Philip Gooden - The Salisbury Manuscript

‘Peculiar developments,’ he said.

And they were peculiar, Tom and Helen decided, talking it over later in the calm and comfort of the snug in The Side of Beef. In fact, the news was so disturbing that Helen forgot to make more than a passing reference to her first sight of Mrs Slater and Mr Cathcart. For the news which Constable Chesney had brought to Mrs Banks’s cottage, the news which had to be whispered in the hallway and which caused the Inspector to rush off, concerned the death by shooting of Mr Percy Slater, Felix’s brother. His body had been discovered early that morning by Seth Fawkes and an old woman who lived and worked at Northwood House (‘She is called Nan,’ Tom explained to Helen. ‘She has lived in that place since the time of Percy’s father. She and Fawkes.’)

Percy Slater had been found in a clump of trees a few hundred yards from the main building, apparently a victim of his own shotgun. But killed by his own hand or by another’s? Who could say? After stumbling across the body in the early morning mist, Seth Fawkes had taken the carriage to Downton and then, finding that there were no trains leaving for Salisbury, had driven on to the city to report the death of his master at the police house. He appeared wild-eyed and dishevelled.

There was no further information at this stage, according to Inspector Foster. No one — that is to say, neither the aged Nan nor Fawkes (who slept in the stables for some obscure reason of his own) — could shed any light on the matter.

It might have been assumed to be a suicide since Percy was known to be somewhat reclusive. He had a reputation for drinking and gambling. His wife spent her time not at Northwood but in London. But, with the recent death of Felix Slater, the Inspector’s mind had inevitably turned to thoughts of murder. The task of finding Walter Slater, whom he believed to be Percy’s son, became more urgent. At the very least, there was the obligation to inform him of his father’s death. Tom Ansell and Helen Scott knew the truth of the matter, that Walter was in fact the son of Felix, but to raise this at the moment would only have muddied the waters. Inspector Foster had gone to Venn House because Tom had told him that that was where Walter was. However, apart from the servants, the only occupants he found inside were a fresh widow and a regular visitor, Mr Henry Cathcart, who had apparently come to discuss mourning clothes with Mrs Slater. There was no sign of Walter.

Hearing that he was looking for the man he described as her nephew, and pressing the Inspector for the reason, Mrs Slater flew into a great state, not so much on account of the violent death of her brother-in-law but because of the continued absence of Walter. She broke down in tears and as the Inspector tried to leave — seeing that there was no more information for him to gain in Venn House — she pursued him through the garden and out into the West Walk where Constable Chesney was stationed. Chesney was rocking on his heels and no doubt wondering how much longer his guv’nor was going to be inside the big house. Henry Cathcart, meanwhile, was chasing up the garden path after the widow in the attempt not so much to console her as to get her to return inside.

While Foster recounted all this to Tom and Helen, they exchanged

slightly uncomfortable glances. Both of them could guess why Amelia Slater had reacted so hysterically. But if the Inspector noticed their discomfort, he didn’t mention it. Instead he said, ‘Mr Ansell, you mentioned that you hadn’t actually seen Walter Slater but that you heard he had returned to Venn House. How did you hear?’

‘I can answer that, Inspector,’ said Helen confidently. ‘My godfather Canon Selby saw Mr Slater yesterday evening, saw Walter that is. They met. . somewhere in the town. My godfather said that they talked together and when they parted company, Walter was making his way back to Venn House.’

‘He was going home?’

‘I suppose you could say that.’

‘What would you say?’ said the Inspector, picking up on Helen’s qualified reply.

‘Venn House isn’t Walter’s home, in a sense,’ said Tom.

‘Well, whether you call it his home or not, Walter is no longer there,’ said Foster with a touch of impatience. ‘Hasn’t been seen in the place since the night of Canon Slater’s murder.’

‘You must ask my godfather. He met him last,’ said Helen.

‘I intend to. It is a matter of urgency to trace the young man.’

After the Inspector had departed to question Eric Selby, Helen said, ‘The truth will come out now. My godfather will be bound to tell that policeman what Walter told him.’

‘Which will point the finger of suspicion at Walter. It must do. Do you think he is involved in Percy’s death?’

‘I don’t know, Tom, I haven’t even met him. Is it likely that a man could kill both his father and his uncle? Can any man feel so strongly and violently against his own kin?’

Such crimes seemed to be fit only for the most sensational pages of a newspaper or a shocker of a novel, not connected to a curate in a cathedral city. But Tom, who had no uncles and only the most distant memories of his father, could only sigh.

‘I don’t know either. Walter seemed a very. . pleasant, easy-going individual — for a churchman. But who is to say how he or anyone might respond? He discovers the man he thought was his father is his uncle, and vice versa. He might be so furious with both of them that, in his distraction, he does something dreadful. If the Inspector were here, he’d probably tell us not to jump to conclusions. And if I were the Inspector, I’d question Percy Slater’s man Fawkes very carefully.’

‘Why?’

‘I didn’t trust him or his looks,’ said Tom, recalling Fawkes’s gesture of squinting along his finger like a man looking down a gun barrel. ‘He is supposed to have discovered the body of his master early this morning and then come racing into Salisbury to inform the police.’

‘Supposed? If he’d had a hand in the business, he’d hardly have rushed off for help,’ said Helen. ‘And what has all this to do with the death of that sexton? And your Atropos?’

Tom confessed ignorance. They were no further forward. It was only when Tom went upstairs to his room that he came a step closer to a solution to the mystery.

If Tom and Helen had been able to have a glimpse of Seth Fawkes at that moment, they might have been surprised. He was striding up and down the overgrown terrace at the back of Northwood House, his face contorted and his mouth working as he gave vent to his feelings. His grief and anger at the death of his employer were quite genuine and growing stronger.

He had, as Inspector Foster described, driven at first to Downton and afterwards to Salisbury to report the mysterious demise of Percy Slater to the proper authorities. Seth Fawkes had then returned to Northwood House with a sergeant and a constable. Together, they removed the body from where it lay inside the ring of trees which fringed Hogg’s Corner. They carried it into the house where, after some debate, it was taken to Percy’s bedroom. Nan did her best to arrange the corpse decently. A local doctor was summoned from Downton not so much to pronounce on the cause of death, which was apparent enough, as to confirm the sergeant’s opinion that this was no suicide.

Percy Slater had died as a result of a chest wound. His shotgun had been found lying nearby. Even a layman could see it would be difficult if not impossible for a man to inflict that kind of damage in that kind of place by his own hand. Seth Fawkes did not dispute this. He merely said that he had no knowledge of how Mr Slater met his end. His story was that soon after first light he had been alerted by a flock of crows circling above the early mist which covered Hogg’s Corner. Also, he had a sense that all was not well. Furthermore, there was no sign of his employer. (He neglected to say that Percy Slater didn’t usually emerge from his room until mid-morning.)