Fourteen

EXCURSION INTO THE PAST

After a night in the train, Inspector Craddock alighted at a small station inthe Highlands.

It struck him for a moment as strange that the wealthy Mrs. Goedler—an invalid—with a choice of a London house in a fashionable square, anestate in Hampshire, and a villa in the South of France, should have selec-ted this remote Scottish home as her residence. Surely she was cut off herefrom many friends and distractions. It must be a lonely life—or was shetoo ill to notice or care about her surroundings?

A car was waiting to meet him. A big old-fashioned Daimler with an eld-erly chauffeur driving it. It was a sunny morning and the Inspector en-joyed the twenty-mile drive, though he marvelled anew at this preferencefor isolation. A tentative remark to the chauffeur brought partial enlight-enment.

“It’s her own home as a girl. Ay, she’s the last of the family. And she andMr. Goedler were always happier here than anywhere, though it wasn’toften he could get away from London. But when he did they enjoyedthemselves like a couple of bairns.”

When the grey walls of the old keep came in sight, Craddock felt thattime was slipping backwards. An elderly butler received him, and after awash and a shave he was shown into a room with a huge fire burning inthe grate, and breakfast was served to him.

After breakfast, a tall, middle-aged woman in nurse’s dress, with a pleas-ant and competent manner, came in and introduced herself as Sister Mc-Clelland.

“I have my patient all ready for you, Mr. Craddock. She is, indeed, look-ing forward to seeing you.”

“I’ll do my best not to excite her,” Craddock promised.

“I had better warn you of what will happen. You will find Mrs. Goedlerapparently quite normal. She will talk and enjoy talking and then—quitesuddenly—her powers will fail. Come away at once, then, and send forme. She is, you see, kept almost entirely under the influence of morphia.

She drowses most of the time. In preparation for your visit, I have givenher a strong stimulant. As soon as the effect of the stimulant wears off, shewill relapse into semiconsciousness.”

“I quite understand, Miss McClelland. Would it be in order for you to tellme exactly what the state of Mrs. Goedler’s health is?”

“Well, Mr. Craddock, she is a dying woman. Her life cannot be pro-longed for more than a few weeks. To say that she should have been deadyears ago would strike you as odd, yet it is the truth. What has kept Mrs.

Goedler alive is her intense enjoyment and love of being alive. Thatsounds, perhaps, an odd thing to say of someone who has lived the life ofan invalid for many years and has not left her home here for fifteen years,but it is true. Mrs. Goedler has never been a strong woman—but she hasretained to an astonishing degree the will to live.” She added with a smile,“She is a very charming woman, too, as you will find.”

Craddock was shown into a large bedroom where a fire was burningand where an old lady lay in a large canopied bed. Though she was onlyabout seven or eight years older than Letitia Blacklock, her fragility madeher seem older than her years.

Her white hair was carefully arranged, a froth of pale blue wool envel-oped her neck and shoulders. There were lines of pain on the face, butlines of sweetness, too. And there was, strangely enough, what Craddockcould only describe as a roguish twinkle in her faded blue eyes.

“Well, this is interesting,” she said. “It’s not often I receive a visit fromthe police. I hear Letitia Blacklock wasn’t much hurt by this attempt onher? How is my dear Blackie?”

“She’s very well, Mrs. Goedler. She sent you her love.”

“It’s a long time since I’ve seen her … For many years now, it’s been justa card at Christmas. I asked her to come up here when she came back toEngland after Charlotte’s death, but she said it would be painful after solong and perhaps she was right … Blackie always had a lot of sense. I hadan old school friend to see me about a year ago, and, lor!”—she smiled—“we bored each other to death. After we’d finished all the ‘Do you re-members?’ there wasn’t anything to say. Most embarrassing.”

Craddock was content to let her talk before pressing his questions. Hewanted, as it were, to get back into the past, to get the feel of the Goedler-Blacklock ménage.

“I suppose,” said Belle shrewdly, “that you want to ask about themoney? Randall left it all to go to Blackie after my death. Really, of course,Randall never dreamed that I’d outlive him. He was a big strong man,never a day’s illness, and I was always a mass of aches and pains and com-plaints and doctors coming and pulling long faces over me.”

“I don’t think complaints would be the right word, Mrs. Goedler.”

The old lady chuckled.

“I didn’t mean it in the complaining sense. I’ve never been too sorry formyself. But it was always taken for granted that I, being the weakly one,would go first. It didn’t work out that way. No—it didn’t work out thatway….”

“Why, exactly, did your husband leave his money the way he did?”

“You mean, why did he leave it to Blackie? Not for the reason you’veprobably been thinking.” The roguish twinkle was very apparent. “Whatminds you policemen have! Randall was never in the least in love with herand she wasn’t with him. Letitia, you know, has really got a man’s mind.

She hasn’t any feminine feelings or weaknesses. I don’t believe she wasever in love with any man. She was never particularly pretty and shedidn’t care for clothes. She used a little makeup in deference to prevailingcustom, but not to make herself look prettier.” There was pity in the oldvoice as she went on: “She never knew any of the fun of being a woman.”

Craddock looked at the frail little figure in the big bed with interest.

Belle Goedler, he realized, had enjoyed—still enjoyed—being a woman.

She twinkled at him.

“I’ve always thought,” she said, “it must be terribly dull to be a man.”

Then she said thoughtfully:

“I think Randall looked on Blackie very much as a kind of youngerbrother. He relied on her judgment which was always excellent. She kepthim out of trouble more than once, you know.”

“She told me that she came to his rescue once with money?”

“That, yes, but I meant more than that. One can speak the truth after allthese years. Randall couldn’t really distinguish between what was crookedand what wasn’t. His conscience wasn’t sensitive. The poor dear reallydidn’t know what was just smart—and what was dishonest. Blackie kepthim straight. That’s one thing about Letitia Blacklock, she’s absolutelydead straight. She would never do anything that was dishonest. She’s avery fine character, you know. I’ve always admired her. They had a ter-rible girlhood, those girls. The father was an old country doctor—terrific-ally pig-headed and narrow-minded—the complete family tyrant. Letitiabroke away, came to London, and trained herself as a chartered account-ant. The other sister was an invalid, there was a deformity of kinds andshe never saw people or went out. That’s why when the old man died,Letitia gave up everything to go home and look after her sister. Randallwas wild with her—but it made no difference. If Letitia thought a thingwas her duty she’d do it. And you couldn’t move her.”

“How long was that before your husband died?”

“A couple of years, I think. Randall made his will before she left thefirm, and he didn’t alter it. He said to me: ‘We’ve no one of our own.’ (Ourlittle boy died, you know, when he was two years old.) ‘After you and I aregone, Blackie had better have the money. She’ll play the markets andmake ’em sit up.’

“You see,” Belle went on, “Randall enjoyed the whole money- makinggame so much—it wasn’t just the money—it was the adventure, the risks,the excitement of it all. And Blackie liked it too. She had the same adven-turous spirit and the same judgment. Poor darling, she’d never had any ofthe usual fun—being in love, and leading men on and teasing them—andhaving a home and children and all the real fun of life.”

Craddock thought it was odd, the real pity and indulgent contempt feltby this woman, a woman whose life had been hampered by illness, whoseonly child had died, whose husband had died, leaving her to a lonely wid-owhood, and who had been a hopeless invalid for years.

She nodded her head at him.

“I know what you’re thinking. But I’ve had all the things that make lifeworth while—they may have been taken from me—but I have had them. Iwas pretty and gay as a girl, I married the man I loved, and he neverstopped loving me … My child died, but I had him for two precious years… I’ve had a lot of physical pain—but if you have pain, you know how toenjoy the exquisite pleasure of the times when pain stops. And everyone’sbeen kind to me, always … I’m a lucky woman, really.”

Craddock seized upon an opening in her former remarks.

“You said just now, Mrs. Goedler, that your husband left his fortune toMiss Blacklock because he had no one else to leave it to. But that’s notstrictly true, is it? He had a sister.”

“Oh, Sonia. But they quarrelled years ago and made a clean break of it.”

“He disapproved of her marriage?”

“Yes, she married a man called—now what was his name—?”

“Stamfordis.”

“That’s it. Dmitri Stamfordis. Randall always said he was a crook. Thetwo men didn’t like each other from the first. But Sonia was wildly in lovewith him and quite determined to marry him. And I really never saw whyshe shouldn’t. Men have such odd ideas about these things. Sonia wasn’t amere girl—she was twenty-five, and she knew exactly what she was doing.

He was a crook, I dare say—I mean really a crook. I believe he had a crim-inal record—and Randall always suspected the name he was passing un-der here wasn’t his own. Sonia knew all that. The point was, which ofcourse Randall couldn’t appreciate, that Dmitri was really a wildly attract-ive person to women. And he was just as much in love with Sonia as shewas with him. Randall insisted that he was just marrying her for hermoney—but that wasn’t true. Sonia was very handsome, you know. Andshe had plenty of spirit. If the marriage had turned out badly, if Dmitrihad been unkind to her or unfaithful to her, she would just have cut herlosses and walked out on him. She was a rich woman and could do as shechose with her life.”

“The quarrel was never made up?”

“No. Randall and Sonia never had got on very well. She resented his try-ing to prevent the marriage. She said, ‘Very well. You’re quite impossible!

This is the last you hear of me!’”

“But it was not the last you heard of her?”

Belle smiled.

“No, I got a letter from her about eighteen months afterwards. Shewrote from Budapest, I remember, but she didn’t give an address. She toldme to tell Randall that she was extremely happy and that she’d just hadtwins.”

“And she told you their names?”

Again Belle smiled. “She said they were born just after midday—and sheintended to call them Pip and Emma. That may have been just a joke, ofcourse.”

“Didn’t you hear from her again?”

“No. She said she and her husband and the babies were going to Amer-ica on a short stay. I never heard any more….”

“You don’t happen, I suppose, to have kept that letter?”

“No, I’m afraid not … I read it to Randall and he just grunted: ‘She’ll re-gret marrying that fellow one of these days.’ That’s all he ever said aboutit. We really forgot about her. She went right out of our lives….”

“Nevertheless Mr. Goedler left his estate to her children in the event ofMiss Blacklock predeceasing you?”

“Oh, that was my doing. I said to him, when he told me about the will:

‘And suppose Blackie dies before I do?’ He was quite surprised. I said, ‘Oh,I know Blackie is as strong as a horse and I’m a delicate creature—butthere’s such a thing as accidents, you know, and there’s such a thing ascreaking gates …’ And he said, ‘There’s no one—absolutely no one.’ I said,‘There’s Sonia.’ And he said at once, ‘And let that fellow get hold of mymoney? No—indeed!’ I said, ‘Well, her children then. Pip and Emma, andthere may be lots more by now’—and so he grumbled, but he did put itin.”

“And from that day to this,” Craddock said slowly, “you’ve heard noth-ing of your sister-in-law or her children?”

“Nothing—they may be dead—they may be—anywhere.”

They may be in Chipping Cleghorn, thought Craddock.

As though she read his thoughts, a look of alarm came into BelleGoedler’s eyes. She said, “Don’t let them hurt Blackie. Blackie’s good —really good—you mustn’t let harm come to—”

Her voice trailed off suddenly. Craddock saw the sudden grey shadowsround her mouth and eyes.

“You’re tired,” he said. “I’ll go.”

She nodded.

“Send Mac to me,” she whispered. “Yes, tired …” She made a feeble mo-tion of her hand. “Look after Blackie … Nothing must happen to Blackie …look after her….”

“I’ll do my very best, Mrs. Goedler.” He rose and went to the door.

Her voice, a thin thread of sound, followed him….

“Not long now—until I’m dead—dangerous for her—Take care….”

Sister McClelland passed him as he went out. He said, uneasily:

“I hope I haven’t done her harm.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, Mr. Craddock. I told you she would tire quite sud-denly.”

Later, he asked the nurse:

“The only thing I hadn’t time to ask Mrs. Goedler was whether she hadany old photographs? If so, I wonder—”

She interrupted him.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing of that kind. All her personal papers andthings were stored with their furniture from the London house at the be-ginning of the war. Mrs. Goedler was desperately ill at the time. Then thestorage despository was blitzed. Mrs. Goedler was very upset at losing somany personal souvenirs and family papers. I’m afraid there’s nothing ofthat kind.”

So that was that, Craddock thought.

Yet he felt his journey had not been in vain. Pip and Emma, those twinwraiths, were not quite wraiths.

Craddock thought, “Here’s a brother and sister brought up somewherein Europe. Sonia Goedler was a rich woman at the time of her marriage,but money in Europe hasn’t remained money. Queer things havehappened to money during these war years. And so there are two youngpeople, the son and daughter of a man who had a criminal record. Sup-pose they came to England, more or less penniless. What would they do?

Find out about any rich relatives. Their uncle, a man of vast fortune, isdead. Possibly the first thing they’d do would be to look up their uncle’swill. See if by any chance money had been left to them or to their mother.

So they go to Somerset House and learn the contents of his will, and then,perhaps, they learn of the existence of Miss Letitia Blacklock. Then theymake inquiries about Randall Goedler’s widow. She’s an invalid, living upin Scotland, and they find out she hasn’t long to live. If this Letitia Black-lock dies before her, they will come into a vast fortune. What then?”

Craddock thought, “They wouldn’t go to Scotland. They’d find out whereLetitia Blacklock is living now. And they’d go there—but not as themselves… They’d go together—or separately? Emma … I wonder?… Pip and Emma… I’ll eat my hat if Pip, or Emma, or both of them, aren’t in Chipping Cleg-horn now….”