Who Killed Charmian Karslake? Read online

  Then Myra Smith found her voice:

  “That’s it, sir. That’s what did it. It wasn’t the ball. We were all glad to have a bit of fun and liveliness in the house. It is quiet here mostly as a rule. But to think of that beautiful young lady, as well as you or me, dancing away one minute, as you might say, and then killed by some nasty, murderous brute the next.”

  She dabbed her little wet ball of a handkerchief into her eyes.

  “Yes, yes,” the inspector said in a more soothing voice. “And now it is just to find out who that nasty, murderous brute was that I want you to help me. First, just how much did you see of Miss Karslake?”

  A loud sob burst from the girl. “I never saw her at all but once, sir. And it was natural we should like to see a bit of what was going on – me and Alice Thompson.”

  “Quite natural,” assented the inspector. “I am sure I should have done the same. Now, just tell me all about it, Myra. You won’t mind me calling you Myra, I know. It has always been a favourite name of mine. I had a sister named Myra once” – mendaciously.

  “I don’t mind anything,” the girl said miserably, “only I wish me and Alice had never gone to the conservatory, the night before last.”

  “To the conservatory?” the inspector echoed in surprise. “How did you get there?”

  “Well, there is a back passage, sir, the gardeners use it to take things in, soil and such-like as they can’t get in from the front. And it comes out just behind that beautiful passion-flower that droops all over the trellis. The door itself is only trellis-work and you have to push the long sprays aside to get out into the conservatory. We thought, me and Alice Thompson, that if we went along there and peeped through the trellis we would, maybe, see a bit of the dancing. Anyway, we knew we should see some of the wonderful frocks and jewels we had read about in the papers. And – and it is dull like at Hepton, you know, sir.”

  “I know,” the inspector said sympathetically. “Don’t think I blame you, my dear girl. I am sure I should have done the same in your place. Now, tell me just what you did see – or hear.”

  “Well, it wasn’t much. I am sure neither of us thought any harm.” Myra’s voice was beginning to shake again. “As soon as we got there we saw that we should see nothing of the dancing unless we got out into the conservatory, and we daren’t do that, because there was some one sitting right opposite. So we just pushed the door the tiniest little crack and we saw a lady coming along from the ball-room. We knew who she was because we’d seen her picture ever so many times. And we’d heard tell of her yellow frock.”

  The inspector’s interest was increasing.

  “Well, now you saw this lady coming towards you, what did you do?”

  “We didn’t do anything. There wasn’t anything we could do. We could not see anything but the yellow frock and the blue ball that hung from her neck, just like what we saw in the weekly papers.”

  “Miss Karslake, that was her sure enough,” the inspector said to himself.

  “Then Miss Karslake came straight down the conservatory.”

  “That would bring her just past you, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir, it did. Just by us she come, so close that we could have touched her. We held our breath so that she couldn’t hear us, me and Alice did. And you know the door at the end, sir, it goes into what used to be the billiard-room, before they made this new one on the other side of the hall. Now it isn’t used for anything much, only Sir Arthur, he sees folks there sometimes.

  “Well, Miss Karslake, she came right along just as if she knew where she was going, and she opened that door. Then she stood still, right near us, so that we could almost have touched her. ‘Well, Mr. Peter Hailsham,’ she says in a pretty, clear voice, so that we could hear every word, ‘we meet again, do we?’ We weren’t listening you know, sir. We just couldn’t help hearing.”

  “Oh, I quite understand that, my dear girl.” The inspector had much ado to keep the impatience out of his tone. “What else did you hear?”

  “That was all, sir. I did think I heard a sound as if someone was answering her, but I didn’t hear another word, and Miss Karslake she went in and closed the door.”

  “How long did she stay there?”

  “Now, that is more than I can tell you, sir. She didn’t come out while we were there. But we didn’t stop long, for we daren’t go out because of being caught and there wasn’t much we could see from the passage.”

  “How long would it be after Miss Karslake closed the door before you went away?” the inspector asked.

  “Oh, just a few minutes, sir, not more than five I don’t think.”

  “And that was the last you saw of Miss Karslake?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did anyone else go into the room or come out of it while you were there?” The inspector was drawing his brows together in a way that his subordinates knew meant that he was puzzled.

  “Not anyone else at all, sir. Not while we were there. But maybe – Still I don’t suppose she would notice –”

  “Who would notice? I don’t know what you are talking about,” the inspector said in an exasperated tone.

  “Well, sir, there was somebody else pretty near; there was a bank of flowering plants right opposite, and there was a lady sitting behind it. We could see her frock gleaming between them every now and then.”

  “Who was it?” the inspector questioned sharply. The girl shook her head. “I don’t know, sir; there wasn’t many there I did know by sight. And I didn’t see anything of this one but a bit of her frock, that was green – jade, they call it. But this one, whoever she was must have seen Miss Karslake and she may have noticed who it was that went in there to meet her.”

  “You did not recognize the voice that spoke in answer to Miss Karslake?”

  “I didn’t hear enough of it, sir, not to know it if it was my own brother’s. It was only just a mumble.”

  “And you have no idea who this lady was who was listening – or who was at any rate sitting within earshot – you have no idea who she might have been?”

  “Not then I hadn’t, sir. Nor I haven’t now, not of my own knowledge. But Alice Thompson, she said she had been talking to Miss Earp – she is her ladyship’s maid – who was in the cloak-room looking after the things a lot that night, and she told Alice that there was only one lady there at the ball that wore a frock of jade colour.”

  “And who was that?” There was no mistaking the eagerness in the inspector’s tone now.

  Myra twisted her hands together and moistened her lips before she spoke:

  “It was Miss Paula Galbraith, sir.”

  CHAPTER 7

  “H’m, so that is as far as we have got.”

  The inspector tapped the paper in front of him with the tip of his pen, and stared thoughtfully at Harbord who was sitting opposite.

  “And that is not very far,” Harbord added dryly. “This case is like a maze, sir. Every clue leads to a deadlock.”

  “Not at all a good description of a maze.” The inspector smiled. “Oh, we are getting on, Alfred. We are like the moles working hard underneath. I gather the study of the church registers was not productive.”

  “No, sir, it was not. I found plenty of Carslakes, born, dead and married. But the only one who by any stretch of the imagination could be the girl for whom we are looking is Charlotte Sylvia, born October 12th — and Dr. Brett swears that this is not her.”

  “Yes, he does.” The inspector scratched his chin.

  “Well, I’m having photographs taken of the body from every point. And when we find Mr. Peter Hailsham we shall know more.”

  “Ah, when!” Harbord echoed.

  The two detectives were sitting in the library. The inquest, opened the preceding day, had been adjourned until this morning for further inquiries. Today the inspector had asked for a further adjournment after the medical evidence and evidence of identification had been taken, so as to give the police time to make further inquiries with regard
to certain clues that were now in their possession.

  The Coroner had just given a certificate to allow the funeral to take place, and tomorrow poor Charmian Karslake’s lovely face would be hidden for ever from the sight of men.

  The funeral was to be at Hepton. A cablegram to Miss Karslake’s agent had resulted in nothing but the permission to bury the actress in the nearest graveyard. Accordingly she was to be laid to rest in Hepton Churchyard; under the shadow of the old Abbey, and by a curious chance, but a few feet from the marble cross that recorded the virtues of Eleanor Carslake.

  All honour was to be done to this guest of the Penn-Moretons, who had met her death in their house. Sir Arthur and his brother and other members of the houseparty were to follow, and Lady Penn-Moreton and her friends would be present in the church.

  Not Inspector Stoddart! That gentleman intended to utilize the time of the service in a private way of his own.

  “I am expecting Sir Arthur in a minute,” he went on now, putting on his spectacles and opening the notebook before him. “Here he is, I think,” as there was a tap at the door.

  Sir Arthur looked in. “You wanted me, inspector. I can spare you a minute, but there are all sorts of arrangements to be made for tomorrow. Half the theatrical folks in London are coming down, it seems to me. All the Golden Company, of course, and the whole of the staff at the theatre.”

  “Naturally,” Stoddart acquiesced. “I shall not keep you a minute, Sir Arthur. Just to ask you about one or two things that have come up in the course of this inquiry. First as to the name Karslake, I understand it is quite a Hepton name.”

  “Is it? I am sure I never hear it if it is,” Sir Arthur said, staring at him. “Now, I wonder if somebody has been pulling your leg?”

  “I do not think so. Pulling my leg is not a pastime many people indulge in,” the inspector said with a grim smile. “There is a difference of a letter, Sir Arthur, but I think you cannot have forgotten the Carslakes of the Red House.”

  “By Jove! Now you mention it, of course there were Carslakes of the Red House. It was the beginning with the K that put me off. Give you my word I never connected the two.”

  “But you remember Mrs. Carslake and her daughter?”

  “I should say so! Good-looking girl, Lotty Carslake was.”

  “So I have heard. Now, Sir Arthur” – Inspector Stoddart was looking him steadily in the face – “do you think that this Miss Karslake who was murdered in your house two nights ago could have been the Lotty Carslake of your remembrance?”

  That Sir Arthur was genuinely amazed at the question was obvious.

  “Never thought of such a thing! Oh, I should say not. As I said, Lotty Carslake was a good-looking girl, with a lot of lightish hair hanging down her back. But poor Charmian Karslake was simply the most beautiful creature I ever saw in my life. Didn’t take a fancy to her much – shouldn’t have said exactly that she was a lady, though it seems a shame to talk about that now that the poor thing is dead. But, no, I am positive she never could have been Lotty Carslake. Besides, why shouldn’t she have told us if she had ever lived in Hepton?”

  “I don’t know,” the inspector said, glancing at the notes in his book. “But there is one outstanding fact that I do not doubt, Sir Arthur, and that is that Miss Charmian Karslake had some very definite reason for coming down to Hepton, and most certainly had some previous knowledge of the place.”

  Sir Arthur’s amazement evidently increased. “I wonder what makes you think that? You have stumbled upon some mare’s nest, I expect, inspector. The more I think of it, the more I feel sure she is not Lotty Carslake.”

  “Did you know Miss Lotty Carslake to speak to,” the inspector asked sharply.

  Sir Arthur looked at him. “I don’t suppose I ever said more than good-morning to her in my life. Used to raise my hat when I met her, one always does to the folks in one’s own place, you know, inspector, but that was all.”

  “Very well, leave it at that,” said the inspector bluntly. “One more question, Sir Arthur – have you ever heard of a Mr. Peter Hailsham?”

  “Peter Hailsham!” the other repeated, and the inspector wondered whether he was mistaken or whether there was an accent of consternation in Sir Arthur’s voice. His eyes did not meet the inspector’s now. “I seem to have heard the name, but I can’t place the owner of it. Who was he, inspector?”

  “I should very much like to know,” the inspector said truthfully. “I have some reason to think he may have been amongst your guests at the ball, Sir Arthur; can you help me to ascertain?”

  Sir Arthur’s astonishment seemed to increase. He made a gesture of utter helplessness.

  “I don’t believe he was at the ball for a minute. Whenever and wherever I heard the name I feel sure it was years ago.”

  “Nevertheless, I am convinced that Mr. Peter Hailsham was amongst your guests.” The inspector stuck to his guns. “You have, no doubt, some means of ascertaining, Sir Arthur.”

  “Of course we have the list of everybody invited,” Sir Arthur said at once. “But lots of people had houseparties and brought their guests. I doubt whether Lady Moreton has any list of them. Still, I will find out.”

  “I shall be much obliged if you will,” the inspector said politely.

  “I will go and ask her ladyship at once.” Sir Arthur turned to the door. Then, as he was going out of the room he looked round. “If Mr. Peter Hailsham was here that night, Brook would have announced him. He might remember. Shall I send him to you?”

  The inspector looked undecided. “Would it not be as well to ask her ladyship first, Sir Arthur?”

  “I am sure I don’t know. But have it your own way.” Sir Arthur’s tone was distinctly huffy.

  When he had closed the door the inspector went very swiftly across the room and opening it just an inch applied his eye to it.

  “As I thought,” he said, coming back to his place. “Brook will not know whether Mr. Peter Hailsham was at the ball or not.”

  Harbord raised his eyebrows. “You saw –”

  “Sir Arthur colloquizing with the butler at the other end of the hall.”

  “Then you suspect –?”

  “That Sir Arthur knows Mr. Peter Hailsham and has some pretty strong reason for not wishing us to discover him. Stopping Brook’s mouth, or trying to, won’t do him much good, though, and it makes me pretty sure that we are on the right track.”

  “He might have got into the house by some artifice, without being among the guests,” Harbord said thoughtfully.

  “Oh, he was in the house right enough,” the inspector said with conviction. “Only I don’t think he called himself Peter Hailsham.”

  “Then why should Sir Arthur prevent Brook from speaking? I don’t quite see.” Harbord looked puzzled.

  “Not because he thought Brook announced Mr. Peter Hailsham the other night,” the inspector said with a wry smile. “There is more behind this than we shall get at in a hurry, Alfred. A talk with Mr. Brook may help us, or it may not. I believe he is a Hepton man and has been at the Abbey man and boy. He ought to be able to answer the first question in my mind now – was Charmian Karslake the girl who lived here with her mother and was known as Lotty Carslake?”

  Harbord shook his head. “I don’t think so, sir. I watched Sir Arthur pretty closely, and I fancy his surprise when you asked him about the Hepton Carslakes was quite genuine.”

  Stoddart did not speak for a minute or so. His eyes looked unseeingly past Harbord through the open window to the Abbey grounds outside. At last his gaze came back to Harbord.

  “He might not have known. It seems to me that he knew very little of Miss Lotty Carslake, even less of the actress, even though she was a guest in his house. The similarity of name does not appear to have struck him. But he certainly knew the name of Peter Hailsham. And just as positively he intends to keep that knowledge, and all that it may mean, from us. Now I am going to tackle Brook, though he is on his guard.”

  He did not wa
it for any rejoinder from Harbord, but went into the hall. As he expected, there was no sign of the butler, but he knew his way to the pantry. Pushing open the green baize swing door at the side of the hall, almost hidden by a big, carved oak settle that stood out from the wall, he made his way down a narrow, stone-paved passage that must have looked the same when it re-echoed to the clatter of the monks’ flat shoes.

  It led to the domestic offices. The pantry door stood open. Inside, Brook could be seen polishing his silver. With a preliminary tap the inspector put his head in. “Why, Mr. Brook, I have just come round for a word with you if you have a moment to spare,” he cried genially. “I quite thought I should have found you in the hall, but it does not take you long to get to work. I must say, however, that it is the way to get on in the world. Never waste a minute.”

  Brook’s silver jingled as he set it against another piece on the shelf. It struck Stoddart that the man’s face was curiously grey as he turned, but his voice sounded steady enough, as he said:

  “Oh, well, inspector, in my line of life if one has a minute to spare there is always the leather and the silver, as I tell my footmen.”

  “Quite right!” the inspector assented approvingly. “I wish we had a few men like you at the Yard. We could do with them. But now, have you got time for a cigarette?” He held out a well-filled case.

  The butler’s eyes glanced round in a vague, unseeing fashion, as he helped himself.

  “You are very good, inspector. A smoke is a thing I don’t often say no to.”

  “That’s a sensible man,” the inspector returned as he helped himself. “Bless my life, I haven’t got my matches. I must trouble you for a light, Mr. Brook.”

  The butler looked round and stepped back to a drawer. Stoddart followed him and swung himself on to a high table that stood against the wall. Swinging his legs, since they were too short to reach the ground, he lighted his cigarette from the other’s.

  “Sir Arthur advised me to come to you for a bit of help this morning,” he said, not looking at the butler, but watching the thin spiral of smoke float slowly up-wards. “You would hear the names of all the people who came to the ball the other night. I wonder if you noticed a Mr. Peter Hailsham?”