Why Didn't They Ask Evans Read online

  'Somehow or other,' she said, 'we seem to have started wrong. Now just listen quietly, Bobby, and try and take in what I'm going to say. I know your brains are practically negligible, but you ought to be able to understand if you really concentrate.' She paused, then resumed.

  'I am on the trail of Bassingtonffrench.' 'Hear, hear.' 'Bassington-ffrench - our particular Bassington-ffrench lives at Merroway Court at the village of Staverley in Hampshire. Merroway Court belongs to BassingtonfTrench's brother, and our Bassington-ffrench lives there with his brother and his wife.' 'Who's wife?' 'The brother's wife, of course. That isn't the point. The point is how are you or I or both of us is going to worm ourselves into the household. I've been down and reconnoitred the ground. Staverley's a mere village. Strangers arriving there to stay would stick out a mile. It would be the sort of thing that simply isn't done. So I've evolved a plan. This is what is going to happen: Lady Frances Derwent, driving her car more recklessly than well, crashes into the wall near the gates of Merroway Court. Complete wreckage of the car, less complete wreckage of Lady Frances, who is carried to the house, suffering from concussion and shock and must emphatically not be moved.' 'Who says so?' 'George. Now you see where George comes in. We can't risk a strange doctor saying there is nothing the matter with me. Or perhaps some officious person might pick up my prostrate form and take it to some local hospital. No, what happens is this: George is passing, also in a car (you'd better sell us a second one), sees the accident, leaps out and takes charge. "I am a doctor. Stand back, everybody" (That is, if there is anybody to stand back). "We must take her into that house what is it, Merroway Court? That will do. I must be able to make a thorough examination." I am carried to the best spare room, the Bassington-ffrenches either sympathetic or bitterly resisting, but in any case, George will overbear them. George makes his examination and emerges with his verdict. Happily, it is not as serious as he thought. No bones broken, but danger of concussion. I must on no account be moved for two or three days. After that, I shall be able to return to London.

  'And then George departs and it's up to me to ingratiate myself with the household.' 'And where do I come in?' 'You don't.' 'But look here ' 'My dear child, do remember that Bassingtonffrench knows you. He doesn't know me from Adam. And I'm in a frightfully strong position, because I've got a title. You see how useful that is. I'm not just a stray young woman gaining admission to the house for mysterious purposes. I am an earl's daughter and therefore highly respectable. And George is a real doctor and everything is quite above suspicion.' 'Oh! I suppose it's all right,' said Bobby unhappily.

  'It's a remarkably well-planned scheme, I think,' said Frankie with pride.

  'And I don't do anything at all?' asked Bobby.

  He still felt injured - much like a dog who has been unexpectedly deprived of a bone. This, he felt, was his own particular crime, and now he was being ousted.

  'Of course you do, darling. You grow a moustache.' 'Oh! I grow a moustache, do I?' 'Yes. How long will it take?' 'Two or three weeks, I expect.' 'Heavens! I'd no idea it was such a slow process. Can't you speed it up?' 'No. Why can't I wear a false one?' 'They always look so false and they twist or come off or smell of spirit gum. Wait a minute, though, I believe there is a kind you can get stuck on hair by hair, so to speak, that absolutely defies detection. I expect a theatrical wigmaker would do it for you.' 'He'd probably think I was trying to escape from justice.' 'It doesn't matter what he thinks.' 'Once I've got the moustache, what do I do?' 'Put on a chauffeur's uniform and drive the Bentley down to Staverley.' 'Oh, I see.' Bobby brightened.

  'You see my idea is this,' said Frankie: 'Nobody looks at a chauffeur in the way they look at a person. In any case, Bassington-ffrench only saw you for a minute or two and he must have been too rattled wondering if he could change the photograph in time to look at you much. You were just a young golfing ass to him. It isn't like the Caymans who sat opposite you and talked to you and who were deliberately trying to sum you up. I'd bet anything that seeing you in chauffeur's uniform, Bassington-ffrench wouldn't recognize you even without the moustache. He might just possibly think that your face reminded him of somebody - no more than that. And with the moustache it ought to be perfectly safe. Now tell me, what do you think of the plan?' Bobby turned it over in his mind.

  'To tell you the truth, Frankie,' he said generously, 'I think it's pretty good.' 'In that case,' said Frankie briskly. 'Let's go and buy some cars. I say, I think George has broken your bed.' 'It doesn't matter,' said Bobby hospitably. 'It was never a particularly good bed.' They descended to the garage, where a nervous-looking young man with a curious lack of chin and an agreeable smile greeted them with a vague 'Haw, haw, haw!' His general appearance was slightly marred by the fact that his eyes had a distinct disinclination to look in the same direction.

  'Hullo, Badger,' said Bobby. 'You remember Frankie, don't you^' Badger clearly didn't, but he said, 'Haw, haw, haw!' again in an amiable manner.

  'Last time I saw you,' said Frankie, 'you were head downward in the mud and we had to pull you out by the legs.' 'No, not really?' said Badger. 'Why, that m-m-must have been Ww-w-wales.' 'Quite right,' said Frankie. 'It was.' 'I always was a p-p-putrid r-r-r-rider,' said Badger. 'I s-s-sstill am,' he added mournfully.

  'Frankie wants to buy a car,' said Bobby.

  'Two cars,' said Frankie. 'George has got to have one, too.

  He's crashed his at the moment.' 'We can hire him one,' said Bobby.

  'Well, come and look at what we've got in s-s-stock,' said Badger.

  'They look very smart,' said Frankie, dazzled by lurid hues of scarlet and apple-green.

  'They look all right,' said Bobby darkly.

  'That's r-r-r-remarkably good value in a ss-second-hand Chrysler,' said Badger.

  'No, not that one,' said Bobby. 'Whatever she buys has got to go at least forty miles.' Badger cast his partner a look of reproach.

  'The Standard is pretty much on its last legs,' mused Bobby.

  'But I think it would just get you there. The Essex is a bit too good for the job. She'll go at least two hundred before breaking down.' 'All right,' said Frankie. 'I'll have the Standard.' Badger drew his colleague a little aside.

  'W-w-what do you think about p-p-price?' he murmured.

  'Don't want to s-s-stick a friend of yours too much. Tt-t-ten pounds?' 'Ten pounds is all right,' said Frankie, entering the discussion.

  'I'll pay for it now.' 'Who is she really?' asked Badger in a loud whisper.

  Bobby whispered back.

  'F-f-f-first time I ever knew anyone with a t-t-t-title who c-c-could pay cash,' said Badger with respect.

  Bobby followed the other two out to the Bentley.

  'When is this business going to take place?' he demanded.

  'The sooner the better,' said Frankie. 'We thought tomorrow afternoon.' 'Look here, can't I be there? I'll put on a beard if you like.' 'Certainly not,' said Frankie. 'A beard would probably ruin everything by falling off at the wrong moment. But I don't see why you shouldn't be a motor-cyclist - with a lot of cap and goggles. What do you think, George?' George Arbuthnot spoke for the second time: 'All right,' he said, 'the more the merrier.' His voice was even more melancholy than before.

  CHAPTER 11 The Accident Happens

  The rendezvous for the great accident party was fixed at a spot about a mile from Staverley village where the road to Staverley branched off from the main road to Andover.

  All three arrived there safely, though Frankie's Standard had shown unmistakable signs of decrepitude at every hill.

  The time fixed had been one o'clock.

  'We don't want to be interrupted when we're staging the thing,' Frankie had said. 'Hardly anything ever goes down this road, I should imagine, but at lunch time we ought to be perfectly safe.' They proceeded for half a mile on the side road and then Frankie pointed out the place she had selected for the accident to take place.

  'It couldn't be better in my opinion,' she said. 'Straight down thi
s hill and then, as you see, the road gives a sudden very sharp turn round that bulging bit of wall. The wall is actually the wall of Merroway Court. If we start the car and let it run down the hill it will crash straight into the wall and something pretty drastic ought to happen to it.' 'I should say so,' Bobby agreed. 'But someone ought to be on the lookout at the corner to be sure someone isn't coming round it in the opposite direction.' 'Quite right,' said Frankie. 'We don't want to involve anybody else in a mess and perhaps maim them for life. George can take his car down there and turn it as though he were coming from the other direction. Then when he waves a handkerchief it will show that all is clear.' 'You're looking very pale, Frankie,' said Bobby anxiously.

  'Are you sure you're all right?' 'I'm made up pale,' explained Frankie. 'Ready for the concussion. You don't want me to be carried into the house blooming with health.' 'How wonderful women are,' said Bobby appreciatively.

  'You look exactly like a sick monkey.' 'I think you're very rude,' said Frankie. 'Now, then, I shall go and prospect at the gate into Merroway Court. It's just this side of the bulge. There's no lodge, fortunately. When George waves his handkerchief and I wave mine, you start her off.' 'Right,' said Bobby. 'I'll stay on the running board to guide her until the pace gets too hot and then I'll jump off.' 'Don't hurt yourself,' said Frankie.

  'I shall be extremely careful not to. It would complicate matters to have a real accident on the spot of the faked one.' 'Well, start off, George,' said Frankie.

  George nodded, jumped into the second car and ran slowly down the hill. Bobby and Frankie stood looking after him.

  'You'll - look after yourself, won't you, Frankie?' said Bobby with a sudden gruffness. 'I mean - don't go doing anything foolish.' 'I shall be all right. Most circumspect. By the way, I don't think I'd better write to you direct. I'll write to George or my maid or someone or other to pass on to you.' 'I wonder if George is going to be a success in his profession.' 'Why shouldn't he?' 'Well, he doesn't seem to have acquired a chatty bedside manner yet.' 'I expect that will come,' said Frankie. 'I'd better be going now. I'll let you know when I want you to come down with the Bentley.' 'I'll get busy with the moustache. So long, Frankie.' 'They looked at each other for a moment, and then Frankie nodded and began to walk down the hill.

  George had turned the car and then backed it round the bulge.

  Frankie disappeared for a moment then reappeared in the road, waving a handkerchief. A second handkerchief waved from the bottom of the road at the turn.

  Bobby put the car into third gear, then, standing on the footboard, he released the brake. The car moved grudgingly forward, impeded by being in gear. The slope, however, was sufficiently steep. The engine started. The car gathered way.

  Bobby steadied the steering wheel. At the last possible moment he jumped off.

  The car went on down the hill and crashed into the wall with considerable force. All was well - the accident had taken place successfully.

  Bobby saw Frankie run quickly to the scene of the crime and plop down amid the wreckage. George in his car came round the corner and pulled up.

  With a sigh Bobby mounted his motor cycle and rode away in the direction of London.

  At the scene of the accident things were busy.

  'Shall I roll about in the road a bit,' asked Frankie, 'to get myself dusty?' 'You might as well,' said George. 'Here, give me your hat.' He took it and inflicted a terrific dent on it. Frankie gave a faint anguished cry.

  'That's the concussion,' explained George. 'Now, then, lie doggo just where you are. I think I heard a bicycle bell.' Sure enough, at that moment, a boy of about seventeen came whistling round the corner. He stopped at once, delighted with the pleasurable spectacle that met his eyes.

  'Ooer!' he ejaculated,' 'as there been an accident?' 'No,' said George sarcastically. 'The young lady ran her car into the wall on purpose.' Accepting, as he was meant to do, this remark as irony rather than the simple truth which it was, the boy said with relish: 'Looks bad, don't she? Is she dead?' 'Not yet,' said George. 'She must be taken somewhere at once. I'm a doctor. What's this place in here?' 'Merroway Court. Belongs to Mr Bassington-ffrench. He's a JP, he is.' 'She must be carried there at once,' said George authoritatively.

  'Here, leave your bicycle and lend me a hand.' Only too willing, the boy propped his bicycle against the wall and came to assist. Between them George and the boy carried Frankie up the drive to a pleasant old-fashioned-looking manor house.

  Their approach had been observed, for an elderly butler came out to meet them.

  'There's been an accident,' said George curtly. 'Is there a room I can carry this lady into? She must be attended to at once.' The butler went back into the hall in a flustered way. George and the boy followed him up closely, still carrying the limp body of Frankie. The butler had gone into a room on the left and from there a woman emerged. She was tall, with red hair, and about thirty years of age. Her eyes were a light clear blue.

  She dealt with the situation quickly.

  'There is a spare bedroom on the ground floor,' she said.

  'Will you bring her in there? Ought I to telephone for a doctor?' 'I am a doctor,' explained George. 'I was passing in my car and saw the accident occur.' 'Oh! how very fortunate. Come this way, will you?' She showed them the way into a pleasant bedroom with windows giving on the garden.

  'Is she badly hurt?' she inquired.

  'I can't tell yet.' Mrs Bassington-ffrench took the hint and retired. The boy accompanied her and launched out into a description of the accident as though he had been an actual witness of it.

  'Run smack into the wall she did. Car's all smashed up.

  There she was lying on the ground with her hat all dinted in.

  The gentleman, he was passing in his car ' He proceeded ad lib till got rid of with a half-crown.

  Meanwhile Frankie and George were conversing in careful whispers.

  'George, darling, this won't blight your career, will it? They won't strike you off the register, or whatever it is, will they?' 'Probably,' said George gloomily. 'That is, if it ever comes out.' 'It won't,' said Frankie. 'Don't worry, George. I shan't let you down.' She added thoughtfully: 'You did it very well. I've never heard you talk so much before.' George sighed. He looked at his watch.

  'I shall give my examination another three minutes,' he said.

  'What about the car?' 'I'll arrange with a garage to have that cleared up.' 'Good.' George continued to study his watch. Finally he said with an air of relief: 'Time.' 'George,' said Frankie, 'you've been an angel. I don't know why you did it.' 'No more do I,' said George. 'Damn fool thing to do.' He nodded to her.

  'Bye bye. Enjoy yourself.' 'I wonder if I shall,' said Frankie.

  She was thinking of that cool impersonal voice with the slight American accent.

  George went in search of the owner of it, whom he found waiting for him in the drawing-room.

  'Well,' he said abruptly. 'I'm glad to say it's not so bad as I feared. Concussion very slight and already passing off. She ought to stay quietly where she is for a day or so, though.' He paused. 'She seems to be a Lady Frances Derwent.' 'Oh, fancy!' said Mrs Bassington-ffrench. 'Then I know some cousins of hers - the Draycotts - quite well.' 'I don't know if it's inconvenient for you to have her here,' said George. 'But if she could stay where she is for a day or two...' Here George paused.

  'Oh, of course. That will be all right, Dr -?' 'Arbuthnot. By the way, I'll see to the car business. I shall be passing a garage.' 'Thank you very much, Dr Arbuthnot. How very lucky you happened to be passing. I suppose a doctor ought to see her tomorrow just to see she's getting on all right.' 'Don't think it's necessary,' said George. 'All she needs is quiet.' 'But I should feel happier. And her people ought to know.' 'I'll attend to that,' said George. 'And as to the doctoring business - well, it seems she's a Christian Scientist and won't have doctors at any price. She wasn't too pleased at finding me in attendance.' 'Oh, dear!' said Mrs Bassingtonffrench.

  'But she
'll be quite all right,' said George reassuringly. 'You can take my word for it.' 'If you really think so, Dr Arbuthnot,' said Mrs Bassingtonffrench rather doubtfully.

  'I do,' said George. 'Goodbye. Dear me. I left one of my instruments in the bedroom.' He came rapidly into the room and up to the bedside.

  Trankie,' he said in a quick whisper. 'You're a Christian Scientist. Don't forget.' 'But why?' 'I had to do it. Only way.' 'All right,' said Frankie. 'I won't forget."

  CHAPTER 12 In the Enemy's Camp

  'Well, here I am,' thought Frankie. 'Safely in the enemy's camp. Now, it's up to me.' There was a tap on the door and Mrs BassingtonfFrench entered.

  Frankie raised herself a little on her pillows.

  'I'm so frightfully sorry,' she said in a faint voice. 'Causing you all this bother.' 'Nonsense,' said Mrs Bassington-ffrench. Frankie heard anew that cool attractive drawling voice with a slight American accent, and remembered that Lord Marchington had said that one of the Hampshire Bassington-ffrenches had married an American heiress. 'Dr Arbuthnot says you will be quite all right in a day or two if you just keep quiet.' Frankie felt that she ought at this point to say something about 'error' or 'mortal mind', but was frightened of saying the wrong thing.

  'He seems nice,' she said. 'He was very kind.' 'He seemed a most capable young man,' said Mrs Bassington-ffrench. 'It was very fortunate that he just happened to be passing.' 'Yes, wasn't it? Not, of course, that I really needed him.' 'But you mustn't talk,' continued her hostess. 'I'll send my maid along with some things for you and then she can get you properly into bed.' 'It's frightfully kind of you.' 'Not at all.' Frankie felt a momentary qualm as the other woman withdrew.

  'A nice kind creature,' she said to herself. 'And beautifully unsuspecting.' For the first time she felt that she was playing a mean trick on her hostess. Her mind had been so taken up with the vision of a murderous Bassington-ffrench pushing an unsuspecting victim over a precipice that lesser characters in the drama had not entered her imagination.