Society Shocked. Foul Play Suspected Full Story of Ball on Page 5
Evelyn Carrados let the paper fall on the counterpane and stared at her husband.
‘The papers are full of it,’ she said woodenly.
‘Good God, my dear Evelyn, of course they are! And this is only the ten o’clock racing edition brought in by a damn pup of a footman with my breakfast. Wait till we see the evening papers! Isn’t it enough, my God, that I should be rung up by some jack-in-office from Scotland Yard at five o’clock in the morning and cross-examined about my own guests without having the whole thing thrust under my nose in some insulting bloody broadsheet!’
He limped angrily about the room.
‘It’s perfectly obvious that the man has been murdered. Do you realize that at any moment we’ll have some damned fellow from Scotland Yard cross-questioning us and that all the scavengers in Fleet Street will be hanging about our door for days together? Do you realize –’
‘I think he was perhaps my greatest friend,’ said Evelyn Carrados.
‘If you look at their damned impertinent drivel on page five you will see the friendship well advertised. My God, it’s intolerable. Do you realize that the police rang up Marsdon House at quarter-past four – five minutes after we’d gone, thank God! – and asked when Robert Gospell left? Some fellow of Dimitri’s answered them and now a blasted snivelling journalist has got hold of it. Do you realize –’
‘I only realize,’ said Evelyn Carrados, ‘that Bunchy Gospell is dead.’
Bridget burst into the room, a paper in her hands.
‘Donna! Oh, Donna – it’s our funny little Bunchy. Our funny little Bunchy’s dead! Donna!’
‘Darling – I know.’
‘But, Donna – Bunchy!’
‘Bridget,’ said her stepfather, ‘please don’t be hysterical. The point we have to consider is –’
Bridget’s arm went round her mother’s shoulders.
‘But we mind’ she said. ‘Can’t you see – Donna minds awfully.’
Her mother said: ‘Of course we mind, darling, but Bart’s thinking about something else. You see, Bart thinks there will be dreadful trouble –’
‘About what?’
Bridget’s eyes blazed in her white face as she turned on Carrados.
‘Do you mean Donald? Do you? Do you dare to suggest that Donald would – would –’
‘Bridgie!’ cried her mother, ‘what are you saying!’
‘Wait a moment, Evelyn,’ said Carrados. ‘What is all this about young Potter?’
Bridget pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, looked distractedly from her mother to her stepfather, burst into tears and ran out of the room.
II
‘BUNCHY’ GOSPELL DEAD
Mysterious death in Taxi Sequel to the Carrados Ball
Mrs Halcut-Hackett’s beautifully manicured hands closed like claws on the newspaper. Her lips were stretched in a smile that emphasized the carefully suppressed lines from her nostrils to the corners of her mouth. She stared at nothing.
General Halcut-Hackett’s dressing-room door was flung open and the General, wearing a dressing-gown but few teeth, marched into the room. He carried a copy of a ten o’clock sporting edition.
‘What!’ he shouted indistinctly. ‘See here! By God!’
‘I know,’ said Mrs Halcut-Hackett. ‘Sad, isn’t it?’
‘Sad! Bloody outrage! What!’
‘Shocking,’ said Mrs Halcut-Hackett.
‘Shocking!’ echoed the General. ‘Preposterous!’ and the explosive consonants pronounced through the gap in his teeth blew his moustache out like a banner. His bloodshot eyes goggled at his wife. He pointed a stubby forefinger at her.
‘He said he’d bring you home,’ he spluttered.
‘He didn’t do so.’
‘When did you come home?’
‘I didn’t notice. Late.’
‘Alone?’
Her face was white but she looked steadily at him. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Don’t be a fool.’
III
STRANGE FATALITY
Lord Robert Gospell dies after Ball Full Story
Donald Potter read the four headlines over and over again. From the centre of the page his uncle’s face twinkled at him. Donald’s cigarette-butt burnt his lips. He spat it into his empty cup, and lit another. He was shivering as if he had a rigor. He read the four lines again. In the next room somebody yawned horribly.
Donald’s head jerked back.
‘Wits!’ he said. ‘Wits! Come here!’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Come here!’
Captain Withers, clad in an orange silk dressing-gown, appeared in the doorway. ‘What the hell’s the matter with you?’ he enquired. ‘Look here.’
Captain Withers, whistling between his teeth, strolled up and looked over Donald’s shoulder. His whistling stopped. He reached out his hand, took the newspaper, and began to read. Donald watched him.
‘Dead!’ said Donald. ‘Uncle Bunch! Dead!’
Withers glanced at him and returned to the paper. Presently he began again to whistle through his teeth.
IV
DEATH OF LORD ROBERT GOSPELL
Tragic end to a distinguished career Suspicious Circumstances
Lady Mildred Potter beat her plump hands on the proofs of the Evening Chronicle obituary notice and turned upon Alleyn a face streaming with tears.
‘But who could have wanted to hurt Bunchy, Roderick? Everyone adored him. He hadn’t an enemy in the world. Look what the Chronicle says – and I must say I think it charming of them to let me see the things they propose to say about him – but look what it says. “Beloved by all his friends!” And so he was. So he was. By all his friends.’
‘He must have had one enemy, Mildred,’ said Alleyn.
‘I can’t believe it. I’ll never believe it. It must be an escaped lunatic.’ She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes and sobbed violently. ‘I shall never be able to face all this dreadful publicity. The police! I don’t mean you, Roderick, naturally. But everything – the papers, everyone poking and prying. Bunchy would have detested it. I can’t face it. I can’t.’
‘Where’s Donald?’
‘He rang up. He’s coming.’
‘From where?’
‘From this friend’s flat, wherever it is.’
‘He’s away from home?’
‘Didn’t Bunchy tell you? Ever since that awful afternoon when he was so cross with Donald. Bunchy didn’t understand.’
‘Why was Bunchy cross with him?’
‘He had run into