Mrs. Plant Proves Disappointing
For a moment Mrs. Plant sat perfectly rigid. Then she put out her hand
and mechanically took the handkerchief that Roger was still holding
out to her. Her face had gone quite white and her eyes were wide with
terror.
“Please don’t be alarmed,” said Roger gently, touching her hand
reassuringly. “I don’t want to frighten you, or anything like that;
but don’t you think it would be better if you told me the truth? You
might get into very serious trouble with the police, you know, if it
came out that you had been concealing any important fact. Really, I
only want to help you, Mrs. Plant.”
The colour drained back into her face at that, though her breath still
came in gasps and she continued to stare at him fearfully.
“But—but it wasn’t anything—important,” she said jerkily. “It was
only——” She paused again.
“Don’t tell me if you’d rather not, of course,” Roger said quickly.
“But I can’t help feeling that I might be able to advise you. It’s a
serious matter to mislead the police, even in the most trivial
details. Take your time and think it over.” He rose to his feet and
joined Alec at the window.
When Mrs. Plant spoke again, her composure was largely restored.
“Really,” she said, with a nervous little laugh, “it’s absurd for me
to make such a fuss over a trifle, but I have got a horror of giving
evidence—morbid, if you like, but none the less genuine. So I tried to
minimise my last conversation with Mr. Stanworth as much as possible,
in the hope that the police would attach so little importance to it
that they wouldn’t call on me to give evidence.”
Roger seated himself on the arm of a chair and swung his leg
carelessly.
“But you’ll be called in any case, so why not tell exactly what
happened?”
“Yes, but—but I didn’t know that then, you see; not when I made my
statement. I didn’t think they’d call me at all then. Or I hoped they
wouldn’t.”
“I see. Still, I think it would be better not to conceal anything as
things are, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes. I quite see that now. Quite. It’s very good of you to help
me like this, Mr. Sheringham. When—when did you find my handkerchief?”
“Just before I went up to change for dinner. It was between two of
those loose cushions on the couch.”
“So you knew I must have been in the library? But how did you know
what time I was there?”
“I didn’t. In fact, I don’t know,” Roger smiled. “All I know is that
it must have been after dinner, because the maid always tidies the
room at that time.”
Mrs. Plant nodded slowly. “I see. Yes, that was clever of you. I
didn’t leave anything else there, did I?” she added, again with that
nervous little laugh.
“No, nothing else,” Roger replied smoothly. “Well, have you thought it
over?”
“Oh, of course I’ll tell you, Mr. Sheringham. It’s really too
ridiculous. You remember when you passed us in the hall? Well, Mr.
Stanworth was speaking to me about some roses he’d had sent up to my
room. And then I asked him if he’d put my jewels in his safe for me,
as I——”
“But I thought you said this morning that you asked him that the other
day?” Roger interrupted.
Mrs. Plant laughed lightly. She was quite herself again.
“Yes, I did; and I told the inspector it was yesterday morning. Wasn’t
it dreadful of me? That’s why I was so upset when you told me this
afternoon that I should have to give evidence. I was so afraid they’d
ask me a lot of questions and find out that I was in the library,
after all, when I hadn’t said anything about it, and that I had told
the inspector a lie about the jewels. In fact, you frightened me
terribly, Mr. Sheringham. I had dreadful visions of passing the rest
of my days in prison for telling fibs to the police.”
“I’m very sorry,” Roger smiled. “But I didn’t know, did I?”
“Of course you didn’t. It was my own fault. Well, anyhow, Mr.
Stanworth very kindly said he’d be delighted to put them away safely
for me, so I ran upstairs to get them and brought them down into the
library. Then I sat on the couch and watched him put them in the safe.
That’s all that happened really, and I quite see now how absurd it was
of me to conceal it.”
“H’m!” said Roger thoughtfully. “Well, it certainly isn’t vastly
important in any case, is it? And that’s all?”
“Every bit!” Mrs. Plant replied firmly. “Now what do you advise me to
do? Admit that I made a mistake when I was with the inspector and tell
the truth? Or just say nothing about it? It may be very silly of me,
but I really can’t see that it makes the least difference either way.
The incident is of no importance at all.”
“Still, it’s best to be on the safe side, I think. If I were you I
should take the inspector aside before the proceedings open to-morrow
and tell him frankly that you made a mistake, and that you took your
jewels in to Mr. Stanworth in the library last night before saying
good-night to him.”
Mrs. Plant made a wry face. “Very well,” she said reluctantly, “I
will. It’s horrid to have to admit that one was wrong; but you’re
probably right. Anyhow, I’ll do that.”
“I think you’re wise,” Roger replied, getting to his feet again.
“Well, Alec, what about that stroll of ours? I’m afraid it will have
to be a moonlit one now.” He paused in the doorway and turned back.
“Good-night, Mrs. Plant, if I don’t see you again; I expect you will
be turning in fairly early. Sleep well, and don’t let things worry
you, whatever you do.”
“I’ll try not to,” she smiled back. “Good-night, Mr. Sheringham, and
thank you very much indeed.” And she heaved a heartfelt sigh of relief
as she watched his disappearing back.
The two made their way out on to the lawn in silence.
“Hullo,” Roger remarked, as they reached the big cedar, “they’ve left
the chairs out here. Let’s take advantage of them.”
“Well?” Alec demanded gruffly when they were seated, disapproval
written large in every line of him. “Well? I hope you’re satisfied
now.”
Roger pulled his pipe out of his pocket and filled it methodically,
gazing thoughtfully into the soft darkness as he did so.
“Satisfied?” he repeated at last. “Well, hardly. What do you think?”
“I think you scared that wretched woman out of her wits for absolutely
nothing at all. I told you ages ago you were making a mistake about
her.”
“You’re a very simple-minded young man I’m afraid, Alec,” Roger said,
quite regretfully.
“Why, you surely don’t mean to say you disbelieve her?” Alec asked in
astonishment.
“H’m! I wouldn’t necessarily say that. She _may_ have been speaking
the truth.”
“That’s awfully good of you,” Alec commented sarcastically.
“But the trouble is that she certainly wasn’t speaking the whole of
it. She’s got something up her sleeve, has that lady, whatever you
choose to think, Alec. Didn’t you notice how she tried to pump me? How
did I know what time she’d been in there? Had she left anything else
there? When did I find the handkerchief? No, her explanation sounds
perfectly reasonable, I admit, as far as it goes. But it doesn’t go
nearly far enough. It doesn’t explain the powder on the arm of the
couch, for instance; and I noticed at dinner that she doesn’t powder
her arms. But there’s one thing above all that it leaves entirely out
of the reckoning.”
“Oh?” Alec asked ironically. “And what may that be?”
“The fact that she was crying when she was in the library,” Roger
replied simply.
“How on earth do you know that?” said the dumbfounded Alec.
“Because the handkerchief was just slightly damp when I found it. Also
it was rolled up in a tight little ball, as women do when they cry.”
“Oh!” said Alec blankly.
“So you see there is still a lot for which Mrs. Plant did most
certainly not account, isn’t there? As to what she did say, it may be
true or it may be not. In gist I should say that it was. There’s only
one thing that I’m really doubtful about, and that’s the time when she
said she was in the library.”
“What makes you doubt that?”
“Well, in the first place I didn’t hear her come upstairs immediately
to fetch her jewels, as I almost certainly should have done. And,
secondly, didn’t you notice that she carefully asked me if I knew what
time she was there, before she gave a time at all? In other words,
after I had let out like an idiot that I didn’t know what time she was
there, she realised that she could say what time she liked, and as
long as it didn’t clash with any of the known facts (such as Stanworth
being out in the garden with me) it would be all right.”
“Splitting hairs?” Alec murmured laconically.
“Possibly; but nice, thick, easily splittable ones.”
For a time they smoked in silence, each engaged with his own thoughts.
Then:
“Who would you say was the older, Alec,” Roger asked suddenly, “Lady
Stanworth or Mrs. Shannon?”
“Mrs. Shannon,” Alec replied without hesitation. “Why?”
“I was just wondering. But Lady Stanworth looks older; her hair is
getting quite gray. Mrs. Shannon’s is still brown.”
“Yes, I know Mrs. Shannon looks the younger of the two; but I’m sure
she’s not, for all that.”
“Well, what age would you put Jefferson at?”
“Lord, I don’t know. He might be any age. About the same as Lady
Stanworth, I should imagine. What on earth are you asking all this
for?”
“Oh, just something that was passing through my mind. Nothing very
important.”
They relapsed into silence once more.
Suddenly Roger slapped his knee. “By Jove!” he ejaculated. “I wonder
if we dare!”
“What’s up now?”
“I’ve just had a brain wave. Look here, Alexander Watson, it seems to
me that we’ve been tackling this little affair from the wrong end.”
“How’s that?”
“Why, we’ve been concentrating all our energies on working backwards
from suspicious circumstances and people. What we ought to have done
is to start farther back and work forwards.”
“Don’t quite get you.”
“Well, put it another way. The big clue to any murder must after all
be supplied by the victim himself. People don’t get murdered for
nothing—except by a chance burglar, of course, or a homicidal maniac;
and I think we can dismiss both of those possibilities here. What I
mean is, find out all you can about the victim and the information
ought to give you a lead towards his murderer. You see? We’ve been
neglecting that side of it altogether. What we ought to have been
doing is to collect every possible scrap of information we can about
old Stanworth. Find out exactly what sort of a character he had and
all his activities, and then work forwards from that. Get me?”
“That seems reasonable enough,” Alec said cautiously. “But how could
we find out anything? It’s no good asking Jefferson or Lady Stanworth.
We should never get any information out of them.”
“No, but we’ve got the very chance lying close to our hand to find out
pretty nearly as much as Jefferson knows,” Roger said excitedly.
“Didn’t he say that he was going through all Stanworth’s papers and
accounts and things in the morning room? What’s to prevent us having a
look at them, too?”
“You mean, nip in when nobody’s about and go through them?”
“Exactly. Are you game?”
Alec was silent for a moment.
“Hardly done, is it?” he said at last. “Fellow’s private papers and
all that, I mean, what?”
“Alec, you sponge-headed parrot!” Roger exclaimed, in tones of the
liveliest exasperation. “Really, you are a most maddening person!
Here’s a chap murdered under your very nose, and you’re prepared to
let the murderer walk away scot-free because you think it isn’t ‘done’
to look through the wretched victim’s private papers. How remarkably
pleased Stanworth would be to hear you, wouldn’t he?”
“Of course if you put it like that,” Alec said doubtfully.
“But I do put it like that, you goop! It’s the only way there is of
putting it. Come, Alec, do try and be sensible for once in your life.”
“All right then,” Alec said, though not with any vast degree of
enthusiasm. “I’m game.”
“That’s more like it. Now look here, my bedroom window is in the front
of the house and I can see the morning-room window from it. You go to
bed in the ordinary way, and sleep, too, if you like (all the better,
in case Jefferson should take it into his head to have a look in at
you); and I’ll sit up and watch for the morning-room light to go out.
I’m safe enough in any case, as I can always pretend to be working;
I’ll put my things out, in fact. Then I’ll wait for an hour after it’s
out, to give Jefferson plenty of time to get to sleep; and then I’ll
come along and rouse you, and we’ll creep down at our leisure. How
about that?”
“Sounds all right,” Alec admitted.
“Then that’s settled,” Roger said briskly. “Well, I think the best
thing for you to do is to go to bed at once, yawning loudly and
ostentatiously. It will show that you have gone, for one thing; and
also it will show that we’re not pow-wowing together out here. We’ve
got to remember that those three, in spite of their fair words and
friendliness, are bound to be regarding us with the greatest
suspicion. They don’t know how much we know, and of course they
daren’t give themselves away by trying to find out. But you can be
sure that Jefferson has warned the others about that footprint; and I
expect that as soon as our backs were turned just now, Mrs. Plant ran
into the morning room and recounted our conversation to them. That’s
why I pretended to be taken in by her explanation.”
The bowl of Alec’s pipe glowed red in the darkness.
“You’re still convinced, then, in spite of what she said, that those
three are in league together?” he asked after a moment’s pause.
“Run along to bed, little Alexander,” said Roger kindly, “and don’t be
childish.”