Sir Adrian walked forward to the door, which stood open, and stepped unhurriedly out into the porch.
From a taxi piled with luggage, which seemed to consist mostly of battered tin trunks and canvas holdalls, a weather-beaten-looking lady of medium height and stocky build had alighted and was fervently embracing young Mr. Harte. Her hat, a battered felt, was set rakishly over a crop of thick grey hair; she wore a coat and skirt of light tweed which needed pressing, heavy brogue shoes, and a handkerchief-scarf knotted round her neck.
"This is most unexpected, my dear," remarked Sir Adrian, advancing towards her.
Lady Harte released Timothy and greeted her husband in a brisk, cheerful voice. "Hullo, Adrian! My dear man, you're thinner than ever!" She kissed him vigorously and turned immediately to direct the activities of the taxi driver and a young footman. For several minutes her attention was fully occupied, and the air seemed to resound with her incisive commands.
"Keep the large trunk the right way up, and be careful how you handle the knapsack. I shan't want the holdall: you'd better store it somewhere for me. No, wait a moment! I think I packed the python's skin in it. Leave it in the hall: I'll unpack it there. Had the luck to stumble on a full-sized python my first day out on safari, Adrian. Beautiful skin, and not much damaged. First shot I fired with the new Grand and Lang too. S.S.G. shot, of course. I'm thinking of having it stuffed to make a standard for a lamp. No, don't bring that packing case into the house: I shan't want it. One or two rather good heads, Adrian, including a sable. I meant to send them to be mounted when I was in town, but I've had so much to think of I forgot. Where's Jim?"
"I think he has gone out in his speedboat," replied Sir Adrian. "What has brought you back so unexpectedly, Norma?"
"I'll tell you all about that in a minute," responded his wife. "I must see this stuff disposed of first. I see I seem to have brought my canvas bath with me. That was a mistake, of course. I meant to have left it in town. It had better be put in the garage, or somewhere. Yes, and the canteen: I shan't want that. I've been in such a rush ever since I landed that I've had no time to sort things out yet. However, it doesn't matter: there's plenty of room here to store everything."
"Mummy, when did you get back?" demanded Timothy. "Do you know Cousin Silas and Cousin Clement have been murdered? Do you know I was actually here when it all happened, Mum? Oh, Mum, do listen!"
"I am listening, my pet. Don't pick that topee case up by the handle: it's broken. Yes, Timothy, I know: thrilling for you, darling! You shall tell me all about it presently."
By this time the footman had been reinforced by the arrival of Pritchard. Lady Harte, announcing that she could safely leave everything to him, thrust a hand through her husband's arm and marched him into the house, saying: "Well, it's nice to see you again, Adrian. Of course, I haven't looked at a paper for weeks; but I got all the news in town. They have been going it down here! Poor old Clement!" She became aware of Hannasyde's silent presence and demanded an instant introduction. Upon hearing that he was a member of the C.I.D. she shook him vigorously by the hand, said she was glad to see him, and promised herself a chat with him as soon as she had settled down.
Hannasyde responded to this by saying that he would very much appreciate an interview with her, whereupon she replied: "If you want to interview me, there's no time like the present. I never believe in putting off until tomorrow what can be done today. In fact, you'll find me very businesslike. First, I must take my hat off and have a wash; then—"
Hannasyde tried to tell her that he had no wish to intrude upon her so unreasonably soon after her reunion with her family, but she interrupted him, saying with great decision: "Nonsense, my good man! There's no silly sentimentality about me. Sit down and make yourself at home! I shan't keep you waiting long. I want to get to the bottom of this business."
Hannasyde, who felt that an explanation of her sudden and unheralded return to England was called for, thanked her and retired, at Sir Adrian's suggestion, to the library.
In about twenty minutes' time both Lady Harte and Sir Adrian joined him, Lady Harte having discarded the battered felt and the handkerchief-scarf and dragged a comb through her short, crisp grey locks. Sir Adrian said: "Is there any objection to my presence, Superintendent?"
"None at all, sir. Lady Harte will, I am sure, understand that, taking into consideration her relationship with the present owner of this property, it is my duty to ask her one or two questions."
"Perfectly!" said Norma, striding up to the table and selecting a cigarette from a box on it. "Don't beat about the bush with me! I'm not afraid of plain speaking! You won't offend me. Got a light, Adrian?"
Sir Adrian struck a match for her. She lit her cigarette, threw up her head slightly to inhale a deep breath of smoke, and took up a stance by the table, her stoutly shod feet well apart, and her hands thrust into the pockets of her tailor-made jacket. Her grey eyes, sharp between lids slightly puckered as though from being constantly in the glare of a tropical sun, met Hannasyde's without flinching. "Now, Superintendent: what is it?"
"I should like to know, please, when you landed in England," said Hannasyde.
"Nothing easier. August ninth. I came by plane. I don't think I shall go anywhere by sea again, by the way, Adrian," she added over her shoulder.
"On August ninth?" repeated Hannasyde. "The day before Mr. Clement Kane's death, in fact?"
She nodded. He glanced towards Sir Adrian and saw that he was looking at his wife with a kind of patient expectancy not unmixed with amusement.
"My dear Norma," said Sir Adrian, "I feel sure you had some excellent reason for returning so hurriedly, but do tell us what it was!"
"Really, Adrian, you're hopeless!" she said roundly. "You must have seen the news of George Dickson's illness in the papers! Now, don't look vague, my dear soul! You know perfectly well we've been expecting it for months."
"George Dickson?" said Sir Adrian. "I don't think I know—"
"Member for East Madingley!" said Norma impatiently.
"Oh!"
"Yes, he's applying for the Chiltern Hundreds. I got the news—hideously overdue, of course—by runner. I was on safari at the time. I broke camp, and marched back to Kyongo Bwarra, got the lorry there, and had a pretty stiff trip of it to the airport."
"Good God!" said Sir Adrian in accents of deep foreboding.
His wife, paying no heed to this ejaculation, began to stalk up and down the room, occasionally smoking her cigarette, but more often waving it in the air to illustrate her points. "I may have a fight, but I don't mind that. I'm used to overcoming difficulties. Roughing it in the wilds teaches one that, at least. Besides, the Socialist candidate's a bad speaker. Makes a poor impression on the platform. I'm confident I shall get in. I've been up there already, of course; seen our agent, the local committee—"
"My wife," explained Sir Adrian to the superintendent, "intends standing for Parliament."
"Certainly I do!" said Norma. "I feel it's my duty, and thank God I've never been one to shirk that!"
"Quite, Lady Harte. Do I understand that upon landing in England, you went north immediately to East Madingley?"
"Immediately? No, certainly not. I had a great deal of business to attend to in town, and several people to see. I left for my constituency the following evening. In fact, I've been in the devil's own rush ever since I got the cable in the Congo."
"I'm sure you have," said Sir Adrian. "That would account for your not having warned me of your arrival."
"Rubbish, Adrian! Don't be so forgetful. You must have had my cable." He shook his head, smiling. "Well, that's most extraordinary," she said. "I'm pretty sure I sent you one. I know I sent cables to Jevons and Sir Archibald. However, it's possible that in the hurry I may have forgotten. It doesn't really matter. I knew you'd be in Scotland, anyway."
"May I ask where you went when you landed in England, Lady Harte?"
"Ask me anything you like!" said Norma with a lavish gesture. "I went all over the place, seeing first this person and then that. First, of course, I had to hand my guns in and attend to all that nonsense; then I saw Sir Archibald for a few minutes, rushed off to buy a pair of gloves—"
"Did you spend the night at home, Lady Harte?"
"No, I only went home to dump my luggage. Most of the servants are on holiday. There's only the butler and his wife there, and I can't stand furniture muffled in Holland covers. I just collected my car from the garage, and went down to Putney, and parked myself with an old servant of mine who lets rooms."
This seemed to Hannasyde an odd procedure. Lady Harte noticed his look of incredulity and gave a laugh. "My dear man, you needn't look so surprised! Why shouldn't I spend the night with my own son's old nanny? I get better attention with her than at any hotel, let me tell you!"
"I quite understand," said Hannasyde. "A devoted old servant would—"
"Devoted! She's practically one of the family. She took my eldest boy from the month, and my younger one too!"
"I see," said Hannasyde. "And you stayed with her until you went to East Madingley?"
"Of course I did!"
"All the following day, in fact?"
Lady Harte looked exasperated. "Yes! If you mean, was I in her house all day, certainly not! You don't seem to realise that I had a lot to do when I got back. I was in London, shopping, all the morning, dashed back to Putney after lunch to repack my suitcase, dashed up to King's Cross, and just caught the 7.15 train north."
"Were you aware of Mr. Silas Kane's death, Lady Harte?"
"Yes, Nanny told me all about that. I can't say I was surprised. He'd had a weak heart for years."
"You did not make any attempt to get into touch either with your son or with anyone here?"
She gave her head a decided shake. "No time. There was nothing I could do, and it was extremely important I should present myself in my constituency without any further loss of time. I always keep my personal affairs and my public life strictly apart. It's by far the best plan."
"When did you learn of Mr. Clement Kane's murder, Lady Harte?"
"Actually, I never heard anything about it till I got back to town last night. Usually I make a point of studying The Times from cover to cover, but my mind was occupied with more pressing business. Nanny told me about it as soon as I arrived at her place, of course, so I collected my baggage from Pont Street first thing this morning and managed to catch the ten-o'clock train down to Portlaw." She threw the stub of her cigarette out of the window and added kindly: "If there's anything more you want to know, don't hesitate to ask me!"
"Thank you, Lady Harte. You will understand, I expect, that it is of importance to this case that I should know exactly where you went on August tenth."
"Was that the day Clement Kane was murdered?" inquired Norma. "Oh well, naturally you must know what my movements were! Now let me see!" She paused in her striding about the room and took another cigarette out of the box on the table. Once more her husband held a light for her, once more she inhaled the first breath with that characteristic little toss of the head. "Very difficult," she pronounced at last. "You know what it's like when one gets back from the wilds—or perhaps you don't. I spent the day shopping. New toothbrush, and hair lotion, and that sort of thing. I expect I could make out a list if I gave my mind to it, but I'm not sure I can remember the shops I went to. Some chemist or other in the Brompton Road, but God knows which one. I went to Harrod's, too, and various other places."
"The shops are really quite immaterial, Lady Harte. If you could tell me where you lunched it would be helpful."
"Oh, at some teashop or other! I rather think it was at a Lyons' Corner House—or, no, wait!—it might have been Stewart's. Somewhere in Piccadilly."
"Whichever restaurant it was, it was a crowded one?"
"They all are," said Norma. "If it weren't so out of the way, I should have gone to my club; but it's in Cavendish Square. Waste of time!"
"And in the afternoon?" inquired Hannasyde.
"I hadn't done all the shopping I had to, so I went back to Putney—it was Saturday, you know. Early closing day in London." She gave a sudden laugh. "Good Lord, of course you can't prove any of this, no more can I! You're thinking that old Nanny would lie like a shot. So she would, bless her! Well, I've done most things—experience is the most important thing in life—but I've never yet been suspected of murder. Now, don't misunderstand me! I don't mind a bit; in fact, it'll provide me with a grand piece of copy for the book I'm writing."
Hannasyde could not help smiling, but he said: "There is another question I should like you to answer, Lady Harte. Were you conversant with the terms of Matthew Kane's will?"
"Do you mean, did I know that my boy stood next to his cousin Clement in succession? My dear good man, of course I did!"
"Did you ever mention the matter to your son?"
"No, certainly not."
"You seem very sure of that?"
"Well, I am sure. I never thought there was the least likelihood of him coming into the property. I'm not at all certain I wanted him to. I don't believe in young men rolling in wealth. I believe in them having to make their own way and fight for what they want. I've always done it. I only wish my boys had half my push. When I make up my mind to do a thing, I can't rest till it's done."
A singularly pugnacious expression came into her face as she delivered herself of this announcement, but just then Jim Kane walked quickly into the room and the expression vanished at once. "Jim, my dearest!" Norma cried and held out her arms to him.
Mr. James Kane caught her in a bear's hug. He was laughing as he kissed her. "Mother, where did you spring from? Why weren't we warned? Or were we, and did Adrian forget all about it?"
"Well, I certainly was under the impression that I sent one of you a cable," said Norma. "Not that it matters much. Darling, what a dreadful coat! It's fraying at the cuffs. You really can't go about like that!"
"Why not?" he retorted. "Look at the wicked example you set me!"
"Oh, it doesn't matter about me!" she said. "Besides, I'm perfectly respectable. Now, you must sit down and not interrupt, Jim. I'm being interviewed by the police. Darling!" The last word was murmured in an idolatrous voice quite at variance with Lady Harte's usually incisive accents. Hannasyde watched one thin brown hand go swiftly up to pat Jim's cheek, saw the sharp eyes misty, and turned to find Sir Adrian meditatively polishing his monocle.
Sir Adrian met his look with a faint smile. "Yes, Superintendent?" he said gently.
"Nothing, sir. I have asked Lady Harte all I wish to just now. I'm sure she would like to be alone with her family."
Norma said: "Very decent of you, but my motto is business first. Of course, if you've really done with me—"
"I have," Hannasyde said.
Sir Adrian escorted him out of the room, closing the door on his wife and stepson. In the hall he said: "Have you a piece of paper and a pencil, Superintendent? If you have, I will give you that address you want."
Hannasyde produced both articles. "Thank you. I was going to ask you for that. As a matter of form, I must check up on Lady Harte's story."
Sir Adrian wrote a name and an address down in a leisurely fashion. "Incredible, isn't it?" he said.
"I wouldn't say that."
"That shows insight, Superintendent. My wife is one of the most truthful people I have the pleasure of knowing. Here is Nanny Bryant's address for you."
"Thank you." Hannasyde folded the paper, slipped it in his notebook, and picked up his hat.
He was in time to catch the omnibus that passed the lodge gates and was soon in Portlaw, in conference with Sergeant Hemingway and Inspector Carlton.
The sergeant heard the news of Lady Harte's arrival with the look of a terrier scenting a rat, but the inspector shook his head. "She's a caution, she is," he said. "Well, I ask you! Fancy a lady of her age, and with a family and all, careening about on the backs of camels the way I'm told she does!"
"It isn't my taste," agreed the sergeant. "In fact, there's only one thing worse than a camel ride, in my opinion, and that's an elephant ride. But the point is, she's not careening about on a camel. She's here. This is interesting, Chief. Brings in a new motive. Mother love! What did you make of her?"
"Energetic, determined woman, with a one-track mind and plenty of courage."
"She'd need to have, hobnobbing with a lot of gorillas," remarked the inspector. "Generally you're safe to rule the women out when it's a case of shooting, but I dare say her ladyship wouldn't think twice about pulling a trigger. I'm bound to admit the tale she put up was a thin one, and it don't seem natural she wouldn't let her people know she was coming home, but you've only got to talk to the servants up at Cliff House to know she's a regular cough drop."
"I certainly noticed that, although her husband and her elder son were surprised to see her, they didn't seem to be surprised that she hadn't let them know," agreed Hannasyde. "At the same time, I think the fact that she landed in England on the day before Clement Kane's murder, coupled with her subsequent behaviour, requires investigation. I've no doubt we shall find that her story, as far as she has told it, is quite true. She came home in a hurry to fight a by-election; whether she already knew of Silas Kane's death is, I think, uncertain. If she knew of it, it seems just within the bounds of possibility that she might have conceived the idea of shooting Clement and thus winning a fortune for her own son. That would account for her decision to stay with the old nurse—who, she herself admits, would certainly lie on her behalf—or James Kane's. There's a great deal I haven't fathomed in Lady Harte, but one thing she couldn't help showing me, and that was her feeling for her elder son. I should say he's the very apple of her eye. She greeted Sir Adrian and Timothy with affection, but her whole face changed when James Kane walked into the room."
The sergeant nodded wisely. "I've seen 'em like that often. What's more, I'd as soon handle a nest of wild cats."
Hannasyde smiled but said: "Oh, she seems quite reasonable. Did it strike you that Oscar Roberts was keeping anything back, Hemingway?"
"No," replied the sergeant, looking interested. "Got something on him?"
"Oh no, not that! But apparently he's seen fit to warn James Kane that he may be the next victim."
"Paul Mansell!" said the sergeant instantly. "Now I come to think of it, he did drop a hint we'd do well to keep an eye on Pretty Paul. Said he was anxious to cooperate with us too. Funny what a lot of people you meet who fancy themselves as detectives."
"Well, I don't know," said Inspector Carlton. "He didn't strike me as being a know-all, not Mr. Roberts. Come to think of it, he may see a bit more than what we do, not being official."
"That's always possible," agreed Hannasyde. "I'll have a talk with him."
His talk with Oscar Roberts, however, was not productive of very much. Roberts admitted that he had let drop a word of warning in Jim's ear, but when Hannasyde asked him what grounds he had for thinking a warning necessary, he hesitated for a moment and then looked frankly at Hannasyde and said with the shadow of a smile: "I'd like you to get this, Superintendent: it's not my intention to hold out on you. If I were to stumble on something that might help you, believe me, I'd be right along at the police station with it."
"Very kind of you," said Hannasyde. "It would certainly be your duty. Am I to understand that you had no grounds for warning Mr. Kane that his life might be in danger?"
"Call it a hunch. And maybe I'm wrong at that."
"Oh, a hunch!" Hannasyde said, an inflexion of contempt in his voice.
Roberts' smile broadened. "I kind of figured you'd feel that way about it, Superintendent, which is why I kept my mouth shut. I don't know what you think of the case, but to my mind, when two men who don't see eye to eye with their partners die within a fortnight of each other, it's time to sit up and look around."
Hannasyde said dryly: "I think I ought to warn you, Mr. Roberts, that that kind of innuendo, unsupported by evidence, is actionable."
"Sure," agreed Roberts amiably. "Go right along and tell Mr. Paul Mansell I said it, if you wish, Superintendent. Maybe he'll bring an action against me. And maybe he won't."
This enigmatic remark rather annoyed Hannasyde, who told his sergeant later, with unaccustomed acerbity, that he hoped Timothy Harte and Oscar Roberts between them would succeed in clearing up the case for him.
"I don't know about Terrible Timothy," replied Hemingway; "but it's my belief Roberts is a downy bird. Give him his due, he was onto old man Silas having been pushed off the cliff from the start."
"So he says. We've no proof that Silas Kane was murdered."
"That's true," conceded the sergeant. "Of course, if Lady Harte shot Clement, it looks as though the old man wasn't murdered. If you were to ask my opinion, I should say that this case is my idea of a mess. However, I'll see what I can get out of Master Jim's faithful nanny."
"James Kane was out joy-riding in that speedboat of his today," said Hannasyde inconsequently.
"Well, it may be his idea of pleasure. It wouldn't be mine," said the sergeant. "What with camels and speedboats, they seem to me an unnatural lot. There's some sort of a motorboat race billed to take place in Portlaw this month. Young Timothy tells me his brother's entered for it, so I dare say he'll be cavorting about in that boat of his a good bit."
"Either he has an easy conscience or a cast-iron nerve," said Hannasyde. "I'm not sure which."
"Bit of both," said the sergeant. "Gets it from his mother, I expect. Most mothers 'ud try and stop him monkeying around with racing boats and cars, and I don't know what besides; but according to what young Timothy tells me, there's nothing her ladyship likes better than watching her sons get up to dangerous tricks."
He was only partly right, for Lady Harte, hearing of the forthcoming race from Timothy, said that she was glad Jim was going to have some amusement after the stress of the past few days, but she wished he were a stronger swimmer.
Timothy, though offended with Jim for not having taken him out in the boat, never let anyone but himself criticise the paragon, so he said perfunctorily: "Oh, he can swim all right, Mother!"
"All right!" said Lady Harte with great energy. "I want my sons to do everything well! Always remember, Timothy, that mediocrity is fatal! Whatever you do, you must make up your mind to excel at it. Look at me!"
Jim came into the room at that moment and, hearing, only the last part of this invigorating speech, promptly asked: "What for, Ma?"
"Success!" answered Lady Harte. "I've always succeeded because I make it my business to do everything thoroughly. I hate half-measures. It's about your speedboat. You ought to be able to swim."
"But I can swim!"
"Not nearly well enough," said his mother sternly. "There's a tide race here too. Not that I wish to keep you tied to my apron strings, for I don't. Did you want me for anything in particular, darling? I shall be down as soon as I've sorted this collection."
"Yes," said Jim firmly. He cast an eye over the chaos reigning in the room and added: "You'd better let one of the skivvies put all this junk away."
"Look here, are you going to take me with you when you try the Seamew out properly, or aren't you?" demanded Timothy belligerently.
"I'm not. I'll take you some other time."
"Well, I call it absolutely rotten of you! I bet I can handle her as well as you can, what's more!"
"Clear out now! I want to have a chat with Mother. You've had your innings."
"I don't see why, just because you—"
Mr. James Kane interrupted this speech by advancing purposefully upon his young relative. Mr. Harte retreated in good order, promising vengeance.
Jim shut the door upon him. "Getting altogether too uppish. Can you bear a shock, Mother?"
Lady Harte looked up from the task of stowing clothes away haphazard in a large chest of drawers and stared at him with foreboding in her eyes. "You're engaged to be married!"
He laughed, his brows lifting in surprise. "How did you know? Quite right."
"Of course I'm right! What else could it be? Who is it?"
"It's Patricia Allison."
For a moment she seemed puzzled; then her brow cleared. "Do you mean Aunt Emily's secretary, or whatever she calls herself?"
"Yes."
"Oh, that's not so bad!" said Lady Harte, relieved. "I was afraid you were going to say it was that towheaded little fool Adrian and I disliked so much. Patricia Allison! From what I remember, there's no silly nonsense about her. I always like these girls who do something, even if it's only looking after Aunt Emily. What I can't stand is a parasite. I hope she won't encourage you to live a life of idleness now you've come into all this money."
"I think I'm going to take an intelligent interest in netting."
Lady Harte said despairingly: "How I could ever have given birth to a son with so little ambition passes my comprehension! When I think what you might do—"
"But, darling, I hate travel!" objected Jim. "Can I bring Patricia in to see you?"
"Very well; but you know I don't get on with modern girls," said Lady Harte gloomily.
However, when Patricia presently came into the room, looking very cool and charming in a severe linen coat and skirt, her future mother-in-law said approvingly: "That's what I call a sensible kit. I hate frills and furbelows. Jim tells me you are going to be married. I should think you'll suit one another very well. It's always been my dread that he might marry something out of a tobacconist's shop, so you can imagine what a relief it is to me to know he's had the sense to choose a really nice girl. Not that I'm a snob, but there are limits, and young men are such fools."
"I know," said Patricia. "It's nice of you to take it like that. I was afraid you might feel that he could have done a lot better for himself."
Lady Harte seemed to find this amusing. She gave her jolly laugh and said that she had no use for pampered young women who had nothing to do except lacquer their fingernails and drink too many cocktails.
While Patricia sorted and put away her scattered belongings she walked up and down the room, energetically planning a useful future for her elder son and laying her commands upon Patricia not to allow him to fritter away his time either in money grubbing or more frivolous pursuits.
By lunchtime she was on the best of terms with Patricia and had even favoured her with a brief sketch of her own (parliamentary) plans. She evinced not the smallest interest in the shocking events that had taken place at Cliff House during the preceding fortnight, and Patricia, feeling that Jim's mother was hardly the person in whom to confide fears for his safety which might, after all, be groundless, made no attempt to talk to her on the subject.
At the luncheon table Lady Harte dominated the company. She ate casually of any dish that happened to be placed in front of her and described in trenchant yet picturesque terms the adventure she had lately been through. Emily, who liked hearing about foreign lands, listened to her with a good grace, only interrupting her occasionally to say either that she had never heard of such a thing, or that she had no patience with such outlandish ways.
On Norma's proposed excursion into the realm of politics she spoke with vigour and decision, condemning it from the outset as ridiculous nonsense and announcing that she didn't know what the world was coming to. Norma then delivered a stern lecture on her responsibilities as a citizen, and the lunch party came to an end without anyone having mentioned murders, clues or policemen—a change which Miss Allison at least felt to be an advantage.