The Stowmarket Mystery; Or, A Legacy of Hate. Louis Tracy
Cunningham, had brought this weapon, with others, from the Far East. It lay for fifty years in our gun-room at Glen Tochan.”
“So you met Sir Alan soon after his return home?”
“Yes, in London, the day he arrived. Came to town on purpose, in fact. Afterwards I travelled North, and he went to Beechcroft.”
“How long afterwards? Be particular as to dates.”
“It is quite a simple matter, owing to the season. Alan reached Charing Cross from Brindisi on December 20. We remained together—that is, lived at the same hotel, paid calls in company, visited the same restaurants, went to the same theatres—until the night of the 23rd, when we parted. It is a tradition of my family that the members of it should spend Christmas together.”
“A somewhat unusual tradition in Scotland, is it not?”
“Yes, but it was my mother’s wish, so my father and I keep the custom up.”
“Your father is still living?”
“Yes, thank goodness!”
“He is now the sixth baronet?”
“He is not. Neither he nor I will assume the title while the succession bears the taint of crime.”
“Did you quarrel with your cousin in London?”
“Not by word or thought. He seemed to be surprised when I told him of my engagement to Helen, but he warmly congratulated me. One afternoon he was a trifle short-tempered, but not with me.”
“Tell me about this.”
“His sister is, or was then, a rather rapid young lady. She discovered that certain money-lenders would honour her drafts on her brother, and she had been going the pace somewhat heavily. Alan went to see her, told her to stop this practice, and sent formal notice to the same effect through his solicitors to the bill discounters. It annoyed him, not on account of the money, but that his sister should act in such a way,”
“Ah, this is important! It was not mentioned at the trial.”
“Why should it be?”
“Who can say? I wish to goodness I had helped your butler to raise Sir Alan’s lifeless body. But about this family dispute. Was there a scene—tears, recriminations?”
“Not a bit. You don’t know Rita. We used to call her Rita because, as boys, we teased her by saying her name was Margharita, and not Margaret”
“Why?”
“She has such a foreign manner and style.” “How did she acquire them?”
“She was a big girl, six years old, and tall for her age, when her parents settled down in England. She first spoke Italian, and picked up Italian ways from her nurse, an old party who was devotedly attached to her. Even Alan was a good Italian linguist, and given to foreign manners when a little chap. But Harrow soon knocked them out of him. Rita retained them.”
“I see. A curious household. I should have expected this young lady to upbraid her brother after the style of the prima donna in grand opera.”
“No. He told me she laughed at him, and invited him to witness the trying on of a fancy dress costume, the ‘Queen of Night,’ which she wore at a bal masqué the night he was murdered.”
“When did she get married?”
“Last January, at Naples, very suddenly, and without the knowledge of any of her relatives.”
“She had been living at Beechcroft nearly a year, then?”
“Yes, she went South in the winter. The reason she gave was that the Hall would be depressing on the anniversary of her brother’s death. She had become most popular in the district. Helen is very fond of her, and was quite shocked to hear of her marriage. The local people do not like Signor Capella.”
“Why?”
“It is difficult to give a reason. Miss Layton does not indulge in details, but that is the impression I gather from her letters.”
Hume paused, and Brett shot a quick glance at him.
“Finish what you were going to say,” he said.
“Only this—Helen and I have mutually released each other from our engagement, and in the same breath have refused to be released. That is, if you understand—”
The barrister nodded.
“The result is that we are both thoroughly miserable. Our respective fathers do not like the idea of our marriage under the circumstances. We are simply drifting in the feeble hope that some day a kindly Providence will dissipate the cloud that hangs over me. Ah, Mr. Brett, I am a rich man. Command the limits of my fortune, but clear me. Prove to Helen that her faith in my innocence is justified.”
“For goodness’ sake light another cigarette,” snapped the barrister. “You have interfered with my line of thought. It is all wriggly.”
Quite a minute elapsed before he began again.
“What caused the trouble at Mrs. Eastham’s ball?”
“I think I can explain that. It seems that Alan’s father told him to get married—”
“Told him!”
“Well, left instructions.”
“How?”
“I do not know. I only gathered as much from my cousin’s remarks. Well, it was not until his final home-coming that he realised what a beautiful woman the jolly little girl he knew as a boy had developed into. She was just the kind of wife he wanted, and I fancy he imagined I had stolen a march on him. But he was a thoroughly straightforward, manly fellow, and something very much out of the common must have upset him before he vented his anger on me and Helen.”
“Have you any notion—”
“Not the least. Pardon me. I suppose you were going to ask if I guessed the cause?”
“Yes.”
“It is quite unfathomable. We parted the best of friends in London, although he knew all about the engagement. We met again at 6 p.m. on New Year’s Eve, and he was very short with me. I can only vaguely assume that some feeling of resentment had meanwhile been working up in him, and it found expression during his chat with Helen in the conservatory.”
“Did you use threats to him during the subsequent wrangle?”
“Threats! Good gracious, no. I was angry with him for spoiling Miss Layton’s enjoyment. I called him an ass, and said that he had better have remained away another year than come back and make mischief. That is all. Mrs. Eastham was far more outspoken.”
“Indeed. What did she say?”
“She hinted that his temper was a reminiscence of his Southern birth, always a sore point with him, and contrasted me with him, to his disadvantage. All very unfair, of course, but, you see, she was the hostess, and Alan had upset her party very much.”
“So you walked home, and resolved to hold out the olive branch?”
“Most decidedly. I was older, perhaps a trifle more sedate. I knew that Helen loved me. There were no difficulties in the way of our marriage, which was arranged for the following spring. Indeed, my second trial took place on the very date we had selected. It was my duty to use poor Alan gently. Even his foolish and unreasonable jealousy was a compliment.”
Brett threw the scrap-book on to the table. He clasped his hands in front of his knees, tucking his heels on the edge of his chair.
“Mr. Hume,” he said slowly, gazing fixedly at the other, “I believe you. You did not kill your cousin.”
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