Джорджетт Хейер - Death in the Stocks

“You saw Arnold Vereker after he was dead, didn't you?” said Giles.

There was a moment's silence. Violet gave a shiver, “You're making me feel sick. Do, do let's talk of something else!”

“You can't be sick yet, darling. Rudolph's going to make a full confession.”

Mesurier's eyes were fixed on Giles's face, but at this he veiled them suddenly, and put a hand to his breast-pocket and drew out his cigarette-case. He opened it, took out a cigarette, and put it between his lips. There was a match-box on the table, and he walked over to pick it up. “Yes,” he said, lighting his cigarette. “You're quite right. I did see Vereker after he was dead.”

“You just happened to be passing that way,” nodded Kenneth.

“No, I went down to Ashleigh Green on purpose to see him. When I got to the village my headlights lit up the stocks. I didn't know it was Arnold then. I got out and went to inspect.”

“And finding it was Arnold, came home again.”

“Well, why not?” demanded Antonia. “If Arnold was dead there was no point in staying.”

“He might have tried to do something,” Violet said in a low voice. “He might have called for help.”

“A womanly thought, sweetheart. Rudolph, why didn't you?”

“I didn't want to get mixed up in it. I saw there was nothing to be done.”

“What time was all this?” inquired Giles.

“I don't know. I mean, I'm not sure. Somewhere between twelve and one in the morning.”

“At which salubrious hour you were going to knock Arnold up for a friendly chat,” observed Kenneth. “The whole story seems to me to want revision. Personally I should jettison it, and think out a new one. The moths have got at this one pretty badly.”

“Well, I wasn't going to knock Arnold up,” Mesurier said, throwing away his cigarette. “I've - I've been through a pretty bad time over this, I don't mind telling you. Vereker meant to ruin me. He could have, easily. Even if he didn't win his case, the mere fact of my being in such a case would absolutely finish me. I - I was utterly desperate. Didn't know which way to turn. I knew Vereker was going down to Riverside Cottage; I heard him tell Miss Miller so. Of course, I was mad, but I meant to follow him there and shoot him, making it look like a burglary. I'd been to the cottage once. I knew it was fairly remote, and I knew a place where I could hide my car. I thought - if I broke into the place - I could conceal myself behind the bookcase in the hall, and when Vereker came down to investigate, I could shoot him from there and make a getaway before anyone else came on the scene. That's my story, and if you don't like it you can just do the other thing!”

“You've only to tell me what the other thing is and I'll go and do it at once,” promised Kenneth. “The story makes me want to weep. My poor sister!”

“Yes, but there's just one thing,” said Antonia seriously. “It's so dam' silly that people are quite likely to think it's true. Don't you agree, Giles?”

“It's quite possible,” said her cousin.

“Well, if that's your opinion why not let us all in on it?” said Kenneth. “Let's all say we burgeoned off to kill Arnold, but found someone else had done it for us.”

“I shouldn't advise it,” replied Giles. “It's not the sort of story that bears being told a second time.”

“Second time!” exclaimed Kenneth scornfully. “It had whiskers on it when Rudolph dug it up.”

“It happens to be true,” said Rudolph. “And it isn't any weaker than the story you told. Personally I thought that the thinnest thing I'd ever heard.”

“Yes, I quite see that,” said Antonia, trying to be fair, “but Kenneth's story was a much better one, all the same, because you can't disprove it, and it doesn't place him anywhere near Ashleigh Green. I really don't think much of yours, Rudolph. Can't you think of something better? We'll all help, won't we?”

“Speaking for myself, no,” replied Giles.

“Then I think it's pretty mouldy of you. Kenneth, what do you think Rudolph had better say?”

“I won't have a hand in it,” said Kenneth. “My first idea was the best: let Rudolph be the scapegoat. It's the best solution all round. He's only a nuisance as it is.”

“He may be a nuisance, but you needn't think I'm going to let him carry the blame for you!” Antonia flashed.

“Who said it was for me? Aren't you in on this?”

Giles intervened once more, his eyes on his wristwatch. “This is all very enthralling, but may I remind you, Kenneth, that I came here to talk to you of something quite different? I suggest that we close this entirely arid discussion.”

“Certainly!” said Mesurier, his eyes smouldering. “I'm leaving in any case. I may say that if I'd known the sort of thing I was going to be treated to I should never have come. Though I suppose I might have guessed! Oh, please don't trouble to show me out!” This last savagely polite remark was cast at Antonia, who, however, paid no heed to it, but followed him into the hall, carefully shutting the door behind her.

Kenneth drifted back to the sofa. “Well, with any luck that ought to bust up the engagement,” he observed.

“What you need is kicking,” replied Giles, without heat.

“Oh no, I don't! You can't pretend that you think it would be a good thing for Tony to marry that sickening lizard. Besides, Murgatroyd doesn't like him.”

“Mr Carrington,” said Violet suddenly, “what did you think of his story?”

He glanced down at her. “Nothing much. I've heard more improbable ones.”

“Somehow I don't like him,” she said. “And if he really had nothing to do with it why didn't he call for help?”

“Panic, Miss Williams.”

She looked rather contemptuous. “Yes, I suppose so. Personally I've no use for people who lose their heads in emergencies. Do you want to talk privately with Kenneth?”

“Lord, no!” said Kenneth. “It's only about money. How much can I have, Giles?”

“I'll lend you what you want for your immediate needs,” replied Giles.

“Are you trying to put the wind up me?” demanded Kenneth. “Has anything gone wrong with the Will?”

“No, nothing at all,” said Giles. “But apart from the fact that it wouldn't look too well for you to draw on the estate within three days of Arnold's death, there's a little formality to be attended to before the executors will advance you any money. We must prove Roger's death.”

“What a bore!” said Kenneth. “How long is that likely to take?”

“Not very long, I hope. How much do you want?”

“Would three hundred break you?” asked Kenneth persuasively.

“I can just stand it. I'll make out a cheque for that amount now, and you can write a formal receipt while I'm doing it.”

In the middle of this labour Antonia came back into the room and announced that Rudolph had gone.

“Well, that's one good thing, anyway,” remarked Kenneth. “Still adhering to his story?”

“He swears it's perfectly true.”

“He'd better go and swear it to old Hannasyde and see how he takes it. You've got to have faith to swallow a chestnut like that.”

“I must say I thought it was pretty fatuous myself,” admitted Antonia. “I didn't like to pour much more scorn on it, though, because he was a trifle ruffled. The trouble is, he doesn't altogether understand us when we speak, Kenneth.”

Giles looked up, half smiling. “Rather a grave disadvantage in a life-partner, Tony.”

“I know. It occurred to me about half an hour ago. I do hope I haven't made another mistake.”

“It would be rather difficult for the average man to understand you when you speak, as you call it,” said Violet. “I must say, I think a great many of your remarks are extremely odd, to say the least of it.”