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Colonel Forrester said, “Yes,” and turned away. He walked past the constable on duty, into the yard, and blew his nose. Alleyn gave him a few moments and then joined him.
“Long time,” said the Colonel. “Twenty-five years. Quarter of a century. Long time.”
“Yes,” Alleyn said. “It’s a rather special relationship — the officer, soldier-servant one — isn’t it?”
“He had his faults but we understood each other’s ways. We suited each other very well.”
“Come indoors, sir. It’s cold.”
“Thank you.”
Alleyn took him to the library where a fire had now been lit and sat him down by it.
“No need for it, really,” said the Colonel, making tremulous conversation, “with all this central heating ’Illy’s put in, but it’s cheerful, of course.” He held his elderly veined hands to the fire and finding them unsteady, rubbed them together.
“Shall I get you a drink?”
“What? No, no. No, thanks. I’m perfectly all right. It’s just — seeing him. Might have been killed in action. They often looked like that. Bit upsetting.”
“Yes.”
“I — there’ll be things to see to. I mean — you’ll want — formalities and all that.”
“I’m afraid so. There’ll be an inquest of course.”
“Of course.”
“Do you happen to know if he left a will?”
The hands were still and then, with a sudden jerk, the Colonel crossed his knees and clasped them in a travesty of ease.
“A will?” he said. “Not a great deal to leave, I daresay.”
“Still — if he did.”
“Yes, of course.” He seemed to think this over very carefully.
“You don’t know, then, if he did?”
“As a matter of fact,” the Colonel said in a constrained voice, “he gave me a — an envelope to keep for him. It may contain his will.”
“I think we shall probably ask to see it, Colonel. Of course if it’s irrelevant —”
“Yes, yes, yes,” he said. “I know. I know.”
“Is it,” Alleyn asked lightly, “perhaps in that famous uniform box?”
A long silence. “I — rather think so. It may be,” said the Colonel and then: “He has — he had the key. I told you, didn’t I? He looked after that sort of thing for us. Keys and things.”
“You placed an enormous trust in him, didn’t you?”
“Oh that!” said the Colonel dismissing it with a shaky wave of his hand. “Oh rather, yes. Absolutely.”
“I think I’ve recovered the key of the padlock.”
The Colonel gave Alleyn a long watery stare. “Have you?” he said at last. “From — him?”
“It was in his pocket.”
“May I have it, Alleyn?”
“Of course. But if you don’t mind we’ll do our routine nonsense with it first.”
“Fingerprints?” he asked faintly.
“Yes. It really is only routine. I expect to find none but his and your own, of course. We have to do these things.”
“Of course.”
“Colonel Forrester, what is it that’s worrying you? There is something, isn’t there?”
“Isn’t it enough,” he cried out with a kind of suppressed violence, “that I’ve lost an old and valued servant? Isn’t that enough?”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” said the Colonel at once. “My dear fellow, you must excuse me. I do apologize. I’m not quite myself.”
“Shall I tell Mrs. Forrester you’re in here?”
“No, no. No need for that. None in the world. Rather like to be by myself for a bit: that’s all. Thank you very much, Alleyn. Very considerate.”
“I’ll leave you, then.”
But before he could do so the door opened and in came Mr. Bert Smith, dressed but not shaved.
“I been talking to ’Illy,” he said without preliminaries, “and I don’t much fancy what I hear. You found ’im, then?”
“Yes.”
“Been knocked off? Bashed? Right?”
“Right.”
“And there was three of them convicted murderers trying to make away with the corpse. Right?”
“Right.”
“And you make out they got nothing to do with it?”
“I don’t think, at this stage, that it looks as if any of them killed him.”
“You got to be joking.”
“Have I?” said Alleyn.
Mr. Smith made a noise suggestive of contempt and disgust, and placed himself in front of the Colonel, who was leaning back in his chair frowning to himself.
“Glad to see you, Colonel,” said Mr. Smith. “It’s time we got together for a talk. ’Illy’s coming down when he’s broken the news to ’is loved one and collected ’is Auntie. Any objections?” he shot at Alleyn.
“Good Lord!” Alleyn said. “What possible objections could there be and how on earth could I enforce them? You can hold meetings all over the house if you feel so disposed. I only hope a bit of hog-sense comes out of them. If it does I’ll be glad if you’ll pass it on. We could do with it.”
“Honestly,” said Mr. Smith sourly, “you devastate me.”
Hilary came in with Mrs. Forrester and Cressida, who was en negligée and looked beautiful but woebegone. The other two were dressed.
Mrs. Forrester gave her husband a sharp look and sat beside him. He nodded as if, Alleyn thought, to reassure her and stave off any conversation. Hilary glanced unhappily at Alleyn and stood before the fire. Cressida approached Alleyn, gazed into his face, made a complicated, piteous gesture and shook her lovely head slowly from side to side after the ma
“I can’t cope,” she said. “I mean I just can’t. You know?”
“You don’t really have to,” he said.
An expression that might have been the prelude to a grin dawned for a moment. “Well, actually I don’t, do I?” said Cressida. “Still, admit — it’s all a pretty good drag, isn’t it?”
She gave him another extremely matey look and then, in her usual fashion collapsed superbly into a chair.
Smith, Mrs. Forrester and even Hilary stared at her with unmistakable disfavour, Colonel Forrester with a kind of tender bewilderment.
“Cressy, my dear!” he mildly protested.
And at that an astonishing change came about in Cressida. Her eyes filled with tears, her mouth quivered and she beat with her pretty clenched fists on the arms of her chair. “All right, you lot,” she stammered. “I know what you’re thinking: how hard and mod and ghastly I’m being. All right. I don’t drip round making sorry-he’s-dead noises. That doesn’t mean I don’t mind. I do. I liked him — Moult. He was nice to me. You’ve all seen death, haven’t you? I hadn’t. Not ever. Not until I looked out of my window this morning and saw them putting it in a car, face up and awful. You needn’t say anything, any of you. No, Hilly, not even you — not yet. You’re old, old, all of you and you don’t get it. That’s all. Crack ahead with your meeting, for God’s sake.”
They stared at each other in consternation. Cressida beat on the arms of her chair and said, “Damn! I won’t bloody cry. I won’t.”
Hilary said, “Darling —” but she stamped with both feet and he stopped. Smith muttered something that sounded like “does you credit, love,” and cleared his throat.
Mrs. Forrester said: “I collect, Smith, that ludicrous as it sounds, you wish to hold some sort of meeting. Why don’t you do it?”
“Give us a chance,” he said resentfully.
Alleyn said, “I’m afraid I’m the stumbling block. I’ll leave you to it in a moment.”
Colonel Forrester, with something of an effort, got to his feet.
“Ask you to excuse me,” he said to Smith. “I’m not much good at meetings. Never have been. If you’ll allow me, Hilly, I’ll just sit in your study till breakfast.”
“Fred —”
“No, B. I haven’t got one of my Turns. I simply would like a moment or two to myself, my dear.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No,” said the Colonel very firmly indeed. “Don’t fuss me, B. I prefer to be alone.” He went to the door, paused and looked at Cressida. She had her hand pressed to her mouth. “Unless,” the Colonel said gently, “you would care to join me, Cressy, presently. I think perhaps we’re both duffers at meetings, don’t you?”