Paul glared at him in defiance for a moment, but he was trembling violently and needed the seat. He sat down. Gently gave him time off while the map was refolded.
‘Do you smoke, Mr Lammas?’
‘What has that got to do with it?’
‘I was going to offer you a fill, if you smoked a pipe.’
‘Thank you, but I only smoke my own brand!’
Gently shrugged and slipped the map back in his pocket.
‘Getting back to Friday night… you arrived in ahead of your mother, I understand.’
‘I did. I hope it wasn’t a criminal act.’
‘How long ahead of your mother?’
‘About four or five minutes. She had gone for a run to Sea Weston — she often goes for a run to Sea Weston!’
‘I wasn’t asking for details of your mother’s movements, Mr Lammas
… she joined you here in the lounge, did she not?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘What happened then?’
‘We talked, of course. I daresay we smoked and read.’
‘Of what did you talk?’
‘I really don’t remember.’
‘Come, come, Mr Lammas… the servants have ears too.’
Paul glanced at him with sudden apprehension, but the words that came to his lips were repressed.
‘We know there was a row… I’m asking you what it was about.’
‘But there wasn’t a row — that’s absolute moonshine!’
‘Call it what you like.’
‘I tell you there was nothing of the sort! Mother and I have never rowed in our lives. What on earth should we have rowed about? It’s a lot of kitchen tittle-tattle!’
Hansom swooped forward in his chair. He wasn’t even pretending to be bored.
‘Look… in words of one syllable! Suppose you went out and bumped off your old man. Suppose your mother had a hunch and tailed you to Ollby. Suppose she worked on the chauffeur and got him to act the fall-guy. Wouldn’t that add up to a conversation piece when you next got together?’
Gently had rarely seen such ghastly pallor in a human face. The young man’s eyes seemed almost black against the mask of white.
‘You don’t… you can’t… believe that!’
‘Why not? It fits the facts!’
‘But it’s ludicrous… you can’t!’
He was swaying as he sat. Every moment Gently expected to see him pitch forward on to the floor. But he didn’t. He fought it off. With his small mouth compressed till it was practically invisible, he forced the colour back into his cheeks. It was an effort of pure will.
‘What you say is untrue… there isn’t a grain of truth in it!’
‘We’re not saying there is.’ Gently threw a fierce glance at Hansom. ‘The inspector was merely emphasizing that this is a case of homicide and that prevarication may be dangerous. He had no other intention.’
Hansom made a face and rocked back into neutrality.
‘But we would still like an answer to the question… what was the occasion of the difference with your mother on Friday night?’
‘I’ve told you; there wasn’t any difference.’
‘Then the servants were lying to us?’
‘Yes. If they say there was. Lying or using their imagination too much.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘We talked, didn’t we? We discussed the traffic and the way Sea Weston was being spoiled by trippers.’
‘Then why did you not say so when I first asked?’
‘You didn’t give me time to remember — you started accusing us of having a row.’
Gently sighed and reached out for a fortifying peppermint cream.
‘Your memory is certainly an oddity… but then, I’m not used to dealing with poets! Let’s try some background stuff. What was Hicks doing all day?’
‘What he usually does.’
‘Go on. Tell me.’
‘Well… he washed the cars down — drove my sister to the office — did some shopping in town for Mother. In the afternoon I imagine he was taking it easy. Pauline caught a bus back and nobody else called him out.’
‘You saw a lot of him, I’m told.’
‘I did, but I didn’t persuade him to kill my father.’
‘That is not the suggestion, Mr Lammas. It would be helpful if you confined yourself to answering a question. Was Hicks on good terms with your father?’
‘Nobody was on good terms with him.’
‘Wasn’t there some question once of Hicks being dismissed?’
‘There was no question about it — Mother engaged Hicks. Otherwise he would have gone long since and the cook and the maid with him. My father’s authority here was fortunately limited.’
‘I don’t have to ask what was your own attitude towards him.’
Paul shrugged.
‘I’m not hiding it, am I? He wasn’t wanted here and he knew it.’
‘That matter of going into the business…’
‘Yes — that was a spoke in his wheel he didn’t forget! I can’t make you understand. You’re simply policemen and it wouldn’t make sense to you. There are two powers in this world, one for beauty and one for ugliness. My father stood for ugliness, sordidness — spiritual blindness, if you know what I mean. And into this he would have drawn me. Oh yes! It was to be a matter of course. I was his son, and he could do what he liked with me. As if, for one moment, I should have dreamed of burying my life in the filthy, parasitic business of wholesaling!’
‘Parasitic? It offended your political principles?’
The young man glanced at him jeeringly. ‘All politics are a racket
… of course, my father was a politician! A Liberal, mind you — the height of bourgeois timidity. He was too soggy to be a thorough-going Tory or a thorough-going Communist, or even a Socialist. Just a milk-and-water Liberal!’
‘That’s not so terrible… I should probably be one myself if I wasn’t a policeman. Did your father put any pressure on you to enter the business?’
‘Moral pressure — he hadn’t anything else. Oh yes, he argued himself black in the face!’
‘Did he threaten to cut you out of his will or anything like that?’
‘Why should that bother me? Mother and I have plenty of money.’
‘But did he?’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘And what else?’
‘There was nothing else he could do.’
‘You are a minor, Mr Lammas. Your father had certain powers. I should be interested to know, for instance, what was to have been done about your National Service… now, I take it, comfortably postponed until you leave Cambridge?’
The flush crept back into Paul’s cheek.
‘I wouldn’t have done it… I shan’t ever do it. I happen to have a weak heart. I can get a specialist’s certificate to prove it any time I have to.’
‘Is that quite true, Mr Lammas?’
‘Yes, it is! Mother’s specialist promised to give me one!’
Gently folded his hands under his chin and gazed at the young man for a long moment.
‘Isn’t it possible, Mr Lammas… isn’t it just possible… that your father threatened to query that certificate and to ensure that you did do your National Service, if you persisted in refusing to enter the business? Would that be why you went to Cambridge and postponed your career as a poet with a private income…?’
Like a lighting switch the flush ebbed away into pallor. Paul’s lips trembled and moved without words, and he began to sway again in his chair.
‘And of course,’ added Gently thoughtfully, ‘the same problem would arise again in two years’ time, wouldn’t it? Only this time there wouldn’t be Cambridge to run to.’
‘It’s a lie… a downright lie!’
The lips articulated at last.
‘You’re making something up and trying to pin it on me… there isn’t a word of truth, you can’t prove there is!’
‘You mean that your father is dead and that your mother will support you?’
‘You’re trying to give me a motive… it’s ridiculous! Nobody would listen!’
‘It’s a possible motive… for a young man of your temperament. And you had the opportunity. What were you doing down here — in this particular week?’