Джорджетт Хейер - Why Shoot a Butler

The manor was in darkness, but after they had rung the bell they had not long to wait before a light appeared in the fan-shaped glass over the front door.

"H'm!" said the sergeant. "Not hard to wake, are they, sir?"

The door was opened by the butler, who had a pair of trousers and a dressing gown pulled on over his pyjamas. He did not appear to be very sleepy. On the contrary he looked rather alert and showed no surprise at perceiving a policeman. His shy brown eyes stole from the sergeant's face to Amberley's. He stood back, allowing them to enter.

"Were you expecting us?" said the sergeant sharply.

Baker shut the door. "Oh no, Sergeant! That is, I knew of course that Mr. Fountain had rung you up. Do you wish to see Mr. Fountain?"

The sergeant said he did and followed the butler into the library. When the man had withdrawn, he turned to Amberley and said: "What do you make of that chap, sir?"

"I'll tell you one day," replied Amberley.

"Well, I'd like a little talk with him," said the sergeant darkly.

"So should I," agreed Amberley.

Fountain soon came downstairs. He was surprised to see Amberley and asked quickly what had happened.

The sergeant told him. Fountain said blankly: "Shot? Collins?" His gaze shifted from the sergeant to Amberley.

"I don't understand. Who could have shot him? Where was he?"

"It might," said the sergeant judicially, "have been poachers. Or it might not. That'll be investigated. Meanwhile, sir, if you've no objection I should like to use your telephone."

"Yes, of course. I'll show you." Fountain led him out into the hall and left him talking to the constable on duty at the police station. He went back into the library and stared in a bewildered way at Amberley. "I can't make it out!" he said. "It seems fantastic! First my butler, now my valet. Amberley, I don't like it!"

"No. I don't suppose Dawson or Collins liked it either," said Amberley.

Fountain began to walk about the room. "Who found him? Where was he?"

When he heard that Collins had been shot not a mile from the manor he gave a gasp. "Good God! Do you think it was poachers, then?"

Mr. Amberley declined to give an opinion.

A fresh aspect of the case seemed to strike Fountain.

"What made you go to look for him? Don't tell me you were expecting this to happen."

"Oh no," said Amberley. "We were on our way to speak to you, that's all."

Fountain shook his head. "I can't get over it. It's a ghastly business. My God, it makes one wonder who next?"

The sergeant came back into the room and asked Mr. Fountain to be good enough to answer a few questions. Fountain was quite ready to answer anything he could, but had little information to give. The valet had been in his room at half-past seven when he went up to dress for dinner. He had not seen him since then, nor thought about him until, on going up to bed shortly before midnight, he had found nothing prepared for him. He had rung the bell; Baker had answered it and had said that Collins had not been in the servants' hall at suppertime.. He had gone to look in his room and found it empty.

Fountain admitted that he had felt suspicious. Ordinarily he would have merely supposed that the man had taken French leave and slightly overstepped the mark, but certain circumstances made him think there was more to it than that. He thought it significant that the valet's disappearance occurred on the very day he had received a month's notice.

Mr. Amberley, who had picked up the current number of Punch from the table and was idly perusing it, raised his eyes at that.

"You had given him notice?"

"Yes, I had. This morning. All things considered, I thought it best. The man's been presuming on his position. And then there was that business about young Brown. The more I thought over what you said.

Amberley, the fishier the thing looked to me. Dawsoü, too. Once you start suspecting a man you don't know where to stop. And if you get into that frame of mind the only thing to do is to sack the servant."

"But Collins, if I remember rightly, had a sound alibi on the night of Dawson's murder."

"Yes, so I thought. Never bothered my head much till Brown fell in the river. Collins was pressing a suit for me at the time and I saw him. But it's extraordinary how you can pick holes in an alibi. I've been trying to calculate the lime it would have taken him to reach the Fittingly Road, supposing he took the motor bicycle. I shouldn't have said he could have done it, but I've got just a faint doubt. That's a beastly state of affairs between master and servant, you know. I gave him notice today. When he was missing tonight it flashed across my mind that he might have thought that I suspected him, got the wind up and bolted. The more I considered it the more certain I felt. When he hadn't come in by three o'clock I rang up the police station. But I never dreamed that anything like this had happened."

"No, sir, I don't suppose you did," said the sergeant. "And you didn't hear him go out or see anyone else go out?"

"No, but I might not have, you know. I was in this room most of the evening, writing letters. I should have heard the front door open, but Collins wouldn't have left by that door."

"Quite, sir. If it's convenient to you I should like to have a word with that butler of yours."

"Certainly." Fountain walked to the fireplace and pressed the bell.

The door opened almost immediately to admit not Baker, but Corkran, looking tousled and sleepy. He blinked at the assembled company and shut his eyes tightly for a moment. Then he opened them again and shook his head. "I thought it was a mirage," he said. "But I see it really is you, Sergeant. All is discovered, what? I'll go quietly, "strewth, I will!"

The sergeant grinned, but Fountain said sharply: "It isn't a joking matter. Collins has been shot."

Corkran gaped at him. Then he looked at Amberley and requested him to explain.

It was Fountain who answered him. Anthony listened in amazement and at the end said that he took a very poor view of it. "I didn't like the man," he said. "In fact, I hadn't any time for him at all. But this is a bit too thick. I don't mind a spot of crime just to liven things up, but I bar homicidal maniacs. Three deaths all on top of each other! No, really, that's coming it too strong!"

Fountain swung round towards Amberley. "Good God, do you think that's it?" he exclaimed. "Could it really be what Tony suggests? These utterly inexplicable murders - what do you think?"

"Some people," said Mr. Amberley carefully, "consider that all murderers are maniacs."

"You rang for me, sir?"

The sergeant looked round. "I want to ask you a few questions," he said. "You come inside and shut the door."

The butler obeyed. "Yes, Sergeant?"

Out came the notebook. "What time was it when you saw Collins last?" asked the sergeant.

The butler answered promptly: "At twenty minutes past seven."

"Oh! What makes you so sure?"

"Collins himself drew attention to the time, Sergeant, and said he must go up to lay Mr. Fountain's dress clothes out."

From the other end of the room Amberley spoke. "You didn't see him leave the house?"

"I did not, sir. He must have gone during dinner while I was engaged in waiting."

"Why?" said the sergeant at once.

The butler's mouth twitched nervously. He said after an infinitesimal pause: "I think I should have seen him go had I been in the servants' quarters."

"You would, eh? Were you friendly with him?"

"I have not been in Mr. Fountain's employment for long, Sergeant. I have endeavoured to be on good terms with the rest of the staff."

The sergeant surveyed him closely. "Where were you before you came down here?"

A shade of discomfort crossed the butler's features. He replied, not quite so readily: "I was temporarily out of service, Sergeant."