‘What about the Mansells?’
‘Certainly not. The Mansells and James Kane must belong to the first angle – that both men were killed by the same person for the same motive. Retaining Clement, then, let’s put Dermott aside. We are left with Mr Kane, Ogle, and Lady Harte as suspects for the second murder. None of them very likely, but all of them possible. Now we’ll take a look at it from the third angle, that Silas Kane met his death by accident.’
‘That’s the worst of the lot,’ said the Sergeant. ‘It gives us the whole boiling to suspect.’
‘No, not quite. I think we must rule the Mansells out. If they didn’t murder Silas for standing in their way over a business deal, it isn’t very likely that they murdered Clement for doing so.’
‘Well, I suppose that’s something,’ said the Sergeant. ‘All the same, it doesn’t alter the stage much, does it? We’ve still got Jim Kane and his mother, Mrs Kane and her maid, Rosemary Kane and her fancy boy, and, for all we know, Terrible Timothy. I make that seven.’
‘I refuse to consider Timothy,’ retorted Hannasyde. ‘Six.’
‘Don’t know so much. What with these gangster films, and him being pretty well nuts on Crime, I wouldn’t say it wasn’t him. Still, I’ll call it six.’
‘There may be a seventh,’ said Hannasyde. ‘But that depends on whether someone really is trying to make away with James Kane or not.’
The Sergeant blinked. ‘But that brings it round to the Mansells again, doesn’t it, Chief?’
‘Not quite conclusively. There’s the cousin alleged to be living in Australia,’ said Hannasyde. ‘To be on the safe side, I’ve cabled to the police at Sydney for any information they can give us.’
Twelve
Discussion, incessantly promoted by Mr Harte, on the probable cause of the Seamew’s end was put a stop to by his mother, who forbade him to mention the matter again in her hearing. She herself, disbelieving his story, had no particular objection to his exercising his imagination in speculating upon the possibility of his half-brother’s life having been threatened, but Emily Kane, overhearing one of his more lurid flights, demanded to be told the whole, and was so much disturbed by it that Patricia had considerable difficulty in soothing her alarms and coaxing her back to tolerably good humour.
Agitation in Emily invariably made her short-tempered. She would have scorned to betray a feminine weakness, or to ask for reassurance. She reassured herself by denouncing the bare idea of Jim’s life being in danger as stuff and nonsense, and saying she had never heard anything to equal it, found fault with everyone who came near her, and supposed that Timothy got his silly notions from his mother.
Norma took this in good part, laughing in genuine amusement, and saying: ‘Quite wrong, Aunt Emily; he got these particular notions from his friend Roberts. I think they’re ridiculous.’
Emily’s mouth worked. She glared at Lady Harte, and said: ‘That man! What’s it got to do with him? Encroaching ways! I’ve no patience with him!’
Jim came into the room in time to hear this familiar phrase, and said promptly: ‘Somebody been annoying you, aunt? You look horribly fierce.’
From no one but Jim would Emily have tolerated such a teasing form of address, but since he could do no wrong in her eyes she merely nodded at him, and replied: ‘If you take my advice, you’ll send him about his business!’
‘Who?’ inquired Jim, beginning to fill his pipe.
‘That Roberts. Your cousin wouldn’t have anything to do with his flibberty-gibbet scheme. I don’t know what he wants here, treating the house as though it belonged to him!’
Jim let this somewhat unfair accusation pass unchallenged. ‘I imagine he’s trying to unravel the mystery of Clement’s death. Sometimes I think he’s on to something the police haven’t discovered, but he doesn’t give away much.’
Emily’s twisted hands gripped the handle of her ebony stick more tightly. ‘Impudence! Poking his nose into our affairs! I’d like to give him a piece of my mind!’
‘You probably will,’ said Jim, smiling down at her over the lighted match he was holding above the bowl of his pipe.
‘Serve him right!’ said Emily. ‘If people would mind their own business it would be a better thing for everyone.’
‘Well, I don’t know,’ replied Jim. ‘If Roberts can clear up the mystery, I’m all for it. I think we’ve had about enough of it, and the police don’t seem to be doing much, do they?’
‘They’re doing more than they’re wanted to!’ said Emily angrily. ‘Getting us into the papers, and digging up what’s best left alone! I don’t know what your great-uncle would say if he were alive to see it.’
‘It’s got to be dug up, aunt, whether we like it or not.’
She made no reply to this, but folded her lips, and sat with her remote stare fixed on the space before her. Lady Harte said: ‘I don’t think the publicity matters at all. One gets used to that sort of thing. I’ve had so much of it I never think twice about it.’
‘I dare say,’ said Emily disagreeably. She transferred her gaze to Jim’s face. ‘What’s this pack of nonsense I hear about your being in danger?’
‘Just that,’ he answered. ‘A pack of nonsense.’
‘One of that Roberts’s tales. What next, I wonder! The sooner we see the back of him the better. Putting ideas into Timothy’s head!’
‘To do him justice, I don’t think he mentioned the matter to Timothy at all. He warned me. And though I personally think it’s rot, you must admit it was a kindly act on his part.’
Emily gave a short laugh. ‘Trying to get round you to fall in with his scheme, I’ve no doubt. Don’t you go making any rash promises!’
He smiled, and shook his head. Emily glared suspicion. ‘Have those Mansells been at you again?’ she demanded.
‘No. I met Joe Mansell in Portlaw today, and he said he wanted to talk things over with me. I’ve arranged to call and see him at the office tomorrow morning. I expect he’ll bring the question up then.’
‘What are you going to say?’
‘Nothing. I’ve been talking to Adrian about it –’
‘I should like to know what he thinks he knows about it!’ interjected Emily scornfully.
‘Oh, Adrian’s no fool!’ said Lady Harte.
‘As a matter of fact, he doesn’t think he knows anything about it,’ said Jim. ‘His advice is that I should go up and lay the proposition before Everard and Dawson – which I propose to do as soon as things have straightened themselves out a bit here.’
Emily was unable to find fault with this, so she relapsed into silence.
‘Does Patricia know you’re going to see Joe tomorrow?’ asked Lady Harte.
‘No. I haven’t said anything to her about it.’
‘Then don’t. She’ll only start imagining things.’
‘I’m not going to. You two – and Adrian, of course – are the only people I’ve told. Not that I think the most jumpy person, which Pat isn’t, could possibly expect any harm to overtake me. Even if the Mansells were out for my blood, they’d hardly try to bump me off in their own offices. However, Pat’s a trifle worked up over the whole show, so there’s no point in saying anything about it to her.’
Lady Harte looked at him consideringly. ‘The whole idea’s absurd. All the same, there’s no harm in being prepared. Do you carry a gun?’
He laughed. ‘No, my dear, I don’t.’
‘I should, if I were you. Whenever I change my camp I make it a rule to set up a line of bottles, and have a little revolver practice in full sight of the village. I’ve never had a bit of trouble. Never even been robbed.’
‘You’re a turn in yourself, mother,’ said Jim appreciatively. ‘But this isn’t Darkest Africa, and I doubt whether anyone would be impressed by my marksmanship.’
&n
bsp; ‘Nonsense, you’re not a bad shot! Don’t depreciate yourself so much!’ said his mother severely.
However, when he set out for Portlaw the following morning, Mr James Kane was unarmed and unaccompanied. For this last he had to thank his stepfather, who rescued him from the toils of Mr Harte.
Jim found Sir Adrian in the garage, inexpertly replenishing his cigarette-lighter from a large tin of petrol. Like most men more accustomed to working with their heads than with their hands, he had contrived to make a major operation of a small task. He wore an expression of profound distaste, and when his stepson walked into the garage, said that it was a pity he had not arrived sooner.
‘What a God-forsaken mess!’ remarked Jim. ‘Why don’t you get the thing filled at a tobacconist’s?’
‘Can I?’ said Sir Adrian vaguely. ‘I have never owned one of these infernal things before. Your mother gave it to me. I wish that she would try to curb her generous impulses.’ He wiped his hands on an oily rag, and looked at the result with patient resignation. ‘Are you going to see Joseph Mansell now? Your mother has been talking arrant nonsense to me about the advisability of your carrying a gun. I hope you are not infected by the general atmosphere of melodrama reigning in this absurd house.’
‘Not noticeably,’ replied Jim, putting away the tin of petrol, and stepping up to his car. ‘Did Pat go with Aunt Emily?’
‘No, she took the omnibus into Portlaw. Your mother went with Mrs Kane.’
Jim smiled. ‘I like to think of mother driving sedately out for an airing in a large and respectable Daimler. Do you want anything in the town, sir?’
‘No, nothing, thank you. Ah, Jim!’
Jim had stepped into his car, but he turned his head inquiringly towards his stepfather.
Sir Adrian polished his monocle, and said blandly: ‘Don’t commit yourself in any way, Jim.’
‘Not going to,’ said Jim.
‘You may find it a trifle awkward, dealing with a man old enough to be your father. You can with perfect propriety point out to Mansell that you have as yet no certain knowledge of your financial position. And, Jim!’
‘Sir?’
‘If you see that ill-conditioned son of Mansell, do not let your very natural desire to – er – push his face in run away with you.’
Jim laughed. ‘You know, you really ought to come with me, Adrian.’
‘I should be quite out of place, believe me, my dear boy. Well, Timothy, what is it?’
His son, who had entered the garage, said: ‘Nothing. Oh, I say, Jim, are you going out? Can I come too?’
‘Certainly not,’ replied Sir Adrian. ‘Jim is going into Portlaw on business.’
‘Well, I could wait for him, couldn’t I?’
‘No. Strange as it may seem to you, you are not wanted,’ said Sir Adrian.
‘He can come if he likes, sir,’ said Jim, starting his engine. ‘I don’t mind.’
‘You will do much better without him. No, Timothy.’
‘But, father, why can’t I –’
Sir Adrian’s aloof gaze came to bear on his son’s face. ‘No, Timothy,’ he repeated in a patient voice.
Mr Harte sighed, and refrained from further speech. Jim backed the Bentley out of the garage, and said, with a twinkle: ‘How do you get your results, sir? Is it the power of the human eye?’
Sir Adrian smiled faintly. ‘Just force of personality,’ he replied.
His son, guessing correctly that this interchange referred to himself, gave an injured sniff, and walked off in a dudgeon.
Jim covered the five miles by the coast road round the bay into Portlaw at his usual swift speed, and threaded his way through the streets of the town to the offices of Kane and Mansell, situated in one of the busiest roads. A policeman, taking exception to his evident desire to leave his car parked in the main street, directed him firmly down a side street to the yard at the back of the building. Here Jim found Paul Mansell’s sports roadster standing under the shelter of a lean-to roof. He ran the Bentley up alongside it, and got out, and entered the building through the back door. Being quite unfamiliar with the place, he plunged into a labyrinth of packing and ledger rooms, and created a sensation amongst the female staff. These damsels, recognising the new head of the firm, and most favourably impressed by his appearance, found his arrival in the back premises extremely funny, or – as they themselves later described it – a perfect scream. There was much staring, a good deal of giggling, and any number of Oh – Mr Kanes! before one, less impressionable than her sisters, volunteered to escort him to Mr Mansell’s office. Mr James Kane was not a shy man, but under the battery of admiring, curious, or amused eyes he perceptibly changed colour, and was thankful to find himself presently in a less populous part of the building.
Joe Mansell was alone, and greeted his young visitor with almost effusive kindliness, patting him on the shoulder, settling him in the easiest chair the room held, and thrusting a box of cigars towards him. From his opening gambit of: ‘Well, Jim, I expect you’re feeling all at sea, eh, my boy?’ Jim realised that his stepfather had been right in prophesying an awkward interview.
In actual fact it was not as difficult as he had anticipated. Paul Mansell put in no appearance, and for the first half-hour Joe Mansell confined his discourse to an exposition of the firm’s aims and standing. Jim attended to him closely, asked several intelligent questions, and was warmly complimented upon his grasp of the business.
‘Well, then there’s this Australian proposition we’re interested in,’ said Joe. ‘I’d better give you some idea of what it all means.’
Jim said politely that he would be very grateful to have the matter explained to him, and sat in interested silence while Joe talked. Joe, becoming more bluff and fatherly every minute, soon inspired him with some of his dead cousin’s contempt for his mental capacity. He found himself growing steadily more hostile to a scheme put forward so speciously, and presently interposed to advance a tentative suggestion of his own that the firm should be turned into a public company. Even as he said it, he knew that he had not the smallest intention of allowing Joe Mansell to get control. It would seem like a betrayal of Clement and Silas, and John, and old Matthew Kane, the founder of the house. He was conscious for the first time in his life of family pride stirring in him. These Mansells aren’t going to control my business! he thought. Damn it all, I’m a Kane!
Joe, watching him, saw the hardening of his mouth and jaw, and a steely light in his eyes unpleasantly reminiscent of his cousin Silas. Quelling his own exasperation, he became even more paternal, and told Jim he could well appreciate his point of view, but thought that Jim must just trust him to guide his footsteps aright.
Before Jim could think of a polite way of saying that he had no intention of being guided by a Mansell an interruption occurred. A knock fell on the door, and immediately following it Oscar Roberts walked into the room.
Jim, who had expected to see Paul Mansell, and had turned his head with a gathering frown on his brow, got up with a look of relief.
Joe’s expression said plainly that he had not expected this visit, and did not appreciate it. He greeted Roberts with a bare assumption of cordiality, and said pointedly that he was having a private chat with the firm’s new head.
‘So they told me,’ replied Roberts, his coldly calculating gaze resting for a moment on Joe’s heavy countenance. ‘Guess what you’re talking about is as much my show as anyone’s, isn’t it?’ He shook hands with Jim. ‘Say, Kane, if you want anyone to explain my firm’s proposition to you, I’m the man you’re looking for.’
‘Naturally, naturally!’ Joe said. ‘You – er – you have come at a most opportune moment, Roberts. We were discussing your proposition.’
‘I thought maybe you were,’ said Roberts ironically. He glanced round the room with a look of surprise. ‘I don’t s
ee Mr Paul Mansell. Is he out?’
Joe reddened a little. ‘My son has a lot of work on hand. His presence is really not necessary.’
‘Well, I certainly thought I should find him here,’ said Roberts, lowering his long limbs into a chair. ‘What do you want me to tell you, Kane?’
‘Really, I don’t think you need tell me anything,’ replied Jim. He laid his hand on a typescript lying on the desk. ‘It’s all here, isn’t it? With your permission, Mr Mansell, I’ll take it home with me, and study it at my leisure.’
‘Of course! Certainly! But time presses, you know, Jim. Can’t keep our good friend here hanging about indefinitely.’
‘It’s O.K. by me,’ said Roberts. ‘I’d like to have Kane go into it by himself, and come to an unbiased decision. If he feels he’d rather not take it on, why, I shall quite understand, and go elsewhere.’
Joe Mansell looked dissatisfied, but gave a reluctant agreement. After a few minutes of somewhat idle talk the interview came to an end. Joe shook hands with Jim, prophesying that he would soon acquire a grasp of the business, and Jim and Roberts went out together.
Jim said, with a slight touch of annoyance: ‘Are you by any chance constituting yourself as a bodyguard to me, sir?’
‘I won’t say just that,’ replied Roberts carefully. ‘Though you sure are walking right into the lion’s den when you visit that office.’
‘Really, sir, don’t you think you’re being a trifle absurd? Did you expect to find a corpse, or what?’
Roberts laughed. ‘No, no, it’s not as bad as that. Maybe I thought it would do no harm to let the Mansells know I’m wise to your visit. You want to watch your step, Kane.’
‘I don’t wish to seem ungrateful, but to tell you the truth, I’ve had about enough drama. Joe Mansell’s been a friend of the family for half a century, and –’
‘That’s fine,’ said Roberts imperturbably. ‘What’s the drama you speak of?’
‘My stepfather calls it melodrama. I could wish you had not repeated your dark warning to my fiancée, you know.’