The Riddle at Gipsy's Mile (An Angela Marchmont Mystery 4) Read online

  After a moment’s thought, she approached him.

  ‘Why, Herbert,’ she said, ‘whatever are you doing here?’

  Herbert Pilkington-Soames jumped when he heard her voice, but then turned and recovered when he saw her.

  ‘Hallo, Angela,’ he said, in something like his usual jocular manner. ‘Have you recovered from the scrimmage down in Littlechurch yet? I hear there was quite a to-do.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Angela, but that was not what she wanted to talk about, and she went on quickly, ‘Herbert, did you know that Gil has gone missing?’

  His smile faded and a look of surprise passed briefly across his face, to be replaced by an expression that Angela could not read.

  ‘Gone missing? What do you mean?’ he said.

  ‘Just what I say. He ran off on Sunday, leaving a note.’

  ‘Oh? And what did the note say?’ said Herbert warily.

  ‘It said that he felt he wasn’t good enough for Lucy, and that he wanted to go and think about things for a while, and that nobody should go and look for him.’

  Herbert let out a breath.

  ‘Really? Just that?’ he said.

  ‘You sound surprised. What else did you expect?’ said Angela, regarding him closely.

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ he said. ‘I just meant—I thought—it’s just a shock, that’s all.’

  ‘You weren’t expecting a confession, perhaps?’

  Again the look of surprise passed fleetingly across his face, but then he turned away.

  ‘A confession? Of what?’ he said.

  ‘Murder,’ said Angela.

  He turned back towards her and his face was white, but he said nothing and only gazed at her questioningly.

  ‘How much do you know, Herbert?’ said Angela.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  ‘I hope you don’t think I’m happy about all this,’ said Herbert at last. ‘It’s a rotten business. Rotten, I tell you. But—well—Gil saved my life once, and it doesn’t do to let a fellow down when he’s done that for you. So you know it all, do you? I suppose you’ve told the police.’

  ‘I had to, Herbert,’ said Angela. ‘You must see that.’

  ‘Oh, quite, quite,’ he said. ‘You’re not to blame. You know your duty. I only wish I knew mine.’

  Angela regarded him sympathetically.

  ‘I suppose the police will be out combing the country for him now,’ he went on.

  ‘I imagine so,’ said Angela.

  ‘And then they’ll catch him and hang him like a dog. A fine end for him.’

  ‘Don’t!’ cried Angela. A wave of horror flooded over her. What had she done?

  He saw her face and hastened to apologize.

  ‘I’m sorry, old girl. Please don’t suppose I blame you. Gil must face up to what he has done—and besides, it wouldn’t have been right of him to let that Chinese chappie hang in his place. Damn’ bad show, what?’

  Angela pulled herself together.

  ‘Suppose you tell me the whole story,’ she said. ‘Perhaps there are circumstances that will cause the judge to look upon him sympathetically.’

  ‘I hope so,’ he said soberly. ‘Very well, what do you want to know?’

  ‘Did you know he was already married before he got engaged to Lucy?’

  ‘No!’ he said emphatically. ‘I swear I knew nothing about it.’

  ‘But you had met Lita?’

  He nodded.

  ‘If it’s the girl I think it is, then yes.’

  Little by little, Angela drew the tale out of him. In the spring of 1918 he, Miles and Gil had managed to wangle a few days’ leave from the Front and had decided to spend them in London. Herbert was the only one of the three who was married then, but Cynthia and Freddy were staying with her parents in the North of England, since her father was gravely ill, so it was not possible for him to see them in the time available, and he had therefore remained with his friends. Things had been pretty grim in Belgium up until then, and so they were determined to celebrate their brief time of freedom. They had a riotous time of it, all told, and did one or two things which—here he coughed—it was not strictly necessary for Angela to know about. During the course of those few days, however, they had gone to the theatre to see a musical production, and went around to wait by the stage door afterwards. As a result of that, Gil took up with a girl who danced in the chorus and called herself Lita. At a certain point, Gil had abandoned them and disappeared with Lita, and they had not seen him again until they returned to duty. He had said nothing about the girl, and they assumed that things had finished there and then.

  ‘But they hadn’t,’ said Angela.

  ‘No,’ said Herbert.

  ‘When did you find out about the marriage?’

  ‘Not until the other week, when we were all down at Gipsy’s Mile,’ said Herbert grimly. ‘It was Miles who told me.’

  ‘Miles? How did he know about it?’

  ‘Why, because he helped Gil dispose of the body, of course.’

  Angela stared at him, thunderstruck.

  ‘What?’ she cried, hardly able to believe her ears.

  ‘But I thought you knew,’ said Herbert. ‘I thought Miles must have told you everything.’

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ said Angela. She felt suddenly as though she had been pitched from an unpleasant dream into the most frightful nightmare. ‘I didn’t know anything about it.’

  ‘Then how did you find out about Gil and Lita?’

  ‘I’ve seen a copy of their marriage certificate,’ said Angela.

  Herbert nodded in comprehension, but did not ask why or how.

  ‘I see,’ he said. ‘And so you realized immediately that he must have done it. Of course.’

  ‘Tell me what happened,’ said Angela, although she was not at all sure that she wanted to hear. Poor Marguerite! What would happen to them now? This was far worse than she had imagined.

  ‘I don’t know, exactly,’ said Herbert. ‘It was all over by the time I arrived, but Miles confided to me the next day that Gil had got himself into the most tremendous scrape and he’d somehow found himself helping and was feeling terrible about it.’

  According to Herbert, Gil had telephoned Miles on the Thursday afternoon—the day before the party arrived at Gipsy’s Mile—in a great state, saying confusedly that something awful had happened and he didn’t know what to do about it. To Miles it sounded very much as though Gil had plunged into another nervous episode similar to the one he’d had years ago, so he hastened to his friend’s assistance, thinking that perhaps he just needed bucking up a bit. Never in his wildest imaginings had he expected what he found when he arrived at Blakeney Park and discovered that Gil had a dead body on his hands and couldn’t quite explain where it had come from, but needed to get rid of it in a hurry.

  Of course, Miles wanted to know who she was, and Gil confessed that it was Lita, the girl he’d met in London that time, and that he had rather stupidly married her without mentioning it. They had both realized immediately that it was a mistake, and had parted, and Gil had more or less forgotten about her, or at least had succeeded in blocking her out of his mind (here Angela shook her head in astonishment), but then years later she turned up out of the blue, and although he was engaged to Lucy there was no getting away from the fact that he was already married. And now Lita was dead and it was all his fault, although he couldn’t quite say how it had happened, and now what was he to do? Miles, naturally, was completely shocked and taken aback by the whole thing, and in the tumult of his thoughts the one idea that came to the fore was the need to get rid of the body as soon as possible, so that’s what they did.

  ‘Whose idea was it to disfigure her face?’ said Angela.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Herbert, looking rather sick. ‘I didn’t ask, because I didn’t want to know anything more about it. The whole thing has been weighing on my mind for weeks now. I wish Miles hadn’t told me.’

  ‘Is that why you didn’t come to the sculpture exhibition?�
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  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think I could play the part any more. I managed it that first weekend at Gipsy’s Mile, but I expect that’s because it hadn’t really sunk in then.’

  They both fell silent, deep in thought. If it had been difficult for Angela to report Gil to the police, it was a real wrench to the heart now that she knew Miles was mixed up in the thing, and she heartily wished that she had kept on walking when she spotted Herbert standing by the Serpentine. But a thing once known could never be unknown, and now she had to decide what to do. Miles was her friend’s husband; could she give him away to the police?

  She glanced up and saw Herbert regarding her sympathetically.

  ‘I know, old girl, it’s hard,’ he said. ‘Now you know how I have felt these past few weeks.’

  ‘I almost wish I hadn’t asked,’ said Angela.

  ‘So the police know nothing about Miles, then?’

  ‘No—or at least, not from me,’ said Angela.

  ‘They will find out soon enough, though.’

  Angela said nothing, uncomfortably aware that the only way they were likely to find out was if she told them, since she doubted that Gil would want to betray the friend who had helped him out.

  ‘What are you going to do now?’ said Herbert.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Angela.

  ‘Your friend in the police will want to know about Miles.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose he will.’

  ‘Well, I won’t blame you if you tell him,’ said Herbert. ‘I’m in rather a muddle about the whole thing myself.’

  ‘Herbert, do you know where Gil has gone?’

  ‘I didn’t even know he’d gone missing until you told me,’ he said. ‘I hope he’s not going to do anything silly, though. He can’t have been in his right mind when he—he did it. Gil’s not like that. He’s a good fellow, Angela,’ he went on firmly, ‘and I can’t help thinking that there must be more to this than meets the eye. I can’t and won’t believe he killed a woman in cold blood. We went through a lot together, the three of us, and had the kind of experiences that really test the mettle of a man, and I know he’s not that sort.’

  Angela did not know what to reply. She had no doubt that what Herbert said about his friend was true; but even the best of men had their weak moments, and who knew what had occurred between Gil and Lita to cause him to kill her? It was not hard to imagine a situation in which the pressure put upon him by his mother to make a suitable marriage had built up gradually inside him until it became intolerable and finally found vent in violence following the arrival of his long-forgotten and wholly unsuitable wife.

  ‘I must go,’ said Angela at last.

  ‘Yes, you’d better go and telephone your tame inspector,’ said Herbert with a sad smile. ‘Try not to feel too bad about it.’

  They shook hands and Angela returned to Mount Street and her flat. As an exercise in shaking off the gloom, she reflected, the walk had failed badly.

  As soon as she got home, she picked up the telephone-receiver, determined to get the unpleasant business over and done with as soon as possible. To her great relief, however, the voice on the other end of the line informed her that Inspector Jameson was out and not expected back for some time. Would Mrs. Marchmont like to leave a message? No, said Angela, feeling as though she had been given a reprieve; she would call back later.

  She replaced the receiver and stood staring at her reflection in a glass that hung on the wall next to the telephone-table. She lifted her hands and attempted to smooth out the furrows that seemed to have appeared on her brow overnight, but as soon as she took her hands away the frown re-formed itself. She sighed. It was no good: what was done was done, and they should all have to live with the consequences, whatever they may be.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Angela slept badly that night and rose the next morning with her head still full of the revelations of the day before. She knew she would have to telephone Scotland Yard again, but decided to put off doing it until later. Fortunately for her, shortly after breakfast she received an unexpected visit from some friends who had come up to London for a few days, and she was able to forget her troubles for a little while. The friends stayed for lunch and then departed, and Angela reluctantly decided that she must put off the telephone-call no longer. She was just about to lift the receiver when the instrument rang shrilly and she jumped. She picked it up. It was a trunk call.

  ‘Angela, is that you?’ came Marguerite’s voice at the other end of the line, then, without waiting for a reply, she went on, ‘Oh, Angela, Miles has been arrested!’

  ‘What?’ said Angela.

  ‘Yes. Oh, I hardly know where I am or what I’m doing, darling. We’ve had one shock after another down here. Yesterday afternoon we were thrown all into confusion when the police came and said that they had a warrant to arrest Gil for the murder of that woman—you know, the one you found in the ditch. I couldn’t believe it! Gil, of all people! It turns out that he’d married this girl secretly years ago, and thought she was dead, or something, but then she turned up and was threatening to ruin the wedding—well, of course, there wouldn’t have been a wedding, would there? You can’t go marrying someone when you’re already married to someone else. Apparently Gil got into the most awful fright and killed her in a panic, but didn’t know what to do next so he called Miles, who went along and gave him a hand to dump the body and has now gone and confessed it to the police, the silly old fool. Did you ever hear anything so ridiculous in all your life? What on earth was he thinking? And now he’s been arrested and they’re going to charge him with having been an accessory after the fact, and I just know they’ll give him twenty years in prison, and then what shall I do, darling?’ The last few words came out as sobs.

  Angela felt a mixture of shock and relief. Now that Miles had spoken up of his own accord, his arrest was one thing at least for which she need not blame herself.

  ‘But why did he confess?’ she said.

  ‘Herbert knew all about it, and persuaded him to do it,’ sniffed Marguerite. ‘He telephoned yesterday to say that he’d heard the police were after Gil, and that the fat was in the fire now, so he’d better go and tell all.’

  ‘I see,’ said Angela. Good old Herbert—he had saved her some sleepless nights, at least. ‘And where is Miles now?’

  ‘At the police station,’ said Marguerite. ‘Scotland Yard are there, questioning him. He must be feeling dreadful, the poor darling. I don’t suppose he’d have done it had he not felt there was a jolly good reason for it.’

  Angela marvelled at Marguerite’s unfailing ability to sympathize with people and see the best in them. Never mind the fact that her husband had helped cover up a murder; she was concerned only with the effect on him of his presumed guilty conscience.

  ‘What will you do now?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s why I called you,’ said Marguerite. ‘I can’t bear the thought of being all alone at home. Freddy is here, of course, and he’s sympathetic enough, but he’s only really come because the Clarion have sent him and they want to bags the story. Will you come down and stay for a few days? Please say you will, darling. Cynthia would be no good to me at all, but you are always such a comforting presence.’

  ‘Of course I will,’ said Angela. She rang off and instructed Marthe to pack some things, as she was going away for a few days. Then she called William and told him to get the Bentley ready, as they were going back down to Kent.

  He saw her serious expression and said, ‘Has something happened, ma’am?’

  ‘Several things have happened,’ said Angela. ‘Gilbert Blakeney is being hunted by the police for the murder of Lita de Marquez, and Mr. Harrison has been arrested on suspicion of helping to dispose of the body. The good news, such as it is, is that Johnny Chang is in the clear, and it looks likely that your friend Alvie will shortly get his job back.’

  William digested this information in silence, then went off to do as he was bid.

  They made
good time on the journey down to Kent. Marguerite was looking out for them, and ran outside as soon as she saw the motor-car arrive.

  ‘Darling!’ she cried, throwing herself on Angela. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come. I couldn’t bear being all alone here for a moment longer.’

  She was exaggerating somewhat, for when Angela entered the house she found Freddy in the sitting-room, lounging glumly in a window-seat and staring out into the garden. To her surprise, Lucy Syms was also there.

  ‘Oh, Lucy!’ said Angela.

  ‘Hallo, Angela,’ replied the girl. ‘I expect you’ve heard that we’ve had a bit of a sticky time of it here lately.’ Her self-possession was as complete as ever.

  ‘Do—do the police have any idea where Gil has gone?’ said Angela, uncomfortably conscious that she had been the one to set them on to him in the first place.

  ‘No,’ said Lucy. ‘He left suddenly on Sunday afternoon and hasn’t been seen since. Of course, I was terribly concerned at first because Lady Alice was so ill, and it really was a most inconvenient time for him to have a nervous episode, but it wasn’t until yesterday that the police came and told me the whole story. I must say, it came as rather a surprise.’

  This seemed such an enormous understatement that Angela’s face must have shown her astonishment, and Lucy blushed slightly.

  ‘You must think me terribly unfeeling,’ she said, ‘but I’m not, truly. This has hit me as hard as anyone, I assure you. It’s just that—well, I was on my own for such a long time, and I got used to shifting for myself and shaking things off as best I could. One doesn’t get on in life if one takes every little adversity too much to heart.’