The Ghost It Was Read online

  The messenger — the only eyewitness — was still some way off. Nevertheless, it is reported that he never spoke to the younger brother again, and that he had one interview with the father, after which date the old man was seldom seen by anyone. Certain it is that the lady never came to Amberhurst Place from that day on, and that within a year the younger brother was found on the top of the tower with the dagger which he habitually wore plunged into his heart. He was kneeling as if he had just come up the steps of the turret, but his face was turned towards the bridle-path.

  One legend said that his father had cursed him and that consequently he was to be seen walking up and down the parapet or sitting on his heels in the attitude in which he had been found, while another maintained that the elder brother could still be seen to come to the parapet, get on to the ledge, and then topple over as if pushed.

  8

  Outline of a Plan

  The story, even though it was not really very long, had occupied James for a good time, and it was not long after they rejoined Mrs Vaughan and Emily that the party started to make a move. Indeed, the strained atmosphere between some of those present would in any case have hardly encouraged lingering.

  The rector refused the lift that was offered by Christopher. It was only a short way, he said, and he liked a little fresh air. Rather to his surprise Arthur Vaughan elected to accompany him, although he would have a more considerable walk before he reached Four Gables via the Rectory.

  In the car Julia characteristically addressed her younger son.

  ‘Wonder what he wants?’

  ‘Which of them? There are so many. Gregory’s motives are obvious enough, of course, but I don’t quite see how he is going to satisfy them.’

  ‘I meant your brother. Must be some reason why he walks home, and with the rector.’

  Christopher could only agree with his mother. It was unusual.

  ‘But then Arthur,’ he reminded her, ‘likes being mysterious. And very often nothing comes of it.’

  ‘Just as well too. That girl’s frightened, though.’

  ‘Emily?’

  ‘Emily of course. Who else could it be?’

  ‘Sorry for being stupid. It must be the effect of talking to Henry. But what is it that is frightening her?’

  ‘Playing with fire — or rather playing with ghosts. She’s scared stiff that she might see one and she more than half believes that James will succeed in raising dozens. Nasty things to have about the house, ghosts.’

  From the way in which she spoke, she might have been referring to mice or cockroaches.

  Before he answered Christopher changed gear, not too easy a business in his old car.

  ‘Do you believe in ghosts yourself, mother?’

  ‘Never believe in anything or disbelieve.’

  ‘That doesn’t get one on very far.’

  ‘No. And there’s no need to go. Conclusions are always dangerous things. As to ghosts, I shall believe in one when I see one — perhaps. Just now I might not even do that. Too many monkey tricks about — and too many fools.’

  ‘Referring to Henry?’

  ‘Yes. And your brother; and the rector; and James; and probably you and me.’

  ‘Well, anyhow, we managed not to be caught over the claret.’

  ‘Silly business. Just like James. I don’t like all that food. Shall be glad to be in bed — only I shall probably have indigestion.’

  The mood of unusual loquaciousness left Julia Vaughan, and neither of them spoke even to say goodnight. In his own room, it occurred to Christopher that, though they had talked about several people, they had hardly mentioned Spring-Benson. But the omission did not surprise him. His mother and he had both the same first impression of that young man. There was no need to say so. Also, before giving final judgment they would both wait a little longer. He lay awake for some time, surprised that he did not hear Arthur’s footsteps on the gravel.

  For Arthur was having a little more difficulty than he had anticipated in inducing the rector to fall in with his plans. Not that Thompson did not entirely agree with the objective or had any nice scruples as to the legitimacy or honourableness of the methods. His opposition, such as it was, was due only to a reasonable caution, a slight uncertainty as to whether the plan was worked out with sufficient care and, above all, a feeling that he was being asked to pull other people’s chestnuts out of the fire. The Reverend Cyprian was much more used to the contrary process.

  Arthur had worked up to it by means of the claret.

  ‘I object,’ he said, as soon as the front door of Amberhurst Place had closed behind them, ‘as much as anyone else to being made a fool of but being quite ready to admit that I do occasionally do stupid things, I do not so much mind when it is my own fault or when the methods adopted are quite fair. But to lay traps like that, provide false information and play upon one’s sense of politeness — that I call quite inexcusable; especially, if I may say so, in the case of yourself. I might have adopted the frankness of one of the family, but it was impossible for you to do anything but what you did.’

  ‘Quite, quite. I felt it, if I may say so, very deeply; although, of course, one has to make allowances for the eccentricities of our good friend.’

  Arthur hummed away for a minute.

  ‘I particularly disliked it in the presence of my cousin Gregory; a young man who apparently is quite sufficiently satisfied with himself anyhow. It rather looks,’ he went on more slowly, ‘as if he was going to encourage my uncle in these spiritualistic ideas.’

  He was glad to see that the rector swallowed the bait and abandoned the possibility of ‘making allowances’. Too much Christian forbearance would not at all suit Arthur at the moment.

  ‘There indeed you speak the truth,’ Thompson broke out, ‘and a most dangerous thing it is. It’s hard enough to keep a hold on the parish in any case in these irreligious days, but if that sort of nonsense is going to be encouraged, there is no knowing where we shall get to.’

  The moment had come for gentle insinuation.

  ‘I was wondering’ (Arthur appeared to be thinking of the subject for the first time) ‘if it would be possible to catch Uncle James much as he caught us tonight by means of this ghost that he is so fond of. It seems to me that as he started it, it would be perfectly fair; in fact, merely justice. By the way, did you notice that the story he gave tonight did not entirely agree with the account given the other day in The New Light? He said that the elder brother jumped on to the parapet — which surely no one would do. The New Light said that he tripped over it. It’s only a foot or so, you know, and no protection if you lost your balance.’

  ‘Is that so? I noticed the discrepancy, though I said nothing, for fear of further unpleasantness. Also, there was something about the sign that differed. Your uncle said a red plume in his broad hat. Now the account in the paper referred to a red feather sticking up from a conical hat. Not that it’s of any importance.’

  ‘Interesting, all the same. But to go back to what I was saying, I wonder if we could put up a colourable imitation of the ghost and get him and Gregory to commit themselves that they had seen it. Then when they had thoroughly accepted the fact that it was a real ghost, we could tell them how we had arranged it all. The laugh on that occasion would be entirely on our side and it would be a pretty good exposure of this psychic business too.’

  Ignoring the fact that one fake does not discredit a whole system of philosophy, Thompson was inclined to agree.

  ‘All the same,’ he said, ‘there do seem to be difficulties. How are you going to get up to the top of the tower, for instance? Then I suppose you could hire the costume and make yourself sufficiently visible with luminous paint or something of that sort, but how are you going to call attention to the fact that you are there at all? And I really don’t see how you can fall off the top of the tower with any safety even if you put nets below to catch yourself.’

  ‘Oh, there are difficulties, and of course I have not thought it al
l out yet.’ Arthur blandly ignored many hours of careful meditation on the subject. ‘But I can answer some of your points. In the first place, I happen to have a key to the turret stairs. Really, it was that which put the whole idea into my mind, otherwise I agree it would be quite impossible.’

  ‘Does your uncle know that you have it?’

  ‘No.’

  On the whole, the rector thought that it was not wise to cross-question his companion any further as to how the key came into his possession. Quite clearly it had been virtually stolen, but that being an inconvenient piece of knowledge, the rector preferred not to possess it. He confined himself therefore to asking if the key still fitted or if the lock had been changed.

  On this point Arthur was able to give him the required assurance.

  ‘Then, as to the next point you raised, the costume can surely be managed, even the dagger if we decide to exhibit the younger brother too. As to calling attention, there are several ways. One of us could be in the Long Library and the time could be prearranged, or whoever was acting the ghost could give a loud shriek or something of that sort. Even the murder — if it was one — of the elder brother might be staged by one of us throwing off a dummy from the top so that it would fall just round the corner out of sight of the library, while the other waited at the bottom and removed the dummy quickly; there are very convenient woods to escape into. That would take some working out, I own. In fact, we might make it our final act before we explained just what it was all about. We might topple the dummy over in full view and leave Uncle James to find it, with a nice explanatory letter showing him what a fool he had been made. It might — this is an improvement which has just occurred to me — it might be typewritten, and if we were very clever we might pretend that it was Gregory who had been deceiving him.’

  ‘In fact, that the whole business was his way of using spiritualism to swindle his uncle, as Malcolm rather unkindly put it? Most ingenious, most ingenious!’ The rector turned the handle of his own front door meditatively. ‘Why not come in,’ he suggested, ‘and work it out a little more?’

  With rather ostentatious hospitality he bustled in and recommended a particular chair to his guest and went in search of whisky and tumblers.

  ‘There we are,’ he said. ‘Most interesting your ideas are; most interesting. But you know you appear to be counting on my co-operation to rather a larger extent than I really care for. Not that I don’t wish you all success; I do. But I should not like it to be known that I was in any way concerned. I am sure you can see that; as the rector of the parish — Caesar’s wife, you know, Caesar’s wife’ — he added playfully — ‘wearing the white flower of a blameless life and all that.’

  It sounded a little muddled, and the clearings of Arthur’s throat disguised with difficulty the fact that he thought very little of a man who wanted so obviously to get the benefit of the medicine and avoid the taste. But the habits of carefully and intentionally acquired external politeness carried him through.

  ‘Your position is certainly a point to be considered, and most carefully considered. Also, in a minor way I assure you that I have to think about my own as well. Even a solicitor has to keep up appearances, you know; but if you will cast your mind back over the outlines of what I have told you, you will see that my idea is that nobody should appear at all. In fact, if possible, the blame is to be put on Spring-Benson.’

  ‘You changed your mind in the middle, you know. I don’t quite see how we are going to laugh at him for being the dupe and attach to him at the same time the stigma of being the inventor of the deception, which, by the way, implies that there is a deception and a stigma.’

  ‘I think that I can answer that. There is of course no real stigma — it is really only a necessary business to free the district from the evils of spiritualism.’ Arthur brushed the difficulty away airily. ‘But there may be some blame attaching to it in Uncle James’ eyes. No one is grateful to the man who has made a fool of him for having done so — even if it is for his own ultimate good — and consequently Spring-Benson will be unpopular. But he himself will be quite aware that he did not do it and that someone is laughing at him as well and laughing very heartily.’

  ‘Yes.’ Thompson considered the question for a moment. ‘There is very much in your plan that I like, and I certainly think that it merits further consideration. In fact, something of the sort should be done; but all the details will have to be thought out most carefully.’

  ‘Oh, I quite agree. Every step must be considered before we take it in the most minute detail.’

  Ignoring Arthur’s interruption, except for noting in his mind the reiterated ‘we’, Thompson went on with what he really wanted to say:

  ‘But I do think that my part in it ought to be at the most a thoroughly subordinate one, well in the background. Even though it is only a harmless practical joke, I feel that as a stranger to the family and the rector of the parish — well, I’m sure that you can see what I mean.’

  Arthur saw only too well. The rector intended to reap the advantages without running any of the risks, and as that was exactly, only on a larger scale, what his own objects were, he had no intention of allowing anything of the sort to happen.

  ‘Ah! But I shall never be able to do it without the help of your brains,’ he began cautiously. ‘Besides, if the appearances of the ghost were always to coincide with a time when my whereabouts could not be accounted for, it might give the whole show away. Then there are several points where two people would be needed. No, no, I really must count on your active help at intervals, at any rate; although, of course, I shall be very careful not to call upon you when it is unnecessary.’

  Somewhat grudgingly Thompson consented, or at least agreed to give the whole thing further consideration.

  Soon after, Arthur departed. The walk home from the rectory to Four Gables seemed to take no time at all, there was so much to think about. He was pretty confident that bit by bit the lion’s share of the work could be shifted on to the rector, even though he would have to do some of it himself, and in due course, after the blame had been allotted to Gregory Spring-Benson, and that very objectionable person removed — ‘Do you find it tiring’, indeed! — he would let it come to his uncle’s ears, much later, that it was the man whom Emily held in such high respect who had really been responsible for everything. Then he would have to take care that even if the rector betrayed the fact that Arthur himself was the prime instigator, James Warrenton would not believe him. That could probably best be done by never letting Thompson know that he had been given away. Finally, he had to guard against a reaction in favour of Gregory when it became known that he in reality had nothing to do with it and had in fact been one of the victims.

  A complicated situation, but one in which Arthur Vaughan thoroughly delighted. The clearances of his throat remained as regular in time as ever, but they rose definitely in volume. Give his uncle a chance to see Gregory clearly for a space and he was sure that all would be well. He was pleased, too, with his handling of the rector — he had even successfully acted the apparent change of plan in the middle, made necessary by the advisability of introducing his ideas gradually. Very tactful, he considered, that he had been. He did not pause to consider how closely allied tact can be to dishonesty.

  9

  A Limited Alliance

  ‘Would there be anything more that you require, sir?’

  ‘No. Nothing, thank you. Have Miss Warrenton and my uncle gone to bed?’

  ‘I believe so, sir. And Mr Malcolm.’

  ‘Thank you. No, there’s nothing more that I shall want. Goodnight.’ Gregory moved to the table in the corner of the Long Library and started to pour himself out a drink. Then he stopped and looked at the retreating back of the butler. ‘Rushton.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Just exactly—’ he paused while both of them looked unwaveringly at the other, ‘just exactly why are you here?’

  ‘Just seeing that everything was in order, sir,
before I retired for the night.’

  ‘You know perfectly well that that was not what I meant.’

  A slight nervous shifting of the weight from one foot to the other displayed quite clearly that Rushton had suspected as much; in fact, was very well aware of the fact.

  ‘Wages very high?’ pursued Gregory implacably and somewhat crudely.

  ‘No, sir,’ promptly.

  ‘I didn’t think they would be. A free hand with the tradespeople?’

  ‘Certainly not. I hope that I am above that sort of thing, sir, if you refer to commissions. In any case, sir, Miss Emily is a very efficient housekeeper, and there is no need for Mr Malcolm to check the books.’

  ‘Which he does?’ Gregory prompted, since Rushton seemed inclined to stop.

  ‘Which he certainly does. And makes insinuations which he has no call to make.’

  ‘I seem to be making the same ones; yet you don’t seem to mind it from me.’

  ‘You asked a straight question and accepted a straight answer without trying to come high-handed over me.’

  Again, there was a short silence.

  ‘So, we are reduced to believing that you stay here out of affection for my uncle? Come, come, Rushton! I go back to my original question. Just exactly why are you here?’

  Evasively the butler shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘Like you, sir, one must be fed.’

  ‘Thank you. Yet I am more honest than you. No one here believes, no one even pretends that I am here solely to get free keep. As my cousin so delicately puts it, I am here to swindle my uncle.’

  ‘So I have heard him say, sir.’

  With a sudden movement Gregory pointed to the tray.

  ‘For heaven’s sake pour yourself out a drink, sit down, and don’t be so inhuman.’

  Rushton shook his head and smiled.