awake worrying, or slept but woken in the middle of the night and decided to end it all.’
‘It’s more likely she woke and mixed herself another sleeping draught and overdid it. I knew her quite well in Africa, as I told you, and she wasn’t the suicide type. She had
great guts and, even after her husband’s death, she never gave way to depression. By the way, here’s one odd thing. Mrs Harkness said she had a bottle of veronal in the cupboard –
I had asked her if she would manage to sleep. In my brief inspection of the room, I didn’t see it. It certainly wasn’t in the cupboard. I looked.’
The Inspector grunted. ‘We found nothing – no bottle – just the flask.’
‘When will we know for sure what killed her?’
‘Dr Fisher says we will have his report by tomorrow evening at the latest. Speaking of her husband – you said she had a lover? Was it certain – what was his name . . .
?’
‘Douglas Davenant.’
‘No, I mean the husband.’
‘Oh, Raymond Harkness.’
‘Yes. Do we assume it really was suicide?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She and the lover didn’t “bump him off”?’ The Inspector seemed pleased with his attempt at American slang. He enjoyed going to the pictures and the films of Edward
G. Robinson were favourites of his.
‘No, certainly not. Her grief – or rather her shock – was very deep. That was why I wanted to take her away.’
‘Very commendable.’
‘And don’t forget, she finished with Davenant.’
‘Mmm. Well, I’m sure you’re right, Lord Edward. You knew her well.’
‘I did but, as I said to you, we were never lovers. I just felt sorry for her. She was a fool with men. Some women seem to have a talent for picking rotters and there were plenty to choose
from in Kenya. I think her affairs were a sort of despair. Happy Valley! What a misnomer. That place destroyed many a happy marriage.’
‘Very public-spirited of you,’ the Inspector said and then added, in case Edward thought he was being sarcastic, ‘I mean it.’ He paused again. ‘So you haven’t
found these letters then?’
‘No.’
‘But she said she had them with her?’
‘That’s what I understood her to say.’
‘My men have been through the room with a fine-tooth comb and they aren’t there so we must assume they were either stolen or she left them elsewhere – hid them.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Mr Scannon says she gave him nothing to put in the safe. They had a burglary here last year – some diamonds were stolen from a guest – and since then, Mr Scannon tells me, he
has insisted house guests give him anything of value to be locked in the safe.’
‘She would not have trusted Mr Scannon – or anyone else – with the letters. She told me her flat in London had been ransacked quite recently and, since nothing had been stolen,
she believed whoever had done it had been looking for the letters.’
‘But they didn’t find them?’
‘No.’
‘Did she have any idea who might have searched her flat?’
‘She thought it might have been someone acting for the letters’ owner.’
‘Hmm. I suppose that is the obvious conclusion. So these papers are a motive for murder?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right, thank you, Lord Edward. You have been very helpful. Oh, by the way. I suppose you won’t have any objection to one of my men searching your room?’
‘Whatever for?’
‘Well, I believe your story but you can understand that I would be failing in my duty if I did not establish that you had not taken the opportunity of removing the letters at some time
during the night. Please don’t think, Lord Edward, that I am picking on you, so to speak. We will search the whole house. We must be thorough.’
Edward tried not to gulp but he saw the Inspector look at him speculatively.
‘Yes, I understand. Um, Inspector, I’m now going to seem to you to be very foolish.’
‘My lord?’
‘Just before you arrived I did remove a handbag, or small attaché case,
‘It’s more likely she woke and mixed herself another sleeping draught and overdid it. I knew her quite well in Africa, as I told you, and she wasn’t the suicide type. She had
great guts and, even after her husband’s death, she never gave way to depression. By the way, here’s one odd thing. Mrs Harkness said she had a bottle of veronal in the cupboard –
I had asked her if she would manage to sleep. In my brief inspection of the room, I didn’t see it. It certainly wasn’t in the cupboard. I looked.’
The Inspector grunted. ‘We found nothing – no bottle – just the flask.’
‘When will we know for sure what killed her?’
‘Dr Fisher says we will have his report by tomorrow evening at the latest. Speaking of her husband – you said she had a lover? Was it certain – what was his name . . .
?’
‘Douglas Davenant.’
‘No, I mean the husband.’
‘Oh, Raymond Harkness.’
‘Yes. Do we assume it really was suicide?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She and the lover didn’t “bump him off”?’ The Inspector seemed pleased with his attempt at American slang. He enjoyed going to the pictures and the films of Edward
G. Robinson were favourites of his.
‘No, certainly not. Her grief – or rather her shock – was very deep. That was why I wanted to take her away.’
‘Very commendable.’
‘And don’t forget, she finished with Davenant.’
‘Mmm. Well, I’m sure you’re right, Lord Edward. You knew her well.’
‘I did but, as I said to you, we were never lovers. I just felt sorry for her. She was a fool with men. Some women seem to have a talent for picking rotters and there were plenty to choose
from in Kenya. I think her affairs were a sort of despair. Happy Valley! What a misnomer. That place destroyed many a happy marriage.’
‘Very public-spirited of you,’ the Inspector said and then added, in case Edward thought he was being sarcastic, ‘I mean it.’ He paused again. ‘So you haven’t
found these letters then?’
‘No.’
‘But she said she had them with her?’
‘That’s what I understood her to say.’
‘My men have been through the room with a fine-tooth comb and they aren’t there so we must assume they were either stolen or she left them elsewhere – hid them.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Mr Scannon says she gave him nothing to put in the safe. They had a burglary here last year – some diamonds were stolen from a guest – and since then, Mr Scannon tells me, he
has insisted house guests give him anything of value to be locked in the safe.’
‘She would not have trusted Mr Scannon – or anyone else – with the letters. She told me her flat in London had been ransacked quite recently and, since nothing had been stolen,
she believed whoever had done it had been looking for the letters.’
‘But they didn’t find them?’
‘No.’
‘Did she have any idea who might have searched her flat?’
‘She thought it might have been someone acting for the letters’ owner.’
‘Hmm. I suppose that is the obvious conclusion. So these papers are a motive for murder?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right, thank you, Lord Edward. You have been very helpful. Oh, by the way. I suppose you won’t have any objection to one of my men searching your room?’
‘Whatever for?’
‘Well, I believe your story but you can understand that I would be failing in my duty if I did not establish that you had not taken the opportunity of removing the letters at some time
during the night. Please don’t think, Lord Edward, that I am picking on you, so to speak. We will search the whole house. We must be thorough.’
Edward tried not to gulp but he saw the Inspector look at him speculatively.
‘Yes, I understand. Um, Inspector, I’m now going to seem to you to be very foolish.’
‘My lord?’
‘Just before you arrived I did remove a handbag, or small attaché case,
Similar Books
