Appleby and the Ospreys Read online

  ‘Definitely not. I used to hear a good deal about it in my father’s time, of course. But I have never seen it, and have no idea where Oliver kept it. Marcus must know – Marcus Broadwater. He virtually looked after the things.’

  ‘But he doesn’t know. He has told me so, earlier this morning. When he and Lord Osprey had occasion to inspect the collection together, Lord Osprey simply wheeled it in. That is Mr Broadwater’s expression.’

  ‘Wheeled it in!’

  ‘It sounds extremely absurd, I agree. Absurd but not inconceivable.’

  ‘But if Oliver was killed in the library as the result of coming upon a thief there, it must surely be somewhere in the library that–’

  ‘That the collection has its home? Not necessarily. And here we come to that mysterious intruder. At dusk yesterday evening, when you yourself and several other people were in the library, Lord Osprey made to close the curtains over the big French window. It was apparently his habit to do so himself. But on this occasion he suddenly saw someone lurking just outside. He at once drew the curtains to, and told Bagot to investigate. Is that correct? I gather from Lord Osprey’s son, Adrian, that you had just a glimpse of this lurking person yourself.’

  ‘Yes. That was precisely what happened.’

  ‘Would you be able to pick out the intruder in an identity parade?’

  ‘Dear me, no, Sir John. It was all too momentary for that.’

  ‘Was it a man, or a woman?’

  ‘I suppose it was a man. But no doubt one would somehow suppose a lurking figure to be that of a man. I really don’t know. It was, as I say, all over in a couple of seconds.’

  ‘But now, Miss Minnychip, consider. It has been discovered that there is a perfectly practicable means of getting across the moat and up to the small and isolated terrace on the other side of the window. It becomes, so to speak, a vulnerable point in Clusters’ defences. So Lord Osprey may have become uneasy about it a good deal later last night, come down here to reassure himself, and actually encountered an intruder. His murder may have been a direct consequence of that. But that the thief, or intending thief, made his entry by way of the library is only a weak indication that the collection was kept in – or indeed near – it. Supposing a thief to have informed himself in one way or another where the coins were actually kept (in which case it seems that he would have decidedly the advantage of the rest of us) he may have been encountered by Lord Osprey when he was already in possession of the collection – in which case he has it now. Or he may have been so encountered when beginning to make his way to it – in which case he may have been unnerved by his own bloody deed, and fled without seeking out his booty.’

  ‘Surely, Sir John, it is improbable that the intending thief would make a merely preliminary foray across the moat and to that window simply to peer into a crowded room?’

  ‘It’s a good point.’ Appleby was coming to have a considerable respect for Miss Minnychip’s intelligence. Ringwood, indeed, would have spotted this difficulty at once. But Ringwood, after all, was a professional. ‘I suppose it conceivable,’ Appleby went on, ‘that the lurker’s first intention was to make his way into the library while everybody was at dinner, and to stay doggo just outside until then.’ Appleby thought for a moment. ‘By the way,’ he then said, ‘just where do you keep what I’m sure must be called the Minnychip Collection in your own house? Or would you rather not divulge that even to a respectable retired policeman?’

  ‘Sir John, you persist in making fun of me. It is, I suppose, a spinster’s destiny. But at least I remain alert to sign or sound of it. The hearing ear, and the seeing eye, the Lord hath made even both of them. I try to use them as I may.’

  ‘Now it is you who are making fun of me, Miss Minnychip. But mayn’t I have an answer? It’s a question, after all, that Ringwood is bound to put to you if you insist on his providing you with a guardian bobby or two.’

  ‘If you must know,’ Miss Minnychip said, ‘I keep my father’s coins under my bed.’

  ‘An excellent place.’ Appleby appeared struck by something. ‘I wonder,’ he said, ‘whether Lord Osprey too did precisely that?’

  8

  Having returned indoors with Miss Minnychip, and thanked her for her assistance, Appleby was making his way back to the Music Saloon when he became aware of the measured approach of Bagot, the late Lord Osprey’s butler. Bagot had the appearance of one who would regard all haste as unseemly, so that Appleby wondered what sort of speed he had contrived to make when sent to investigate the mystery of that mysterious intruder on the previous evening. And now Bagot halted before him.

  ‘Sir John,’ he then asked with some solemnity, ‘would it be convenient to have a word with you?’

  ‘Of course. Fire away.’

  If Bagot’s eyebrows failed faintly to elevate themselves before this brusquerie it was evident that some effort had been required to ensure that they stayed put.

  ‘First, then, I am instructed by her ladyship to ask you whether Mr Ringwood will take luncheon.’

  ‘I suppose so, Mr Bagot. Most people have something at that time of day.’

  ‘You do not quite understand me, sir.’

  ‘Of course I do. But Lady Osprey can’t be very clear about my relationship with Mr Ringwood. It is not for me to advise her on whether or not to ask the Detective-Inspector to lunch. I can, however, tell you at once what his answer will be should you be sent to him direct. He is at Clusters in an official capacity which precludes him from anything of the kind. You yourself must understand that.’

  ‘The thought has certainly been in my mind, Sir John.’

  ‘Then that’s that. But would it be stretching a point too far to propose that you and I have a further short talk?’

  ‘Most willingly, Sir John. May I suggest that we step into my pantry? It affords all proper privacy. His late lordship occasionally dropped in on me there for a brief chat. But nobody else comes near it. Not, so far, even the Detective-Inspector.’

  ‘Capital. That will suit most admirably.’

  So they made their way to Bagot’s secluded citadel. It contained a small desk, an enormous safe, a sink, and a couple of chairs. On a shelf near a low radiator, uncorked, stood several bottles of burgundy. Appleby recalled that all good butlers believe that burgundy must breathe.

  ‘Do sit down,’ Bagot said briskly.

  So Appleby sat down. Bagot, who remained standing, surveyed his domain with satisfaction.

  ‘Nowadays,’ he said, ‘I have to leave the silver to the women. But I continue, of course, to look after the decanters, and most of the better crystal. Will you take a glass of Madeira?’

  ‘Most willingly,’ Appleby said.

  Bagot poured a glass of Madeira, but without venturing to pour another for himself. He did, however, sit down.

  ‘There will be speculation,’ he said. ‘And gossip. And – I fear – scandal.’

  ‘I don’t know about scandal. But speculation and gossip are sure starters in an affair like this. Have you any theory about it all, Mr Bagot?’

  ‘Not a theory, Sir John. It would be somewhat presumptuous to have exactly that. And idea or two: no more.’

  ‘That’s much my own present position, Mr Bagot. But I’d like to hear what your ideas are about this murder.’

  ‘Are you not at once taking something for granted, Sir John? It’s my principal idea that there was no murder.’

  ‘You interest me very much. Do you feel, perhaps, that Lord Osprey committed a suicide?’

  ‘Not that either.’

  ‘Dear me!’ Appleby was momentarily nonplussed by this. ‘I’m not at all clear what is left.’

  ‘Accident. Pure accident. And no discredit reflected on anyone. Which is extremely important, is it not?’

  ‘The truth’s what is extremely importan
t. We mustn’t think to scramble away from it. But go on.’

  ‘It appears that when his lordship’s body was discovered by a housemaid early this morning, it was clad in pyjamas and a dressing-gown. He had gone to bed, one must suppose, but had continued to be worried about the intruder earlier in the evening. Lord Osprey was a nervous man – Very nervous, indeed.’

  ‘I’d hardly have suspected it.’ Appleby looked curiously at Bagot. ‘But continue.’

  ‘He may have gone to sleep, and come awake, believing he had heard some disturbance in the house. But he was also, you must understand, a man of considerable courage. He at once made his way to the library, the focus of the earlier alarm. He may have believed that somebody was attempting to break in through the French window. So he armed himself.’

  ‘Armed himself! However could he do that?’

  ‘With some sort of dagger, Sir John, from those abundant trophies on the wall.’

  ‘You have a point there, Mr Bagot.’

  ‘Have you noticed the floor, Sir John?’

  ‘Yes, I have. Noticing things is a habit of mine.’

  ‘Parquetry, Sir John. And with a number of doubtless very valuable oriental rugs. The footing is treacherous, sir.’

  ‘Is it, indeed? People have been known to tumble about on it?’

  ‘His lordship, at least, must have tumbled. And to tragic effect, Sir John. His slip, unhappily, was fatal to him.’

  ‘But, Mr Bagot, if all this were true, surely the weapon would have been found beside the body?’

  ‘It would have occurred to his lordship that as things stood – or rather, lay – there must have been a danger of his being thought to have committed suicide. And that, in an English nobleman, would be widely regarded as disgraceful.’

  ‘It’s disgraceful to make away with oneself?’

  ‘In the circle in which his lordship moved, decidedly so. So he managed to stagger to the wall and replace the weapon.’

  ‘So that it would be supposed he had been murdered – and there’s nothing disgraceful about that?’

  ‘Precisely so, Sir John.’

  ‘But, Mr Bagot, if – following this line of yours – somebody had the misfortune to be charged with the murder, and convicted, would there be anything unfortunate and disgraceful about that?’

  ‘The question is hypothetical, Sir John. But I think a coroner’s jury will bring in what is called an open verdict. Many of its members, after all, will be tenants or employees about the estate.’

  It had by this time become clear to Appleby that Bagot was unlikely to be of much help on what might be called the speculative side of the Clusters affair. Decorum was the man’s touchstone, and as neither murder nor suicide was a decorous activity for Lord Osprey to have been involved with, his death had to be accidental and the last seconds of his life positively edifying. But it would be injudicious to tell Bagot that he had been talking nonsense, since on the level of plain fact he might have something valuable to impart.

  ‘I believe,’ Appleby said, ‘that a blood-stained weapon may be discovered very much as you suppose, and I have little doubt that Detective-Inspector Ringwood is having the point investigated at this moment. I shall, of course, tell him about your ideas. All communications in this matter are valuable and will be carefully considered. But may I pass on to a few quite routine questions?’

  ‘Certainly, Sir John. I am at your disposal.’

  ‘How many people dined here last night?’

  ‘Ten.’

  ‘Lord and Lady Osprey, Mr Adrian Osprey, Miss Minnychip, Mr Broadwater, and a Mr Quickfall. That’s six. Who else?’

  ‘Mr and Mrs Purvis. They are from London. I believe that Mr Purvis had business connections with his lordship.’

  ‘Eight. And the other two?’

  ‘Lady Wimpole and Miss Honoria Wimpole. I understand that Admiral Wimpole is at sea.’

  ‘We must hope we don’t remain there long ourselves. The party gathered, I understand, in the library before dinner?’

  ‘They did, Sir John.’

  ‘That’s the custom with you here?’

  ‘Except when there is a larger weekend house-party, when the drawing-room is used before dinner as well as after it. On this occasion, of course, the house-party was exceptionally small.’

  ‘Small enough for you to be quite certainly aware whether everybody was present?’

  ‘Most decidedly, Sir John.’

  ‘They were all in the library as you were taking round sherry, and when this intruder made his momentary appearance?’

  ‘Most assuredly they were.’

  ‘So far, so good.’ Appleby considered for a little. When not lured into speculation, Bagot, he was coming to feel, was a clearheaded and presumably reliable witness. ‘And now,’ he went on, ‘I come to something else – and it’s something I don’t quite get the hang of. Lord Osprey sees this figure outside the French window, and he then rapidly closes the curtains and tells you to go and investigate. The most effective way for you to have done that, I’d have thought, was to have drawn back the curtains again, opened the French window, and stepped out to that little terrace or platform or whatever it’s to be called, and looked about you. Instead of which, you simply left the room.’

  ‘Certainly, Sir John. Not having been given any precise instructions by his lordship, I used my own discretion.’

  ‘Would it have been the kind of discretion, Mr Bagot, that is known as the better part of valour?’

  ‘There may have been a certain element of that.’ Bagot was by no means discomposed. ‘I recalled that the chauffeur, Robinson, was in the servants’ hall. I summoned him, and we went out of the front door together. The principal causeway to Clusters was thus directly in front of us, and to our right the moat came right up to the house, until interrupted by the small terrace in question. We thus had a very clear view of the only spot on which any intruder might still be lurking. Nobody was visible.’

  ‘The terrace, or platform, itself strikes me as rather an oddity. Has it always been there?’

  ‘It, and the French window giving on it, are comparatively recent in date. At about the turn of the century, I believe it was. His lordship’s grandfather, who was something of an eccentric with a taste for reading, took it into his head that it would be pleasant to step straight out of the library, and sit en plein air – surveying, no doubt, the beauties of nature. An eccentric person, as I have said. But in quite a refined way.’

  ‘Having been thus supported by the useful Robinson, you returned to the library, and told Lord Osprey that nothing of an irregular kind was to be seen?’

  ‘Just so, Sir John.’

  ‘And then they all went in to dinner?’

  ‘Just so.’

  ‘The whole lot are here still?’

  ‘They have all concurred in a suggestion from Mr Quickfall that they should remain, as planned, at least until this afternoon – collecting their thoughts, as it were, and making any statement that Mr Ringwood thinks it expedient to require from them. Yes, everybody is still at Clusters.’

  ‘Except Mr Broadwater, who has gone off fishing.’

  ‘Precisely so, Sir John. Mr Broadwater is very much a devotee of the rod.’

  ‘That is something I am aware of.’ Appleby thought briefly. ‘To go back for a moment,’ he then said. ‘You are quite certain that neither you yourself, nor the chauffeur, was aware of any disturbance whatever, either in or over the moat?’

  ‘There was nothing at all. Except, of course, the bats.’

  ‘The bats!’ Appleby was startled. ‘What bats?’

  ‘They come, I believe, from a deserted barn at the home farm. And also, perhaps, from a neglected little boat-house on the farther side of the moat. Frequently at dusk they are darting here and there. I do
n’t, myself, much care for the bats.’

  ‘Like the children in Mr Brackley’s choir.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, sir?’

  ‘No matter, Mr Bagot. And now I must join Mr Ringwood. I am most grateful for your help.’

  9

  Ringwood, Appleby supposed would be in the Music Saloon, drawing what support he could from his assistants on their platform. But on his way – and at Clusters the route from any A to any B always seemed lengthy – Appleby was pounced on (for the effect was of just that) by a small elderly man of prosperous but otherwise nondescript appearance.

  ‘Sir John Appleby?’ this person said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘My name is Purvis. You won’t have heard of me.’

  ‘Well, Mr Purvis, not, so to speak, at large. But as a weekend guest here, accompanied by Mrs Purvis, you have been mentioned to me by the butler.’

  ‘Bagot. Yes, of course. You have been speaking to him because you are investigating this shocking affair?’

  ‘I suppose I must be said to be doing that. But unofficially, as it were, and at the instance of Lady Osprey, who is good enough to think of me as a family friend. As for Bagot, he came at me rather as you are doing now, Mr Purvis. I have just left him, as a matter of fact. A communicative man. I wonder whether that description fits you too.’

  Mr Purvis, as was not surprising, seemed a little startled by this. But he replied at once.

  ‘I’d certainly like, Sir John, to communicate anything I have to communicate, relevant to this monstrous business. Did Bagot happen to mention me to you?’

  ‘Only very briefly. He said you had business connections with the dead man.’

  ‘True enough – although it might be a shade misleading. I am by profession an accountant. Purvis, Purvis and Purvis, Sir John.’

  ‘How do you do?’ It seemed to Appleby that, as an informal introduction had thus been performed, this reply was adequate for the moment.