‘It has not, Mr Verma,’ said Inspector Sunderland forcefully. ‘Your servant is under arrest for the murder of Captain Summers and you are under arrest for threatening these people with a firearm.’
‘I can see at least two problems with your arrests, Inspector,’ said Verma, still backing away. ‘The first is that I’m still holding the firearm in question and if anyone makes any attempt to stop us, I shall make good on that threat and shoot them. The second is that, as emissary of His Majesty, the King of Nepal, I have diplomatic status. I’m sure you can imagine the sort of pressure which would be brought to bear at the highest levels if you attempt to bring charges against me or my servant.’
The inspector sighed and shook his head, an almost comical gesture which I confess did make me smile a little.
‘I knew you’d see reason,’ said Verma. ‘You all seem like intelligent people, so I’m sure I don’t have to issue any more melodramatic warnings about the consequences of attempting to stop us. Sir Hector, Lady Farley-Stroud, thank you for your generous hospitality. Miss Clarissa, long life and happiness to you and the charming Mr Woodfield. Lady Hardcastle, thank you for returning the gem to me, I knew you’d manage it.’ And with that, he set off towards the front of the house where his motorcar was parked on the drive.
For a few moments no one seemed quite certain what to do until Lady Farley-Stroud spoke up. ‘Jenkins,’ she said, calmly. ‘Telephone Doctor Fitzsimmons and tell him there’s been another death. Inspector Sunderland?’
‘My lady?’
‘I’m sure you’ll want to make one or two telephone calls of your own. Please use the instrument in Sir Hector’s study. Dewi and Bert, you can clean up out here as best you can, but don’t disturb the body. Dora, fetch fresh tea and bring it to the drawing room.’
Her servants immediately went about their appointed tasks, glad, it seemed, for something to do.
‘The rest of us, I feel, are in need of a stiff drink. There’s brandy in the drawing room.’
‘I couldn’t do without my brandy, my dear,’ said Lady Farley-Stroud conspiratorially to Lady Hardcastle. ‘I keep some hidden away in here where Hector can’t find it.’
She opened her large sewing box and rummaged around, eventually producing a bottle of very fine cognac which she proceeded to pour into the teacups as Dora filled them with tea.
The inspector came into the room and beckoned Lady Hardcastle and me over to him.
‘I’ve got some boys coming up from Bristol to help dot the Ts and cross the whatnots, but I think that more or less wraps things up,’ he said.
‘Have you put out an alert for Mr Verma and his servant?’ asked Lady Hardcastle.
‘I have, but to be perfectly honest, my lady, I can’t help but think that Verma was right: there’s not a lot we could do even if we did manage to catch him.’
‘Hmm,’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘At least the murder was solved,’ I said.
‘Again, miss, if I were being properly honest, I’m not completely sure that we’d ever have got the poor chap for murder at all. A decent brief would talk that one down to manslaughter, I’ve no doubt. And if he played up the “romantic quest” angle, a sympathetic jury might even have gone for self defence. But the mystery has been solved, at least. I do hate loose ends. Thank you for that, ladies.’
‘It was entirely our pleasure, Inspector,’ said Lady Hardcastle.
‘I am slightly puzzled, though, my lady,’ said the inspector. ‘You say you got all that from a telegram from your friend Colonel…?’
‘Dawlish, Inspector. Yes. Or, more properly, no.’
‘No?’
‘Well, I might have embellished a little. Indulged in a tiny bit of imaginative speculation.’
‘So what exactly did Dawlish say?’ he said with a grin.
She produced the telegram from her jacket pocket and read it aloud. ‘“Remember Summers from Calcutta. Stop. Bit of a rum un. Stop. Rumours he loved the colonel’s daughter. Stop. Almost court-martialled for fighting with a subaltern who then transferred to NW Frontier. Stop. Will contact Isherwood for more if needed. Stop. Love George.”’
The inspector laughed. ‘And from that meagre cloth you embroidered the whole tale?’
‘And from all the painstaking interviews you conducted, my dear Inspector,’ she said, laying a hand on his arm.
He laughed again. ‘You’re very kind, my lady, but still…’
‘Oh pish and fiddlesticks, Inspector. He didn’t contradict me, and it does all fit with the facts that we know of.’
‘I suppose it does at that, my lady. And he’s not in a position to contradict anyone, now, so I expect that yours shall become the official explanation.’
‘Oh no, Inspector,’ she said, slightly horrified. ‘That will never do. I shall contact Colonel Isherwood for confirmation so that the official explanation is as true an account as we can make it. I can’t leave it like that.’
‘As you wish, my lady,’ he said. ‘But as far as Bristol CID is concerned, this one is over and done with. I’m afraid I have a lot to attend to, though, so I shall leave you to your tea. It’s been a pleasure working with you both. Till next time.’
He shook us both warmly by the hand and went out to the corridor where I heard him say, ‘…at Chipping Bevington station? Thank you, Sergeant. Tell them to cuff her this time and get her down to Bristol.’
Skins came over to us.
‘Thanks for that, Lady H. I know it was still all a bit of a mess, but at least we know now. And what a story. I met a bloke once up North. Milton, his name was, Milton Hayes. He writes poems and that. He’d love this one. I might write to him.’
‘Oh, I say,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘What fun.’
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘But thank you. It was awful not knowing who killed Nelse. He was a good lad.’
‘It sounds as though he was,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘What will you do now, though? With poor Mr Holloway gone, and Richman and Montgomery facing charges for theft, smuggling and who knows what else, there’s only you and Mr Dunn left.’
‘Don’t worry about us, Lady H,’ he said, cheerfully. ‘There’s always work for the likes of us. Best rhythm section in London, us. We’ll be all right.’
‘That’s reassuring,’ she said. ‘And your immediate plans?’
‘Well, I don’t suppose the Farley-Strouds will want us hanging about now the case is closed. Not sure, really. We could get a train back to London tonight, I suppose, but it’s a bit of a schlepp with just the two of us and all our clobber.’
‘Oh no,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘That will never do. I have two spare bedrooms and you shall be my guests for the night. There’s certain to be someone in the village who will lend us a cart to get your instruments to the house.’
‘That’s very generous, Lady H. Very generous indeed. Thank you very much.’
‘It’s purely selfish, Mr M. I’ve become rather fond of your ragtime music and we could do with some proper musicians to accompany our poor efforts.’