第 4 页

"She was in bed?"

"Yes. It seems she returned late from the North the night before, exhausted and very excited. She'd come into some legacy as I understand?"

"Yes."

"She slept very badly and woke with a terrible headache. She had several cups of tea and took some dope for her head and then told Miss Gilchrist not to disturb her till lunch-time. She felt no better and decided to take two sleeping pills. She then sent Miss Gilchrist into Reading by the bus to change some library books. She'd have been drowsy, if not already asleep, when this man broke in. He could have taken what he wanted by means of threats, or he could easily have gagged her. A hatchet, deliberatly taken up with him from outside seems excessive."

"He may just have meant to threatne her with it," Mr Entwhistle suggested. "If she showed fight then -"

"According to the medical evidence there is no sign that she did. Everything seems to show that she was lying on her side sleeping peacefully when she was attacked."

Mr Entwhistle shifted uneasily in his chair.

"One does hear of these brutal and rather senseless murders," he pointed out.

"Oh, yes, yes, that's probably what it will turn out to be. There's an alert out, of course, for any suspicious character. Nobody local is concerned, we're pretty sure of that. The locals are all accounted for satisfactorily. Most people are at work at that time of day. Of course her cottage is up a lane outside the village proper. Anyone could get there easily without being seen. There's a maze of lanes all round the village. It was a fine morning and there has been no rain for some days, so there aren't any distinctive car tracks to go by - in case anyone came by car."

"You think someone came by car?" Mr Entwhistle asked sharply.

The Inspector shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. All I'm saying is there are curious features about the case. These, for instance -" He shoved across his desk a handful of things - a trefoil-shaped brooch with small pearls, a brooch set with amethysts, a small string of seed pearls, and a garnet bracelet.

"Those are the things that were taken from her jewel box. They were found just outside the house shoved into a bush."

"Yes - yes, that is rather curious. Perhaps if her assailant was frightened at what he had done -"

"Quite. But he would probably then have left them upstairs in her room. Of course a panic may have come over him between the bedroom and the front gate."

Mr Entwhistle said quietly:

"Or they may, as you are suggesting, have only been taken as a blind."

"Yes, several possibilities... Of course this Gilchrist woman may have done it. Two women living alone together - you never know what quarrels or resentments or passions may have been aroused. Oh yes, we're taking that possibility into consideration as well. But it doesn't seem very likely. From all accounts they were on quite amicable terms." He paused before going on. "According to you, nobody stands to gain by Mrs Lansquenet's death?"

The lawyer shifted uneasily.

"I didn't quite say that."

Inspector Morton looked up sharply.

"I thought you said that Mrs Lansquenet's source of income was an allowance made to her by her brother and that as far as you knew she had no property or means of her own."

"That is so. Her husband died a bankrupt, and from what I knew of her as a girl and since, I should be surprised if she had ever saved or accumulated any money."

"The cottage itself is rented, not her own, and the few sticks of furniture aren't anything to write home about, even in these days. Some spurious 'cottage oak' and some arty painted stuff. Whoever she's left them to won't gain much - if she's made a will, that is to say."

Mr Entwhistle shook his head.

"I know nothing about her will. I had not seen her for many years, you must understand."

"Then what exactly did you mean just now? You had something in mind, I think?"

"Yes. Yes, I did. I wished to be strictly accurate."

"Were you referring to the legacy you mentioned? The one that her brother left her? Had she the power to dispose of that by will?"

"No, not in the sense you mean. She had no power to dispose of the capital. Now that she is dead, it will be divided amongst the five other beneficiaries of Richard Abernethie's will. That is what I meant. All five of them will benefit automatically by her death."

The Inspector looked disappointed.

"Oh, I thought we were on to something. Well, there certainly seems no motive there for anyone to come and swipe her with a hatchet. Looks as though it's some chap with a screw loose - one of these adolescent criminals, perhaps - a lot of them about. And then he lost his nerve and bushed the trinkets and ran... Yes, it must be that. Unless it's the highly respectable Miss Gilchrist, and I must say that seems unlikely."

"When did she find the body?"

"Not until just about five o'clock. She came back from Reading by the 4.50 bus. She arrived back at the cottage, let herself in by the front door, and went into the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea. There was no sound from Mrs Lansquenet's room, but Miss Gilchrist assumed that she was still sleeping. Then Miss Gilchrist noticed the kitchen window; the glass was all over the floor. Even then, she thought at first it might have been done by a boy with a ball or a catapult. She went upstairs and peeped very gently into Mrs Lansquenet's room to see if she were asleep or if she was ready for some tea. Then of course, she let loose, shrieked, and rushed down the lane to the nearest neighbour. Her story seems perfectly consistent and there was no trace of blood in her room or in the bathroom, or on her clothes. No, I don't think Miss Gilchrist had anything to do with it. The doctor got there at half-past five. He puts the time of death not later than four-thirty - and probably much nearer two o'clock, so it looks as though whoever it was, was hanging round waiting for Miss Gilchrist to leave the cottage.

The lawyer's face twitched slightly. Inspector Morton went on: "You'll be going to see Miss Gilchrist, I suppose?"

"I thought of doing so."

"I should be glad if you would. She's told us, I think, everything that she can, but you never know. Sometimes, in conversation, some point or other may crop up. She's a trifle old-maidish - but quite a sensible, practical woman - and she's really been most helpful and efficient."

He paused and then said:

"The body's at the mortuary. If you would like to see it."

Mr Entwhistle assented, though with no enthusiasm.

Some few minutes later he stood looking down at the mortal remains of Cora Lansquenet. She had been savagely attacked and the henna dyed fringe was clotted and stiffened with blood. Mr Entwhistle's lips tightened and he looked away queasily.

Poor little Cora. How eager she had been the day before yesterday to know whether her brother had left her anything. What rosy anticipations she must have had of the future. What a lot of silly things she could have done - and enjoyed doing - with the money.

Poor Cora... How short a time those anticipations had lasted.

No one had gained by her death - not even the brutal assailant who had thrust away those trinkets as he fled. Five people had a few thousands more of capital - but the capital they had already received was probably more than sufficient for them. No, there could be no motive there.

Funny that murder should have been running in Cora's mind the very day before she herself was murdered.

"He was murdered, wasn't he?"

Such a ridiculous thing to say. Ridiculous! Quite ridiculous! Much too ridiculous to mention to Inspector Morton. Of course, after he had seen Miss Gilchrist...

Supposing that Miss Gilchrist, although it was unlikely, could throw any light on what Richard had said to Cora.

"I thought from what he said -" What had Richard said?

"I must see Miss Gilchrist at once," said Mr Entwhistle to himself.

III

Miss Gilchrist was a spare faded-looking woman with short, iron-grey hair. She had one of those indeterminate faces that women around fifty so often acquire.

She greeted Mr Entwhistle warmly.

"I'm so glad you have come, Mr Entwhistle. I really know so little about Mrs Lansquenet's family, and of course I've never, never had anything to do with a murder before. It's too dreadful!"

Mr Entwhistle felt quite sure that Miss Gilchrist had never before had anything to do with murder. Indeed, her reaction to it was very much that of his partner.

"One reads about them, of course," said Miss Gilchrist, relegating crimes to their proper sphere. "And even that I'm not very fond of doing. So sordid, most of them."

Following her into the sitting-room Mr Entwhistle was looking sharply about him. There was a strong smell of oil paint. The cottage was overcrowded, less by furniture, which was much as Inspector Morton had described it, than by pictures. The walls were covered with pictures, mostly very dark and dirty oil paintings. But there were water-colour sketches as well, and one or two still lifes. Smaller pictures were stacked on the window-seat.

"Mrs Lansquenet used to buy them at sales," Miss Gilchrist explained. "It was a great interest to her, poor dear. She went to all the sales round about. Pictures go so cheap, nowadays, a mere song. She never paid more than a pound for any of them, sometimes only a few shillings, and there was a wonderful chance, she always said, of picking up something worth while. She used to say that this was an Italian Primitive that might be worth a lot of money."

Mr Entwhistle looked at the Italian Primitive pointed out to him dubiously. Cora, he reflected, had never really known anything about pictures. He'd eat his hat if any of these daubs were worth a five pound note!

"Of course," said Miss Gilchrist, noticing his expression, and quick to sense his reaction. "I don't know much myself, though my father was a painter - not a very successful one, I'm afraid. But I used to do water-colours myself as a girl and I heard a lot of talk about painting and that made it nice for Mrs Lansquenet to have someone she could talk to about painting and who'd understand. Poor dear soul, she cared so much about artistic things."

"You were fond of her?"

A foolish question, he told himself. Could she possibly answer "no"? Cora, he thought, must have been a tiresome woman to live with.

"Oh yes," said Miss Gilchrist. "We got on very well together. In some ways, you know, Mrs Lansquenet was just like a child. She said anything that came into her head. I don't know that her judgment was always very good -"

One does not say of the dead - "She was a thoroughly silly woman" - Mr Entwhistle said, "She was not in any sense an intellectual woman."

"No - no - perhaps not. But she was very shrewd, Mr Entwhistle. Really very shrewd. It quite surprised me sometimes - how she managed to hit the nail on the head."

Mr Entwhistle looked at Miss Gilchrist with more interest. He thought that she was no fool herself.

"You were with Mrs Lansquenet for some years, I think?"

"Three and a half."

"You - er - acted as companion and also did the - er - well - looked after the house?"

It was evident that he had touched on a delicate subject. Miss Gilchrist flushed a little.

"Oh yes, indeed. I did most of the cooking - I quite enjoy cooking - and did some dusting and light housework. None of the rough, of course." Miss Gilchrist's tone expressed a firm principle. Mr Entwhistle who had no idea what "the rough" was, made a soothing murmur.

"Mrs Panter from the village came in for that. Twice a week regularly. You see, Mr Entwhistle, I could not have contemplated being in any way a servant. When my little tea-shop failed - such a disaster - it was the war, you know. A delightful place. I called it the Willow Tree and all the china was blue willow pattern - sweetly pretty - and the cakes really good - I've always had a hand with cakes and scones. Yes I was doing really well and then the war came and supplies were cut down and the whole thing went bankrupt - a war casualty, that is what I always say, and I try to think of it like that. I lost the little money my father left me that I had invested in it, and of course I had to look round for something to do. I'd never been trained for anything. So I went to one lady but it didn't answer at all - she was so rude and overbearing - and then I did some office work - but I didn't like that at all, and then I came to Mrs Lansquenet and we suited each other from the start - her husband being an artist and everything." Miss Gilchrist came to a breathless stop and added mournfully: "But how I loved my dear, dear little tea-shop. Such nice people used to come to it!"

Looking at Miss Gilchrist, Mr Entwhistle felt a sudden stab of recognition - a composite picture of hundreds of ladylike figures approaching him in numerous Bay Trees, Ginger Cats, Blue Parrots, Willow Trees and Cosy Corners, all chastely encased in blue or pink or orange overalls and taking orders for pots of china tea and cakes. Miss Gilchrist had a Spiritual Home - a lady-like tea-shop of Ye Olde Worlde variety with a suitable genteel clientele. There must, he thought, be large numbers of Miss Gilchrists all over the country, all looking much alike with mild patient faces and obstinate upper lips and slightly wispy grey hair.

Miss Gilchrist went on:

"But really I must not talk about myself. The police have been very kind and considerate. Very kind indeed. An Inspector Morton came over from headquarters and he was most understanding. He even arranged for me to go and spend the night at Mrs Lake's down the lane but I said 'No.' I felt it my duty to stay here with all Mrs Lansquenet's nice things in the house. They took the - the -" Miss Gilchrist gulped a little - "the body away, of course, and locked up the room, and the Inspector told me there would be a constable on duty in the kitchen all night - because of the broken window - it has been reglazed this morning, I am glad to say - where was I? Oh yes, so I said I should be quite all right in my own room, though I must confess I did pull the chest of drawers across the door and put a big jug of water on the window-sill. One never knows - and if by any chance it was a maniac - one does hear of such things..."