Hell bay, p.27
Hell Bay, page 27
The door suddenly opened and the colonel stepped out. His old service revolver was open and he was retrieving a spent cartridge.
“Spot of bother, that,” he said, as if he had just shot a pheasant on the moor and nearly missed.
I exhaled. I would have hugged the old gentleman if he hadn’t had a gun in his hand.
The ambassador appeared, looking about cautiously. “Is it safe?”
“I believe it is, sir, but you had better let me talk to Mr. Barker to make certain.”
I stepped inside the room and looked down. Captain Pelham lay crumpled against the wall, his pale eyes unseeing. He had been shot once by me in the shoulder, once by Barker in the ribs, and once by the colonel straight through the heart. He’d fallen off a cliff and crawled up again with broken limbs. He was about as tough a man as anyone would want to meet, but he wouldn’t kill anyone ever again.
Going downstairs, I saw Mrs. Ashleigh was binding Barker’s chest with what probably was far too much bandage, but no one was about to argue the point. I went into the library again. Lady Hargrave was kneeling on the floor, with Jack Hillary’s head cradled in her lap. His face was rigid and he was perspiring with pain. She was comforting him as if he were a child in a pram and wiping his forehead with a cloth. She looked half mad to me.
“Sorry to trick you that way, Thomas,” he said to me. “I thought you were a decent chap.”
He had slaughtered close to ten people and here he was apologizing for lying to me.
“I’m sorry, Mother, about all the others. If your husband would have seen sense…”
“Ssssh,” she said, stroking his head and rocking him in her arms.
Dr. Anstruther returned with his medical bag. Without a word, he gave Hillary an injection of morphine. He opened Jack’s shirt and examined the wound hastily before exchanging a glance with Barker. Jack Hillary did not have long to live.
“I did it, Mum,” he said. “It’s just you and me again.”
The woman seemed to ignore the fact that this man had killed her entire family.
His eyes focused on Barker, who was now sitting up on one elbow.
“Dammit, man, you are a hard man to kill.”
“I have people here who are depending on me,” Barker rumbled.
“Where was I born, Mother?” Jack asked, looking at her. “In what room?”
“Upstairs, in my bedroom. It was a secret.”
“I wish it hadn’t been. I would have liked to be acknowledged. At Mrs. Tisher’s I was told I mustn’t say who my parents were. What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing, dear,” she replied. Her face was ashen and she was barely holding on to her composure.
“You just want to live and have a mother you can write to.”
“Of course.”
“Thomas, you know what I mean,” he said, weakly. “It’s a cruel world out there, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Jack,” I answered. “Yes, it is.”
“I knew you’d understand.”
I noted there was blood at the corners of his lips. He was bleeding internally. It would not be long.
He tugged off his spectacles and blinked. It made his face look younger.
“Where’s Nigel?” he asked.
“Dead,” I told him.
“And Algie?”
“Also dead.”
He knew that. His mind must be drafting.
“I was sitting with them in our offices in Manaus this year and I said, ‘We’re going to be rich. What have you always wanted to do?’”
Here he coughed and a drop of blood rolled down the side of his mouth to his chin.
“‘I want to see home again,’ Algernon said to me. ‘I want to see my parents.’ And I thought, I have all this money but no one will claim me. I realized I’d been thinking about it for years. And now I had all this money and two friends who might help me get what was due me.”
It was slightly warm in the house, but the sweat was rolling down his cheeks. He grimaced as a wave of pain washed over him.
“Didn’t know you were having a party. Homecoming party, I told Nigel. Where’s Nigel?”
“He’s upstairs,” I answered.
“Oh. Nigel didn’t care about coming back. All his family is dead. Had to pay him. God, that hurts!”
“You needn’t talk if you don’t want to, Jack,” his mother said.
“I was a success, you know.” Mum.
“Yes.”
“Made something of myself.”
“You did.”
“Rubber baron.”
“You’re taller than I expected you to be. And handsome like your father. Your natural father.”
“I came home,” he said, as if proud of himself.
“Yes, you did, darling. You came home.”
“Home,” he murmured
“Yes, home.”
“Godolphin House.”
“Where you were born,” Lady Hargrave said.
And then he died.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“My entire family is dead,” Celia Hargrave said, still cradling the head of her eldest son.
Then the tears came down her cheeks, cascading from her chin onto the still face of Jack Hillary. Lady Hargrave did not weep. She was totally silent but the tears continued to pour down like the rain outside.
“Lad,” Barker’s voice, much weakened, called to me from the floor.
I crossed to him and bent over his prostrate form.
“Yes, sir.”
He raised himself slightly on one elbow.
“The butler’s pantry,” he muttered. “Knock twice.”
I was out of the room like a shot. What did the Guv have up his sleeve? I wondered. There was but one way to find out. Down the back stairs I flew, and around the corner to Partridge’s sanctum sanctorum. When I reached it, I stopped myself. Then I knocked once, twice. And waited.
The door opened. Bella Anstruther was there, eyeing me curiously. Now what? I asked myself. Think of something, I thought.
“It’s time!” I blurted.
She turned and repeated the phrase to someone in the room. Who was in the room? I wanted to know. Then someone circled around her and appeared in the doorway.
“I’m coming,” he said.
I followed him up the stair.
“There in the library. You look rather spry for a dead man.”
“Thank you,” Percy Burrell said. Like mine, his arm was bandaged to his chest in a sling, but he was well dressed and not a hair was out of place. He had been groomed for his entrance by Miss Anstruther, no doubt.
“Mother!” he called when we reached the room, running to her.
Barker was up on one arm, now being helped by Philippa.
“I hid him away,” the Guv explained, “because I was sure there would be another attempt on his life. He has been in the butler’s pantry this entire time, being watched over by Dr. Anstruther and his daughter Bella.”
Percy came forward and gingerly hugged his astonished mother. My employer couldn’t save them all; I don’t believe anyone could. But he had saved one. The line would continue. I caught a glimpse of Bella Anstruther as she came into the room and noticed her cheeks were flushed. I sensed the line might continue sooner than anyone anticipated.
“Doctor!” Philippa called, kneeling down beside Barker. His face had gone pale.
Anstruther stood and began removing his jacket, while Bella unbuttoned Barker’s shirt. I had thought when we first arrived that Gwendolyn was the better of the two sisters, but her sister was worth two of her. The doctor examined his chest.
“The bullet is right here,” he said, indicating a small purplish lump along his left side ribs. “It passed along here, but it must have struck something to deflect in this direction.”
In answer, Barker straightened his left arm and shook it. The knife he habitually kept up his sleeve, strapped to his forearm, rattled out and hit the carpeted floor with a thud. No self-respecting Scotsman would be without his skean dhu.
“That knife saved your life,” Anstruther said.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Barker replied.
“I’ll have to remove that bullet immediately.”
“Do it, then.”
“Not here. I’m not a military doctor. I prefer sanitary conditions. Your room, perhaps? Mr. Llewelyn and I will help you up the stairs.”
I’ve had to carry him before. I was glad Anstruther was helping me. He moved slowly but he wasn’t unsteady. We reached the first floor and walked him into the room.
The doctor began barking orders to housemaids while Bella arrived with the bag. Mrs. Ashleigh hovered nearby. It was the first time I had seen her nonplussed. She didn’t know what to do. Bella would act as nurse during the operation, brief as it was. There was no need for her to be present, but it was difficult to make her leave.
“You should go to your room,” I said. “I’ll let you know immediately if there’s a problem. As soon as the doctor gives word you may come back in.”
She seized my hands.
“He gets injured all the time, but I always see him a few days later. This was so distressing. How do you do this?”
“It’s what we’re paid to do, ma’am. Go sit down. Drink tea. It shouldn’t take long.”
Reluctantly, she let go of my hands and went into her room.
Ether was becoming popular in operating theaters in those days, but Barker refused it, as he refused a snifter of brandy. He showed no sign he was in any discomfort. I’d have probably screamed like a banshee. The operation occurred about fifteen minutes later. It took less than ten minutes. Anstruther sterilized the entry wound and stitched it, then cut the skin and removed the bullet, depositing the lump of bloody metal into a small tin pan. He sterilized the wound with alcohol and stitched it up as well. Now Barker would have a nice new scar to go with all the old ones.
As promised, when it was over, I brought Mrs. Ashleigh back in. Her face was freshly powdered, but I could tell she had been crying. I imagined she would have a few things to say to him when we reached the mainland. If so, I didn’t want to be a witness, either for the defense or the prosecution.
Barker was temporarily reprieved by a knock at the door. It was Colonel Fraser. There was something about the old man’s tanned and homely face that gave one confidence that everything would be all right.
“Good shooting, Colonel,” I said.
“Blasted pistol went off in my hand,” he said, as if he had no part in it. “Hit the fellow dead center. How’s the patient?”
“He won’t stay down long enough to be one.”
“How’s the ambassador?” Barker asked, as if eager to return to work.
Philippa was seated beside him, watching him like a falcon about to pounce on a hare. I gathered he wanted a private conversation with Fraser, but that wasn’t going to happen.
“Well enough. We have come to an agreement. It might have helped that I saved his life. A few more concessions on his part.”
“Good,” Barker said. “Now what is to become of Mr. Schroeder? Will you let him go free?”
“No. We have gathered enough evidence to charge him as a spy. That will be enough for now.”
Barker nodded. This fellow was a member of the government, if an unofficial one. He was not to be argued with, although if I knew the Guv, he would see that Schroeder would be treated fairly.
“It’s finished,” Fraser said. “You cut it rather fine, I must say.”
“How did you happen to be armed, Colonel?” I asked.
“Barker here suggested that I keep a loaded gun nearby. He was convinced an attempt would be made soon upon Gascoigne.”
I pulled a face at my employer. It was he who had suggested to me that the killer was concerned with the family line, and there was no political element to the murders whatsoever.
“Barker, send a bill to the institute,” the colonel said. “I understand Richard intended to pay for it himself, but we shall pay it instead.”
“There shall be no bill,” Barker said. “I have done nothing. Captain Pelham shot Jack Hillary, and you shot Captain Pelham.”
Fraser chuckled. “Don’t be an ass, man. Take the check. It will just cover both of your medical expenses.”
“We’ll take it, Colonel,” Philippa said.
“Smart woman.”
Barker looked at her. She looked back. He was the first to look away.
“How’s your arm, young fellow-me-lad?” Fraser asked.
“Sore as the dickens,” I said. “But the bullet passed through without hitting bone.”
“That should heal up nicely, then.”
Ross Fraser rose slowly from his chair. He patted my hand.
“I must get back to the ambassador before he realizes he’s given away too many concessions. Take care of your two young patients, my lady! I don’t envy you keeping them alive.”
By then, it was near midnight. The storm had not yet abated, but it had turned into a steady downpour without wind or lightning.
Dr. Anstruther came into our room, examined and bound my arm, and offered us laudanum. We both refused. He seemed pleased with himself, having three living patients in the house, or was it because his daughter had bewitched the heir to Godolphin House?
I was too exhausted to check, but I was certain that Partridge himself was down below guarding the front door, just in case. Heirs had died to the right and to the left, but Godolphin House would go on.
Barker was still awake, immobile in his bed. I wanted to go to sleep, but he didn’t look ready to turn down the lamp.
“What are you thinking, sir?”
“News of this will get out, of course. I believe the official line shall be that two ex-soldiers washed up on the beach and went on a rampage. Stress from battle. That happens sometimes.”
“You don’t believe the public is entitled to the truth?” I asked.
Barker reached up and turned down the lamp.
“Why start now?” he asked. “I believe the Burrell family has suffered enough.”
We lay in the darkness for a few minutes. Then I turned up the lamp again.
“All right,” I said. “Your turn.”
“Damn and blast, I’m injured!”
“The chair!”
“Confound it,” he said, but got up and seated himself in the hard chair. I put the lamp by his face.
“Why did you tell me the killings were due to family issues, and then warn Fraser to watch out for an assassin?”
“It seemed to me as soon as Lord Hargrave was killed that it was a political assassination. Later, I realized it was an illegitimate son angry over his treatment. But the killers didn’t necessarily have the same opinions, so I thought it possible one wanted to have some money on the side. Killing the ambassador fit the bill.”
“Speaking of money, didn’t Cesar, I mean Jack Hillary, mention a sum he received for selling his rubber plantation?”
“A substantial amount, from what I can make out.”
“So where is it?”
“I imagine it is stuffed into his prized possession.”
It took me a moment to work that out. “The guitar.”
“Very good.”
“Why did Pelham go after more money if he were already wealthy?”
“He wasn’t safely away with his share yet. You saw what happened to Algernon Kerry. They both knew only one would get away safely.”
“Best of friends and mortal enemies.”
“Something like that. Ouch! Another inch to the left and I’d have punctured a lung.”
“No sympathies. So, why invent this entire Cesar persona in the first place?”
“It was simply to get Jack Hillary into the house to begin his mayhem. You see, this was planned for years but thrown together in the final moments. Hillary believed he was visiting the family with Kerry. They didn’t know about the party until the last minute, or about the French ambassador coming. By then it was too late to put it off. Cesar, if I may call him that, recognized I had no normal function here and used you to tell him all you could about me.”
“I should have kept my mouth shut. I’m sorry, sir.”
“Just remember this lesson for next time,” he said. He wasn’t easy to cross-examine. The lamp reflected in his spectacles. He could not be intimidated.
“You hid Percy away because you knew Jack would stop at nothing to kill every heir.”
“Aye, I did.”
“Would he have killed his mother, if she didn’t agree?”
“Oh, I have no doubt. He may have acted like the dutiful son, but he’d have cut her throat if he found it necessary.”
“Coldhearted,” I said.
“He was raised to be. Really, Lord Hargrave sent him away to die. It was due to his resilience and resolve that he survived into his teen years. His temperament was just what was necessary to survive in the Bromley School. At the earliest opportunity he escaped the school, worked his way to Land’s End, and took the first freighter leaving. It happened to be going to South America.”
“When did you first suspect Cesar was Jack?” I asked.
“He stayed close to you but avoided me.”
“Sir,” I informed him, “most of my friends avoid you. You terrify them.”
“Have I not spent a week at a house party? I’m quite civilized.”
“You do know, sir, that most house parties are not like this?”
“Spare me your witticisms, lad. I can’t laugh with my side full of stitches.”
He rose and shuffled over to the bed. I put out the lamp. Both of us were probably asleep within a minute. Being shot has that effect on one.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
My throbbing wound woke me early the next morning. Getting out of bed, I crossed to the window in robe and slippers and looked out. The storm had abated, and the verdant lawn was bathed in sunshine. As I watched, the gardener passed slowly across my view with his wheelbarrow. Nothing that had happened this week had affected him save for the gale. People came and went, but the house and the gardens would go on forever.
I broke a cardinal rule that morning and did not shave. After we were up and about, Mrs. Ashleigh fastened a new sling for me in the landing on the first floor. She put my jacket over my shoulder. I went downstairs before breakfast and decided to see if the flag was still flying.
