Chapter 19
From the top of the terrace steps, Daisy had a grandstand view of the action.
Half-way down the lawn the four Ambrose men, slowed when they all tried to climb through the same library window, caught up with Alec and Tom.
Cherry and Rollo had a headstart, dashing in from the side—they had been sitting under the chestnut with Aunt Cynthia and the girls when the hunt veered their way.
They all closed in on the landing-stage, where Lord DeLancey, already kneeling in one of the skiffs, slashed frantically with a pocket-knife at the painter.
The line parted. Pushing off, DeLancey grabbed the sculls and slotted them into the rowlocks. He pulled out into the stream as Rollo and Cherry pounded along the landing-stage to the second skiff.
“No oars!” Rollo cried in dismay.
Cherry swung round. “Fletcher!”
Alec altered course towards the boat-house, slowing as he fumbled for the padlock key in his trouser pocket.
Poindexter overtook him. “I put a pair here when we
fetched the missing s-skiff from Temple Island.” He retrieved two sculls from the bushes and made for the skiff.
By then, Cherry and Rollo were installed on the rowing benches and Meredith on the rear seat, while Wells slid the rudder into place.
Alec unfastened the boat-house door anyway.
Leigh plunged in and came out with another pair of sculls, which he and Poindexter passed at arms’ length to Cherry across the already widening gap between boat and shore.
Lord DeLancey was nearing the middle of the river, heading across and downstream. A small, noisy motor-launch and several other rowing craft were making their way down the river from Henley, keeping to the right against the Berkshire bank.
Daisy looked down towards Hambleden. Nothing was coming up the river at the moment, but at the bend a number of boats were hanging on to the piles and booms above the lock, waiting their turns to enter. The lock must be filling to the level of the upper river.
Did Lord DeLancey know about the lock? His pursuers were bound to catch him there. Or did he intend to land on the Remenham bank and take to his heels? He couldn’t possibly get far. Most likely he was in such a panic he had no plans at all.
With Meredith steering to take best advantage of the faster stream flowing towards the weir, on the near side of the river, Cherry and Rollo were rapidly gaining on DeLancey.
“There’s not much they can do,” said Alec, joining Daisy at her vantage point, “until he goes ashore.”
“Or reaches the lock.”
“It’s just round the bend?”
“Yes, on the right. Those boats are queuing to get in when the water level—Oh, the gates must have opened. Here comes a launch.”
Its well-tuned engine buzzing like a persistent bee, the launch came up fast, steering towards the middle of the river out of the way of the downstream traffic. Meredith spotted it a moment after Daisy. His yell reached her ears over the launch’s hum. Rollo and Cherry backed their oars.
Lord DeLancey kept going, pulling on his sculls in a manic frenzy. The launch hooted at him and took evasive action—too late.
The skiff’s bows splintered against the launch’s side, an oblique blow that tipped DeLancey into the river.
He started to swim away from the launch, downstream on a long slant towards the Bucks bank. The current was swift, racing towards the weir. Meredith, Cherry, Rollo, the men in the launch, all shouted at DeLancey. Unhearing or unheeding, he made no effort to head directly for the bank.
From the height and distance of the garden steps, the speeding water looked smooth as glass, the swirling undercurrents concealed beneath the sleek surface. DeLancey’s dark head bobbed on it like a fisherman’s float, then disappeared.
“Drowned,” Alec confirmed tiredly, dropping to the grass beside Daisy in the chestnut’s shade.
Jaws and teaspoons stilled.
In the hush, a heron flapping its leisurely way up the river emitted a loud grawk. Someone turned a nervous snicker into a cough, but the tension broke. Well-bred voices murmured once more, and porcelain cups chinked against saucers.
“Tea, Mr. Fletcher?”
“Please, Lady Cheringham. And a sandwich or two, if I may. I seem to have missed both breakfast and lunch.”
Daisy jumped up and piled a plate with cucumber sandwiches, watercress sandwiches, and Gentleman’s Relish sandwiches, topped with two buttered scones. “You’re in luck, darling,” she said, presenting it to Alec. “Cook is still catering to oarsmen’s appetites.”
“That reminds me.” The first scone stopped half-way to his mouth and he raised his voice. “Gentlemen, you’re free to leave now, of course. I want to thank you all for being quite the most helpful and cooperative group of suspects it’s ever been my pleasure not to have to arrest.”
Everyone laughed. Daisy guessed that in the minds of four young men the drama and tragedy of the past few days was already metamorphosing into a splendid story for future telling and retelling.
Perhaps Alec saw the same thing, for he added, “I’m counting on you to keep your mouths shut, for the present at least. This is still a police matter, not to mention the innocent people who might be hurt if rumours spread.”
There was a disappointed murmur of assent.
“Does Fosdyke know he’s free to go?” Daisy asked Alec.
“I left Tom to ’phone the Catherine Wheel before he joins Gladstone for his tea, since he, I gather, had breakfast at the hospital.”
“Yes, they fed us, though I can’t recommend their catering. Do you know how Bott’s doing?”
“I dropped in to tell him what happened, and that he’s no longer under suspicion. He’s a bit feverish. They’re keeping him in overnight, but the doctor doesn’t think it’s serious as he’s too fit to succumb easily to an infection. Miss Hopgood’s
confident enough to be going home tonight so she won’t miss work tomorrow.”
“Good. What about you?”
“I’ve got a few odds and ends to clear up here. I’m meeting the three Chief Constables at Henley Police Station.” He consulted his wrist-watch. “In half an hour, so let me eat in peace, woman.”
“Right-oh, darling.”
Leigh and Meredith, Poindexter and Wells, were already taking leave of their hostess, so Daisy went to say good-bye to them. Cherry, Rollo, and Dottie were staying on at Bulawayo for a few more days.
Rollo drew Daisy aside. “I’m dashed worried about Tish,” he confided. “All this ghastly business has hit her awfully hard.”
Daisy glanced at her cousin, sitting close beside her mother. She was pale and wan, and the effort she made to smile at the departing foursome was painfully obvious.
“She’s not exactly used to people assaulting each other and expiring all over the place,” Daisy said. “It’s just been one thing after another, with no time to recover from the shock in between. I’m sure a few days of peace and quiet will buck her up. Just take extra good care of her.”
“I wish I had the right to take care of her!” Rollo burst out.
“Have you decided yet what to do about your degree?”
He winced. “To tell the truth, I dread another year of lectures and essays and tutorials. I’m just not cut out for it.”
Daisy gave him a straight look. “It all rather depends on whether you consider Tish is worth the slog, doesn’t it?”
Rollo was taken aback, as if he’d never thought in quite
those terms before. He flushed. “Yes, well, when you put it like that … .” He glanced at Tish, who sent him a tremulous smile. “Confound it, I’ll try,” he said with a reckless air. “I’d slay dragons for her, so what’s a few dons here or there?”
“Spiffing! Go and tell her. That will cheer her up.”
She watched as he went over to Tish and the two of them strolled down towards the river. Then Alec got up, so she joined him.
“I feel almost human again,” he said, setting his empty plate and cup on the tea-trolley, “but I must run. Lady Cheringham, my men will be off to London by train this evening, but if I might trespass further on your hospitality, I’d like to stay till tomorrow.
There’s business I can’t complete till the morning, and then I’ll be able to drive Daisy up to town. ”
“You’re more than welcome, Mr. Fletcher,” Aunt Cynthia assured him.
“Spiffing!”
Alec grinned at Daisy. “While I’m gone, you’ll have time to type up your notes of Bott’s statement. Regard it as the penalty for …”
“ … Meddling,” said Daisy, wrinkling her nose at him but dutifully accompanying him into the house.
With all the departures, there were enough bedrooms for everyone that night. Daisy was in bed and about to turn off her light when Tish tapped on the door and came in.
“Daisy, can I talk to you?”
“Of course.” Daisy patted the bed. “Come and sit down.”
To her dismay, her cousin’s eyes were red and swollen. Aunt Cynthia had sent her up to bed right after tea, saying she
looked exhausted, and she had had her dinner on a tray, so Daisy had not seen her since her talk with Rollo. She certainly did not look as if she’d been crying from happiness.
Yet Daisy was quite sure Tish was in love with Rollo. Had he got cold feet at the last moment? He had been rather quiet all evening.
“What’s the trouble?” she asked.
“Oh Daisy, I simply must tell someone! But it’s all so dreadful, I can’t bear … .” A sob escaped her.
Reaching for the handkerchief on her bedside-table, Daisy leaned forward to put her arm round Tish’s shaking shoulders. “Here, darling. Is it something to do with Rollo?”
“Not really. Well, sort of, now. He’s asked me to marry him—it’d have to be a long engagement, but what does it matter? I told him I’d have to think about it, because I couldn’t bear to disappoint him, but I can’t let him marry a murderer!”
Daisy’s head swam. Trying to think, she leant back and clasped both Tish’s hands. “Basil DeLancey?”
Tish nodded, her eyes shut and her lips trembling in spite of being pressed tight together.
“Darling, how frightful! Tell me.”