Miles Burton - Death in the Tunnel (Miles Burton) (Literary Thoughts Edition)

“I see. Now, Miss Saxonby, I’m afraid that I shall have to ask some rather distressing questions. During the ten years that you lived with him, you must have got to know Sir Wilfred fairly intimately. You would, I imagine, be the first to detect any change in his health or manner. Did you notice any such change recently?”

Olivia Saxonby shook her head. “I noticed nothing, and Uncle Wilfred was not the sort of person to talk about his health. He seemed just the same, in every way, as I have always known him.”

“You know of nothing which might have disturbed his peace of mind in any way?”

“If anything had disturbed him, I should not have known of it. He never spoke to me of business, or, for that matter, of anything important. My business has been to behave like a cheerful companion, and see that the house was properly run.”

“You saw Sir Wilfred before he left the house yesterday?”

“Of course. I breakfasted with him at half-past eight, and saw him off in the car when he drove to the station.”

“Sir Wilfred had firearms in his possession, had he not?”

“Firearms? Oh, guns and things. Yes, there are some in the gunroom. I’ll show them to you.”

She took them through the house to the gunroom. There they found a fine collection of sporting guns, also a rifle and a revolver, both of rather antiquated pattern. They also found a quantity of ammunition, but among this were no cartridges to fit the automatic pistol. Arnold had this in his pocket. He produced it, and showed it to Miss Saxonby. “Have you ever seen this before?” he asked.

She merely glanced at it, and shook her head. “My uncle was not in the habit of showing me his guns,” she replied.

“You see that it has your uncle’s initials on it, Miss Saxonby,” Arnold persisted. “Now, it is rather a curious thing that none of these firearms have any initials upon them. Can you suggest why this pistol should have?”

“I can’t offer any suggestion. I don’t know anything about it. Somebody may have given it to Uncle Wilfred, and had his initials put on it. That’s all I can think of.”

After some further conversation, in the course of which they ascertained that Sir Wilfred’s regular medical attendant was Dr. Butler, of Helverden, Arnold and Marden left Mavis Court.

“I can’t help thinking that Miss Saxonby is not overwhelmed with sorrow at her uncle’s death,” Arnold remarked. “However, that’s her business, not ours. She wasn’t altogether a mine of information, was she? I think we’d better go and see this doctor chap. He may be able to tell us something.”

Dr. Butler proved to be an elderly man of benevolent aspect. He had already heard of the death of Sir Wilfred, and seemed greatly distressed. “He’ll be a great loss to the neighbourhood,” he said. “He took the lead in every kind of social work, and his name nearly always headed the subscription list. I have heard very few details of his death, but from those I have heard, it seems to me to have been a very extraordinary affair.”

“Confidentially, doctor, it looks very much like a case of suicide,” Arnold replied. “That’s why we’ve come to see you. Now, I’m not going to ask you to infringe the rules of professional secrecy. But perhaps you can tell me whether or not Sir Wilfred enjoyed good health?”

Dr. Butler considered this question. “He was, in most respects, in perfect health,” he replied. “I do not think that there will be any harm in my mentioning the exception, since many people are aware of it already. Sir Wilfred made no particular secret of it. Many years ago, shortly after his wife died, he complained to me of slight indisposition. I diagnosed this as some form of kidney trouble, and sent him up to see a specialist.

“The report was that the kidneys were undoubtedly affected, but that, with proper care, there was no reason to suppose that the fact would endanger the patient’s life. He might live to be a hundred. On the other hand, there was just a possibility that complications might ensue at some time, when the matter would become serious. The specialist recommended a diet, to which Sir Wilfred adhered strictly. So far as I am able to judge, his condition had certainly become no worse than when he first consulted me.”

“When did you see him last, doctor?” Arnold asked.

“On Monday. I made a habit of looking in on Mondays, as I knew I was pretty certain to find him at home. I asked him if he had had any symptoms of trouble recently, and he told me that he had never felt better in his life. I took samples, which, at the specialist’s suggestion, had become a matter of routine, and they showed, if anything, an improvement.”

“You knew Sir Wilfred fairly well, doctor. Would you be surprised if it were proved that he had taken his own life?”

“In my profession, one very soon becomes proof against surprise. If you ask me whether I believe that he killed himself as a result of concern for his health, my reply is most emphatically, no! But there are other reasons which might lead a man in his position to such a step.”

“Business worries, for instance?”

“Business worries might be among them. Though of recent years Sir Wilfred had not taken a very active part in business. The actual management of the firm is in the hands of his son, Dick.”

“Sir Wilfred was, to all appearances, a rich man?”

“A very rich man, I should say. Mavis Court has always been kept up regardless of expense. If any cause of which he approved was in need of funds, he was always ready with a generous cheque. I have no doubt at all that his will will be proved at a very high figure.”

“His son and daughter will come into the money, I suppose?”

“I suppose so. But I hope he has remembered Olivia Saxonby. She hasn’t had the easiest of lives since she has been with him.”

“Miss Saxonby’s parents are dead?”

Dr. Butler nodded. “Her mother has been dead a long time, and her father died a couple of years ago. He was the black sheep of the family. Long ago, when she was quite a young girl, there was a discreditable affair in which her father was mixed up, and he had to leave the country rather hastily, Sir Wilfred made his niece a small allowance, and she lived with friends until Lady Saxonby’s death. Then her uncle sent for her to Mavis Court.”

“She must have lived there in considerable comfort, surely?”

“Comfort? Oh, no doubt. But comfort isn’t everything, even to a woman. She was, in a sense, her own mistress before she came to Mavis Court. She could, within the limits of her income, of course, go where she liked, do what she liked, see whom she liked. But at Mavis Court she must have found things very different. Sir Wilfred had peculiar ideas, in some ways. You couldn’t call him unsociable, for when you got over his reserve, and could interest him sufficiently, he turned out a very pleasant companion indeed. But he hated having people at Mavis Court. Their presence irritated him, I think because he disliked performing the duties of a host. He always said that his time was too valuable to waste in talking nonsense. And, since his niece did not like to go and see people whom she could not invite back again, she often went from one week’s end to another without seeing anybody but her uncle and the staff at Mavis Court.”

“She could have left Sir Wilfred, if she found life with him irksome?”

“Oh, yes, she could have left. Her uncle would have ordered the car to take her to the station, I have no doubt. But in his eyes she would have broken her contract. No further allowance would have been forthcoming. And she couldn’t possibly afford to risk that.”

“Was Sir Wilfred aware that she was discontented?”

“I have never said that she was discontented. I merely remarked that she must have found life at Mavis Court very different from the freedom which she had known previously. Even had she been discontented, and her uncle had been aware of it, it would have made no difference to him whatever. He was one of those people who always knew what was best for other people. Inspector Marden, here, who has heard him on the Bench often enough, will tell you that. Am I right, Marden?”