The Ghost It Was Page 9

  ‘By which he means he must be drunk. So, you’ve been cross-questioning the staff?’

  ‘Yes. And a very unwilling witness he was. However, that has nothing to do with you or this somewhat peculiar meeting. Let’s think. What were we discussing? Oh, yes. Why you and Uncle James had stuck each other for so long. As to his motives, I shall have to find out for myself, because I strongly suspect that you really genuinely do not know. But your own of course are perfectly clear, and so are Arthur’s. They’re much the same as mine.’

  Arthur laughed pleasantly as if it were the best joke in the world.

  ‘Trying to see what we can legitimately make out of Uncle James? I won’t use such hard words as Henry does—’

  ‘Why not?’ Malcolm broke in. ‘Swindling I said, swindling I meant, and swindling Spring-Benson intends to indulge in.’

  ‘Of course, I do. I have not the slightest objection to looking hard words in the face. And, after all, you two, disguise it how you like, are out for the old boy’s money just as much as I am.’

  ‘And precious poor hopes we’ve got. That answers that.’

  ‘Why do you say that, Henry? I beg your pardon, Cousin Henry — or would you prefer Mr Malcolm?’

  ‘I’ve got a surname, haven’t I?’

  ‘Malcolm. Just plain Malcolm? Dull. I’m afraid I shall have to stick to Henry. However, leaving that aside for the moment, why are our chances so poor? Has he made a will which can’t be revoked in favour of the cats’ home or something like that? Because if you can honestly assure me that that is a fact, then I’m off.’

  Temptation struggled in Arthur’s mind. After all, he was a lawyer, and his uncle might very reasonably have made a will with him, but just in time he remembered that it was only quite recently that Malcolm had heard him complaining that he got none of his uncle’s legal business. In any case, before he could speak Henry had answered.

  ‘No, it’s not that. As a matter of fact, except for one detail, I have no more idea than the man in the moon what he has done about it. But I strongly suspect that he will leave most of it to Emily, and the rest to something frightful — the Society for Psychical Research, for instance.’

  ‘Well, I said the cats’ home.’

  But Arthur had noticed one point of greater interest.

  ‘“Except for one detail.” What was that?’

  ‘That he strongly disapproved of able-bodied young men counting on being left money by their elderly relations.’

  ‘That still leaves me in,’ Gregory languidly commented. ‘Nobody has ever yet dreamed of calling me “able-bodied”. For that matter, there’s some difficulty in calling either of you “young”, isn’t there? Except, I suppose, relatively.’

  ‘And in any case, Henry, there was no need to take it too seriously. Uncle James rather likes pulling your leg occasionally.’

  ‘Oh, is that the reason that I’ve been looking for?’ Gregory appeared to be thinking aloud.

  ‘You know, something is coming out of this,’ Arthur mused. ‘You see, it’s like this, if I may explain. Uncle James, as you can all see, is a testy, difficult sort of fellow. It’s fairly easy to make him dislike someone, but it’s admittedly pretty hard — in fact, it must be almost impossible; I know I haven’t been very successful — to get him to like one’s self, at any rate for any length of time. Now that being so, if we all act against each other we shall be able to crab each other’s chances, but not to improve our own. I freely admit, Gregory, that until you turned up a few days ago I had not considered you as a serious candidate, and I am afraid that I must own that we have not treated you very well in the past — still, there it is. Here you are, and I am prepared to recognise facts.’

  ‘Thank you so much. Though what earthly difference it would make to the fact, except to your disfavour, if you refused to recognise it, I shall never understand. However, go on.’

  ‘Malcolm’s position and yours at the moment are both stronger than mine, I agree, because you’re in the house and I’m outside. Also, I’m handicapped by having Christopher as a brother. But setting that aside, the very fact that you are constantly with Uncle James is in some ways a disadvantage. You’ve got opportunities of annoying him every minute, and it’s a thing that’s very easily done, let me assure you.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve seen you doing it, even without being constantly with him.’

  Before Arthur had recovered from this blow below the belt, Malcolm had cut in.

  ‘I think it is quite time that this conversation ended. Unless you have got anything definite to say, Arthur, I propose to go. After all, you will have the honesty to remember that I accepted your invitation with the greatest reluctance—’

  ‘And have ostentatiously refused to drink anything. Whereas I will help myself to some more sherry — though in that connection the word “more” should never be used. Of course, Henry, Arthur has got something else to say, only he’s too much of a gentleman to say it. He wants a treaty amongst the three of us. None of us are to try to destroy the other’s chances, and I expect that if you encourage him, he will suggest pooling anything which Uncle James leaves to any of us. He’s probably got a legal document up his sleeve all prepared — ready for signature, with the proportions laid down. Probably you will find it ends by providing that lots are to be drawn and the loser has to marry Emily and bring her share into — what do you call it when you divide up? — hotchpot.’

  With difficulty Arthur managed to treat the suggestion as a joke. Some such idea, except for the inclusion of Emily, had passed through his mind.

  ‘Can’t put that into my imaginary deed, I’m afraid. It would be against the Betting Act.’

  ‘Anything which involves the faintest risk of marrying Emily definitely does not include me,’ Malcolm blurted out.

  ‘Then leave the poor girl out. Aren’t you both being a little vulgar? All the same, you know, it really is worthwhile thinking over some pooling scheme, and anyhow, as I said, in the meantime keeping at any rate outwardly friendly. I really hope that in due course we could do even better than that.’

  No one could say that Arthur did not try.

  ‘Yes, we are being a little vulgar.’ Gregory unexpectedly abandoned his air of ironical indifference and got on to his feet. ‘And heaven knows that’s better than your oily humbug. Much as I dislike you, Cousin Henry, I give you one piece of good advice quite free. Don’t enter into any gentleman’s agreement with Cousin Arthur because he won’t keep it, and don’t sign any contract with him because he will put in something which will enable him to break it. So far will my outward friendliness go, but not much further.’

  ‘To say things like that in my own house!’ Arthur protested. ‘I suppose you are aware that it’s slander?’

  ‘Possibly. I neither know nor even care. Even after drinking your rather indifferent sherry. What a waste of your rare hospitality! As for your slander action, bring it and be damned.’ Without any additional remark, Gregory Spring-Benson stalked out of the room. He was quite surprised when he thought it over afterwards at how definitely he had burnt his boats.

  Malcolm waited only until he was decently far behind him so that they would not have to walk back to Amberhurst Place together. Then he too left, not before, however, he had informed his cousin that he was giving evidence in no slander action, and that anyhow Gregory was not worth powder and shot. On the whole, he did not feel anxious for the society of either of his cousins, but it was very hard to avoid them both. Even the insipidity of Emily was better than either of them.

  Left to himself, Arthur worked himself up to a high state of moral indignation. To be insulted so needlessly, so grossly, and so untruthfully by a guest in his own house in that way! Even if the fellow was a cousin he had no right to talk like that. Besides, what could Gregory know of him after an acquaintance of only a fortnight or so? A thoroughly unfair estimate of his character he had been made to listen to. Even putting down as much as he could of his cousin’s ill-temper to the effects
of the east wind which still unseasonably persisted, he found it very hard to produce all the charitableness on which he normally prided himself.

  But eventually his vanity was assuaged. The plan of bringing his two cousins together and trying to induce them to listen to the dictates of common sense had failed. He ought to have known that with two such impossible people it was almost sure to fail. In fact, he told himself, he had all along known in his heart of hearts that it would fail, but his conscience had compelled him to try it. And so, with that duty honourably performed, he was free to carry on individually with any other notions or plans which might have entered into his mind. A carefully edited — he cleared his throat — a perfectly truthful picture of what had happened might even help to remove the last scruples of the rector. Not that thinking it over, it was scruples which were worrying Thompson. It was the fear of being found out. Well, he thought he could deal with that.

  11

  The Red Plume

  Arthur was not the only person whose plans were not always a complete success. There was, for instance, James’ first attempt to form what he termed ‘a home circle’.

  Like many other people James wanted to begin at the end, and he was not prepared for his study of spiritualism to put himself under the orders of anyone else, which, if he were to employ a professional medium, he would have to do. Even to go so far as to do what he was told in a small book in his possession containing instructions as to how to become a medium had been a considerable concession on his part. The operation of an attempted séance had been long and rather boring, and, on the whole, slightly ridiculous, for all of which the blame must be attributed to James’ pig-headed obstinacy.

  Emily had managed to escape half-way through on the plea of a sick headache, and Malcolm had nearly managed to get himself thrown out as having an influence so definitely unsympathetic as to be positively a hindrance. But the remaining three nephews had all been compelled, not only to come, but to stay to the bitter end. Christopher, who alone perhaps could have avoided the whole performance, had not on the whole been bored, since he could always amuse himself by watching other people. Gregory, he noticed, kept his pose of polite scepticism that never degenerated into a positive refusal to believe should the circumstances warrant it. That was what Christopher had expected, but Arthur’s attitude he did not quite understand. There seemed to be a suppressed excitement in his manner, and yet he seemed relieved when James at last gave it up.

  ‘But only for this evening, mind you. We’ll try again another day, perhaps leaving each of you out in turn in case one of you is anti-psychic.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s the ghost outside that stops us. It’s a different sort of thing altogether, isn’t it?’

  James was not sure whether Arthur’s remark was quite serious or not — he had hardly heard it properly. But in case it was flippant, he disapproved of it.

  ‘Not at all,’ he said; ‘there are ghosts and ghosts. It all depends.’

  ‘That doesn’t seem to get us much further.’ Gregory took up the conversation. ‘Isn’t there a theory that some ghosts only last for a period? In which case our friends in the tower there may well be finished.’

  He was perfectly well aware what the answer was to that proposition, having read it in the train coming down. He hoped his uncle had read it too, and so would be provided with the pleasure of trotting out the proper reply. Surely enough it came.

  ‘They may have limited periods.’ James became rather pontifical. ‘But they say that it depends on their composition not only how long they last, but what, while they are here, they are capable of achieving.’

  ‘That would be equally true of vintage wine or oil paintings, or glue, or almost anything else,’ Malcolm muttered.

  Fortunately, James did not hear him and continued cheerfully with what was virtually a quotation.

  ‘The ghost, like the one or ones which perhaps we have, who makes some sort of social contact with humanity—’

  ‘What do you mean by that? Leave a visiting card?’ Malcolm tried to be sarcastic. This time his uncle heard him, but before he could reply Gregory slipped in:

  ‘Well, I did read of a ghost doing exactly that, but it isn’t quite what Uncle James means.’

  ‘It is not. Where was I? Oh yes, that sort of ghost seems to be able to vary its vibrations, so that it can jump to and fro across some border-line that we cannot understand, some three-dimensional line that is visible on one side and invisible on the other.’ He stopped, owing to a dawning doubt as to whether he had not got the comparison a trifle mixed.

  While Malcolm muttered that he was not used to partially visible three-dimensional lines, Arthur moved slowly towards the window and pulled aside the curtains.

  ‘One can’t help thinking — what was that?’ His voice suddenly went up to a high note, almost as if he were afraid.

  ‘What was what?’ Gregory was the first to speak, but Christopher and Henry reached the window before him.

  ‘On the tower — look, there it goes again.’

  By now all of them were collected by the window and the curtains were thrown back. Very clearly to Arthur and Christopher, but to the rest for only a short time, a figure was visible, clad in a gown that reached to its knees, very wide in the shoulders. From the whole of it there seemed to emanate a radiance, especially from a short sword or dagger, perhaps as much as eighteen inches long, that hung horizontally from a ribbon that seemed to be attached to the waist.

  As Henry reached the window the figure raised in one hand a flat, low-crowned hat with a wide brim, and waved it towards the Great Water. Then its arm sank to its side, and it turned and started to move towards them.

  ‘The red plume.’ Arthur’s voice was only just audible.

  ‘A sort of long feather,’ Christopher corroborated. ‘Can you see it, Gregory?’

  ‘Not properly now. The hand was dropping when I got here. It’s gone now. But I saw the dagger.’ He seemed to be unable to take his eyes away from where the figure had taken the few steps towards them before disappearing through the archway at the top of the turret steps.

  The tension was broken by James somewhat unexpectedly. He seized Gregory by the shoulder and twisted him round.

  ‘Now, how did you work that?’ In his excitement, he positively shook him. ‘Come on, tell me. How could you do it? Who have you got to help you?’

  ‘I should try ringing the bell for Rushton and see if anything happens.’ Henry put in dryly. Without waiting for anyone to approve or disapprove the suggestion, he rang.

  ‘Rushton! Nonsense,’ Arthur cut in. ‘If ever anything was real.’

  That was enough for James.

  ‘How do you know? In all probability, we shall find it was some clever trick. I expect it was Rushton.’

  At that moment the impeccable figure of the butler appeared in the doorway. For a moment no one said anything. Then James dropped his grip of Gregory’s shoulder and rather lamely said:

  ‘Mr Henry rang.’

  Again, there was silence, and it needed a further reminder of his existence by Rushton before Malcolm spoke.

  ‘Yes, yes, I did.’ Another awkward silence. Then Malcolm suddenly asked: ‘Were you in the tower just now?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘How could he have had time to get here if he had been?’

  Ignoring Christopher’s interruption, Malcolm went on:

  ‘Then why are the knees of your trousers dusty?’

  Rushton looked down.

  ‘I had the misfortune to drop a coin, sir, and it rolled into the corner of the room. I’m sure, sir, that I’m very sorry to appear in so untidy a state, but I am unaware, sir, what that has to do with the tower. Is there anything else that you require, sir?’

  Receiving no intelligible answer, Rushton departed, slightly mystified, but conscious that he alone had preserved any dignity. He would be very interested to find out afterwards what had happened.

  ‘So that was a bad shot, Cousin Henry,
’ Gregory rubbed it in quietly.

  James still looked at him doubtfully. Then he stalked to the window and looked out. Nothing was to be seen now on the top of the tower.

  ‘Funny,’ he said, ‘that I should be the most doubtful of all of you. It’s all your silly talk about swindling me that has done this.’ He scowled at Gregory. ‘Otherwise I should have known that it was genuine. And after all, why not? Why can’t I believe? I, who know better than all of you that there are such things.’

  ‘I expect it seems too good to be true,’ Christopher mused.

  ‘Eh? That can be taken in more ways than one. It’s this suspicion that you’ve all put up round me, this doubting.’ He came very near to apologising in a half-hearted sort of way to Gregory. Then he thought better of it.

  After all, there was to be some trick played on him; that had been freely admitted and allowed as part of the game. He wanted to believe that it was a genuine ghost that he had seen, but he was afraid lest it could not be. On the whole, he thought that it must be, for, look at it as he would, he could see no way in which Gregory could be implicated. He could not even see anything which he had done to lead up to the incident.

  Nevertheless, he was not going to admit complete credulity.

  ‘Next time,’ he said, ‘I shan’t wait for anything. I shall go straight up and see what is there.’

  ‘Which is exactly,’ Henry had the temerity to suggest, ‘what I wanted to do then.’

  ‘Really? I thought you rang the bell for my alleged accomplice?’ Gregory seemed quite to have recovered both from the shock which the sight of the ghost had apparently given him and from his uncle’s rough handling.

  ‘In any case, I don’t think going round will be much good.’ Christopher spoke placidly. ‘If it is a ghost, you won’t find it. If it is not, there will be plenty of time for anyone there to get away before you can get to the front door and round the corner of the house and across the lawn and round to the other side of the tower where the door is.’