Джорджетт Хейер - Envious Casca

Oddly enough, Inspector Hemingway had reached much the same conclusion, although he did not share Mathilda's unreasoning faith in Stephen. He had found him very much on his guard during his brief interview with him, and although he realised that this was understandable, it did not prejudice him in Stephen's favour. Stephen was reticent, and he weighed every question before answering it. The Inspector, not a bad judge of men, thought him remarkably cold-blooded, and was inclined to the opinion that of all the ill-assorted persons gathered together at Lexham, he was the one most capable of committing murder. But in spite of what certain of his superiors thought an unholy predilection for all the more turgid aspects of psychology, the Inspector was far too good a detective to allow his theories to run away with him. He might (and very often did) talk in the airiest fashion, advancing opinions wholly unsubstantiated by fact, and indulging flights of the purest fantasy, but anyone rash enough to assume from this that he had attained his present position more by luck than solid worth would very soon have discovered that appearances, in Inspector Hemingway's case, were more than ordinarily deceptive.

He was profoundly dissatisfied with Stephen Herriard's evidence; he mistrusted the valet; and, in spite of being so far unable to prove it, still suspected that there might have been collusion between the two. With this in his mind, he had already dispatched Ford's finger-prints to London, and had obtained from him the names and addresses of his last two employers. These had been given so readily that it did not seem probable that this line of investigation would prove fruitful, but the Inspector was not the man to leave any stone unturned.

Questioned, Ford had stated that he had firmly shut all the windows in Nathaniel's bedroom on the previous afternoon, adding that he did so every day, the late Mr. Herriard having had no opinion of the beneficial effects of night-air. This was borne out by Sturry, who said that while he was quite unable to account for the activities of the valet or any of the housemaids, it was his rule to close all the sitting-room windows at five o'clock precisely throughout the winter. "Such," he said, "being the late Mr. Herriard's orders."

Hemingway accepted this statement, but bore in mind two distinct possibilities. If the valet had been Stephen's partner in crime, no reliance could be placed on the truth of his statements; if he had not, Stephen, who had left the drawing-room some time before Nathaniel, might have been able to have gone up to his uncle's room unobserved, and to have opened one of the windows there.

That it would have been impossible for anyone to havec climbed up to the windows without a ladder, the Inspector had already ascertained; it now remained to discover whether there was a ladder upon the premises.

He had told his Sergeant to find this out for him, and by the time he had brought his interview with Stephen to an end, Ware was waiting to report the result of his investigations to him.

"There's nothing of that sort in the house, sir: only a pair of housemaid's steps, and they wouldn't have reached, not anywhere near. But I snooped around the outhouses, like you told me, and I found one all right."

"Good!" said Hemingway. "Where is it?"

"Well, that's it, sir: I can't get at it. There's a disused stable near the garage, and the chauffeur tells me that the head-gardener keeps his tools in it, and such-like. Only he went off home yesterday at noon, and he won't be back till the day after tomorrow, and no one seems to know where he keeps the key. There's a small window, but that's bolted. I saw the ladder when I peered through it."

"He's probably got a special place for the key: most of them have."

"Yes, but I've hunted high and low, and I can't find it. The chauffeur thinks he keeps it on him, because he won't have people borrowing his tools, nor getting at the apples he's got stored in the loft."

"Where does he live?" Hemingway asked.

"Village about two miles to the north of this place."

"Seems to me I'd better have another little chat with the Lord High Everything Else."

Correctly deducing that his superior was referring to the butler. Sergeant Ware at once went off to find this personage. But Sturry, when informed that Inspector Hemingway had need, for unspecified reasons, of a ladder, was not helpful. He said that he regretted there was nothing of that nature in the house. His tone did not imply regret, but rather an unexplained contempt of ladders.

The Inspector knew well that Sturry was trying to put him in his place, but beyond thinking that he would have made a perfect stage-butler, and had clearly missed his vocation, he paid little heed to his forbidding manner. "I didn't suppose you had one in the house," he said, "but I've seen an orchard, and my reasoning powers, which are a lot keener than you might think, tell me that there must be a ladder somewhere on the estate."

"No doubt you would be referring to Mr. Galloway's ladder," said Sturry tolerantly.

"No doubt!" said the Inspector. "Who's Mr. Galloway?"

"Mr. Galloway, Inspector, is the head-gardener, a very respectable man. The late Mr. Herriard employed two under-gardeners, andd a Boy, but they, if I may say so, Do Not Count."

The Inspector gathered from the gracious bestowal of a title upon the head-gardener that he was a person to be reckoned with, but being wholly uninterested in the niceties of social distinctions in the servants' hall he said disrespectfully: "Well, where does this Galloway keep his ladder?"

"Mr. Galloway," said Sturry, impersonating an iceberg, "keeps all his tools under Lock and Key. Being Scotch," he added, in explanation of this idiosyncrasy.

"Where does he keep the key?"

"I am sure I could not take it upon myself to say," said Sturry repressively.

"Well, what happens when he's off duty, and someone wants a pair of clippers, or something?"

"That," said Sturry, "is an eventuality which Mr. Galloway does not Hold With, him being very particular, and Gentlemen notoriously careless with tools."

The Inspector eyed him smoulderingly. "Did you ever read the story of the frog that burst?" he asked ominously.

"No," replied Sturry, meeting his gaze squarely.

"You should," said the Inspector.

Sturry bowed. "I will bear it in mind, if ever I should have the leisure," he said, and withdrew in what Hemingway was forced to admit was good order.

"I'm sorry for you, my lad," Hemingway told his Sergeant. "It looks as though you'll have to go and call on this Galloway, and find out if he's got the key of the stables on him. I'll have a look at the place first, though."

Together they left the house, and made their way through the melting snow to the stableyard. A modern garage had been built on one side of this, with a flat above it for the chauffeur; at right angles to it a rather dilapidated building presented forbiddingly shut doors, and small windows, thickly coated on the inside with dust and cobwebs. One permitted a peep into an old harnessroom; another enabled the Inspector to obtain a restricted view into the stable, and there, sure enough, laid flat along one wall, was a substantial ladder, quite tall enough to reach to the upper storey of the Manor.

Having felt under the door-sill, looked for a cache under the penthouse roof, and even searched two potting-sheds and a row of glass-houses, the Inspector, baulked in his quest for the key, looked carefully at the stable-window. It was a small sash-window, and although it would not have required any great degree of skill to have slipped a knife-blade between the two halves, and to have forced back the bolt, even the most confirmed optimist must have rejected this solution. It was plain that the window had not been opened for many a long day. Had any further proof than the undisturbed dust been needed, it would have been found in the presence, on the interior, of a cobweb of great size and antiquity.