The Clock Strikes Twelve

Chapter 18

Irene passed nervously into the study, threw a shrinking glance about her, and sat down as far from the writing-table as possible. To the Superintendent’s invitation to come a little nearer she responded with obvious reluctance. So very, very odd to see him sitting there in Mr. Paradine’s place. No one else had ever sat there or used the table. She had the feeling that he might walk in suddenly and surprise them, and be very, very angry. The thought of it made her feel as if cold water was running down her back, like the drip from an umbrella. She did hope this statement business wasn’t going to take long.

The Superintendent was looking at her quite kindly and politely. He said, like an echo of what she was thinking,

“I won’t keep you long, Mrs. Ambrose. I just want you to tell me what happened last night.”

“Last night?”

“Yes. There was a New Year’s Eve party here, wasn’t there? You, and your husband, and Miss Ambrose, and Miss Pennington came to it?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Dinner was at eight, I think, or just a little later. You were in the dining-room till about nine. At half past nine you and your party went home. Now why was that?”

Irene brightened.

“Oh, yes-my little girl wasn’t well-at least I was afraid she might be sickening for something, but she’s quite all right today. You see, she had a spot on her chest, and Dr. Horton said it was nothing, but you never can tell with spots, and though she didn’t have a temperature or anything, or of course I shouldn’t have dreamed of leaving her, I was naturally anxious to get back. I didn’t want to come out at all, but my husband really insisted. And of course Mr. Paradine wouldn’t have liked it if any of us had stayed away.”

Superintendent Vyner said, “Quite so.” And then, “So it was on your little girl’s account that you went home so early. It wasn’t on account of anything that happened at dinner?”

Irene’s expression changed. The interest with which she had been talking about little Rena faded out. She appeared disconcerted. She put up her hand and fumbled inefficiently with a straggling lock of hair.

The Superintendent repeated his question.

“Something did happen at dinner, didn’t it? You wanted to get home to your little girl. But your husband wouldn’t have broken up the party just for that. There was something more, wasn’t there?”

Irene never found it easy to switch her mind from one topic to another. She seized upon what seemed to her to be a connecting link.

“Oh, but he didn’t mind a bit,” she said. “It was really his own idea-I wouldn’t have liked to go as early as that. It was Frank who suggested it-it really was.”

It was no use, the piece of hair wouldn’t tuck in. She left it straying, put her hands in her lap, and gazed earnestly at the Superintendent. She wasn’t nervous now. He seemed a very nice man. She wondered how old he was. Perhaps he had grandchildren like Jimmy and Rena. If she got a chance she would ask him. He had rather nice blue eyes. She did hope Rena’s eyes were going to be blue-

And then he was saying,

“Mr. Ambrose wanted to go home because of what happened at dinner?”

Her mouth fell open. Frank wouldn’t want her to say yes. She said in a confused voice,

“Oh-I don’t know-”

“Well, Mrs. Ambrose, it couldn’t have been pleasant for any of you. I expect Mr. Ambrose thought it would be better to break the party up.”

“Oh, I don’t know-”

He said briskly,

“Mr. Paradine came straight here from the dining-room and didn’t appear again. He didn’t come into the drawing-room, did he?”

“No-he didn’t-”

“It must have been very trying for you.”

“Oh, it was!”

If a shade of triumph entered his thought, his manner gave no sign of it. He leaned a little towards Irene across the table and said,

“Now, Mrs. Ambrose-I wonder whether you would tell me just how it all struck you. Different people get different impressions of the same thing. I would very much like to have your version of what happened in your own words, if you don’t mind.”

Irene went through the process which she called thinking. A number of unco-ordinated and confused impressions strayed to and fro in her mind. Frank must have told the Superintendent about last night- somebody must have told him-if it wasn’t Frank, Frank would be angry… The straying thoughts were not really as formulated as this. She did nothing to formulate them. She let them stray.

She said in a hesitating manner,

“Oh, I don’t know that I can-”

“Will you try, Mrs. Ambrose? Just begin at the beginning. What started it?”

“Well, I don’t know-it just seemed to happen. He stood up, and we thought he was going to give us a toast-at least I did, I don’t know about the others-but it wasn’t that at all.”

“I see. Now I wonder how much you remember of what followed. Just give it to me in your own words.”

She said, “Oh, I don’t know-”

“You mean you don’t remember?”

“Oh-I remember-”

“Then just see if you can help me. How did he begin?”

Irene looked doubtful.

“I can’t remember it all. He said we shouldn’t be bored-and then he said it wouldn’t be pleasant- and then he said things about our all being related, or connected by marriage, and families had to hold together, and all that sort of thing-”

“And after that?”

“Well, I don’t know if I ought to say-I don’t think-”

He said quietly, “I am afraid I must ask you to go on. Just tell me what you can remember.”

“Well, he used a lot of long words-I can’t remember them. And I don’t know-”

“Please, Mrs. Ambrose-just what you remember.”

Sitting there in her fur coat, Irene shivered. She began to feel sure that Frank was going to be angry. She didn’t see what she could do about it. If you didn’t answer the police they would think you had something to hide. But she didn’t like having to answer, because now when the actual words came crowding back they weren’t the sort of words you want to repeat to the police or to anyone else. She faltered as she repeated them.

“He said-someone-had been-disloyal. He said someone had-betrayed-the family interests. He said it was-one of us-”

The blood came up behind Vyner’s tan. His thoughts shouted, “By gum, he did-by gum!” He looked down at the blotting-pad and saw a little leather-covered diary lying there-just one of those pocket diaries, bright blue, with 1943 stamped upon the cover in gold. He looked at it because he wanted to keep his eyes from Mrs. Ambrose. Mustn’t startle her-mustn’t startle her… He managed his voice and said,

“Did he say who this person was?”

“Oh, no, he didn’t.”

“Do you think he knew?”

“Oh, yes-he said so.”

“He said someone had betrayed the family interests, and that he knew who the person was?”

“Yes, that’s what he said.”

He was looking at her again now.

“You are doing very well, Mrs. Ambrose. What else did he say?”

Irene had now arrived at feeling some pleasurable excitement. She was doing well-she was being praised-it wasn’t as difficult as she had thought it was going to be. She said in quite a complacent voice,

“It was dreadful. I’m sure I didn’t know where to look. And I was sitting next to him. It really was dreadful. We all thought he must have gone out of his mind.”

“Did he seem to be excited?”

“Oh, no. That’s what made it so dreadful-he was absolutely calm. I don’t know how he could be when you think of the things he was saying, but he was.”

“Will you go on telling me what he said.”

“Well, all that sort of thing. And then he said he would wait in the study till twelve o’clock, and if anyone had anything to-to confess, he would be there, and-well, I can’t remember exactly, but-I think he meant that he wouldn’t be too hard on anyone if they confessed. I think that’s what he meant, but he did say something about punishment too.”

“Can you remember what he said?”

Irene looked vague.

“No-I don’t think I can. It was something about the person being punished.”

“I see. It must have been quite a relief when the party broke up.”

“Oh, it was!”

“You didn’t see Mr. Paradine again?”

“Oh, no.”

“None of your party saw him to say goodnight?”

“Oh, no.”

“You all went home together?”

“Oh, yes.”

“You must have got home at about a quarter to ten. As far as you know, did any of the party go out again?”

The colour came into her face. Her eyes opened widely. She said, “Oh!”

Vyner said in his own mind, “By gum-I’ve got something!” He looked at her hard and said,

“Which of you went out?”

She was flustered, but not unduly so.

“Well, it was because of Rena-my little girl you know-I couldn’t wake her.”

He experienced a slight feeling of stupefaction.

“Why did you want to wake her?”

“Well, I didn’t, you know-not really. I mean I was very pleased at first when I got home to find she was sleeping so soundly, and then-well, I was talking to my sister for some time, and when I got back and began to go to bed I thought perhaps she was sleeping too soundly.”

“Yes?”

“Well, I got frightened. My sister doesn’t know anything about children. I did try to get my husband to come and look at her, but he only said ‘Stuff and nonsense!’ He thinks I’m fussy. But when I picked her up and her head just fell over and she went on sleeping, I got dreadfully frightened, and I tried to ring up Dr. Horton, but the telephone was out of order-I’d forgotten about that. So when I couldn’t get on I thought I’d go and fetch him-it’s not any distance really-so I did.”

“You went and fetched Dr. Horton?”

She was looking vague again.

“Well, I didn’t really, because when I got there he was in his car just starting out somewhere. I ran and called after him, but he didn’t hear me.”

“So you came home again?”

“Well, I didn’t-not at once. I thought perhaps he wouldn’t be long. I walked up and down a bit. I didn’t like to ring the bell, because Mrs. Horton always tells you how she brought up eight children and never fussed over any of them.”

Vyner’s face was as expressionless as he could make it.

“How long did you wait, Mrs. Ambrose?”

“About half an hour. And then I got frightened again, wondering what was happening to Rena, so I went home. I ran all the way, but she was quite all right.”

“And was she still asleep?”

“Oh, yes. My husband was so angry.”

“He had missed you?”

“Oh, yes. He was out looking for me when I got back. Then he came in and was frightfully angry.”

“What time did he get in?”

“I don’t know-it must have been getting late-I know I was longing to get to bed.”

“Did your husband say where he had been?”

“He said he had been looking for me.”

“He didn’t say where?”

“Oh, no.”

“He just said he had been looking for you?”

Irene coloured brightly.

“He was most unkind about it,” she said.