They Found Him Dead (4 page)

But Silas, watching Joe with veiled eyes, was thinking that it had always been the same tale with him.

He'd no judgment: he rushed into things. It was just like him to allow himself to be talked over by a plausible fellow with an American accent. He was lavish with other men's money, was Joe. Clement, too, of whom he'd thought better, lacked judgment. All he cared for was to make more money to spend on that flimsy wife of his. Well, those weren't the methods by which the firm had been built up. He said as much, but with his usual civility.

"One must move with the times," Joe repeated. "I believe you'd get a good return on your money."

"Perhaps, perhaps," Silas agreed. "But I'm not as young as I was. I doubt whether I should live to enjoy any return."

Now he's getting on to his weak heart
, thought Joe.
It's my belief he'll live for ever.

"Well, I won't disguise from you, Silas, that I'm strongly in favour of the plan—strongly in favour of it! As a matter of fact, things aren't too easy for me about now, what with reduced dividends and having to help Clive tide over a bad patch. Not to mention Paul's troubles."

"Indeed! I'm sorry to hear that," Silas said, wondering what concern of his were Joe's bad investments, or Joe's son-in-law's financial embarrassments, or the alimony his son's wife had to be paid.

"I wish you could see your way to it."

"Yes, I wish I could, since you're so much in favour of it," said Silas.

That was the sort of remark that made one want to brain Silas. Joe Mansell controlled his temper with an effort and heaved himself up out of his chair. "Well, I hope you'll think it over carefully before you finally turn it down," he said. "Roberts gets back from London tonight and will be wanting your decision. Paul's in favour of it, too, you know; and though I say it of my own son, I'm bound to admit he's got a shrewd head on his shoulders. He was sorry, by the way, not to be able to be here tonight."

"Indeed yes, we were sorry too," said Silas mendaciously.

He disliked Paul Mansell, whose shrewdness verged on sharpness, and who had been divorced from his wife. A flashy fellow, with his oiled hair, and his waisted coats, and his habit of running after Patricia Allison. No doubt he saw himself managing the Australian side of the business. A nice thing that would be!

They went back to the drawing room. Old Mrs. Kane was looking tired; her face had set into deeply carved lines, and she was making no effort to attend to any of the conversations in progress about her. Agatha Mansell, finding her monosyllabic, had transferred her attention to Rosemary and was lecturing her in a kind, authoritative way on the many improving pursuits she might with profit engage upon. When her husband preceded Silas into the room she looked across at him with a question in her eyes and, upon his slightly shaking his head, got up, announcing that it was growing late.

With the Mansells went Clive and Betty Pemble, to be followed in a few minutes by the Clement Kanes, Clement having lingered to ask Silas what his decision was on the Australian project. Upon hearing that his cousin disliked it, he said in a dispirited tone: "You may be right. All the same, we might have seen big profits. It's a pity Mansell isn't in a position to advance the necessary capital himself."

"I fancy you would none of you be so anxious to risk your own money," replied Silas dryly.

Clement flushed. "I don't think there would be much risk. However, you've a perfect right to refuse, if you feel like that about it. Come, Rosemary; are you ready?"

Silas escorted them to the front door. Emily roused herself and addressed Jim abruptly: "There's a nasty fog outside. You'd better stay the night."

He shook his head. "Thanks, Aunt, but I must get back. It isn't thick enough to worry me. Besides, I shall leave it behind me."

"Don't tell me!" said Emily snappishly. She added: "High time that child was in bed."

Young Mr. Harte was affronted but stood in too much awe of Emily to expostulate. He was indeed experiencing considerable difficulty in keeping his eyes open.

"Good Lord, yes!" said Jim, becoming aware of his relative's presence. "You'd better go up, Timothy."

Mr. Harte said with dignity, and in muted tones, that it was unnecessary for Jim to stick his oar in. He cherished in his bosom a considerable affection for his stepbrother and passionately admired his athletic prowess. He quoted him upon all occasions and acquired reflected glory from retailing his exploits upon the Rugger field or the race track, but would have thought it unseemly to give Jim any cause to suspect this veneration. So when Jim, bidding him farewell, said: "I'm coming down next week," he betrayed no flattering pleasure at these welcome tidings but merely replied that he would try and bear up till then.

Silas came back into the room as Jim was saying good-bye to his great-aunt. He wore the satisfied expression of a man who has sped the last of his guests, and remarked that he fancied the party had gone off very well.

"H'm!" said Emily. She looked at him under her brows. "Joe tried to get you to advance money for his harebrained scheme. I hope you sent him off with a flea in his ear. Such nonsense!"

"I'm afraid Joe and I don't see eye to eye over it," Silas answered. "You off, my boy?"

"He'd better stay the night. There's a fog."

"Why, certainly!" Silas agreed. "But it's only a bit of a mist, Mother. Nothing to alarm anyone. I shall take my usual walk."

"You still stick to that, sir?" Jim said, smiling.

"If I didn't I should not enjoy a wink of sleep all night," replied Silas. "Wet or fine, I must have my stroll before going to bed."

"Fiddle!" said Emily in an exasperated voice. "If you didn't think you had insomnia you'd sleep the clock round!
I
don't have insomnia: why should you?"

"Indeed, I wish I knew," said Silas.

"One of these days you'll catch your death of cold. Don't say I didn't warn you! Miss Allison, be kind enough to ring the bell! I'm tired."

Jim Kane lingered until the business of assisting Emily into the carrying chair was accomplished and contrived, while the butler and footman were bearing her up the shallow staircase, to exchange a few final words with Miss Allison. Then he sallied forth to brave the dangers of the sea fret, and Miss Allison, holding Emily's ebony cane, the rug which she used to cover her knees, and her handbag, went sedately upstairs in the wake of the carrying chair.

Emily Kane, with her companion and her maid, occupied a suite of rooms in the west wing of the house.

Miss Allison followed her there, arriving in time to see Ogle, her maid, helping her to an armchair in her bedroom.

She laid down her various burdens and would have left Emily in Ogle's jealous charge had not Emily said: "Don't go! What did that hussy say to you in the conservatory?"

"Nothing much," replied Patricia. "I've heard it all before, anyway."

"She'll run off with that Dermott yet," prophesied Emily. "Good riddance to bad rubbish is what I say! Not that I want a scandal in the family. We'll leave that to the Mansells. Them and their precious son! You take my advice and send him to the right-about."

"I will," promised Patricia.

Emily began to sip the glass of Horlick's Malted Milk which Ogle had put into her hand. "If my son would take something hot going to bed it would do him more good than trapesing about on the cliffs at this hour of night," she remarked. "Fresh air indeed! There's a great deal of nonsense talked about fresh air these days. I've no patience with it. Why he doesn't catch his death of cold I don't know."

"I expect he's hardened to all weathers by this time," said Patricia consolingly.

"That remains to be seen. He's as pigheaded as his father was. Never knew a Kane who wasn't. Jim's as bad as the rest of them, I warn you—— Here, take this away!"

Ogle relieved her of her empty glass and went out with it. Emily said: "I've had a very dull evening. Don't you start being discreet with me, young woman! That hussy's working up for mischief, or I don't know the signs. What's the matter with her?"

"Well, as far as I can gather, she wants more money. On account of her Russian blood."

Mrs. Kane stared for a moment and then gave a cackle of laughter. "She does, eh? It would do her more good to have a few children, and you may tell her I said so."

Patricia laughed. "I expect you will tell her so yourself, Mrs. Kane."

Ogle came back into the room and began to make ostentatious play with a dressing gown. Patricia bade her employer good-night and went away to her own bedroom.

Mr. James Kane's proposal kept her mind occupied for quite some time but did not trouble her dreams.

She slept as soundly as ever and did not wake until the housemaid entered the room at a quarter to eight with her early-morning tea.

"If you please, miss, Pritchard would like a word with you," said this damsel, evidently thinking the request an odd one.

Miss Allison blinked and said sleepily: "Pritchard wants a word with me? What on earth for?"

"I don't know, miss. He didn't say, but he looks ever so queer," replied Doris eagerly.

Miss Allison sat up. "Is he ill?"

"Oh no, I don't think so, miss! He never said he was ill, but I'm sure there's something wrong. It struck both Mallard and I he looked queer."

It seemed to Miss Allison that there must be something very wrong indeed to make Pritchard, who was almost the perfect butler, request an interview with her before ever she was out of bed. She got up and slid her feet into her slippers. "All right, I'll see him at once. Ask him to come upstairs, will you?"

"He is upstairs, miss," said Doris. "He's waiting on the landing."

Miss Allison put on her dressing gown and sallied forth on to the passage. Pritchard was standing at the head of the staircase. Miss Allison would not have described his appearance as queer, but he certainly looked rather worried. At sight of her he apologised for disturbing her at an unreasonable hour and said in a lowered voice: "I wouldn't have troubled you, miss, if I had not thought the matter serious—not to say disturbing. The master, miss, is not in his room, and his bed has not been slept in."

Miss Allison stared at him rather blankly. Various explanations chased one another through her head, only to be dismissed as inadequate. She said mechanically: "Are you sure?"

"You may see for yourself, miss," replied Pritchard, leading the way to Silas Kane's room.

The sight of the bedclothes turned neatly back, the uncrushed pillow, the pyjamas laid out, was oddly frightening. There could be no doubt that Silas had not slept in his bed. Miss Allison pulled herself together and said briskly: "Have you sent out to search the grounds? Mr. Kane went for his usual walk last night, I know. He may have had a heart attack."

"Yes, miss, I thought of that at once. There's no sign of him been seen yet, but I've sent Edwards and Pullman along the cliff walk. I believe the master generally went that way. I thought it best to tell you at once, on account of the mistress."

"Quite right. There's no need to say anything to alarm Mrs. Kane until we know more. Did you see Mr. Kane go out last night?"

"Not precisely, miss. I saw him when Mr. James left, and I understood from him that he meant to take his usual walk. I happened to mention the fact of there being a considerable sea fret, but the master made nothing of it. You know his way, miss. He told me I need not wait up, and I consequently went up to bed and thus did not actually see him leave the house."

Miss Allison nodded and went back onto the landing.

Her appearance there coincided with the opening of Timothy Harte's bedroom door. Timothy stuck a tousled head out and desired to be told what all the row was about.

Miss Allison allowed this grossly unfair description of her quiet colloquy with the butler to pass unchallenged and merely said that nothing was up. Timothy looked severely from her to Pritchard and said with a marked nasal intonation: "Say, sister, get wise to this! You can't put nothin' across on me!"

"Say, brother," retorted Miss Allison, not to be outdone, "let me advise you to scram!"

Timothy grinned and, apparently construing this request as an invitation, came out onto the landing. "I thought you looked as though you might be sporting," he remarked. "Honestly, what is up?"

Pritchard gave a warning cough, but Miss Allison judged it wisest to admit Mr. Harte into their confidence.

"We don't quite know, but we're afraid Mr. Kane may have been taken ill on his walk last night or have met with some accident. He doesn't seem to have come home."

Timothy's eyes grew round, but the most partial of observers could scarcely have supposed his expression to denote anything but profound relish of these disturbing tidings. "I say!" he gasped. "I jolly well told you so! I bet I had a kind of instinct about it!"

"Don't be so absurd!" said Miss Allison rather irritably. "How could you have had an instinct, as you call it, that Mr. Kane would have a heart attack? Besides, you never told me anything of the kind."

"Yes, I did!" said Timothy. "At least, not about a heart attack. But I distinctly remember saying that I shouldn't be a bit surprised if someone was murdered here in the night. Actually, I never thought about it being Uncle Silas, but I probably had a sort of premonition all the same."