Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 8: Death at the Dolphin, Hand in Glove, Dead Water

‘The name of Leonard Sydney Leiss appears on the most recent list. Two previous convictions. Obtaining goods under false pretences. The portrait-parlé coincides. It’s a confidential matter, Mr Period, but seeing that the young man gave your name with such assurance and seeing he was very warmly backed up by the young lady who is Miss Constance Cartell’s adopted niece, I thought I would come and mention it, quietly. Particularly, sir, as there’s a complication.’

Mr Period stared dismally at him. ‘Complication?’ he said.

‘Well, sir, yes. You see, for some time Leiss has been working in collusion with a young female who – I’m very sorry, I’m sure, sir – but the description of this young female does tally rather closely with the general appearance of Miss Cartell’s aforesaid adopted niece.’

There was a long silence. Then Mr Period said: ‘This is all rather dreadful.’

‘I take it, sir, you gave the young man no authority to use your name?’

‘Merciful heavens, no.’

‘Then perhaps we may just have a little chat with Mr Cartell?’

Mr Period rang the bell.

Mr Cartell behaved quite differently from Mr Period. He contracted into the shell of what Nicola supposed to be his professional manner as a solicitor. He looked pinched. Two isolated spots of colour appeared on his cheek-bones. Nicola thought he was very angry indeed.

‘I am much obliged to you, Sergeant,’ he said at last, ‘for bringing this affair to my attention. You have acted very properly.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘Very properly. If I may suggest a course of action it will be this. I shall inform my sister of the undesirability of having any further communication with this person: and she will see that his acquaintance with Miss Mary Ralston is terminated. Copper, of course, must be advised at once and he may then, if he thinks it proper, decline any further negotiations.’

Sergeant Raikes opened his mouth, but Mr Cartell raised a finger and he shut it again.

‘I need not add,’ Mr Cartell said crisply, ‘that no undertaking of any kind whatever was given by Mr Period or by myself. Permission was not asked, and would certainly have been declined, for the use of our names. It might be as well, might it not, if I were to telephone Copper at once and suggested that he rids himself of Leiss and the other car which he left, I understand, to be repaired at the garage. I shall then insist that Miss Ralston, who I imagine is there, returns at once. What’s the matter, Raikes?’

‘The matter,’ Sergeant Raikes said warmly, ‘is this, sir. George Copper can’t be told not to make the sale and Miss Ralston can’t be brought back to be warned.’

‘My dear Raikes, why not?’

‘Because George Copper has been fool enough to let young Leiss get away with it. And he has got away with it. With the sports car, sir, and the young lady inside it. And where they’ve gone, sir, is to use the expression, nobody’s business.’

III

Who can form an objective view of events with which, however lightly, he has been personally involved? Not Nicola. When, after the climax, she tried to sort out her impressions of these events she found that in every detail they were coloured by her own preferences and sympathies.

At the moment, for instance, she was concerned to notice that, while Mr Period had suffered a shrewd blow to his passionate snobbery, Mr Cartell’s reaction was more disingenuous and resourceful. And while Mr Period was fretful, Mr Cartell, she thought, was nipped with bitter anger.

He made a complicated noise in his throat and then said sharply: ‘They must be traced, of course. Has Copper actually transacted the sale? Change of ownership and so on?’

‘He’s accepted Mr Leiss’s car, which is a souped-up old bag of a job, George reckons, in part payment, and he’s let Mr Leiss try out the Scorpion on the understanding that, if he likes it, the deal’s on.’

‘Then they will return to the garage?’

‘They ought to,’ Sergeant Raikes said with some emphasis. ‘The point is, sir, will they? Likely enough, he’ll drive straight back to London. He may sell the car before he’s paid for it and trust to his connection here to get him out of the red if things become awkward. He’s played that caper before and he may play it again.’

Mr Cartell said: ‘May I, P.P.?’ and reached for the telephone.

‘If it’s all the same with you gentlemen, I think I’ll make the call,’ Sergeant Raikes said unexpectedly.

Mr Cartell said: ‘As you wish,’ and moved away from the desk.

Mr Period began feeling, in an agitated way, in his pockets. He said fretfully: ‘What have I done with my cigarettes?’

Nicola said: ‘I think the case was left in the dining-room. I’ll fetch it.’

As she hurried out she heard the telephone ring.

The dining-room table was cleared and the window open. The cigarette-case was nowhere to be seen. She was about to go in search of Alfred when he came in. He had not seen the case, he said. Nicola remembered very clearly that, as she stood back at the door for Miss Cartell, she had noticed it on the window-sill and she said as much to Alfred.

A shutter came down over Alfred’s face.

‘It wasn’t there when I cleared, miss.’

Nicola said: ‘Oh, well! I expect after all, Mr Period—’ and then remembered that Mr Period had left the dining-room to answer the telephone and had certainly not collected the cigarette-case when he briefly returned.

Alfred said: ‘The window was on the latch as it is now, when I cleared, miss. I’d left it shut, as usual.’

Nicola looked at it. It was a casement window and was hooked open to the extent of some eight inches. Beyond it were the rose garden, the side gate and the excavations in the lane. As she stared out of it, a shovelful of earth was thrown up; derisively, she might almost have thought, by one of the workmen, invisible in the trench.

‘Never mind,’ she said. ‘We’ll find it. Don’t worry.’

‘I hope so, I’m sure, miss. It’s a valuable object.’

‘I know.’

They were staring doubtfully at each other when Mr Period came in looking exceedingly rattled.

‘Nicola, my dear: Andrew Bantling on the telephone, for you. Would you mind taking it in the hall? We are un peu occupé, in the study. I’m so sorry.’

‘Oh, dear!’ Nicola said, ‘so am I, that you’ve been bothered. Mr Period – your cigarette-case isn’t in here, I’m afraid.’

‘But I distinctly remember –’ Mr Period began. ‘Well,’ never mind. Your telephone call, child.’

Nicola went into the hall.

Andrew Bantling said: ‘Oh, there you are at last! What goes on in the lay-by? P.P. sounded most peculiar.’

‘He’s awfully busy.’

‘You’re being discreet and trustworthy. Never mind, I shall gimlet it out of you on the train. You couldn’t make the three thirty, I suppose?’

‘Not possibly.’

‘Then I shall simply have to lurk in the lane like a follower. There’s nowhere for me to be in this district. Baynesholme has become uninhabitable on account –’ he lowered his voice and evidently put his mouth very close to the receiver, so that consonants popped and sibilants hissed in Nicola’s eardrum.

‘What did you say?’