A Case of Suicide in St. James's Read online

  ‘It was. She was telling me you work for her father.’

  ‘Yes, I’m very fortunate to have this job. I should never have been happy working for an insurance firm, or the civil service, or something like that, and at Westray Enterprises I’m allowed to tinker with things as much as I like. I’ve always had a mechanical turn of mind, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I remember. Did you ever get that engine of yours to run on potato peelings?’

  ‘No—I had more luck with cabbage leaves, but I could never get it to run reliably. I abandoned it in the end, but I may go back to it one day.’

  ‘And now you build aeroplanes?’

  ‘Rather. It’s a very exciting time for the aircraft industry, with lots of new developments in the offing. Now we can get across the Atlantic there’s no saying what will be next. The North Pole, perhaps, if we can build a plane that will withstand the cold.’

  He went on in this vein for some time. Freddy noticed he was looking across at Alida as he talked.

  ‘She seems a nice girl,’ he said.

  ‘Ah—er—yes,’ said Penbrigg, flushing.

  ‘Why don’t you ask her to dance?’

  ‘Ah—well, that is—’

  ‘Haven’t the nerve, eh?’

  ‘No,’ admitted Penbrigg.

  ‘There’s no sense in being shy in a place like this. If the fact of her being a girl puts you off then perhaps it might help if you tried to picture her as a sort of internal combustion engine.’

  He was joking, but Penbrigg appeared to take it seriously. He regarded Alida Westray, considering.

  ‘Not really,’ he said sadly at last. ‘Engines are square and grey and ugly and one doesn’t have to make witty conversation with them. She’s round and pink and pretty, and I dare say won’t even look at a fellow who can’t be clever. I should only be tongue-tied and she’d think I was an idiot.’

  ‘Far from it. If you can’t think of anything to say just talk about the music, or the people you’ve met, or the old tramp you saw earlier today leading an alpaca down Piccadilly—it doesn’t much matter what. If she likes you she won’t care what you talk about, and if she doesn’t then all the wit in the world won’t help you.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Penbrigg, as though this were a new idea to him.

  Freddy was all for spreading a little happiness, and was about to expand upon his theme when Gertie arrived, slightly flustered and inclined to giggle, and dragged him away.

  ‘One point,’ she said smugly.

  ‘I thought you gave him the boot!’ said Freddy accusingly.

  ‘Yes, but well, I mean to say, he was practically a sitting duck, so you can’t expect me not to take advantage. Call it a goodbye kiss.’

  ‘Hmm. I see I shall have to raise my game.’

  Gertie clutched his arm.

  ‘Who’s that?’ she said excitedly.

  Freddy followed her gaze, and saw she was looking at a man who had just arrived. He was perhaps forty, but had the clear advantage over many a younger man as far as appearance was concerned, being handsome with a firm jaw, dashing moustache and a sleek head of hair that was almost certainly his own. Gertie was not the only person to have noticed his arrival; indeed, the eyes of every female guest, young and old alike, seemed to have been turned towards him as though hypnotized. He did not seem to have noticed—or, rather, if he did, the attention did not bother him unduly. He was at present talking to Lady Browncliffe and thanking her for the invitation, while, from her manner, it appeared that she was only too grateful that he had been kind enough to grace her dance with his presence.

  ‘Who is he?’ repeated Gertie.

  ‘Don’t you recognize him?’ said Freddy. ‘That’s Captain Frank Dauncey, the flying ace. I met him a year or two ago. Retired now, of course, but I think he brought down something like fifty German planes in the war. They gave him so many medals that he must have jangled as he walked. It’s a wonder his plane got off the ground, the amount of metal he was wearing at one point.’

  ‘Is that so?’ She regarded Captain Dauncey with great interest.

  ‘Isn’t he a little old for you?’

  ‘I’ve always liked older men. They’re so tremendously distinguished.’

  ‘Well, if you can beat off the throng of swooning women and get anywhere near him, you’ll be lucky.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Gertie, then her face fell as Captain Dauncey was approached by Lord Browncliffe, who shook his hand heartily and bore him away to the safety of a crowd of men. ‘Rats!’

  ‘If you can dig him out of that group, then you’re cleverer than I thought,’ said Freddy.

  Just then, a bell rang and supper was announced. Gertie brightened.

  ‘The game’s not over yet,’ she said, ‘but I must say I’m rather hungry.’

  ‘Rather,’ agreed Freddy, and they went together into supper.

  Chapter Three

  With great intrepidity, Lady Browncliffe had placed her trust in the British weather, and had decided that supper should be held outside. When Freddy and Gertie emerged from the house, they found that thousands of fairy lights had been strung around the place, giving the garden, which was mostly laid to pavement, an eerie glow against the gathering twilight. The supper was of the buffet sort, and a long table had been placed outside for the purpose, at which a queue had already formed. Behind the table stood several waiters, ready to serve the guests with whatever food they desired, while a stern-looking chef presided behind large joints of meat at one end, brandishing a dangerously sharp carving knife. Besides cold lamb and beef, there was ham, ox tongue, quails, cold salmon and a partridge pie, as well as cakes, wafers, fruit and ices. Freddy and Gertie found themselves a little table at which to perch.

  ‘It’s awfully close, still,’ remarked Gertie. ‘There’s no breeze even in this garden.’

  ‘It might be cooler up there,’ said Freddy, nodding towards an iron staircase at the side of the house, which led up to an iron balcony that ran along the first floor of the building and acted as a fire escape. Several of the guests had evidently had the same idea of seeking fresh air on higher ground, and were standing on the balcony, looking down upon the assembled guests in the garden below.

  ‘Hallo, there’s Douglas again,’ said Freddy.

  Douglas Westray had just emerged through the French windows into the garden. He stood and swayed a little, then made for their table and collapsed heavily into a chair. He glanced vaguely at the two of them.

  ‘Hallo, Gertie,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know you were coming tonight. Are there any drinks to be had?’

  ‘I should rather have thought you were in need of food, old chap,’ said Freddy, who was trying not to laugh at Gertie’s outraged expression.

  ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he said indistinctly. He made an unsuccessful effort to rise from his seat. ‘Lord, I’m fagged all of a sudden! Gertie, be a dear and get me something to eat, would you?’

  ‘Freddy will get you some food,’ said Gertie sweetly. ‘He was just going for me, weren’t you, Freddy?’

  ‘Oh, very well,’ said Freddy, who had just spied the last piece of a delicious-looking cake, which he had no intention of offering to Gertie. The little party was duly furnished with victuals, and Douglas Westray set upon the food as though he had not eaten for a week. After he had replenished his interior parts to his satisfaction, he threw down his napkin and sat back.

  ‘I oughtn’t to have come this evening, I suppose,’ he said mournfully.

  ‘Here it comes,’ thought Freddy, who recognized the onset of the maudlin stage of intoxication when he saw it. ‘Why not?’ he said.

  ‘Because nobody wanted me. Gertie thinks I’m a frightful bore—yes you do,’ he said, to a noise of protest from Gertie. ‘Tatty can’t bear the sight of me, and I make Tom feel uncomfortable because he took her off me.’

  ‘He didn’t take her off you—she ended it first,’ Gertie pointed out.

  ‘It all comes down to the same thing. It’s
a poor show when one can’t trust one’s oldest friend to leave one’s girl alone. I was all set to forgive him, but after this evening he’s ruined it all. As for the Nugents, they were never too keen on my marrying her in the first place, and they’d rather I hadn’t come because they’re terrified she’s going to change her mind about Tom and take me back. But why should she do that? As far as they’re concerned Tom Chetwynd has everything—looks, money, political connections, the whole caboodle. His father’s Chief of the Air Staff, you know. After the wedding Lord Browncliffe will have the ear of the Government, and will be in the running for all sorts of contracts. I was only ever going to be second best after that. After all, what have I got? I’ve no money, I’m nowhere near as tall as Tom, and as to connections—why, even my own father is hardly speaking to me. I’m an honourable man—unlike Tom—but nobody cares about that sort of thing these days.’

  ‘Why isn’t your father speaking to you?’ said Freddy.

  ‘I’m a disappointment to him,’ said Douglas dolefully. ‘I lost Tatty, which meant Father lost a lot of possible business, since there was no need for Nugent Corporation to work with Westray any more. Then there was something I didn’t do but ought to have, and something else he thinks I did but didn’t, and altogether he considers me pretty much a dead loss.’

  ‘Is this something to do with a patent, by any chance?’ said Freddy, remembering what Alida Westray had said.

  ‘So you’ve heard about it too, have you? Everybody seems to know about it. Everybody seems to know what a failure I am.’

  ‘What did you do to make him think you’re a failure?’ said Gertie, who was not a young lady of great tact or finesse.

  ‘I didn’t do anything—that’s the whole point. I was supposed to register the patent for a new type of aeroplane wing with slots. It was part of an international competition to see who could come up with an invention that would improve stability at low speeds. The slot idea wasn’t new, of course, but we’d come up with an entirely new design for it, which was much more effective than earlier types.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said Freddy. ‘The chap who invented it is an old school pal of mine.’

  ‘The chap who invented it?’ Douglas Westray’s brow lowered and his chin went up, and just for a moment he looked more like a bulldog than a basset hound. ‘Hmph. At any rate, it was a Westray Enterprises invention, and we ought to have won the competition.’

  ‘Why didn’t you?’ asked Gertie.

  ‘Damned if I didn’t forget to register the patent,’ said Douglas, with the resigned air of one who has made the same confession several times before. ‘I was rushing to get away and catch the boat train that day, and there was a problem with the tickets—all rather complicated—but in the confusion the patent forms completely slipped my mind. I got back from Deauville two weeks later, thinking I’d do it then, only to find that Nugent Corporation had pipped us to it. Well, after that there was no chance of our winning the competition. Nugent entered their aeroplane with our wing slot and won the Woodville prize, and we looked like awful idiots.’

  ‘How did they just happen to have the same idea?’ said Freddy. ‘Seems rather odd.’

  Douglas snorted.

  ‘They said they’d been developing the same sort of wing for at least two years before we started, and that it must have been a coincidence, but that was all rot. The similarities were far too great. It was our idea, all right—no doubt about it.’

  ‘But how did they get hold of it?’ said Gertie.

  ‘That’s just it, don’t you see? Father thinks I passed it on to them. I was still engaged to Tatty at the time, and Father thinks I must have let it slip. In the ordinary way of things it wouldn’t have mattered very much. If Tatty and I—well, if things had continued, there would probably have been some kind of agreement between the two companies, perhaps even a merger. But it all ended, so there’s no chance of an agreement now. Father and Lord Browncliffe can’t stand each other.’

  ‘Was it you who gave away the secret?’ Gertie inquired.

  ‘No!’ said Douglas vehemently. ‘Of course it wasn’t! What do you take me for? I might forget things occasionally, but I’d never pass on trade secrets. I hope I know that much. No, it wasn’t me, but nothing will convince him, and I’ve been in his bad books ever since. It’s jolly unfair when one’s trying to act honourably and help someone else. If he only knew—’

  He stopped, and his brows drew down over his eyes again. Whatever he had been about to say was lost, however, because just then there was a call to attention and the crowd gradually fell silent.

  ‘Oh, Lord,’ said Douglas. ‘Browncliffe’s going to make a speech. I don’t think I can stand it.’

  A pleased-looking Lord Browncliffe had ascended the first few steps of the fire escape so as to be seen by all, and was beckoning to his daughter and her intended to come and be shown off to the assembled guests.

  ‘Delighted you could all come,’ he announced in his hearty voice. ‘As you know, my wife and I have good reason to celebrate this evening. It isn’t news to most of you, but for those of you who have not heard, my daughter has recently announced her engagement to this fine young man, Thomas Chetwynd.’ He paused for applause, then went on. ‘The name of Chetwynd will undoubtedly be familiar to you—’

  Here he wandered off into a digression about Tom Chetwynd’s parents, who were abroad and thus unfortunately not able to be present this evening, and then began enumerating the virtues of his daughter and her fiancé. Everyone listened politely, while Tatty, serene, complacent and beautiful in her conquest, glowed under the public gaze.

  Douglas had been shifting uncomfortably during the speech, and as it finally drew to a close, before further applause could break out, he stood up and stumbled towards the stairs.

  ‘Good heavens, he’s going to make an ass of himself,’ murmured Freddy, feeling in his pocket for his notebook. This promised to be interesting. Douglas reached the stairs and shoved past Tom Chetwynd to join Lord Browncliffe where he stood. Tatty looked taken aback.

  ‘Marvellous speech, sir,’ bellowed Douglas, clapping. ‘Marvellous. Just like to say a few words, if I may.’

  ‘Douglas!’ said Sir Stanley, who was standing nearby.

  ‘No—no,’ said Douglas, waving a finger admonishingly. ‘Never let it be said a Westray was a bad sport.’ He turned and shook hands with a reluctant Lord Browncliffe, then did the same to Tom Chetwynd. ‘Tatty, congratulations. I can see you’ve made your decision. I was always a poor sort of chap, the sort who comes in second or third in the race. I suppose I was never going to get a look-in when Tom came along. I wish you all the best.’

  This last was said in a tone of great sincerity, and there were one or two silent sighs of relief as the watchers came to the conclusion that while young Douglas was evidently very drunk, he had not wholly lost control of his faculties, and that total embarrassment was likely to be narrowly avoided. Alas, they reached this conclusion too soon, because Douglas immediately afterwards ruined it all. He had started to turn away as though finished, but at the last minute he turned back suddenly, fixed Tom Chetwynd with a contemptuous glare, and said loudly:

  ‘Let’s not worry that he’s an unprincipled bounder of the worst sort, and not to be trusted around any decent woman, shall we? For shame, Tom! For shame!’

  There was a collective intake of breath, and a few of the guests shuffled uncomfortably. Tom Chetwynd looked pale and shocked. He swallowed.

  ‘Now, look here—’ he began. He stepped forward, his hands raised placatingly, but Douglas mistook the gesture. He put up his fists and began to dance on his toes.

  ‘So it’s like that, is it? You think that’s the way to settle this?’

  ‘No!’ said Tom, and retreated hurriedly. But Douglas had begun to work himself up into a temper.

  ‘Come on, then,’ he said. ‘Let’s see if you’re really the man you’re made out to be!’

  He took a swing at Tom, missed, staggered, an
d almost fell over. There were more gasps, and one or two screams. Freddy glanced at Gertie and saw that she was watching the scene with malicious enjoyment.

  ‘Douglas, stop it!’ exclaimed Tatty.

  Douglas turned to her, and his expression softened. He took her hands.

  ‘Tatty, don’t marry this blighter. I’m the better man, even if I am a little shorter.’

  ‘Douglas!’ snapped Sir Stanley, who was now moving through the crowd towards his son.

  ‘What do you want?’ said Douglas rudely. ‘Can’t a man speak to his girl without being interrupted?’

  Tatty felt it was time to act, for it looked as though Tom Chetwynd, Lord Browncliffe and Sir Stanley were on the point of laying hands on Douglas and were prepared to do him bodily injury.

  ‘Come inside and we can talk,’ she said gently. ‘Here in front of everybody is hardly the place for it. Let’s go and find a quiet room somewhere. That’s right, come in now, and let everyone finish their supper.’

  She led him off, and left the guests wondering whether they were supposed to applaud or not. Lord Browncliffe and Tom Chetwynd conversed for a few moments in low voices, then followed Tatty and Douglas indoors.

  ‘What a swizz!’ said Gertie in disappointment. ‘I was hoping for a black eye or two, at least.’

  ‘Yes, nothing worth printing there,’ said Freddy, and put his notebook back in his pocket. ‘I’ll show it to old Bickerstaffe, but I dare say he won’t be interested in anything less than a wholesale brawl.’

  ‘Oh, well, you’d better get me another drink, then. Now that supper’s out of the way everyone will be dancing, and you may remember we agreed to a contest.’

  ‘So we did, and may the best man win.’

  ‘Or woman,’ said Gertie. ‘I’m going to look for Captain Dauncey.’

  ‘You’d be better off going for the easy pickings.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ she said, then took her drink and departed.

  Chapter Four