told himself that his search for Charmian Karslake was beginning to obsess him. Then he remembered the initials on the cigarette-case – “S.G. or G.S.,” Mrs. Latimer had said.

  “How many children were there?” he asked. “Any girls?” He tried to keep the growing interest out of his voice.

  “As for how many children” – the spinster’s attitude of stiff disapproval was becoming more pronounced – “that I couldn’t say. More than there ought to have been, that’s certain – three or four anyhow, dirty, little, red-headed things with hardly a rag to their backs. Dragged up, they were. One girl there certainly was, but I don’t rightly know how many or what became of them.”

  “There are none of them left in Hepton or round about?”

  “Not as I know of.” Ruth Heddle pursed up her thin lips. “There’s one man left in Hepton as could tell
you more than anyone about Sylvia Gossett,” she said. “Leastways I know it was whispered that he saw more of Sylvia Gossett than he ought, and that is Dr. Brett. Now, if he would speak out –”

  “Old Dr. Brett!” Stoddart echoed. “Why, he –”

  “Yes! And not so very old either if you come to think of it. He was young Dr. Brett then – anyway, he wasn’t middle-aged. He came here as assistant to Dr. Wilkinson, then he married Miss Wilkinson and was taken into partnership. And when Dr. Wilkinson died he had it all to himself.”

  “Oh, I quite thought he was an old bachelor,” Stoddart said in some surprise.

  “No, a widow man, sir. And well thought of for his doctoring. I have heard the remark passed that one of the biggest doctors in London, one that attended the Royal family, was Dr. Brett’s friend. It may be that the doctor learned a lot from him. And it might have been just scandalizing him, all that talk about him and Sylvia Gossett.”

  Evidently Ruth Heddle was inclined to draw in her horns. Murmuring about something she had to see to out at the back, she got up, and the inspector realized there was no more to be got out of her – for today anyhow.

  Fortune was rather on the inspector’s side, however. As he was turning out of the field in which the cottage stood, he encountered Dr. Brett walking quickly along the road. He stopped at once.

  “Well, Inspector Stoddart, any news this morning? Have you found out who was responsible for the mis-doings at the Abbey yet?”

  “I have not,” the inspector said emphatically. “But I am not without hope, Dr. Brett, not without hope. But oddly enough I was just proposing to pay you a visit. I want a little help this morning and I think you are the person to give it.”

  Was it the inspector’s fancy or did the doctor look discomposed for one moment? He recovered himself immediately if it were so.

  “At your service, inspector. But I don’t fancy I shall be of much use.”

  “Well, if I may make my meaning clear,” the inspector went on, looking the other way after that one keen glance at the doctor’s face, “I have always felt that the key to the mystery of Charmian Karslake’s death lay in her past, and from the first I have had a strong suspicion that that past or I might say some portion, the earliest portion, was spent in or near Hepton.”

  The doctor nodded.

  “I know. You were inclined to think that she was poor, little Lotty Carslake. But when I saw the body I was certain she was not, as I told you.”

  “I know, and I am assured of that too,” the inspector said slowly. “But do you remember a woman named Sylvia Gossett – a woman who lived on the Canal bank?”

  Dr. Brett turned now and met Inspector Stoddart’s eyes fairly and squarely.

  “Ah, I see you have been listening to ancient gossip,” he said quietly. “Yes, I do remember Mrs. Gossett very well. I attended her in several instances, notably the last – in Bowbridge Cottage Hospital.”

  “She was Mrs. Gossett?” the inspector questioned. “She was. Poor thing, her husband deserted her and her children. She was left with the very smallest annuity on which it was possible to support life. How she augmented it, or whether she did augment it, I don’t know. Hepton was terribly uncharitable to her and she lived in that miserable cottage near the Canal. She had known better days, and existence in that hovel must have been dreadful to her. Often she has told me the sight of the green, sluggish water tempted her to end her life and her miseries.”

  “Thank you.” The inspector waited a minute, then he said, “Dr. Brett, I am very anxious to find out something of the subsequent career of Mrs. Gossett’s daughters – of one of them at least.”

  “There was only one, named Sylvia after her mother, but always called ‘Cissie.’” Dr. Brett’s tone became firmer. “I will not pretend to misunderstand you, Inspector Stoddart. You think that that poor woman who was murdered at the Abbey – the actress, Charmian Karslake –”

  The inspector looked at him.

  “Not only that. But I think you recognized her when I took you to see whether she was the Miss Carslake who had lived at Hepton.”

  “Recognized is too strong a word,” Dr. Brett corrected. “As I told you, though I was certain from the first moment that the body lying there was not that of Lotty Carslake, the likeness of Sylvia Gossett was not strong enough to do more than give me a haunting sense of familiarity. Poor Charmian Karslake must have been a lovelier woman than Sylvia Gossett. Indeed in that first moment I was not sure that it was Mrs. Gossett that I was reminded of. When I did remember I came to the conclusion that no good purpose could be served by telling you. Old scandals would be revived, and it was impossible that there could be any connexion between Charmian Karslake’s origin and her murder.”

  “The word impossible does not enter into a detective’s dictionary,” the inspector said quietly. “You would have saved us a great deal of trouble if you had told me this at first, Dr. Brett.”

  “Well, I am sorry, but I am still of the opinion that it would have made no difference. And now, Inspector Stoddart, I am due at the Marsh Farm if you have finished –”

  “One more question,” the inspector proceeded. “Can you tell me what friends Sylvia Gossett had at Hepton?”

  “If you mean the mother, I thought I had made it clear that a more friendless person than that poor woman never existed. With regard to Cissie, she was only a child, scarcely more than twelve or fourteen when her mother died, and she disappeared from Hepton. I would have helped her if I could, but she and her brothers went off one night and none of them have ever been seen in Hepton since. It was reported afterwards, I remember, that they had joined a travelling circus that was passing through Hepton about that time. Now, if you have any more questions –”

  “Nothing this morning, thank you, Dr. Brett.” The inspector touched his cap as they parted and then stood in the road looking after the doctor walking sharply off in the direction of Marsh Farm. “Slippery sort of customer. I just wonder how much he knows,” he said to himself, apostrophizing the rapidly retreating back.

  CHAPTER 17

  “So we have come to the conclusion, all of us together, the doctor and myself and Dicky, that you are not making the progress we should like, and that the only thing to bring you back to health is a good, long sea voyage. I guessed all along what would be the thing to put you straight, so there’s the cunningest little yacht down at Southampton – a real beauty, all ready and waiting – and we’ll just go a little cruise somewhere, to Bermuda maybe, and you’ll find you are a different woman after a week or two’s stay at Hamilton.”

  Thus Mr. Juggs, gazing fondly at Mrs. Richard as she lay on the wide couch in her room. But such an altered Mrs. Richard, every drop of colour gone out of her cheeks, worn almost to emaciation, and her pretty hair, once shingled, now shorn down to the skin. Over it she wore a pale blue boudoir cap which matched her peignoir. The greatest change, however, was in her eyes, formerly dancing with fun, clear and bright. Now they were clouded with fear, with dark circles round them and heavy drooping lids. And when those lids were lifted you saw that the eyes themselves were full of dread; every now and then they glanced from side to side, peering into the corners of the room as if fearful of what they might see.

  Outside it was hardly twilight, but in Sadie’s room not only was the electric light on full, but there were lamps in every corner. There were no shades, and to Dicky and his father-in-law the glare seemed terrific; but Sadie would have it so. She seemed to be frightened at every shadow and would not be left alone one moment. Devoted as her husband and father were, they were beginning to find the continual light and heat almost unbearable.

  “You just figure it out, Sadie,” the millionaire went on coaxingly. “You would be right away from this gloomy old Abbey once you were aboard the yacht, and nobody could get at you. We’ll take two or three nurses to look after you, and with me and Dicky there to take care of you I guess there isn’t any harm could come to you. That’ll be about the goods, won’t
it?”

  “I don’t know!” Very seldom did Sadie raise her voice above a whisper nowadays, the clear, high-pitched voice of her country was quite gone. “We – we shouldn’t know everybody,” she whispered with a shuddering glance round. “Not all the crew, I mean. He – he might be there.”

  “He – who?” For a moment her father really did not realize whom she meant; then, with another glance at her face, he understood. “You mean the guy that pretty nearly killed you!” he said, looking at her pityingly. She was so unlike the bright, fearless little daughter he had known for nearly nineteen years. “You may bet my bottom dollar he won’t be aboard. We will take care of that. You can trust us that far, can’t you, Sadie?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered again. “You – you couldn’t stop him before. You – I should be afraid he would come again. I should be afraid – anywhere – out of this room.”

  “That’s real foolish, my girl.” Mr. Juggs spoke in his own breezy fashion. “That’s a lot of nonsense that just wants knocking out of you. That guy can’t get near you with me and Dicky, one on each side of you. And, as for the crew, I’ll have sleuths on the back of every one just to see what they have been up to of late. And – and I’ll have a couple of the best sleuths I know on board just to look after you. That and the nurses’ll about get the goods on you, I reckon. What do you say, Dicky?”

  Dicky looked pityingly at his wife.

  “I say, Sadie, you know this won’t do. You must just pull yourself together. You’ll be as safe as houses with your father and me. What – you don’t know? But I jolly well know. We’ll see you safe enough.”

  Mr. Juggs leaned over his daughter.

  “There’s one thing I cannot help noticing, you always speak of that murdering guy as he and him. How do you know it was a man, not a woman? And how do you know it was a human being at all – not some sort of animal, a great dog, or something of that sort?”

  Sadie shivered.

  “Oh, I am sure it wasn’t. It was a man, sure enough. Dogs do not carry clubs to knock you over with, and a dog wouldn’t have chewed up the sapphire ball I guess.”