Or, it might be Laurence, and not Brenda
That would be a much better solution.
I finished dabbing my cut chin and went down to breakfast filled with the determination to have an interview with Laurence Brown as soon as possible.
It was only as I drank my second cup of coffee that it occurred to me that the Crooked House was having its the first day aeffect on me also. I, too, wanted to find, not the true solution, but the solution that suited me best.
After breakfast I went through the hall and up the stairs. Sophia had told me that I should find Laurence giving instruction to Eustace and Josephine in the schoolroom.
I hesitated on the landing outside Brendas front door. Did I ring and knock, or did I walk right in? I decided to treat the house as an integral Leonides home and not as Brendas private residence.
I opened the door and passed inside. Everything was quiet, there seemed no one about. On my left the door into the big drawing-room was closed. On my right two open doors showed a bedroom and adjoining bathroom. This I knew was the bathroom adjoining Aristide Leonides bedroom where the eserine and the insulin had been kept.
The police had finished with it now. I pushed the door open and slipped inside. I realized then how easy it would have been for anyone in the house (or from outside the house for the matter of that!) to come up here and into the bathroom unseen.
I stood in the bathroom looking round. It was sumptuously appointed with gleaming tiles and a sunken bath. At one side were various electric appliances; a hot plate and grill under, an electric kettlea small electric saucepan, a toastereverything that a valet attendant to an old gentleman might need. On the wall was a white enamelled cupboard. I opened it. Inside were medical appliances, two medicine glasses, eyebath, eye dropper, and a few labelled bottles. Aspirin, boracic powder, iodine. Elastoplast bandages, etc. On a separate shelf were the stacked supply of insulin, two hypodermic needles, and a bottle of surgical spirit. On a third shelf was a bottle marked The Tablets one or two to be taken at night as ordered. On this shelf, no doubt, had stood the bottle of eyedrops. It was all clear, well arranged, easy for anyone to get at if needed, and equally easy to get at for murder.
I could do what I liked with the bottles and then go softly out and downstairs again and nobody would ever know I had been there. All this was, of course, nothing new, but it brought home to me how difficult the task of the police was.
Only from the guilty party or parties could one find out what one needed.
Rattle em, Taverner had said to me. Get em on the run. Make em think were on to something. Keep ourselves well in the limelight. Sooner or later, if we do, our criminal will stop leaving well alone and try to be smarter stilland thenweve got him.
Well, the criminal hadnt reacted to this treatment so far.
I came out of the bathroom. Still no one about. I went on along the corridor. I passed the dining-room on the left, and Brendas bedroom and bathroom on the right. In the latter, one of the maids was moving about. The dining-room door was closed. From a room beyond that, I heard Edith de Havilands voice telephoning to the inevitable fishmonger. A spiral flight of stairs led to the floor above. I went up them. Ediths bedroom and sitting-room were here, I knew, and two more bathrooms and Laurence Browns room. Beyond that again the short flight of steps down to the big room built out over the servants quarters at the back which was used as a schoolroom.
Outside the door I paused. Laurence Browns voice could be heard, slightly raised, from inside.
I think Josephines habit of snooping must have been catching. Quite unashamedly I leaned against the door jamb and listened.
It was a history lesson that was in progress, and the period in question was the French Directoire[114].
As I listened astonishment opened my eyes. It was a considerable surprise to me to discover that Laurence Brown was a magnificent teacher.
I dont know why it should have surprised me so much. After all, Aristide Leonides had always been a good picker of men. For all his mouselike exterior, Laurence had that supreme gift of being able to rouse enthusiasm and imagination in his pupils. The drama of Thermidor, the decree of outlawry against the Robespierrists[115], the magnificence of Barras, the cunning of FoucheNapoleon the half-starved young gunner lieutenantall these were real and living.
Suddenly Laurence stopped, he asked Eustace and Josephine a question, he made them put themselves in the place of first one and then another figure in the drama. Though he didnt get much result from Josephine, whose voice sounded as though she had a cold in the head, Eustace sounded quite different from his usual moody self. He showed brains and intelligence and the keen historical sense which he had doubtless inherited from his father.
Then I heard the chairs being pushed back and scraped across the floor. I retreated up the steps and was apparently just coming down them when the door opened.
Eustace and Josephine came out.
Hallo, I said.
Eustace looked surprised to see me.
Do you want anything? he asked politely.
Josephine, taking no interest in my presence, slipped past me.
I just wanted to see the schoolroom, I said rather feebly.
You saw it the other day, didnt you? Its just a kids place really. Used to be the nursery. Its still got a lot of toys in it.
He held open the door for me and I went in.
Laurence Brown stood by the table. He looked up, flushed, murmured something in answer to my good morning and went hurriedly out.
Youve scared him, said Eustace. Hes very easily scared.
Do you like him, Eustace?
Oh! hes all right. An awful ass, of course.
But not a bad teacher?
No, as a matter of fact hes quite interesting. He knows an awful lot. He makes you see things from a different angle. I never knew that Henry the Eighth wrote poetry to Anne Boleyn, of coursejolly decent poetry.
We talked for a few moments on such subjects as The Ancient Mariner[116], Chaucer[117], the political implications behind the Crusades, the medieval approach to life, and the, to Eustace, surprising fact that Oliver Cromwell had prohibited the celebration of Christmas Day. Behind Eustaces scornful and rather ill-tempered manner there was, I perceived, an inquiring and able mind.
Very soon, I began to realize the source of his ill humour. His illness had not only been a frightening ordeal, it had also been a frustration and a setback, just at a moment when he had been enjoying life.
I was to have been in the eleven next termand Id got my house colours. Its pretty thick to have to stop at home and do lessons with a rotten kid like Josephine. Why, shes only twelve.
Yes, but you dont have the same studies, do you?
No, of course she doesnt do advanced mathsor Latin. But you dont want to have to share a tutor with a girl.
I tried to soothe his injured male pride by remarking that Josephine was quite an intelligent girl for her age.
Dyou think so? I think shes awfully wet. Shes mad keen on this detecting stuffgoes round poking her nose in everywhere and writing things down in a little black book and pretending that shes finding out a lot. Just a silly kid, thats all she is, said Eustace loftily.
Anyway, he added, girls cant be detectives. I told her so. I think mothers quite right and the sooner Jos packed off to Switzerland the better.
Wouldnt you miss her?
Miss a kid of that age? said Eustace haughtily. Of course not. My goodness, this house is the absolute limit! Mother always haring up and down to London and bullying tame dramatists to rewrite plays for her, and making frightful fusses about nothing at all. And father shut up with his books and sometimes not hearing you if you speak to him. I dont see why I should have to be burdened with such peculiar parents. Then theres Uncle Rogeralways so hearty that it makes you shudder. Aunt Clemencys all right, she doesnt bother you, but I sometimes think shes a bit batty. Aunt Ediths not too bad, but shes old. Things have been a bit more cheerful since Sophia came back though she can be pretty sharp sometimes. But it is a queer household, dont you think so? Having a step-grandmother young enough to be your aunt or your older sister. I mean, it makes you feel an awful ass!
I had some comprehension of his feelings. I remembered (very dimly) my own supersensitiveness at Eustaces age. My horror of appearing in any way unusual or of my near relatives departing from the normal.
What about your grandfather? I said. Were you fond of him?
A curious expression flitted across Eustaces face. Grandfather, he said, was definitely anti-social!
In what way?
He thought of nothing but the profit motive. Laurence says thats completely wrong. And he was a great individualist. All that sort of thing has got to go, dont you think so?
Well, I said, rather brutally, he has gone.
A good thing, really, said Eustace. I dont want to be callous, but you cant really enjoy life at that age!
Didnt he?
He couldnt have. Anyway, it was time he went. He
Eustace broke off as Laurence Brown came back into the schoolroom.
Laurence began fussing about with some books, but I thought that he was watching me out of the corner of his eye.
He looked at his wrist-watch and said:
Please be back here sharp at eleven, Eustace. Weve wasted too much time the last few days.
OK, sir.
Eustace lounged towards the door and went out whistling.
Laurence Brown darted another sharp glance at me. He moistened his lips once or twice. I was convinced that he had come back into the schoolroom solely in order to talk to me.
Presently, after a little aimless stacking and unstacking of books and a pretence of looking for a book that was missing, he spoke:
ErHow are they getting on? he said.
They?
The police.
His nose twitched. A mouse in a trap, I thought, a mouse in a trap.
They dont take me into their confidence, I said.
Oh. I thought your father was the Assistant Commissioner.
He is, I said. But naturally he would not betray official secrets.
I made my voice purposely pompous.