Джорджетт Хейер - Why Shoot a Butler

"Hardly," said Amberley. "No one denies that he brought the body to land and applied artificial respiration."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it," said Fountain with relief. "I've had quite enough mysterious crimes to do with my household, I can tell you. It's damned unpleasant. The next thing I shall know is that the whole staff will leave in a body. What gave Collins the idea that the police suspected him? It seems to me so silly. He can't possibly have had any motive for killing Brown, can he?"

"Not to my knowledge," Amberley replied. "Possibly the police felt that his presence on the scene was insufficiently explained."

This aspect of the case did not seem to have occurred to Fountain. He said: "Yes, now I come to think of it, why was he there? I forgot to ask him that."

Amberley recounted, without comment, Collins' story. Fountain listened to it with a frown in his eyes and remarked at the end that it sounded so futile that it was probably true. He was not surprised the police thought it fishy. "Personally," he said, "I shouldn't be surprised if there was more to it. You know what servants are. Always keeping something back. Not that I think there was anything between him and Brown. What I do think is that he probably fell foul of Brown at the Blue Dragon one night and doesn't like to say so. And when Brown came up to the manor to do him in, he got the wind up and set about making his peace with the fellow."

"Yes," said Amberley thoughtfully. "Not a bad solution."

Fountain looked pleased. "Well, it seems more likely to me," he said. "But why the police should think he pushed Brown in, when they found him pulling him out, is more than I can fathom."

Amberley regarded his fingernails. "Well," he said slowly, "a man might do both, you know. If he was clever enough to think of it."

"Good Lord!" said Fountain in a blank voice. "What a singularly ghastly idea! No, really, Amberley, that's too much! Upon my soul, you're enough to make one's blood run cold!"

Amberley raised his brows. "Sorry to offend your susceptibilities. But that's undoubtedly how I should have planned the affair."

"Perfectly horrible!" said Fountain. He glanced at the clock. "I'd better be off. What's happening to the sister, by the way? Joan says there is one. Pretty awful for the poor girl."

"Yes," said Amberley. "At the moment she's staying here. My aunt fetched her last night."

"What a good soul Lady Matthews is!" said Fountain. "I call that being a real Samaritan. I suppose she'll have to stay till after the inquest, will she?"

"She can't go back to London till then. My aunt would like to keep her here, but unfortunately she won't stay. An independent female. We shall see you all at dinner tonight, shan't we?"

"Yes, rather. Looking forward to it very much," said Fountain, and took his leave.

It was Mr. Amberley who booked a room for Shirley at the Boar's Head, and it was Mr. Amberley who volunteered to transport her there. She was fighting very shy of him and would have preferred the services of Ludlow, but in the presence of Lady Matthews and Felicity she could hardly say so outright. She had arrived at a very fair estimate of Mr. Amberley's character, and she felt that a delicate hint would have no effect on him at all.

She was persuaded to lunch at Greythorne and left immediately afterwards. When she thanked Lady Matthews for her kindness she seemed to Amberley like a transformed creature. He heard warmth in her voice for the first time, and saw her fine eyes bright with unshed tears.

But when she got into the car beside him up went her barriers again, and she answered him in her usual monosyllabic style.

It pleased him to make idle conversation, such conversation as he might make to a casual acquaintance. She was rather at a loss, but suspicious, which amused him.

He drove her first to the cottage, so that she could collect her belongings. Mark's possessions would have to be packed up later; at present she shrank from the task.

She had supposed that Amberley would wait for her in the car, but he came up to the cottage with her and told her to go and pack her trunk while he tidied things downstairs. She blinked at him; in this domestic role he seemed like a stranger.

Since she had left the cottage at a moment's notice there was a good deal to be done; she was upstairs for nearly half an hour, and when she came down she found that Amberley had been as good as his word. There was very little for her to do either in the living room or the kitchen. He had even cleared the larder by the simple expedient of casting all the perishable foodstuffs in it over the hedge into the field beyond, where a party of white ducks was rapidly disposing of them.

Shirley put the chain up on the back door, shot the bolts home and turned the key in the lock. Mr. Amberley went upstairs to fetch her trunk and bore it out to the car. Shirley took a last look round and came out, locking the front door behind her. She joined Amberley in the car. He started the engine and began to back down the lane to the main road. Suddenly he stopped and said: "Damn!"

"What is it?" she asked.

He began to feel in his pockets. "I believe I've left my pouch in the cottage. Yes, I must have."

She prepared to get out. "Where did you leave it?"

"Not quite sure. No, don't you bother; I'll get it. It's probably in the kitchen. I lit a pipe there. Let me have the key, will you? I won't be a minute."

She opened her bag and gave him the front-door key.

He went off with it up the garden path and let himself into the house.

He walked quickly through into the kitchen and to the back door. He slid the bolt back softly, took the chain off and put the key, which Shirley had left in the door, into his pocket. Then he went back to the car.

"Did you find it?" asked Shirley.

He gave her back the front-door key. "Yes, on the kitchen table. Sorry to have kept you."

When he had deposited her at the Boar's Head he drove on to the police station but found that the sergeant was off duty. The same young constable who had received him when he brought the news of Dawson's murder said that he had no idea where the sergeant might be, but he could take a message. Mr. Amberley eyed him meditatively and said, after apparently profound consideration: "I don't think so. Thanks very much all the same."

The young constable informed a colleague two minutes later that that Amberley chap fair got his goat.

When he got back to Greythorne Mr. Amberley put through a telephone call. Felicity came into the library in time to hear him say: "And let me know at once. Got that? Right. That's all."

"Sweet telephone manners," remarked Felicity. "Who were you ringing up so politely, if I may ask?"

"Only my man," said Amberley.

The dinner party, which Lady Matthews thought would be rather stuffy, passed off well, and to Sir Humphrey's satisfaction no one stayed very late. Sir Humphrey, like Mr. Woodhouse, was firmly of the opinion that "the sooner every party breaks up the better." When he had seen the last guest off the premises he said that that was done, anyway, and prepared to go up to bed. His nephew detained him for a moment. "By the way, Uncle, don't be surprised if you hear a car. I rather think I shall have to go out. I thought I'd better warn you. If you hear stealthy footsteps in the small hours it won't be a burglar, but me."

"Going out?" said Sir Humphrey, astonished. "At this hour? In the name of all that's unreasonable, why?"

"No, not at this hour. Later," said Frank imperturbably. "I'm expecting a telephone call first. I shall go when I've taken it. Don't let it distress you, sir."

"It distresses me very much to see you making such a fool of yourself," said Sir Humphrey austerely. "No, you needn't tell me. I am well aware that you are going on police business, and I should have a better opinion of you if you ceased to meddle in matters that don't in the least concern you." He followed his wife to the door and turned back when he reached it to add: "And don't step on the fifth stair when you come in, unless you, wish to wake us all up."