Danger Point

Chapter 22

HE opened the door for her and watched her go. She walked slowly. A graceful creature, not over strong. No match at all for Lady Steyne. If she were happy she might be beautiful. No, that wasn’t the word – lovely. Yes, that was it – lovely, and sweet, and good.

She came up to Rafe Jerningham, gave him her message, and passed on.

Rafe looked after her as she went, and then took his casual way to the study.

Like Lisle, he gave the Inspector the sort of greeting he would have given to any acquaintance who had dropped in. Unlike the others, he did not sit down, but strolled to the jutting chimney breast, where he stood with his back to the hearth. Overhead, the portrait of the Jerningham who had been Lord Chief Justice of England frowned upon the scene. The crimson of the robes had gone away to the dull glow of a half extinguished fire, but the frown would endure while there was paint upon the canvas.

The Inspector, turning his chair to face the chimney-piece, met it full. The formidable brows beetled over dark eyes which were very like those of his descendants – more like Dale’s than Alicia Steyne’s or Rafe’s. But the brown skin was theirs, very marked against the grey wig. The hand grasping a parchment roll was Dale’s hand to the life.

Rafe, following the direction of the Inspector’s glance, said with a laugh,

“He was an awful old ruffian – hang you as soon as look at you. Good old days – weren’t they? You’d have been doing your job with a spot of rack and thumbscrew to get things going. Life’s gone all tame and soft – hasn’t it?”

March smiled.

“I can get along without the thumbscrews. Actually, I don’t suppose you can tell me very much, except that I’d like to know what you thought of Pell when he was here in Mr. Jerningham’s employ.”

Rafe put his hands in his pockets. He stood easily, one foot on the stone kerb which guarded the hearth, the knee bent.

He said, “I don’t know that I thought of him at all. He didn’t come my way much – I’m one of the toiling millions. I do run a small car, but the other chap, Evans, does anything I don’t do myself. Pell just didn’t come my way. You’re not asking me what he looked like, I suppose?”

“I wouldn’t mind having that.” The Inspector was thinking that you don’t describe a man without giving away your opinion of him.

Rafe’s shoulder lifted.

“Short – wiry – tough – not the sort of chap you’d pick for a Don Juan. Very good at his job, I believe. Black hair, lightish eyes – tendency to spread grease and engine oil about. You know, that’s a very funny thing, the other man, Evans, could do the same job and come out comparatively spotless where Pell would be black all over. I couldn’t see why Cissie fell for him myself, but I suppose he smartened up a bit when he went courting.”

“What sort of temper had he?”

“He never showed any to me, but then as I say, I hadn’t much to do with him. Glum, silent sort of devil, but Dale always says he’s the best mechanic he ever came across.”

March said, “Thank you.” He didn’t think Rafe Jerningham had cottoned very much to his cousin’s pet mechanic. He said,

“Did you know the girl?”

“I’ve seen her off and on since she was a baby. I can’t say I knew her.”

“She didn’t talk to you about Pell?”

“Oh, no. I don’t think she talked to anyone except Lisle.”

“You were not on those terms. But you could hardly have known her for all those years without having your own opinion of her character. Would you say she was the sort of girl who might commit suicide if she was unhappy over a love affair?”

The shoulder lifted again.

“I shouldn’t like to say. I suppose anyone might commit suicide if they were pushed too far. I don’t know how far she was pushed.”

The twice repeated verb made its own impression on the Inspector. He said in his most serious voice,

“Will you give me your impression of the girl.”

Rafe frowned. There was a fleeting likeness to the ancestral Lord Chief Justice. He said with distaste in his voice,

“Oh, a long, thin dreep. No guts. The sort that whines and has a perpetual cold when it’s a child. But with a kind of obstinacy underneath – you know what I mean.”

“Would you expect that sort of girl to throw herself over a cliff?”

“The unexpected does sometimes happen,” said Rafe.

Inspector March agreed. He took up his notebook, laid it down again, and said,

“When you left Mrs. Jerningham last night it was to go for a walk. Can you tell me in what direction you went?”

Rafe removed his foot from the stone kerb and straightened up. With a careless movement he turned his wrist and took a glance at the watch which was strapped there. He said in rather an absentminded voice,

“Oh that – I went down and along the beach.”

“In which direction?”

“Oh, round the bay.”

“Did you go in the direction of Tane Head?”

Rafe smiled.

“I was forgetting you were a stranger here. If you walk far enough round the bay you get to Tane Head – in time.”

“How much time?” said March rather quickly.

“That,” said Rafe, still smiling, “would depend upon how fast you walked.”

“How long did it take you last night?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t get as far as that last night. I turned half way. It would have been too convenient if I had gone on, wouldn’t it? Eyewitness’s account of- well, I should have been in a position to say whether it was suicide or murder. Or perhaps not? As I don’t know exactly where Cissie fell, it’s quite possible that I mightn’t have been any use as a witness even if I had been on the spot. There are places where the cliff overhangs quite a piece.”

“Are you sure you were not there?” said March very directly.

Rafe Jerningham strolled over to the table and stood looking down at the Inspector with his quizzical smile.

“Oh, quite sure.”

March returned his look with a searching one.

“I should like to know how long it usually takes you to reach Tane Head from here.”

Rafe’s tone changed. He said in a perfectly simple manner,

“It is four miles by road – say ten minutes in a car, or on foot just over the hour if you’re a good walker. Two miles by the beach, and it takes me three-quarters of an hour.”

“Thank you – that is what I wanted to know. But last night you turned back half way?”

“About half way.”

“How was the light when you turned?”

“Good enough to see me home.”

“That would be about half past nine?”

“A little later than that – but I didn’t look at my watch.”

“Could you see the headland? Could you have seen if there was anyone up there?”

“Until I turned – oh, yes.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“Not a soul.”

“Or hear anything – either before you turned or afterwards?”

“I’m afraid not. Too bad, isn’t it? I’d have been such a convenient witness if I’d only gone on round the bay! But if you’d ever tried walking there after dark you’d know why I turned back.”

March said, “I see.” And then, “What time did you get in last night?”

Rafe took his hands out of his pockets. He picked up Dale’s ruler and balanced it.

“Oh, latish,” he said. “If I’d known it was going to matter, I’d have kept count of the time, but I’m afraid I didn’t. That’s the worst of things like murders and suicides, they drop on you without any warning. If I’d known that the unfortunate Cissie was going to be anything of the sort, I’d have kept an eye on the time, but as it was, I just dawdled along and finished up by sitting down by the sea wall until – well, that’s the bother, I don’t know when.”

“Midnight?” suggested the Inspector.

“It might have been,” said Rafe.