Freeman Crofts – The Ponson Case (страница 4)

‘It’s not like him all the same,’ the butler went on, ‘he never would walk two miles at night when he could have had a car by just ringing for it.’

‘He’s done it, I bet, all the same,’ returned Innes, ‘I’ll lay you what you like. There was something on between them.’

‘What do you mean?’ Parkes asked sharply.

‘Why, this. I didn’t tell you what I heard—it wasn’t no business of mine—but I’ll tell you now. You remember Mr Austin dining here last Sunday evening? The boss, as you know, had the hump all day, but Mr Austin when he came first was as sweet as you please. After dinner they went to the library. Well, sir, I was passing the door about half-past nine or maybe later, and I heard their voices inside. I judged they were having a bit of a row. I heard Mr Austin shouting, “My God, sir, she isn’t!” and then I heard the mumble of Sir William’s voice, but I couldn’t hear what he said. Well, that was all of that. Then about half-past ten, when Mr Austin was leaving, I was in the hall, and got him his coat, and he was just sort of green about the gills, as if he had been laid out in the ring. He’s always pleasant enough, but that night he took his coat and hat as if I was a blooming hat-stand, and out to the car without a word, and a look on his face as if he’d seen death. And Sir William hasn’t been the same since either. Oh yes! I guess they’ve had some sort of a dust up.’

Parkes whistled.

‘About the girl?’ he said, with a sharp glance.

‘So I thought. Miss Lois Drew may be a very nice young lady, and I don’t say she’s not, but she’s hardly the kind of daughter-in-law the old man would be looking out for.’

‘It’s a fact, Innes. You’re right. Now if it had been my Lady Evelyn, things would have been different.’

‘You bet,’ said the valet.

The men’s allusion was to a subject of common gossip in Halford. Austin Ponson was universally believed to be in love with the daughter of the local bookseller. And as universally, it was assumed that such a match would have the determined opposition of Sir William.

‘I think we might send in to Mr Austin’s, and find out,’ went on Parkes after a pause. ‘If he’s there no harm’s done, and if not, why, it might be just as well to tell Mr Austin.’

‘Well, I’ll go in and see him if you think so.’

‘I would be glad. Hughes can run you in in the small car.’

Some twenty minutes later Innes rang at the door of a pleasant looking little villa on the outskirts of Halford.

‘Is Mr Austin about yet, Mrs Currie?’ he asked, as an elderly woman, with a kindly, dependable face, answered.

‘He’s not down yet, Mr Innes. Will you come in?’

The valet answered her question with another.

‘Sir William didn’t call last night, I suppose?’

‘Sir William? No, Mr Innes, I haven’t seen Sir William for over a month.’

‘Well, I’ll come in, thank you, and when Mr Austin’s ready I’d like to see him.’

‘I’ll tell him you’re waiting.’

When some twenty minutes later Austin Ponson came into the room, Innes looked at him in some surprise. As a rule Austin was a man of easy and leisurely manners, suave, polished, and unhurried. He had an air of comfortable and good-humoured contentment, that made him a pleasant and soothing companion. But this morning he was strangely different. His face was pale, and dark circles below his eyes pointed to his having passed a sleepless night. His manner was nervous, and Innes noticed his hand shaking. When he spoke it was abruptly and as if he were upset.

‘Good morning, Innes. You wanted to see me?’

‘Sorry for troubling you so early, sir, but Mr Parkes sent me in with a message.’

‘Yes?’

‘It was to ask if you knew anything of Sir William, sir. He went out late last night without saying anything about it, and he has not turned up since, and Mr Parkes was a little anxious about him in case he might have met with an accident.’

A look almost of fear appeared in the other’s eyes.

‘And how should I know anything about him?’ he answered quickly, and Innes noticed that his lips were dry. ‘He did not come here. Have you tried at Mr Hawksworth’s or Lord Eastmere’s? He has dropped in to see them often in the evening, hasn’t he?’

‘That is so, sir, but we thought we had better consult you before raising an alarm. As you say, sir, Sir William has often gone over to these places in the evening, but never without saying he would be late, and he never stopped all night.’

‘Oh well, I expect he’s done it this time. But you had better go round and see. Stay, I’ll go with you myself. Wait a few minutes while I get some breakfast.’

Twenty minutes later they were on the road. They called at the two houses mentioned, but at neither had anything been heard of Sir William. It was nearly nine when they reached Luce Manor. Parkes hurried to meet them.

‘Any news, Parkes?’ asked Austin as he entered the house. He had recovered his composure, and seemed more at ease.

‘No, sir,’ replied the butler, ‘but we’ve made a discovery—just before you came.’

Again the flash of something like fear showed in the other’s eyes. He did not speak, and Parkes went on:

‘About ten minutes ago, sir, Smith, the under-gardener, who is boatman also, came up here asking for Sir William. I saw him, and he said he had just discovered that one of the boats was missing—stolen, he said. I kept him, sir, in case if you came back with Innes you might like to speak to him.’

Austin Ponson’s face paled as if this news was a shock.

‘Good Heavens! Parkes,’ he stammered, ‘you don’t mean to suggest—’

‘I thought, sir,’ resumed the butler smoothly, ‘that maybe Sir William had taken a sudden notion to go over and see Dr Graham. Sometimes, as you know, sir, gentlemen like to consult a medical man privately. He might have rowed himself across the river for a short cut.’

Austin seemed relieved.

‘Yes, yes, quite possible,’ he said. ‘But we ought to make sure. Run round, Innes, will you, in the car and find out.’

‘Will you see Smith, sir?’ asked the butler when Innes had gone.

Austin seemed to awake out of a reverie.

‘Yes—oh yes, I suppose so,’ he answered. ‘Yes certainly. Bring him in.’

A small, stout man, with a short brown beard stepped up. He was, he explained, boatman as well as under-gardener, and it was his custom each morning to visit the boathouse, give the boats a run over with a cloth, brush the cushions, and leave everything ready in case a boat might be required during the day. On this morning he had reached the boathouse as usual, and was surprised to find the door unlocked. Entering, he had at once noticed that the water gate connecting the basin in the house with the river was fully open, and then he saw that the Alice, the smallest of the skiffs, was missing. A glance at the rack had shown that the oars and rowlocks had also gone. He had looked round generally, but could not find any other trace of disturbance. He had immediately come up to the house to inform Sir William.

Austin Ponson had listened carefully to the man’s statement, and he now asked a question:

‘You say you were surprised to find the boathouse door unlocked. I have been at the boathouse scores of times, and I never knew it to be locked. Why should it have been locked then?’

‘I lock it, sir,’ the man replied, ‘every night at dusk. Every morning I open it, and it stays open through the day.’

‘And did you lock it last night?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘About what time?’

‘About 8.00 or 8.30, I should think.’

‘Who else has a key?’

‘No one but Sir William, sir.’

Austin turned to the butler.

‘Do you know where he keeps this key?’

‘In the drawer of his writing table, sir.’

‘See if you can find it now.’

In a few moments Parkes returned. Several keys, each attached to its neatly lettered block of wood, were in the drawer, but that of the boathouse door was missing.

‘That will do, thank you, Smith,’ Austin went on, then, when the man had withdrawn, he turned to the butler. He still seemed nervous and upset.

‘It seems pretty clear Sir William has gone out on the river; now what on earth would he do that for? I wish that man would come back from the doctor’s.’

‘He won’t be long, sir. Say ten minutes there and ten back, and five to make inquiries. He should be here in five or six minutes.’

In about that time Innes returned. Sir William had not called at Dr Graham’s.

Austin and Parkes exchanged troubled glances. The same terrible idea which had been in their minds since the discovery of the missing boat was forcing itself to the front.

The River Cranshaw was a broad and sluggish stream at Halford, and for the two miles or so of its course to the point where it passed Luce Manor. But just below Sir William’s grounds there was a curious outcrop of rock, and the waters had cut for themselves a narrow channel down which, when the river was full, they raced at ever increasing speed till they reached the Cranshaw Falls. Here they leaped over a ledge of rock, not very deep—not, in fact, more than four or five feet—but the river bed at the foot, and for some distance downstream, was so full of huge boulders that the waters danced and swirled, and were churned into a mass of foam as great as might have been expected from a fall of five or six times the height. A dangerous place at which there had been more than one accident. On the last occasion, some twenty years earlier, a party of a man and two girls had allowed themselves to drift into the narrow channel, and in spite of their frantic efforts, their boat had been carried over and all were drowned. The bodies, two of them frightfully disfigured, were found in the smooth water below the rapids. As at the present time, there had just been a severe thunderstorm followed by torrential rain over the whole country, the river was in flood, and the fear that a similar fate might have overtaken Sir William was only too reasonable.