Read The Incident at Fives Castle (An Angela Marchmont Mystery #5) Online
Authors: Clara Benson
Henry hesitated, but saw that the weight of opinion was against him and that he would most likely be set upon by an angry mob of women in sequins and pearls if he did not ‘spill the beans,’ as instructed. He nodded briefly.
‘Is she dead?’
‘I’m afraid so, Lady Gertrude,’ he replied. ‘Unfortunately, I was forced to defend myself when she fired at me. Her shot went wide, but mine did not.’
He and Buchanan then went out, leaving the rest of the guests staring at each other. For some moments, it seemed as though nobody knew what to say, then Gertie, irrepressible as ever, spoke.
‘I say,’ she said. ‘Gus and Bobby will be awfully disappointed to have missed all the excitement.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Henry. ‘I don’t think there’s any doubt. Look—you can see they’re in the same handwriting as the ones we found on Burford.’
‘Well, that’s something, at any rate,’ said Aubrey Nash.
‘But how on earth did you know where to find them, Mrs. Marchmont?’ said Sandy Buchanan.
Angela, who suspected that she was the only woman ever to have been invited to sit in this room and talk, was rather enjoying the feeling of being a pioneer. She thought for a moment.
‘I didn’t know for certain,’ she said, ‘but I’d been struck by one or two rather odd things. The first was the fact that St. John was lying about his alibi. He said he had left the castle before half past twelve on the night of the murder, but that was certainly not true—and I know it wasn’t an honest mistake on his part because I questioned him about it and he repeated the lie. I didn’t really believe he was the murderer, but it seemed he must have had some reason for hanging about the place late at night, and given his—er—political leanings, I wondered if perhaps he wasn’t a member of the spy ring, and merely playing the part of a rejected suitor. If that were the case, then he must have been summoned to Fives for a particular purpose. Then at dinner this evening he happened to mention to me that he was intending to go into the village tomorrow and post the latest chapter of Miss Foster’s novel to her writers’ circle. I didn’t think anything of it, but it reminded me of an incident a day or two ago when Miss Foster lost her notebook and Gertie and I found it. We looked at it out of curiosity, and I happened to notice then that the loose leaves she carried around inside it were much thicker and stiffer than ordinary paper.
‘Of course, I didn’t realize at the time that she had glued the edges together and concealed the missing documents inside them, but this evening I started to wonder about Miss Foster as a possible suspect. It seemed to me that her situation as governess and trusted companion to the Strathmerrick family put her in the ideal position to overhear many secrets of state. Lord Strathmerrick was accustomed to inviting important people up to Fives to discuss confidential affairs, and I could only imagine that he frequently did the same thing at his house in London. There would have been plenty of opportunities for Miss Foster to listen at doors, get a glimpse of private papers and so on. Then I remembered something St. John said about having seen her wandering about the castle on New Year’s Eve, long after she was supposed to have gone to bed, still carrying her notebook with her, and I started to put two and two together. It seemed incredible at first, but the more I thought about it, the less incredible it became, and I decided to try and get a closer look at the notebook.’
‘Then she was using her writers’ circle as a cover for her activities?’ said Aubrey.
‘That is my assumption,’ said Angela. ‘She told me herself that she frequently sent chapters of her manuscripts to other members of the group in order to elicit their opinion. I imagine that the chapters in question in fact consisted of information in code that she had picked up from the Strathmerrick household. She mentioned a Mr. Adams, who runs a small publishing-house in London. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised to discover that he is the ringleader of this spy network, if indeed there is one.’
‘Yes,’ said Henry, ‘I think you’re right. I have had a quick look through Miss Foster’s things and found a number of rather interesting letters which I shall look at in more detail later—perhaps tomorrow, since it is rather late now. At any rate, I certainly intend to send a man into the village first thing tomorrow to telegraph Scotland Yard. I very much hope that we will be able to put an end to this whole distressing affair at last.’
‘Then it was Miss Foster who murdered Professor Klausen,’ said Aubrey.
‘Yes,’ said Henry. ‘I imagine she saw him arrive during the dance and took him to the library under some pretext or other. She then shot him through the heart, concealed his body behind the globe and stole the papers from him. I think she planned to have Claude Burford dispose of Klausen’s body somewhere on the Fives estate where it would never be found; then when the professor was reported missing nobody would have known where to start searching for him, since he might be almost anywhere—might have remained in London or even gone abroad, in fact. Then the papers could be spirited away with ease, and nobody would ever connect their disappearance with Fives or Miss Foster, even if Klausen’s disappearance did cause a stir. It was just her bad luck that the body was found at all.’
‘Then she and Burford were in league?’ said Aubrey.
‘Not exactly,’ said Henry. ‘I don’t think he was ever a leading figure in the organization—rather, it’s more a case of his being forced to do what he was told for as long as he was useful. Burford might have been in a better position than Miss Foster to get the documents from Klausen, for example. It’s just a pity he didn’t tell us about Miss Foster as soon as we caught him—had he done so, then he might still be alive, albeit disgraced and in prison.’
‘But what about this Bagshawe fellow?’ said Aubrey. ‘Oughtn’t we to be putting him under lock and key if he’s in league with them all?’
Henry coughed.
‘We’ll keep an eye on him, certainly, but I think we’re safe for the moment. I spoke to him a little while ago and—er—put the fear of God into him. It’s pretty clear that he has been a dupe in all this.’
‘Are you quite certain of that?’ said Lord Strathmerrick. ‘What is his explanation? Don’t tell me he really just came to moon about after Gertie.’
‘No—although that was part of the attraction,’ said Henry. ‘His story is that he was leaving a meeting of the Young Bolshevists a week or two ago when he was approached by a stranger whom he had noticed sitting at the back of the hall during the meeting. The man did not give his name, but expressed admiration of a particularly fine, rousing speech that Bagshawe had made that evening. Bagshawe was clearly devoted to the cause, he said, and if he was amenable, the stranger would like to make him a proposal. The stranger explained that he was a member of another, much larger movement of people of the same political persuasion as Bagshawe himself. This movement had been so effective in its activities, and had exasperated the authorities to such an extent that it had been outlawed. However, it still continued to operate in secret, and was always looking out for new members who were wedded to the cause. From his performance that evening, Bagshawe looked an ideal candidate, and the stranger therefore wanted to invite him to join the group.
‘Bagshawe, who despite his strong views does not appear to possess the sharpest of wits, was flattered by this, and asked for more information about this secret movement. The stranger replied that he would be only too glad to furnish Bagshawe with more details, but since the group was proscribed, he was forced to be very cautious when recruiting new members, for if the police were to find out about it then many innocent people would be arrested and thrown into prison purely because of their political beliefs. If Bagshawe really wanted to join then he would first need to demonstrate his trustworthiness by performing a simple task.
‘It was known, the stranger said, that Bagshawe was friendly with Lady Gertrude McAloon, the daughter of the Earl of Strathmerrick, and that it was customary for the whole Strathmerrick family to spend New Year at Fives Castle. Now, an important member of the secret movement was also going to be at Fives at New Year, and would be carrying with him—or her—some highly confidential documents containing details of the group’s membership and minutes of all its meetings. If he wished to prove himself, Bagshawe’s task would be to go to Fives Castle, using his friendship with Lady Gertrude as a cover, collect these documents and bring them back down to London. If he was successful, then he would be admitted to the movement as a junior member.
‘Bagshawe was all ears at this, and the first thing he wanted to know was the name of the person from whom he was to take delivery of the documents. At this point, the stranger shook his head and said that unfortunately the secrecy required and the fear of exposure to the authorities were such that he could not even reveal that information. However, there was no need to worry, since the correspondent in question would be looking out for Bagshawe’s arrival and would make the approach personally.’
‘What a ridiculous story. Did he really fall for it?’ said the Foreign Secretary, half-laughing.
‘Hook, line and sinker,’ said Henry. ‘He accepted the mission there and then, and came up to Scotland, as we know, a few days ago. However, what Bagshawe had not confessed to the stranger was the fact that his friendship with Lady Gertrude had been overrated, and that she actually considered him a confounded nuisance and was unlikely to be happy to see him. As a result, instead of coming straight up to the front door and knocking like any other visitor, he tramped around the grounds for a day or two, trying to be subtle in his approach but instead leaving footprints all over the place and making himself look highly suspicious. He then sneaked into the castle like a burglar on New Year’s Eve, and hung around, hoping to find the person he was supposed to be meeting.’
‘What? Without even having announced his presence?’ said Lord Strathmerrick. ‘How was anybody supposed to know he was there? Why, the man’s an idiot.’
‘Not the clearest of thinkers, certainly,’ agreed Henry. ‘At any rate, after a few hours of creeping around and not daring to approach anyone, he lost his nerve and sneaked away. By that time, the path to the village was blocked and so he ended up hiding in the barn. When Lady Gertrude and Mrs. Marchmont caught him and questioned him, he made a mistake about the times, and said he had left the castle earlier than he in fact did. However, once he had been told about the murder and knew that he needed an alibi, he had to stick to his story at all costs.’
‘But he found his correspondent eventually, didn’t he?’ said Aubrey. ‘He told Angela he was going to post the papers to London, so he can’t be as innocent as he claims.’
‘Well, that’s the thing,’ said Henry in some amusement. ‘He swears he had no idea that Miss Foster was his correspondent, since he had been expecting to meet a man. He admits that she made one or two significant remarks to him which he now realizes he was meant to understand, but when she asked him to take the papers he truly did believe that they were chapters of a novel she wanted him to post in the village.’
Sandy Buchanan gave a shout of laughter.
‘Why, she might have done that herself,’ he said. ‘Her superiors ought to have been more careful about whom they picked to act as a go-between.’
‘Yes,’ said Henry. ‘Bagshawe’s look of surprise when I hinted at what the documents actually contained was quite a sight to behold, and he was not at all happy at having been made a chump of, as he put it. Even now, I’m not sure he quite realizes how narrow an escape he has had, but I shall have another word with him and impress upon him the absolute necessity for good behaviour on his part from now on, on pain of future arrest.’
‘Why did they choose him in particular, do you think?’ said Aubrey.
‘It’s difficult to say,’ said Henry, ‘but from what I can see the members of the spy network seem to have been either people acting from conviction—who were presumably given the greatest responsibility—or people who were blackmailed or tricked into it. Burford, for example, had everything to lose if his financial dealings were revealed, and so felt he had no choice but to do as he was told, while St. John Bagshawe was the ideal recruit from one point of view at least, since his political activities would make him the perfect scapegoat if he were ever caught. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to pin the murder of Professor Klausen on him.’
‘But what about Miss Foster?’ said Angela. ‘Why did she do it?’
‘As I said, I found some rather interesting correspondence in her room,’ said Henry. ‘I haven’t had time to read it all properly, but it includes some letters addressed to “My Darling Wife” from a man signing himself “Evgeny.”’ He paused to allow the others to digest this information.
‘Do you mean to say she was married?’ said Lord Strathmerrick at last. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you? Why, the woman was a spinster through and through. One only had to look at her to see it.’
‘What exactly do you know about Miss Foster, Lord Strathmerrick?’ said Henry gently. ‘She was with you for several years, I understand. Presumably you must have come to know her very well. What did she tell you about her family, for example?’
‘Well, naturally—I mean to say—of course, we—she said—’ said the Earl, then spluttered to a halt as it struck him that in fact he knew little or nothing about the woman who had lived under his roof for seven years, ostensibly as a member of his own family. ‘Perhaps my wife can tell you more about her,’ he said lamely, ‘although it goes without saying that she knew nothing about all these goings-on.’
‘Naturally,’ said Henry. ‘I didn’t mean to suggest for a moment that she did. As a matter of fact, it appears that Miss Foster was able to conceal her thoughts and intentions extremely well. From the letters it looks very much as though she had a history of which you all knew nothing. If she was indeed married to this Evgeny—which, I am sure you have noticed, is a Russian name—then she may well have spent some time abroad and fallen under the influence of a foreign power. Indeed, who can say whether she was even born an Englishwoman? Why, anybody can assume an English name if they wish. That will be another thing for Scotland Yard to investigate.’