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And was, I need hardly say — though I must confess to a childish hope, unbecoming perhaps to the Scholar, of having aroused in my readers some measure of interesting apprehension — no more than soundly asleep.
Gently awoken by Selena, she appeared pleased by our presence, though less surprised than the circumstances seemed to warrant: she apparently regarded it as natural that Selena should discover her whereabouts by some system of telepathy. It was, she said, lighting a Gauloise, very kind of us all to come and find her: it had not been her intention to put us to so much trouble.
“And what, pray,” said Ragwort sternly, “did you expect us to be put to, when you disappeared in dubious company without a word to anyone and having as your destination the abode of a man of unsavory proclivities connected with at least two violent deaths? We have all been much inconvenienced and extremely worried. Really, Julia, what were you thinking of?”
“I acted,” said Julia, “for the best.” She paused to allow us to admire the excellence of her motives. “I was sitting in Guido’s, remembering how I’d taken Deirdre there and feeling rather troubled in my conscience. I couldn’t help thinking — if you will forgive my saying so, Hilary — that our investigation had been less than energetic. So when Rowena came in, whom we knew to be on intimate terms with Rupert, it seemed little short of providential. You will agree, Ragwort, that to forgo so remarkable an opportunity would have savored of the impious.”
“Hm,” said Ragwort.
“She greeted me like a long-lost friend, so there was no difficulty in engaging her in conversation, and since Rupert was our only mutual acquaintance it seemed natural to ask for news of him. She told me that she was at present living here in his flat, during his absence on holiday — he doesn’t like leaving it unoccupied. You will be interested, perhaps, to know that he is spending his holiday in Corfu.”
“Not, surely,” said Selena, “with the Demetriou family? Not after what passed between him and Constantine on Boat Race Day?”
“No, not exactly. He travelled out there with his mother-in-law, the formidable Jocasta, and she’s staying with the rest of the family in the villa at Casiope. But Rupert is at some hotel or other. His object is to spend some time with his daughter — he complains that now she’s at Cambridge he hardly sees her. Rowena is skeptical about his motives: she believes them financial rather than sentimental. Rupert, it seems, is in rather urgent need of money — his company needs an injection of capital, as he calls it, of the order of fifty thousand pounds before the middle of July. Failing this restorative treatment, there is likely to be unpleasantness from the Department of Trade — embarrassing questions, you know, and murmurs of fraud.”
“That,” said Selena, “does not surprise me. But how does he expect Camilla to help? She won’t have any capital until her grandmother dies.”
“The notion is that the trustees of the settlement should invest part of the trust fund in Galloway Opportunities. Rupert seems to believe that if Camilla and her grandmother both agreed to it, Tancred as his co-trustee would be obliged to cooperate.”
“Well,” said Selena, wrinkling her nose, “he wouldn’t have to — Camilla’s interest is contingent, after all, on surviving her grandmother. But if the life tenant and the probable remainderman both say that that’s what they want, it might be embarrassing for him to refuse.”
“So Rupert thinks; and thinking so has set out for the Ionian Islands to persuade his daughter of the inestimable benefits of such an investment. That, at any rate, is the construction placed by Rowena on his actions. She told me all this within minutes of our meeting, and since it seemed that reticence was not her watchword, I felt the acquaintance was worth pursuing.”
“My dear Julia,” said Ragwort, “are you quite sure that you were the one pursuing it?”
“It is true,” said Julia, looking rather pleased with herself, “that Rowena showed a flattering willingness to remain in my company. She seemed to feel there was some sort of bond between us — in addition, that is, to the bond which must naturally exist between any two women who have shared the same balcony disguised respectively as a parlormaid and a schoolgirl while the premises within were raided by the police. In the matter of erotic preference, you see, she regards herself as inclining rather towards her own sex than the other — in her dealings with men, she likes to see her role as that of courtesan. She is,” added Julia in an explanatory tone, “a rather old-fashioned and romantic girl.”
“Oh quite,” said Ragwort. “And she is under the impression that you share her preference?”
“There was, you may remember, a misunderstanding on Rupert’s part — and also, in consequence, on Rowena’s — as to the nature of the friendship between Selena and myself. It seemed sensible, in the circumstances, not to correct it — I do hope, Selena, that you don’t mind?”
“I am resigned,” said Selena, “to its being an impression widely held in south-west London.”
“We adjourned after dinner, at Rowena’s suggestion, to a sort of nightclub she knows in Chelsea — a place, I need hardly say, with an exclusively female clientele. I rather enjoyed myself there. But I must have done the wrong thing somehow, because they asked us to leave.” Julia looked puzzled and a little hurt at the recollection. “So we came back here and drank brandy and talked about men. Rowena is inclined to regard them as an overrated sex. My own view, as you know, is that their many failings should all be forgiven them for the sake of the incomparable pleasure which they are sometimes capable of giving. To say so, however, would have been inconsistent with the impression I was seeking to give to my own tastes — I was rather at a loss, therefore, for any persuasive argument in their defense.”
“Is Rupert,” asked Selena, “exempt from her disapproval?”
“Oh, by no means — he was cited as the chief example of every defect to which the unfair sex is subject. I don’t think Rowena really likes him much — she seems to be wearying of the schoolgirl’s uniform routine. So I managed to learn a good deal to his discredit, though nothing, unfortunately, with any direct bearing on Deirdre’s death: he hadn’t talked to her about that, beyond telling her it had happened. I did try to look round the flat for clues, but I didn’t find any.” Julia looked crestfallen.
“And how,” inquired Ragwort, “did the evening conclude?”
“As to that,” said Julia, “I have no very clear recollection — I had drunk a good deal of wine and a certain amount of brandy, and that may well account for it. In due course, no doubt, I must have gone to bed.”
“And the Rowena person,” said Ragwort, with inquisitorial sternness, “must also have gone to bed. To, we are compelled to suppose, the same bed.”
“No doubt, my dear Ragwort, since there is only one. Considering, however, the lateness of the hour and the amount we had drunk, I cannot think it likely that anything of an improper nature occurred.”
“Hm,” said Ragwort. It was not an expression designed to convey unqualified belief.
“So the next thing you remember,” said Selena, “is waking up and finding us here?”
“Oh no,” said Julia, a little surprised. “Rowena woke me up at about ten o’clock, when she had to go to her agency, and gave me a cup of coffee. But I found, in spite of the coffee, that I was in that state of health in which one cannot usefully give one’s mind to the Taxes Acts. The sensible thing seemed to be to take one or two Alka-Seltzers and go to sleep again. But I knew, of course, that I mustn’t sleep too long, because of my conference this afternoon. So that’s when I rang and left my message for you.”
“What message?” asked Selena, puzzled.
“Saying where I was, and asking you to ring me at midday or so to make sure I was awake.”
“Julia,” said Selena, “with whom did you leave this message?”
“With your temporary typist, of course. And she must have given it to you,” added Julia, with the first dawning of anxiety, “or you wouldn’t be here.”
“Something,” said Ragwort wearily, “will have to be done about that girl.”
The cries, wails, protests and lamentations with which Julia received the news that it was now half past three and that she had irretrievably missed her conference, the clutchings of the forehead, the tearings of the hair, the knockings over of bedside tables, the rushings about wrapped only in a sheet — all these would be too pitiful to recount, and were so indeed to observe. I withdrew to the drawing-room.
The opportunity could not be disregarded to examine the scene of the supposed crime which I had undertaken to investigate. Going through the door at the far end of the drawing-room from that which led to the bedroom, I found myself at the foot of a wooden stairway. I ascended; but the door to the roof terrace was locked, and there was no key to be found in its immediate vicinity. Disappointed, I descended again. The door at the foot of the staircase opened without resistance into a room furnished as an office: a person trained in accountancy and having leisure to peruse the contents of the filing cabinets would perhaps have learned much of Rupert’s business dealings; but to me the room disclosed no secrets.
I returned to the drawing-room. A glance through the archway on my left persuaded me that the kitchen area held nothing of interest to the investigator. I went out on to the balcony: below me, beyond the road and the now deserted towpath, the Thames wound peacefully under the Victorian ironwork of Barnes railway bridge, the afternoon sunlight dancing on its mud-colored surface; on the other side of the river the willow trees at the edge of Duke’s Meadows dipped low into the water. The prospect was a most agreeable one; and it occurred to me, after a little reflection, that it was also conclusive of my investigation.
I heard Selena’s quick, light footsteps in the drawing-room behind me. Having reached, it seemed, the final stages of the complex process of making Julia ready for departure, she was inquiring whether Julia might have brought a coat with her: and whether she happened, if so, to know where she might have put it. From the direction of the bathroom came the answer, a little muffled, that there might well have been a coat, a sort of beige sort of raincoat, and it might very possibly be found in one of the cupboards in the entrance lobby. Rummaging sounds ensued.
“Selena,” I called, “tell Julia to come out here and look at the view from the balcony — it will have a soothing effect on her. You and Ragwort will also find it of interest.”
“Julia’s still dressing,” answered Selena, amid sounds of further rummaging. “And Ragwort’s tidying the bedroom, and I’m looking for Julia’s raincoat. We don’t have time to stand about looking at views.”
“I ask but a moment,” I said. “And you will not regret it.” At last they all three joined me on the balcony — Julia washed, dressed, brushed and combed, Ragwort modestly complacent at the tidiness of the bedroom and Selena a little dusty but triumphant in her search for the beige raincoat. I invited them to stand at the corner of the balcony from which they would have the best view downstream — that is to say, towards Chiswick — and asked them what they could see.
“The river?” said Julia, with a helpful and intelligent expression, as if anxious to know if this was the right answer.
“Part of the river,” said Selena. “About as far as the top of Corney Reach.”
“Remarkably little of the river, really,” said Ragwort. “In fact, the view downstream is rather poor — I can’t imagine why you think it’s interesting.”
“You will remember,” I said, “that it was from here—”
A key turned in the lock of the front door.
Why this sound should have caused us to shrink back into the corners of the balcony as if to escape detection in some criminal act, I cannot now readily explain, for Selena had been satisfied that we were committing none. To have entered premises by manipulating the lock with a plastic credit card perhaps has some curious psychological effect, making one think that one’s presence may be unwelcome.
There followed sounds of the putting down of luggage, and of voices. I recognized the tones of deferential gallantry in which I had previously heard Rupert address his mother-in-law. They had evidently returned together from Corfu; and Jocasta had broken her journey home to Belgrave Place in order to be provided with certain papers relating to Rupert’s company. (Knowing and cynical glances were exchanged by my companions on the balcony.) We heard her decline offers of refreshment.
The papers, it appeared, were in the little room furnished as an office. We suffered a moment of anxiety while Rupert went in search of them, for Jocasta employed the time in drawing back the heavy hessian curtains; but she did not look out on to the balcony, and our presence remained undetected.
“Here we are, Mama-in-law,” said Rupert. “Capital Statement and Profit and Loss Account for Galloway Opportunities Limited. All duly audited, of course. If there’s anything that isn’t clear, just give me a ring.”
“I’m sure there’ll be no need. I’m only taking them because you insisted on it, Rupert — it’s really quite unnecessary. Mother and I have complete confidence in your judgment.”
“I know you have, bless you,” said Rupert, with great warmth and sincerity. “That’s exactly why I don’t want anyone to be able to say that I’ve talked you into something without explaining what’s involved. What I want to make absolutely clear is that I’m not saying this is to your mother’s advantage in purely financial terms. It might even mean a reduction in income — the whole thing’s geared to capital growth. It’s for Millie’s sake I want to do it.”
“My dear Rupert, you surely know by now that Mother’s only too delighted to help Millie in any way she can.”
“Well, I do know that, of course.” Rupert seemed now almost overcome by an intensity of emotion which it would have been unmanly to express. “Your mother’s been wonderful, simply wonderful — there’s no other word for it. If it hadn’t been for her generosity — well, I don’t mind admitting it, there’s no way I could have given Millie the sort of upbringing she was entitled to. I’m not a rich man, you know, Mama-in-law — not by comparison with the sort of fortune Millie’s going to inherit. But I do have a little bit of a flair for investment, and when I became one of the trustees I hoped I’d be able to use it for Millie’s benefit. Like any father, I suppose — wanting to feel I’ve done something for my little girl. But everything I suggest gets blocked by Tancred — all this rigmarole about the Trustee Investments Act and God knows what. I don’t mind telling you, Mama-in-law, I’ve come pretty close to losing my temper sometimes.”
“Tancred’s an imbecile, I’ve always said so. One would not, of course, like one’s solicitor to be too clever to be respectable; but Tancred goes too far to the other extreme.”
“Well, he’s certainly no fireball when it comes to investment. I sometimes think he’d like the whole fund still to be in Consols.”
“My dear Rupert, I do see how frustrating it must have been. But there’s no difficulty, is there, now that Millie’s of age? Tancred has to do what she and Mother ask him to.”
To this Rupert made no immediate answer, but instead renewed the offer of alcoholic refreshment — evidently as a polite preliminary to pouring a drink for himself. When he spoke again, his remarks had no apparent connection with the previous topic.
“Mama-in-law, may I have a word with you about Millie? I’m — well, I’m just a bit worried about her. To be absolutely candid, I wish she weren’t quite so thick with Dolly’s kids — I sometimes feel they count for more with her than I do. As if they were her family and I was just — well, some kind of distant relative.”
“Nonsense, Rupert. Millie’s devoted to you. She’s very close to the twins, naturally — they practically grew up together. And Dolly’s house in Corfu is like a second home to her.”
“Don’t I know it, don’t I just know it?” Whatever doubts I had previously had of Rupert’s sincerity, I now thought his bitterness entirely genuine. “And what sort of home is it? The whole household revolving round that prize charlatan Dolly’s got herself married to, like some kind of little plastic god. Lucian and Lucinda sitting round pretending to be writers and artists and not doing a damn thing except lie in the sun and drink retsina. Lucian dressing like a hippy and Lucinda dressing like a tart — not just dressing like one, either, from some other things I’ve heard.”
“Really, Rupert—”
“Well, I’ve heard remarks made when she goes into bars in Casiope that I wouldn’t like anyone to make about Millie, that’s all. What that girl needs is a good spanking, if you ask me. And Dolly, of course, is the last person in the world to have any idea of imposing discipline. I’m not blaming her — it’s up to a father to impose discipline. Well, you can’t see Demetriou doing anything to keep the twins in order, can you? Even if he really were their father and not just a stepfather. No, it’s George Fairfax I blame. The twins are his children, after all — you’d think he’d take a bit of interest in the way they’re brought up.”
“He was anxious, I think, not to embarrass Dolly by interfering with her life after her marriage to Constantine — he’s very fond of her. Men do get fond of Dolly, you know.” She spoke without jealousy, but rather with a proprietorial pride in her sister’s attractiveness.
“No, really, Mama-in-law, it’s one thing being civilized about the divorce and so on, and another leaving his children to be brought up with no supervision and no discipline and running wild all over the place. And don’t think I’m saying this behind George’s back — I’ve said as much to his face. I don’t see all that much of him — he’s out of my league financially, and I’m the first to admit it — but when I do see him I speak my mind. I’ve even written to him. I happened to hear last summer that Lucian had got mixed up with an even more unsavory crew than usual, and I thought George ought to know about it. But he didn’t even bother to reply.”
“I had no idea,” said Jocasta, “that you felt so strongly.”
“I haven’t seen much of the twins since they left school, and I thought the adult world might have knocked a bit of sense into them. But they’re worse than ever. No standards, no manners, no respect for authority, no respect for anything. They lounge about making silly private jokes and giggling over nothing, not doing a hand’s turn of work, and sponging on Millie whenever they get the chance. They make me sick, and that’s a fact.” Rupert paused. “Sorry, I suppose I shouldn’t be talking like this — they are family, after all.”
“You did say,” said Jocasta, “that you wanted to talk about Millie.”
“Yes,” said Rupert. “Yes, that’s right.” He still seemed to have difficulty in coming to whatever might be the point. There was a further clinking of ice and hissing of soda.
“I had thought,” said Jocasta, “that you and Millie were getting along particularly well together during the past fortnight.” Her words provoked a melancholy sigh.
“So did I, Mama-in-law, so did I. Thought she quite enjoyed having her old dad about to squire her to restaurants and the casino and that sort of thing. Yes, I’ll admit it, I had the idea I’d got a pretty good relationship with my daughter. Until yesterday.” Another heavy sigh. “Shows how wrong you can be.”
“My dear Rupert, you astonish me. I thought that yesterday was delightful.”
“Well, it didn’t start too well from my point of view. The original idea, you remember, was for me to help Camilla sail the boat down to Gouvia and meet the rest of you in town for dinner. Then Dolly’s kids decide at the last moment that they want to come along for the ride, so bang goes my idea of having Millie to myself for the day. Still, they were off as soon as we’d moored at Gouvia — scared they might have to help with tidying the boat up, I expect. That’s when I remembered that Millie hadn’t signed that letter yet — you know, the one to Tancred about changing the investments. So I suggested perhaps she might like to sign it right away and let me bring it back to London with me. And do you know what she said? She said she’d have to think about it. That hurt, Mama-in-law, it hurt.”
Further cynical glances were exchanged on the balcony. “Really, Rupert, if that’s all that’s worrying you, I think you’re making far too much of it. She naturally wouldn’t want you to think her the sort of girl who signs things of that kind without thinking about them.”
“I’m her father, Mama-in-law — it’s pretty wounding to find she doesn’t trust me. Or doesn’t trust my judgment.”
“My dear Rupert, I’m quite sure that’s not at all what she meant.”
“Wasn’t it? You haven’t heard the whole story yet. I told her, of course, that she was entitled to think it over if she wanted to. Tried to make a joke of it — said I hoped she didn’t think her old dad would try to pull a fast one on her. To which she said no, of course not, but fifty thousand pounds was a lot of money and she didn’t want to do anything silly; she’d gathered that the business of the company was dealing in commodity futures, and she’d heard it could be a rather risky market. So I said I was very pleased to see her taking an interest in financial affairs and asked where she’d got her information. And do you know who she’d been talking to?”
“My dear Rupert, I have no idea.”
“That know-all little pansy Leonidas, if you please. Has an economics lesson once a week at his so-called public school, reads the Financial Times on Wednesdays and Saturdays and sets up as an expert on the Stock Market. The twins are bad enough, God knows, but at least they’re good British stock. But when I find that slimy, slithering little half-caste Levantine trying to turn my own daughter against me — well, I’m sorry, Mama-in-law, but I could wring the little pipsqueak’s neck for him.”
It was at this point that Julia sneezed. The pollen count was high, and the poor creature is susceptible to it.
“Rupert,” said Jocasta, “what was that noise outside?” Rupert stepped out on to the balcony. His mouth, when he perceived our presence, fell open under its drooping mustache; his watery blue gaze, as it passed from one to another of us, held much of surprise and little of delight. He seemed about to speak. With a smile of infinite complicity and infinite reassurance, Selena raised her forefinger to her lips and gently shook her head: it was a gesture, as I understood it, designed to suggest that our presence on Rupert’s balcony was in some way connected with aspects of his private life of which he might prefer his mother-in-law to remain unaware. After a moment of perplexity and hesitation, Rupert understood it in a similar sense: he withdrew from the balcony.
“It’s nothing, Mama-in-law — something on the towpath — my cleaning woman must have left the windows open.”