Chapter 17
General Carradine looked surprised at the mass invasion of his study, but not very. No doubt he was resigned to possessing two insubordinate daughters. To Daisy’s surprise, though, he appeared to be relieved to see her. She couldn’t imagine why.
Webster presented his usual impassive mask to the invaders. He’d probably look just the same if a troop of Prussian cavalry trotted up the stairs.
If anyone was made uneasy by the ladies crowding into the room, it was General Sir Patrick Heald.
Daisy couldn’t blame him. But he braced up and bit the bullet.
“Carradine,” he said, “I told you, did I not, that I must get away to Kent for my wife’s do this evening?
I find the gates are still locked. Is there to be no end to our incarceration?
Have you no word on when we shall be released? ”
“My dear fellow,” said Carradine, “I’m as anxious to hear as you can possibly be.
I’ve had the Constable on the telephone wanting to know when the public can be admitted again.
At this moment, I’m waiting for Chief Inspector Fletcher to come and give me some answers, but whether he’ll provide the answers we want, I can’t tell you.
It’s all up to Scotland Yard, you know. You’re very welcome to wait here with me until Mr. Fletcher brings the latest report. ”
Brenda and Fay exchanged a glance of dismay, but they needn’t have worried.
Sir Patrick muttered something about letters to write. “You will let me know as soon as you have word?”
“Certainly, Sir Patrick. You’d better send a telegram to Lady Julia, however, to warn her you may be unavoidably delayed in town.”
“I suppose I’d better. It really is most inconvenient.”
Daisy waited until the door closed behind him before she said, “Alec can’t actually prevent Sir Patrick’s leaving if he insists, General.”
“It won’t hurt him to be put to some inconvenience for once in exchange for his free residence in town.” Carradine sounded slightly malicious. He worked for his residence.
“He seems very anxious to go.”
“Doesn’t want to upset his wife. She’s the one with the money. Keeps him firmly under her thumb, too, which is why he’s so glad of his ‘pied-à-terre,’ as he insists on calling it. You’re not to repeat that, girls,” he added sternly.
Brenda and Fay stifled their giggles. “We won’t, Daddy.”
“We wanted to talk to you.”
“Before Mr. Fletcher comes.”
“About what Aunt Alice said this morning.”
“There’s no need for you to trouble your heads about that.” Carradine frowned at Daisy. “You haven’t been bothering Mrs. Fletcher on the subject, have you?”
“We needed advice.”
“And she did offer to teach us modern etiquette.”
The Governor sank his head in his hands. “You told her all about it.”
“We don’t know all about it, Daddy.”
“Only what Aunt Alice said.”
“Recollect, sir,” said Webster, “even I don’t know the subject of Rumford’s unfortunate insinuations.”
“No, that’s true.” Clutching at this straw, Carradine raised his head.
“But we think Aunt Alice is right.”
“You should tell Mr. Fletcher.”
“Not everything.”
“Just that he was blackmailing you.”
“And Mrs. Fletcher agrees.”
“She says he probably doesn’t need to know more than that.”
“And if you tell—”
“The police are less likely to believe you murdered Crabtree,” said Brenda encouragingly.
Carradine surged to his feet, leant on the desk with his fists, and roared, “I did not murder Crabtree!”
“Oh, we know that, Daddy.”
Subsiding, the Governor looked at Daisy.
“I shan’t tell Alec what the girls told me. He’d only object that it’s nothing but hearsay. However, I should warn you that he already has a fair notion of Rumford’s doings, and that you’re one of his victims.”
“If I admit to your husband that Rumford is blackmailing me, is it true he won’t ask what about?”
“I can’t guarantee anything,” she admitted, “but I do know that the police abhor blackmailers almost as much as murderers, and they do their best to keep their revelations quiet.”
“Yes, that’s all very well, but if Rumford is arrested for extortion, what’s to stop him blowing the gaff?”
“Daddy, did you do something truly awful in Mesopotamia?” Fay asked apprehensively.
“I don’t know where you got that idea, my girl,” Carradine said, his face grim, “and it’s none of your business anyway. Off with the pair of you. I want to talk to Mrs. Fletcher.”
For once, the girls obeyed without argument. As they left, Fay cast a look of appeal at Daisy.
“I’ll come and find you in a little while,” Daisy promised. Once again, she wished fervently that she hadn’t come. What on earth could the Governor want to ask her that she hadn’t already told him?
“Why the deuce did I invite Alice to come and live with us?” he groaned.
Neither Daisy nor Webster attempted to reply to this rhetorical question. Before the beleaguered general could say another word, the door opened again.
“Oh, sir, here’s the Chief Detective. He wouldn’t wait downstairs. . . .”
Alec walked in. His policeman’s imperturbability failed to withstand the shock of seeing his wife. “Great Scott, what the deuce are you doing here, Daisy? I beg your pardon, sir. Good morning.”
“Is it still morning? I feel as if I’ve aged several years since the sun rose. Good morning, Mr. Fletcher.”
“You wanted a report, sir, but I’m afraid—”
“I know, I know, you want to ask some questions. Sit down, do. But before you start, I have something to tell you.”
“I’m sure you’d prefer Daisy to leave.”
“No, no, she already knows everything—everything I’m going to tell you, that is—thanks to those dashed girls of mine.
The plain fact is, Rumford’s been blackmailing me.
If, as I assume to be the case, you have come to the conclusion that Crabtree was killed by mistake because he was taken for Rumford—”
“Why, exactly, do you assume that?”
“My elderly but shrewd cousin, Mrs. Tebbit, worked it out,” said Carradine dryly. “I’d be very surprised if you hadn’t. Mrs. Fletcher made the acquaintance of both men and no doubt passed on her equally shrewd judgement of their characters.”
Alec’s dark look forbade her commenting on Carradine’s assumption that she had set him on the right track. She wondered whether she ought to take notes of his interview with the Resident Governor. Better not unless he asked her to.
“Before we get to your involvement, sir, I’d like to clear up one or two points. First, as I approached, a gentleman was hurrying away from your house. He ducked down the side steps—I was coming round the other way, from the hospital—and his hat hid his face, but I think it was Sir Patrick Heald?”
“I expect so. He was here just before you, wanting to know when he’d be permitted to leave the Tower. I’m surprised he didn’t stop to ask you. He has some engagement in Kent this evening that he’s anxious not to miss. May I send to tell him he’s free to go?”
“No, I’d better talk to Sir Patrick before he goes. I don’t want to have to chase after him down to the wilds of Kent, which would probably embarrass him, besides.”
“I hope you’ll see him next, then, or I’ll have him coming round to pester me again, though I keep telling him it’s not for me to decide.”
“We’ll see. Now, Mr. Webster was kind enough to provide a good deal of helpful information about the organisation of the Tower. Am I correct in thinking that Crabtree took orders only from you, sir, and from Mr. Webster acting in your name?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Carradine looked at Webster, who nodded.
“You want to know whether either of us sent him on an errand that would have taken him to the steps in the middle of the night. I did not, and Jeremy has no authority to give orders except those passed on directly from me. The last time I saw the poor fellow was when he handed me the Keys, as usual, precisely at ten. Mrs. Fletcher was present and, I’m sure, will confirm that I gave him no instructions. ”
“Not that I recall,” said Daisy. “I remember you were anxious about Brenda and Fay because they hadn’t returned with me.
Otherwise, I might have mentioned—” She stopped as Alec sent her a warning glance, then went on without mentioning what she hadn’t mentioned.
“But as it was, I didn’t say anything about it.
” Alec would guess she was talking about the meeting with Rumford.
“You’re certain?” Alec asked.
“Quite certain.”
“Well,” said the mystified Governor, “I have no idea what you didn’t tell me, but I suppose you understand each other. Have you found out what time poor Crabtree died, Mr. Fletcher?”
“Midnight,” intoned Webster. The others stared at him, and he went slightly pink. “Wasn’t it, Chief Inspector? It’s the only time that makes sense. Since you told us that Rumford is in the hospital—”
“Of course!” said Carradine. “Rumford and Dixon, the Chapel Clerk, take it in turns to pop down at midnight and check that all’s well with the Byward watchman and in the Warders’ Hall. That night must have been Rumford’s turn.”
“It was, sir,” Webster confirmed. “I checked the schedule as soon as the Chief Inspector said Rumford was ill, and I also checked what time he was admitted to the hospital, which was shortly after the Keys were handed over. My theory is—”
“I see you’ve been doing my sleuthing for me, Mr. Webster,” said Alec, torn between amusement and dismay.
“You’re right so far, and I may want to get back to you later for your theory, but at present I must get on with the subject of blackmail.
Have you by any chance kept any of Rumford’s demands, General? ”
“ ‘Kept’? Oh, letters, you mean. He didn’t write any.”
“None? Not even the first time?”
“What need, when he lives so close? We see each other practically every day. Not that he was next door when I first came here. His first demand, couched as a request, was that whenever there might be a vacancy for any of the special positions, he should be considered. They all draw extra pay, you know, Chief Warder, Yeoman Gaoler, Raven Master, Chapel Clerk.”