Джорджетт Хейер - Penhallow

Jimmy had been arrested in Bristol, whither he had made his way, with the intention of working his passage out to America. Upon reading the news Penhallow’s death in one of the cheaper newspapers, panic had not unnaturally seized him. He had abandoned his plan of signing on as one of a ship’s crew, and had made up his mind to stow away instead.

The paths down which this information travelled to Trevellin were varied and circuitous, but the Penhallows had heard several versions of it by the time they were formally told it by Inspector Logan, who came up to Trevellin to report to the head of the family that most of the stolen money had been discovered upon Jimmy’s person.

There were present at this brief interview not only Raymond, but Faith, and Charmian, and Ingram as well. Having already heard the news, none of them betrayed any emotion when the Inspector made his announcement. Faith, the only member of the family to go into mourning, sat by the window, looking like a ghost in her unrelieved black dress. One of her thin hands grasped the arm of her chair, the other fidgeted incessantly the folds of her skirt; her over-large eyes fixed themselves with an expression in them of painful anxiety on the face of whichever of the four other persons in the room happened to be speaking. Charmian straddled as usual in front of the empty hearth, a cigarette between her lips. Ingram, whose stiff leg had been troubling him, sat with it stretched out before him. Raymond, to whom the Inspector addressed himself, stood in the middle of the room, one hand in the pocket of his breeches, the other resting on the back of a Hepplewhite chair. He merely nodded when the Inspector reported the finding of the three hundred pounds in Jimmy’s possession. It was Charmian who at once took command of the situation. Removing the cigarette from between her lips, and flicking the ash on to the carpet, she said: “Yes, we’ve already heard various accounts of Jimmy’s arrest. Very nice work, Inspector. What I should like to know is whether it’s true that he told the men who took him in custody that he had a most important statement to make?”

Raymond stood like a graven image, his countenance impassive. The ground beneath his feet was cracking; he could see the whole structure of his life beginning to totter; and knew himself powerless to prevent it crashing to earth, and leaving him stripped of everything he had worked and lived for amongst the ruins. He could scarcely have moved, for he felt as though animation had been suspended in his body. He was aware with some dispassionate portion of his brain that Ingram was watching him covertly, but he lacked the volition to move and hardly cared if he should betray himself.

The Inspector looked annoyed. He said repressively that he did not know how such tales got about, to which Charmian replied that if that were so he was strangely ignorant of the peculiarities of English town and country life.

“I have no information to give you on that subject miss,” said the Inspector, taking refuge in officialdom.

“Come, my good man, you needn’t be so damn, indiscreet!” said Ingram impatiently. “We’ve already had it from more than one source that Jimmy said when he was arrested that he could tell the police something that would change the whole complexion of the case, or words to that effect.”

“Indeed, sir? No doubt I shall have more information on what the young man has to say for himself when I have seen him. My object in coming here today was merely to apprise you of the missing notes having been found.” He glanced at Raymond. “The question of prosecution arises, sir. In the circumstances...”

“I shan’t proceed against him.”

The words, uttered in a heavy tone, at once roused a small storm of condemnation. The Inspector, finding that his measured explanation of the intricacies of the situation was rendered inaudible by Ingram’s and Charmian’s far more penetrating voices, relapsed into attentive silence, his keen gaze intent upon Raymond’s face.

“The hell you won’t!” Ingram exploded. “I suppose he’s to be allowed to get away with three hundred pounds with your blessing?”

“Plus the hundred Father left him in his will!” added Charmian. “If you’re thinking of the scandal, you needn’t. We’re chest-deep in scandal already. Of course, I don’t pretend that it will be pleasant to have Jimmy’s relationship to us blazoned all over the county, which I expect is what will happen, but-’

“Good lord, Char, everyone knows it!” exclaimed Ingram scornfully. “Who cares a damn for it, anyway? Father’s bastards fairly litter the place! It’s something new for you to be so nice all of a sudden, Ray! Why shouldn’t you prosecute the little beast? Developed a liking for him? Bit of a change, isn’t it? I was under the impression that you hated his guts!”

“Of course, we’re assuming that the creature isn’t facing a charge of murder,” said Charmian, her voice over-riding Ingram’s. “My view has always been that he had nothing to gain by murdering Father. As for what he said to the police who arrested him, I don’t know that I set much store by it. It sounds to me very much the sort of wild statement a badly frightened man might be expected to make. Naturally, it will have to be investigated—”

“Thank you, miss,” put in the Inspector, unable to control himself. “Is there any other suggestion you would like to make?”

Ingram interrupted, ignoring this piece of sarcasm.

“You may not set any store by what he said, Char, but there are some of us who’d give a good deal to know just what Jimmy the Bastard knows that we don’t!”

Faith found her voice. “Ingram! Please!”

“Yes, it’s all very well for you to object to a little plain speaking, Faith, but in your anxiety to shield everyone who might be suspected of having committed the crime, you’re rather losing sight of the fact that it’s Father who was murdered! I should have thought you’d be more anxious to bring the filthy swine who killed him to justice than to spend your time trying to hush it up! Damn it, he was your husband, little though you may have cared for him!”

“Shut up! Leave Faith alone!” said Charmian. “It’s in good expecting her to look at the thing in a rational light, you know perfectly well that she’s incapable of reasoned thought. I flatter myself I can look at the whole question dispassionately, and I’m bound to say that I’m not wholly out of sympathy with Faith. There is such a thing as loyalty, after all."

“Yes!” retorted Ingram. “And my loyalty was to Father, and it still is! I’m fed-up with all the hush-hush business going on in this house! I want Father’s murderer brought to book, and I don’t care who it is! An eye for an eye is my motto! When I think of the old man’s being done-in like that, my blood fairly boils!”

Raymond smiled contemptuously. “Why not say openly that you believe I murdered Father?”

“If the cap fits!” Ingram barked.

“Don’t answer him, Raymond!” Faith begged, crushing her handkerchief into a ball. “I know you didn’t — didn’t murder your father! Everyone who knows you realises that you wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing!”

“That would come better if we hadn’t already had ample proof that Ray was perfectly capable of murdering him!” Ingram said, with an ugly little laugh. “I’ve mentioned no names, but this I will say — I’d like to know just what it was that made you try to strangle the old man! And from all I’ve heard it seems to me that the one man who may be able to answer that question is Jimmy the Bastard!”

Faith rose from her chair, trembling so much that she was obliged to rest her hand on the back of it to steady herself. She was very white, but she managed to speak with a good deal of dignity, though in a husky, rather halting voice. “Ingram, you forget that I’m — that I’m still mistress here. I won’t have such things said. You’re jealous of Ray. You’ve always been jealous of him. Ever since it — since it happened, you’ve come here day after day making trouble, trying to put the blame on to Ray because you want to be Penhallow of Trevellin. But I won’t have it. Please go! You have no business here, and you — upset me very much.”