A Case of Suicide in St. James's by Clara Benson

Author:Clara Benson [Benson, Clara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mount Street Press

Chapter Thirteen

After looking at his watch, Freddy decided it was too late to go back to the office, and that he might be more usefully employed in some other activity. To that end, he decided to walk from Fleet Street to St. James’s Square, and consider the facts of the Westray case as he went. Although he was now sure Douglas Westray had been murdered, he was forced to admit they still had very little evidence of anything; moreover, there was a good chance no further evidence would ever be found, and that the mystery would remain unsolved. The thought of this irritated him—not, truth be told, because of his burning desire to seek justice for Douglas, but because his bruises were still aching and the graze on his cheek still smarting from his narrow escape of Saturday night, and the idea that whoever had tried to run him down might never be caught filled him with indignation. So as he walked he revolved the case in his mind, and thought back to the evening of the dance, trying to remember the arrangements, and how people had looked and what they had said, but without reaching any useful conclusions. At last he turned into St. James’s Square, stepped up to the front door of Badenoch House and rang the bell. The Clarion’s own social page had told him that the Browncliffes were not at home, having gone down to Cowes for a day or two to watch the regatta, and so he hoped to be able to investigate freely without having to waste time in polite conversation with Tatty or Lady Browncliffe. Nobody answered for several minutes—presumably along with the Browncliffes had departed all sense of urgency—but eventually the door was opened by a smart maid, who informed him that the family were not at home.

‘Yes, I know that,’ said Freddy. ‘As a matter of fact, it was you I wanted to speak to. It’s Mabel, isn’t it?’

‘Sally, sir,’ said the maid in surprise.

‘Ah, of course. You’ll remember me—at least, I hope so. I’m a friend of Miss Nugent’s, and I’m here about the death of her young man—or perhaps I should say her former young man, Douglas Westray.’

Sally’s eyes brightened at the prospect of news to share with the rest of the servants.

‘Oh, yes, sir, it was a terrible thing to happen. Poor Miss Patricia, and she couldn’t say a word because she’s engaged to another gentleman now.’

‘I suppose not. It wouldn’t look too good to be seen to be mourning too deeply, what? Listen, do you mind if I come in?’

She stepped back and let him into the hall, glancing around nervously as she did so. Freddy guessed she did not wish to fall foul of the butler or the housekeeper.

‘Now, I don’t know whether Miss Patricia has mentioned it at all,’ he said, ‘but there are one or two queer circumstances surrounding Mr. Westray’s death, and I said I’d look into them. As you know, he was

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