The Affair of the Ellsworth Women
THE OFFICES of Penelope Jessup and Philip Aubrey were located in the Cranmer Theatre, which was within a comfortable walking distance of the crime scene. We left Inspector McAuliffe and his experts busily working at that location and walked the two or three streets to the Cranmer. With the apprehension and worry of the previous night relieved by the safe return of Julia and Daphne, we were all, I think, beginning to feel the weariness caused by our vigil. The oppressive heat and closeness of the furnace room we had just left had begun to make me feel rather drowsy, and the cool, crisp November air was a welcome relief. Brenda had her arm through mine, giving me an occasional reassuring pat as we walked. She looked up at me.
“What do you think it means, Allen?” she asked.
“I’ve no idea,” I admitted with a shake of my head. “But from what we saw back there, I think that Sapp must have told that fellow McAuliffe about the girls’ little dramatic society, and he believes that this was another of their staged performances.”
“Do you believe that?”
“No, I don’t. In my time with Peugeot I’ve heard quite a number of victims’ accounts, and I’d swear that Julia and Daphne really believed they were about to be thrown into the Thames bound and gagged. I didn’t have the sense that they were telling some vaguely pleasurable adventure story this time. What do you think?”
She nodded emphatically.
“You’re absolutely right there. If this was some sort of hoax, they certainly weren’t in on it. Did Monsieur Peugeot express any opinion?”
Peugeot was several steps behind us. I looked back over my shoulder to see the little man following with eyes glowing green with concentration. I doubted that he was even conscious of his surroundings.
“No,” I replied, turning back to my wife. “But I can see that he’s using all of his grey matter on the problem. We’d better watch out that he’s not hit by a bus while he’s in this state.”
Brenda laughed and held my arm a bit tighter. As we walked, she kept turning back to check on Peugeot, and we reached the Cranmer Theatre without incident. To our surprise, Peugeot came out of his trance just as we reached the doors of the theatre.
“Have a good exercise of the grey matter, Peugeot?” I asked jocularly as we entered.
Peugeot wagged a finger at me.
“Ah, you mock me, do you, my friend? Do you never learn that it is from within that most crimes are solved? This fine grey matter, at which you poke the fun, shall arrive at the truth in the end.”
I had to admit that I had seen enough examples of the truth of his belief to last several lifetimes, but I did not see what he could be pondering so intently. Thus far, we had precious little evidence over which to think.
Upon taking the lift to the third floor, where the offices were, we were further surprised to see Drusilla Gordon about to enter the producers’ offices. Facing in our direction as she held the door for Miss Gordon was a very tall, remarkable-looking young woman dressed in the livery of a chauffeur, including grey jacket and breeches tucked into the tops of black boots on her long, shapely legs. Dark brown hair hung long and straight from under her chauffeur’s cap. The most striking feature about her was her height. As she turned her face to us in reaction to Drusilla’s words of greeting to Brenda, I realized that her dark eyes were only an inch or so below mine. And those eyes were set in a lovely, though currently rather expressionless, olive skinned face, giving her the regal appearance of an Amazon queen. It may have been the slight turn of her head toward her mistress as she passed or perhaps my conversation with Brenda the night before had my subconscious on alert, but I happened to catch a glance of Drusilla Gordon’s hand stealing a quick, though definite, caress of the vision’s derriere as she passed. She continued to hold the door as Brenda, Peugeot, and I followed Miss Gordon into the office. Drusilla interrupted her starting conversation with Brenda long enough to say to the chauffeur:
“That’s all for now, Savage. Please wait for me here.”
“Very good, Miss Gordon,” she replied in a low, clear tone and with a deferential nod.
With a little smile in my direction, the grey-clad goddess closed the door. Brenda pressed her foot lightly on mine.
“You’re staring a bit you know, darling,” she whispered.
“Sorry,” I said, blinking and shaking my head a few times in an attempt to clear the vision of Miss Savage from my eyes. My wife pressed my foot again.
Peugeot had been introducing himself to Miss Gordon, producing his card with the flourish of a conjuror, and clicking his heels and bowing like a French Field Marshal greeting visiting dignitary. He took Drusilla’s proffered hand and bowed over it.
“A great honour, madame. I have often admired your performances.”
She looked at him with some amusement.
“The last time was two years ago,” she said, cocking her head and wrinkling her brow. “It was Woman Without a Past at this very theatre. You had a box, third one along, stage left. You were kind enough to stand during the applause.”
Peugeot’s eyes widened with genuine surprise. He bowed again.
“I am gratified that you would recognize a humble foreign detective and remember him after so long a time.”
“Oh, dear me, I had no idea who you were,” she replied. “Your moustache was very noticeable, of course, but it was the fact that you stood to applaud that caught my attention. The part of Helena in that play was some of the best work I’ve done, and it was very perceptive of you to recognise it. Later on, one of the cast members told me who you were.”
I appreciated the irony of Peugeot finally meeting someone whose egoism rivaled his own. He tended to imagine all of England, all of Europe even, daily following the exploits and achievements of Henri Peugeot. Miss Gordon was truly a match for him.
A female secretary greeted us and, with a discreet knock, entered the office to announce us. As we waited, Sapp and Sergeant Wilson arrived. Both were obviously impressed with the powerful and attractive female specimen they had passed in the hall.
“A few more like her and Herr Hitler’ll think twice about a war against us,” Sapp noted quietly to me.
I nodded.
“His troops would be mesmerized then knocked flat,” I quipped.
Drusilla Gordon had overheard.
“What’s that?” she demanded. “Who are you to be remarking about my chauffeur?”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” said Sapp touching the brim of his hat. “I’m Chief Inspector Sapp of Scotland Yard and this is Detective Sergeant Wilson. We have some questions to ask you about the reception at the Frankland Hotel last night. I understand that you were there.”
“Perhaps, Chief Inspector,” Peugeot interjected smoothly, “it would be better to wait until we can ask Mademoiselle Jessup and Monsieur Aubrey the same questions. It might save us much time.”
Sapp grunted.
“It might at that. Very well, we’ll wait.”
The secretary returned, held the office door open and bade us all enter. A large, impressive, dark-haired man sat behind an equally large and impressive mahogany desk. An attractive woman sat on the rear corner of the desk close to the man, disdaining the small but comfortable-looking armchair that had obviously been drawn up for her nearby. In one of the similar armchairs in front of the desk sat a tall, lean suntanned man with a briefcase in his lap. At our entrance, the men rose.
“I’m Philip Aubrey, Chief Inspector,” said the man stepping from behind the desk.
He was a powerful looking chap, tall, broad shouldered and sturdily built judging by the fit of his well-tailored dark blue suit. Though he must have been close on forty, his brown hair showed no sign of thinning or of turning grey save a trace or two at the temples and in his neat moustache. The woman seated on the desk was Penelope Jessup, a shapely blonde a few years younger than her partner. The dark brown suit she wore fit her slender figure well, and despite the fact that her skirt reached her mid-calf when she stood, she had arranged herself on the desk to show a good bit of her shapely legs. The two had been married for some four years, though she continued to use her maiden name in the business. The lean, clean-shaven man in the chair facing them was obviously an American, wearing a blue suit with a garish maroon tie. A felt hat that also appeared to be maroon lay on top of an overcoat in the chair beside him.
Aubrey introduced Miss Jessup to us. The American did his own introduction.
“Jameson Clark, Wegener Brothers Motion Pictures. Damned glad to meet you,” he said to each of us as he shook hands and grinned eagerly. “Call me, Jim.”
His gaze fell upon Brenda.
“I couldn’t mistake you, Miss Alexander. I remember seeing you in Murder Stays to Dinner last year. Fabulous work, just fabulous!”
He then turned to Drusilla Gordon.
“And you, Miss Gordon. I caught you in A Woman of Noble Birth a couple o’ years back and---“
“You sat in the corner box, stage right, as I recall,” she interrupted him. She smiled graciously. “The roses were quite lovely.”
The American gaped at her, then burst into laughter.
“Haw, haw, haw! You sure are a card, Miss Gordon! Who’d have thought you could spot a modest scout for American pictures like that! Who or what gave me away?”
She continued smiling as she regarded him with cool amusement in the same way she had Peugeot in the outer office.
“Your laughter was rather distinctly American, and I also remember those who are particularly attentive. You blew a kiss to me as I made my exit at the end of the second act, as I recall.”
The American furrowed his brow for a moment, then broke into a smile.
“Well, so I did, now that I think about it.”
“It was only later when Penelope saw the card attached to the roses that she told who you were, Mr. Clark.”
“Remarkable, just remarkable!” sighed the movie man. “And you must call me ‘Jim.’ I hope that I may call you ‘Drusilla.’”
“If you don’t mind, ladies and gentlemen,” interrupted Sapp. “There are several questions we must put to all of you who attended the reception at the Frankland Hotel last night. A serious crime occurred there and we need you to assist us in our inquiries.”
“Of course, Chief Inspector, of course,” said Aubrey. “I had arranged for Miss Gordon and Miss Alexander to be here to discuss another matter with Mr. Clark, but we’ll have to put that off for another time in light of what happened last night.”
Mr. Clark took his hat and coat with one hand and his briefcase with the other.
“That leaves me out, Inspector,” he announced. “I wasn’t at the reception last night. I’m over here to sign a British leading lady for our next picture. I was at the Lyceum watching Ruth Danielson in that new Coward play, and tonight I’m seeing Celia Robbins. It’s going to be between those two and Miss Gordon and Miss Alexander here as to whom I’m going to sign. Mr. Wegener wants it done by Monday.”
“Sorry to keep you from your business, Mr. Clark,” Sapp said woodenly. “But this is a police matter that must be attended to immediately.”
Mr. Clark nodded.
“Can’t be helped, I know,” the American replied. “I sail Monday evening, ladies. I’ll be in touch with you before then.”
Sergeant Wilson let the picture man out as Sapp turned to the producers who were gesturing us into the chairs around the desk.
“So you’ve heard about the crime,” said Sapp. “When I arrived last night you and Miss Jessup had left the hotel. How did you find out what had happened?”
The tall producer stood beside his wife. He rubbed his chin for a moment and looked at her.
“This morning I dropped Penny at the door and parked the car. She gave me the news when I joined her in the foyer.”
Penelope Jessup looked at the policemen, apparently somewhat startled by her husband’s account.
“That’s true, Chief Inspector. I told Philip about the Ellsworth girls being abducted, but then I brought him over to a group of people who had been discussing it when I entered the theatre. There was Herrick, our porter, Mr. Davies who runs the pub down the street, Miss Forbes our receptionist, a couple other men I didn’t know and the constable who patrols this area. They all had something to say about the case, but I don’t know if any one of them had the whole story. It was the constable who seemed to know the most. I mean, he was the one who knew that the girls had been found safe, as I recall.”
Sapp glanced at Sergeant Wilson who was writing all this in his notebook. Wilson gave him a quick nod.
“Yes, we can check on that,” said Sapp. “So you knew nothing of the abduction of the Ellsworth sisters until this morning then?”
“Absolutely nothing!” declared Miss Jessup. Aubrey, musing silently, shook his head.
“We left shortly before eleven,” he added. “We had to confer with some possible backers of the new play we hope to do next.”
“I’ll need the names of the people at this conference to verify that, if you don’t mind,” said Sapp.
As Sergeant Wilson waited with pencil poised, the producing couple both shifted uncomfortably.
“There must have been a misunderstanding of some kind,” said Aubrey. “We were supposed to meet with the party here at the theatre at 11.15, but no one came.”
“And who was it that you were supposed to meet, sir?” Sapp asked patiently.
Now Penelope Jessup spoke.
“We don’t know who it was, Chief Inspector. I know that it may sound odd, but silent backers are fairly common in the theatre, and in the phone conversation that set up this appointment no names were given. I was told that the party wished to remain anonymous to avoid any possible discovery by the press.”
Sapp and Wilson stared non-committally at the pair. Aubrey looked back uneasily.
“Very well,” said Sapp evenly. “We’ll leave that for now. While you were at the reception, did you notice anything out of the ordinary? Was there anyone whose presence surprised you? Anyone you expected to be there who wasn’t? Anyone who acted oddly? Things of that sort.”
“I noticed some sort of disturbance just as we were slipping out,” answered the producer. “Ben Darrowby had been drinking, I’d imagine. He made some kind of minor scene and had to be taken out.”
He looked at me closely.
“I believe that it was Miss Alexander’s husband here, Major Bosworth, who helped carry him out.”
Sapp nodded. “That’s quite correct, sir. And you left the reception at that point?”
He continued with the two producers for some thirty minutes or so, going over how the guest list was compiled, whom they had spoken with and on what subjects, and all the minutiae common in police questioning. Little headway was made and I took the opportunity to observe the two producers’ reactions to questioning, as I knew that both the chief inspector and Peugeot would be doing. They seemed to be at ease and cooperative with most of Sapp’s questions, but both looked uncomfortable when the subject of the late night meeting seemed about to arise. Peugeot, I noticed, was watching the two closely also.
“And you have no idea who asked to meet you here at 11.15 last night?” said Sapp, looking intently at them.
Penelope Jessup laid her hand on Aubrey’s arm. He looked at her and, apparently reading some message in her eyes, then turned back sharply.
“Look here, Chief Inspector,” he said warmly. “I’m beginning to get the idea that you suspect us of being involved in this somehow.”
“I’m not to the point where I suspect anyone of anything yet,” Sapp replied blandly. Then, turning to Drusilla Gordon suddenly he asked, “And we’ve been told by the waiter who delivered the message that drew the Ellsworth sisters to the powder room, that you were the one who gave that message to him.”
Drusilla Gordon looked stunned.
“I?” she asked.
Sapp continued to bore his gaze into her.
“Yes. He said that you told him that some friend of theirs had given you the message and you asked him to pass it to them.”
She seemed struck by a sudden memory.
“Why, yes, that’s true! I remember now. But I can’t think who it was. Someone I didn’t know, though, I’m sure.” She wrinkled her brow in deep thought. “Yes. Yes, it was a woman I’m positive about that. A rather nondescript woman as I recall. Said some flattering things about my work, then dragged the conversation around to the Ellsworth girl who was in the play, Daphne, I think. Said the family were old friends and she’d like to surprise the girls by meeting them in the powder room. It sounded harmless enough.”
Sapp’s faint smile told me that he thought that he was now getting somewhere.
“Can you describe this woman, Miss Gordon?”
Drusilla Gordon spread her hands expressively.
“She was no one in the theatre, I can tell you that, Chief Inspector. Very little presence. Mousy. Nondescript, as I said before.”
“You can’t even tell us the colour of hair or eyes, height, or general build?” asked Sapp incredulously.
Drusilla shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Chief Inspector,” she said. “I really took no notice. She was about my height, I think. I can’t remember every admirer who says a few words.”
Brenda looked at her colleague thoughtfully.
“Is it possible, Drusilla,” she asked, “that this small presence and mousiness was due to the very fact that she was in the theatre? Perhaps it was a performance meant to mislead you.”
Drusilla looked back, an expression of realization spreading over her face. I noticed that Peugeot was intently watching the exchange between the two actresses.
“You know, darling,” Drusilla said slowly, “one doesn’t like to admit that she’s been tricked so easily, but it’s possible that that’s exactly what happened!”
“Very clever,” added Sapp, nodding.
“So may I assume that we are no longer under suspicion, Chief Inspector?” asked Philip Aubrey, signs of relief evident on his square face.
Sapp resumed the wooden, non-committal manner I saw so often during inquiries.
“It’s very unfortunate that there’s apparently no one who can verify your whereabouts at the time of the abductions,” he said. “However, most of London is probably in that position as well. As I said before, it’s hardly time to suspect anyone of anything yet.”
He turned to Peugeot.
“Anything from you, Peugeot?”
Peugeot bowed to the two producers.
“If I may ask, madame et monsieur, what the loss of either Mademoiselle Gordon or Mademoiselle Alexander would mean to your future productions?”
Both of them seemed startled by the question.
“Well…” began Miss Jessup. “They are both friends… Very good friends, indeed.”
“I should hate to think of the London theatre without either of them,” added Aubrey.
“I think not of the personal side of their possible departure here,” explained Peugeot genially. “But what would it mean to you in terms of the business of theatre.”
Philip Aubrey looked from one actress to the other.
“They are both very popular stars,” he said, as though choosing his words carefully. “Any play featuring an actress of the stature of Miss Alexander or Miss Gordon has a much better chance of success than a play without someone like them.”
“I see,” Peugeot said thoughtfully.
“Peugeot,” I put in, “do you mean to suggest that this threat to the Ellsworth family may be intended to keep Brenda off the stage?”
“I suggest nothing as of yet, my friend,” he said. “Like the good Chief Inspector Sapp, I only collect information. What the information may ultimately mean remains to be seen.”
He addressed Jessup and Aubrey again.
“You also seem to be familiar with the habits of the unfortunate Monsieur Darrowby. You know him well?”
“Ben is a very talented man, monsieur,” replied Aubrey, “though a weak one as well. He has directed several plays for us in the past, but at present he is, unfortunately, not in any condition to be trusted with a new play.” His voice softened. “He’s an old friend, and we want to see him back at work.”
“We’ve given him the use of one of the spare offices on the second floor,” Miss Jessup added. “We’re hoping that he’ll pull himself together very soon.”
Peugeot nodded sympathetically.
“And is he correct to blame Miss Alexander for his current difficulties?”
Philip Aubrey shook his head sadly.
“If that’s what he said, it’s all Irish whiskey talking, M. Peugeot. Ben had a few flops, took a few too many drinks to ease his pain, and became unreliable. He wanted to direct Murder Stays to Dinner last year, but he simply wasn’t up to it. Most his troubles have been of his own making.”
“C’est un malheur fâcheu” remarked Peugeot. “The misfortunes of a friend are very sad, indeed. You are very kind to take such an interest in his welfare.”
He turned to Drusilla Gordon.
“And you, mademoiselle, quel dommage that you did not notice more of this woman who pretended to be the friend of Mesdemoiselles Julia and Daphne. However, one cannot know ahead which incidents will be important in the future.”
“I am grateful for your understanding, monsieur.”
“I have only a question or two for you, mademoiselle. Did your chauffeur attend you last night?”
“Why, yes she did, monsieur. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, it is just that if she waited for you outside the hotel that she might possibly have seen someone enter or attempt to enter the side door that leads to the ladies’ powder room. You see, the lock was picked with a wire which undoubtedly was the way that the gang entered the ladies’ room to waylay the Ellsworth sisters.”
As Drusilla pondered the statement, I saw that Sergeant Wilson was looking at Peugeot with great curiosity.
“Oh, so that’s how they got in,” mused Miss Gordon. “But I don’t recall Savage mentioning anything about seeing anyone skulking about. Shall I call her in?”
“Oh, do not derange yourself, Mademoiselle Gordon. We can ask her as we leave. It is probably of little importance. You say that Savage is her name?”
“Yes. Jane Savage. A fine driver and a faithful servant.”
“I believe you, mademoiselle,” he answered with a little bow.
We rose to take our leave. Rather stiffly, Sapp thanked the producers for their time and assistance with the case, and they, in an equally awkward way, promised to help in any way possible in the future. Peugeot, Sapp, and Wilson went through the outer office and into the hall to question the chauffeur. I stayed behind to help Brenda with her coat. Drusilla Gordon joined us and asked Brenda about the ordeal of the girls.
“Of course, I haven’t heard too much, darling,” she said. “I hope it wasn’t too awful for them.”
“Well, they spent a very uncomfortable night,” Brenda replied. “The kidnappers took most of their clothes off and left them bound, gagged, and blindfolded in a stifling hot room for several hours.”
“How awful!”
“There was a woman member of the gang who taunted them a good deal, and finally threatened to throw them into the Thames bound and gagged. Fortunately, they managed to free themselves and escape.”
“Horrible! Just horrible!” Miss Gordon exclaimed. “Though I’m not surprised that it was a woman who was the worst to them. We can be such cats at times.”
“How can you say such a thing?” Brenda said with a smile. “We deal with actresses all the time, and surely actresses are never catty.”
Miss Gordon laughed. She seemed much more real and human today, and I was beginning to like her a little more. She looked a bit tired as she dropped her voice and continued.
“You know, I’m really hoping for this chance to do American pictures. I’d like to go to Hollywood, since my day seems to be passing here.”
Brenda began to say something, but Miss Gordon shook her head and laid a hand on her arm.
“You know that it’s true, Brenda. You and some of the younger girls are becoming the queens of the stage now. In Hollywood I could do leading lady parts for a couple more years then move gracefully into character roles. I believe I’d like that, you know. Plus quite a number of my friends have gone there already, and it would be nice to see them again.”
Brenda smiled at her old rival and put her hand on Drusilla’s.
“Well, may the best woman win, darling, because I’m going to give you a run for your money.”
Miss Gordon smiled a bit wanly and we all went into the hall.
“No, sir,” Jane Savage was saying to Sapp. “I waited for Miss Gordon at the front of the hotel, and couldn’t have seen anyone hanging about the side doors.”
Sapp sighed and thanked her.
“Another dead end,” he said ruefully as he led the way to the lift.
Just ahead of us, Peugeot and Sergeant Wilson had a brief, whispered conversation. I could not hear what was said, but Wilson smiled and nodded as Peugeot spoke.
“Are you serious about considering this Hollywood offer?” I asked Brenda.
“What’s the matter, darling? I thought that California would be an ideal place for us. I could make pictures and you could have your cattle ranch as well. It would be perfect for both of us, wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t like the idea of having some of those wolfish actors around you,” I said peevishly. “One might as well wave fresh meat in front of a pack of hyenas.”
She took my arm and smiled up at me.
“I really doubt I’ll accept any offer from the Wegener brothers.”
“But you said---“
“I said that for Drusilla’s benefit. Knowing her, I don’t think it would mean much to her to get the offer if she felt she’d had no real competition.”
“She was so much more human today that I may grow a bit fond of the old girl.”
Brenda bit her lip thoughtfully.
“In the nine years I’ve known Drusilla, she’s never been quite like that before.”
“You’ve probably changed her for the better.”
“Or maybe just getting a bit older,” Brenda said with a nod. “Still, it’s a bit odd.”
The lift arrived and we all crowded in.
We had lunch at a nearby restaurant, then I returned to the Frankland for our car. When I had picked up Peugeot and Brenda, we followed Sapp and Wilson to Grape’s Place just off the St. Giles High Street where Ben Darrowby had a flat. We had to walk up two flights of stairs and found his number at the end of the hallway. Sergeant Wilson knocked and, after a bit of a wait, the door opened half way. I was surprised to see the rather familiar face of a young woman in the opening. My wife was even more startled than I.
“Susan!” Brenda cried. “What are you doing here?”
“You know this woman, Mrs. Bosworth?” asked Sapp.
“Of course I do, Chief Inspector. It’s Susan Noble. I had no idea we’d find her here.”
Susan regarded Brenda sulkily.
“That’s what happens when you lose track of your friends, isn’t it Brenda? Well, I’ll wager you’re not here to see me so what do you want?”
Sapp held up his warrant card.
“We’re from the police, miss. We’re here to see Mr. Darrowby about a crime that occurred last night at the Frankland Hotel around the time he was there.”
She made no move to open the door.
“It’s not enough that he’s being run out of the theatre. Now he’s being accused of crimes too. Lovely.”
Peugeot stepped forward and presented his card with a tip of his hat.
“You misunderstand, mademoiselle,” he said soothingly. “We only wish to know if he has any knowledge that will assist us in our inquiries into this matter.”
Susan took the card and read it. She looked up at Peugeot with a softened expression.
“Oh, you’re the Belgian gent from last year, aren’t you. Well, I suppose you’d better come in then.”
Peugeot bowed and touched the brim of his hat again.
“You are too amiable, mademoiselle. We shall not derange you unnecessarily.”
Susan Noble admitted us to the flat. It had the look of a once cosy flat now fallen upon hard times, and somewhat in need of a good dust and scrub. Susan herself seemed in the same circumstances. Her light brown hair was rather tousled, and she wore a simple, plain, lightweight frock tied about the waist and a cardigan she had not had time to button. Her figure was still trim and attractive, but the animation and vivacity I remembered in her face and eyes were gone, replaced by surliness and suspicion.
“Ben’s not up yet,” she said as she closed the door behind us. “I’ll go wake him.”
Sapp looked at his wristwatch.
“Rather late hours he’s keeping isn’t he?” he observed.
“That’s no crime, is it?” she replied with cold civility. She glanced at Brenda. “What’s he got to get up for anyway? And last night was a rather bad one, I gather.”
She disappeared down the hallway and into what must have been a bedroom, shutting the door behind her. We heard voices in a brief exchange, then the door opened again and Susan reappeared.
“He’ll be right along,” she announced. “I’ll just start some tea.”
“Would you like me to help you, Susan?” asked Brenda.
A quick series of expressions flitted across Susan Noble’s face. The first was angry, and she opened her mouth as if to make a stinging retort only to think better of it. The second was conciliatory and inviting, as though she would welcome having Brenda assist her. After a moment of indecision, this expression also faded to be replaced by one of quiet resignation.
“I can manage, thank you,” she murmured with downcast eyes, and retreated to the kitchen.
As cups and saucers rattled, I looked down at my wife. Brenda’s was looking sorrowfully and thoughtfully at the kitchen doorway. I put my arm round her waist and gave her a slight squeeze, seeking to reassure her that her friend’s plight was no fault of hers. She smiled wanly up at me, but the sadness did not leave her eyes.
Ben Darrowby, having thrown on some trousers, a shirt, and a cardigan, appeared at the bedroom door and made his unsteady way down the hall toward us. His eyes were red, his face pale and slightly blotchy, and he appeared to be suffering from the effects of last night’s indulgence.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, I’m not feeling too well today,” he said, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to comb it. “Thought a little siesta might fix me up. Do sit down everyone. Susan’s working on the tea.”
Sapp presented his warrant card to Darrowby’s bleary gaze then introduced us all. He explained that this was a routine investigation and briefly outlined the abduction that had occurred the previous night at the hotel.
“We just wondered, Mr. Darrowby, if there was anything you could tell us about last night that would assist us with our inquiry?”
“To tell the truth, Chief Inspector, there’s very little I can tell you about last night,” Darrowby said with a rueful smile. “I left the play at the second interval to get a little refreshment. By the time I got to the reception I was a bit tight. More than a bit, actually. I hope these girls are all right.”
Susan appeared with the tea at that point. She said nothing to indicate she had been listening, but her anxious look at Brenda indicated she had.
“Julia and Daphne are safely home by now,” said Brenda, looking directly at Susan.
As she and Susan passed round the teacups, Brenda went on to describe something of the girls’ ordeal. The young actress appeared to be genuinely concerned over the Ellsworth sisters’ distress, and greatly relieved to hear that they were now safe. Darrowby also listened attentively.
“Rather a close thing, wasn’t it?” he said when Brenda had finished. “A bit of The Perils of Pauline in real life. But I told you that I was in no shape to notice much of anything last night. The blighters might’ve walked past me with ‘Kidnapper’ written on their hats and shirt-fronts and I’d not have noticed.”
“And you came directly home from the reception?” asked Peugeot.
“I remember some chaps getting me into a taxi.” He pointed at me. “You were one of them I think, or maybe I’m dreaming all of this. I was a little better when I got home, and Susan and the driver got me up here.”
Sapp nodded. He fixed Darrowby with his expressionless gaze.
“And yet, we’ve been told that you made some remarks to Mrs. Bosworth here that could possibly be construed as threatening. Something about her keeping you from getting some directing job or other.”
Darrowby stopped his teacup two inches from his mouth. He looked at Brenda, then Susan, then the policemen before taking a sip.
“Oh, that,” he said attempting to sound breezy. “Well, it’s true that I didn’t get the job on her last play, but a lot of directors didn’t. And I don’t really think she had anything to do with it.”
Susan looked a bit surprised. Darrowby looked around at all our faces. A flash of realization came over his face.
“Look here, you don’t think that I’d help kidnap those girls just to get back at Brenda, do you? The idea’s completely insane!”
“Of course it is, Chief Inspector!” added Susan vehemently, crossing to stand beside Darrowby’s chair and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Ben was here all night and I was with him, if he needs an alibi.”
Sapp turned the same gaze on Susan.
“And you, Miss Noble, weren’t you one of the girls in the little club involved in all those pranks with young women, including the Ellsworth sisters, being bound and gagged last year? And do you deny that Daphne Ellsworth was chosen over you for a part in this new play?”
Susan’s expression became first incredulous then incensed.
“So now you say that I’m involved with kidnapping and possibly attempted murder over a part in a play?” She gave Brenda an agonized look. “Is this why you brought them all here, to accuse me of this?”
Brenda rose quickly and embraced the girl who began to weep.
“Of course I didn’t,” said Brenda. “Of course I didn’t. I’m so sorry.”
Sapp watched calmly as my wife comforted Susan. After watching them for a moment, Peugeot frowned and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. Darrowby put his teacup on a table and rose.
“Unless you’ve come to arrest one of us, Chief Inspector,” he said, “I think you’d better go. You’ve upset Susan dreadfully. I’m not only upset, but highly insulted to be accused like this.”
“I haven’t accused anyone of doing anything, sir,” Sapp replied blandly. “I’m only pointing out what’s happened in the past, and I’m not responsible for that. If you think of anything that may assist us you can call us, or get in touch with Mr. Peugeot here, if you prefer."
Brenda remained with Susan for a few minutes as the rest of us waited in the hallway. Sapp was shaking his head.
“I sometimes wish there were easier ways to get at the truth,” he said to me. “I really hope that girl’s innocent, but if she is I’ve not only insulted her, but I’ve made a bad situation for your wife.”
“We know that you have to do things like this, Chief Inspector,” I said. “Brenda will get Susan to understand. As you say, you’re not responsible for people’s motives.”
Sapp turned to Peugeot.
“What do you say Peugeot?”
Peugeot shook his head.
“There are too many things I do not understand to begin sharing my little notions with you, mon ami,” he said thoughtfully. “We do not yet understand the motives of this ‘Greenhampton Avenger,’ and we must know what this case is about before we can have any hope of solving it.”
He turned to Sapp.
“You have had no word from Sergeant Carrington in Greenhampton?”
The policeman shook his head.
“Not yet, but as soon as we have any news we’ll pass it along.”
Peugeot nodded thoughtfully.
“Bien,” he said finally. “I suggest that we should all get some of the rest that we missed last night. Monsieur l’inspecteur en chef, you must see that Mesdemoiselles Julia and Daphne are well protected tonight.”
“I’ll help in any way I can,” I offered.
“Non, mon cher ami,” Peugeot interposed before Sapp could answer. “You are charged with the protection of your wife. The fact of your marriage may not exclude Madame Bosworth from the dangers to the Ellsworth women threatened in the letter. We must be careful until we know more of the purpose of this gang.”
Sapp and I were working out the details for police protection of our home when Brenda, appearing more relieved after her interval with Susan, emerged from the flat. Our house on Alfred Row, just off the Tottenham Court Road, was not far away, but I kept a sharp lookout as we drove home. As Brenda and I were very much in need of rest, I instructed Dickson, my man, and Elizabeth, Brenda’s maid, to keep all the doors locked and to warn the cook not to let in deliverymen while she was alone. No warning was needed for the night passed quietly.
Richard Ellsworth, Inspector McAuliffe, two constables, and two WPCs escorted Daphne to the Cranmer Theatre that night, while Sergeant Wilson and several PCs and WPCs guarded the Ellsworth house on Trevor Gardens near the south side of Hyde Park. Richard rang us up upon their return from the theatre to report an uneventful night.
“I hope this means that it’s over,” he said just before hanging up.
As grateful as I was for the respite, I had a feeling that this business had only begun.
| Chapter 5 |
Copyright © 2001 by Frank Knebel |