Джорджетт Хейер - Duplicate Death

"How long has Miss Birtley been in your employment?"

"About five months."

"I take it that she doesn't give entire satisfaction," said Hemingway. "Would you mind telling me if her references were all in order?"

"I'm afraid I can't help you over that. I engaged her on the recommendation of Mr. Seaton-Carew."

"Is that so, madam? Was Miss Birtley a friend of his?"

"Mr. Seaton-Carew had - most kindly - interested himself on her behalf. A form of charity rather than of friendship. I should have said that Miss Birtley cordially disliked Mr. Seaton-Carew. It would be better, perhaps, if you questioned Miss Birtley her self I am very reluctant to say anything more about her than that she is in my employment, and that while she has been with me I have had no reason to complain of her conduct. Now, if that is all - ?"

"Not quite, madam. How long have you known Mr. Seaton-Carew?"

She had made as if to rise from her chair, but she relaxed again. "For very many years. He was a close friend of my husband's - almost one of the family. Since my husband's death, twelve years ago, he has advised me on business matters. His death has been a terrible shock to me: I can scarcely realise it yet. I find it very painful to be obliged to discuss it."

"I'm sure you must," agreed Hemingway sympathetically. "I understand he dined with you tonight?"

"Yes, he did."

"Was there any sort of disagreement between you, madam?"

She looked at him, her tinted lips thinning. "I see. You have been listening to servants' gossip, I think, Chief Inspector. It is quite true that I had occasion to be most annoyed with Mr. Seaton-Carew, and equally true that I took him sharply to task, after dinner, and before my Bridge-guests arrived."

"I'm afraid I shall have to ask you what was the cause of this quarrel, madam."

"There was no quarrel. Mr. Seaton-Carew never quarrelled with anyone. He was not a man who took things seriously. He was sometimes, in fact, far too flippant, which made him very irritating. This was by no means the first time he had succeeded in making me lose my temper, I can assure you!"

"Very understandable, madam. And the reason?"

"If you must know, I told him that I would not allow him to philander with my daughter! My daughter is an extremely lovely girl, but quite inexperienced, and Mr. Seaton-Carew's manner towards her was putting ridiculous ideas into her head. He was a very attractive and handsome man, and I expect you know as well as I do how flattered a young girl can be when a man of his age makes a pet of her. He meant nothing, of course, but a child of nineteen couldn't be expected to realise that. I told him that this foolish flirtation must stop, or I should be obliged to stop inviting him to my house. He tried to make a joke of it, and I lost my temper. That is all. Is there anything else I can tell you?"

Just one thing, madam. Is Mr. Butterwick a frequent visitor to your house?"

She was perceptibly amused. "Sydney Butterwick! He most certainly is not! I think I first met him at a party given by Mrs. Chetwynd. He came to a ball I gave for my daughter at Claridge's, and I remember, to my cost, that I invited him to a musical soiree at this house about a month ago. The quite ridiculous and revolting scene he created on that occasion because he imagined that Mr. Seaton-Carew was paying too much attention to someone other than himself, made me say I would never again invite him. Nor should I have, but that I was let down yesterday by one of my other guests, and had to fill a gap at a moment's notice!"

"And on the occasion of this musical evening, Mrs. Haddington, do you recall whether the telephone rang?"

She raised her brows. "Good heavens, no! If it did, my butler would have answered the call, and said that I was engaged. I should not, in any event, have heard the bell, because it is muffled. It rings in the hall, and in the butler's pantry, and the call can be taken from any of the instruments I had installed in the house."

"Thank you, madam, I shan't keep you any longer tonight," said Hemingway.

Inspector Grant closed the door behind trailing folds of black velvet, and turned to survey his chief with a troubled look in his eyes. "It is in my mind," he remarked, that she is a bad woman - a verra bad woman! Look you, it is a clach she has in her body, not a heart!"

"I wouldn't wonder!" retorted Hemingway. "Talk English, Sandy, can't you? "

"And all she said to you about that caileag was spite!" pursued the Inspector, disregarding this admonition.

"If;' said Hemingway patiently, "the halleuk, or whatever it was you said, means Miss Beulah Birtley, I'm not at all surprised. What does surprise me is that she gave the girl a job in the first place. Because she's not my idea of a philanthropist, not by a long chalk!"

"What is this?" demanded Grant.

"Well," replied the Chief Inspector, "apart from Terrible Timothy, Miss Beulah Birtley is the only one of this push I ever saw before. And I saw her a matter of eighteen months ago, at the London Sessions. She got sent down for nine months, I think, for robbing her employer. Forgery, I think it was, but it wasn't my case, and I might be mistaken about that. Fetch her down to have a nice heart-to-heart with me, will you?"

Mrs. Haddington, sweeping into the drawingroom, found that young Mr. Harte was still seated by the fire, engaging Miss Birtley in desultory conversation. Mrs. Haddington favoured him with her mechanical smile, but addressed herself to her secretary. "I imagine the Chief Inspector will wish to interrogate you, Miss Birtley. I suppose you had better spend the rest of the night here - unless you could get hold of a taxi to take you home. At my expense, of course, but heaven knows what the time is, and whether there are any taxis still on the streets I have really no idea."

"Don't worry!" Timothy said, rising to his feet. "I've got my car outside, and I'll run Miss Birtley home when the Inquisitors have finished with her."

"I wish you wouldn't bother!" Beulah said.

"No bother at all, dear Miss Birtley: a pleasure!" Timothy responded promptly.

"Really, I think it is extremely kind of you!" Mrs. Haddington said, slightly raising her plucked eyebrows. "If you will forgive me, I shall go up to bed."

"Please don't sit up on my account!" Timothy begged. "You must be dropping on your feet!"

"I am very tired," she acknowledged. She turned her head, as the door opened, and said: 'Ah, you want my secretary, I expect!"

"If you please, madam," said Inspector Grant.

Beulah rose jerkily. "I'm quite ready. I - I wish you wouldn't wait, Timothy!"

"You've said that before," he pointed out. "My own conviction is that you ought to be supported by your legal adviser during this interview."

"No, no, really I'd rather not! Please!"

"The Chief Inspector, sir, would like to see Miss Birtley alone, I think," said Inspector Grant.

"What the Chief Inspector would like leaves me very cold," retorted Timothy.

"Timothy, I would much prefer to be alone!"

"That," said Timothy, "is quite another matter. Go with God, my child!"

Upon entering the boudoir, Beulah could not forbear casting one shrinking glance towards the chair beside the telephone-table. It was, of course, empty, and she seemed to breathe more easily. Hemingway, who had equipped himself, at the start of his interrogations, with one of the small tables with which the room was generously provided, rose from behind it, and invited her to take the seat he had placed opposite to his own. He then requested her, in an official tone, to furnish him with her full name.

She said, in her brusque way: 'Beulah Birtley. I've already told the police that once tonight."

"I know you have," replied Hemingway. "What I'm asking you for is your full name." Across the little table, their eyes met, hers challenging, his mildly enquiring. "I remember Beulah," said Hemingway conversationally.