The Belfry Murder by Moray Dalton

Author:Moray Dalton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2020-10-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XVIII

COLLIER CARRIES ON

Lord Bember’s butler eyed the two detectives coldly. “I don’t think his lordship can see anyone. Have you an appointment?”

“No. But my business is urgent. Will you take him my card?”

The man’s manner changed slightly as he glanced at the bit of pasteboard on his salver. He left them to wait in the hall but, returning in a moment, showed them into a room on the left of the front door.

“His lordship will be with you directly.”

Collier noted the shelves well stocked with works of reference, the big mahogany writing table and the roll-top desk, and the Remington in its case. A large photograph of a young girl in a jewelled frame stood on the writing table. It was inscribed in a scrawling hand, “To Darling Twums, from his Birdie.”

Duffield, who was a married man, grunted disapprovingly. Collier smiled. “That’s the second wife. She was on the stage.” There was no time for more before Lord Bember entered, his white shirt-front gleaming in the shaded lamp-light, the inevitable cigar between his lips, his eyes like points of steel under the heavy brows.

“Well?” The weary, husky, curiously attractive voice was curt and impatient. “You’ve been sent from the Yard, I gather, Inspector. I’ve had a tiring day, but I can spare you three minutes.” He looked at the clock and compared it with his wrist watch.

“I am sorry, my lord, but we thought it probable that you would be leaving Town.”

“Quite right. I am. I shall motor from Golder’s Green to Croydon to catch the air-liner to Paris to-morrow morning. What’s the trouble? Has my chauffeur run over somebody and funked telling me about it?”

He leaned negligently against the writing table, his hands in pockets, facing the two plain clothes policemen as he had in his time faced so many interviewers, and with the same hardly-veiled contempt.

Collier, irritated by his manner, found it easier than he had expected to go on. “It’s about your son, sir. We have reason to believe that he did not commit suicide.”

“What?”

“The evidence at the coroner’s inquest was straightforward enough, but actually it left a lot of things unexplained. That was all to the good. It doesn’t help the ends of justice to have all the information available pawed about in public before an arrest has been made. It gives the guilty parties a chance to cook up their alibis and mess about generally.”

Collier knew he was on safe ground here. Lord Bember had been one of the peers who had complained in the House of the zeal of coroners.

“Quite.” His heavy face relaxed a trifle and he shifted his cigar to the other corner of his month. “But what are you suggesting? If ever there was a clear case of felo de se—” He glanced over his shoulder as the door opened. “Is that you, Jocelyn?”

“Yes. I didn’t know you were engaged.”

“This is my daughter. Inspector. No objection to her hearing any theory of the police, I suppose?”

“None.”

Lady Jocelyn’s black evening frock

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