“What sort of information?” There was still no military bark to the voice, but some of the gentleness had gone out of it. He was looking intently at me. I had his attention, his co-operation was still to be won.
“I’m not sure, almost anything, your impressions of his character for one thing. What I really want to understand is how he came to do the things he did.”
“You will have a choice about how you proceed in the matter? Your subject didn’t actually commit murder?”
“I believe I will have a choice. No, I’m pretty sure he didn’t kill anyone and isn’t directly responsible for a death.”
“Very well, so far so good. You’ll understand that I’m reluctant to talk loosely about the St Christopher boys. It’s hard for anyone who hasn’t spent a lot of time in such a place to understand what a handicap most orphans start out with. First, who are we talking about?”
“I’m sure you’re right, Sir Leonard,” I said. “The man I’m referring to is named Ross Haines. He’s twenty-three and he spent his first fifteen or so years in the orphanage. He found out who his mother was and he’s been operating at close quarters to her and her family for the past few years. His grandfather, his uncle and a friend of his uncle are all dead and Haines’ activities are some sort of key to their deaths, the causes. His grandfather’s widow and his own mother have been harassed and assaulted, attempts have been made on their lives. Haines’ motive appears to be revenge on the family that disowned him at birth, or before birth even. The family money may be a consideration, there’s a lot of it, but that’s a cloudy part of the affair. I’m retained by a Miss Sleeman, Haines’ grandfather’s widow, a second wife. I have the backing of Haines’ mother, but she doesn’t know about her son’s involvement. It’s very delicate as I said. A lot of people have been hurt and some more will be, that’s inevitable. My client is in hospital, she was assaulted and tortured. I can show you a letter which establishes my standing with my client. Apart from that and my professional documents, you’ll have to take me on faith.”
I handed the letter and my licence across to him and he studied them closely for a minute or so. His wife had finished the crossword and was listening intently. Cavendish looked up.
“Don’t you like tea?” he said.
“No, I hate it.”
He smiled and handed back the papers. “You should have said so. But never mind, you’re direct enough and your eyes don’t slide around all over the place. Been in the army ever?”
“Malaya.”
His nod might have been approving, but remembering the quote he’d spouted before I couldn’t be certain.
“I’ll help you as far as I can,” he said. “Have you any more to add at this point?”
“No. I’ll be grateful for all you can tell me about Ross Haines. If you remember him at all.”
He leaned back in his chair and let the sun strike his face. The veins were intact and the high colour was healthy. I decided that it probably came from gardening and walking rather than the bottle. He crinkled his eyes a little with the effort of memory. “I do, very well indeed,” he said. “And there’s a good deal to tell. Haines was in the orphanage for fifteen years or so as you say. He’d been adopted after birth but the parents parted within a year of taking him and he came to us. He also had a slight deformity of the shoulder. It was corrected by an operation when he was three or four, but parents want perfect children so he stayed in the orphanage. He was fostered once but the people returned him after a couple of months. He was uncontrollable. This was when he was about six or seven. He wouldn’t go to school and played merry hell when he was dragged there — wild tantrums, totally negative and destructive attitudes. The couple who took him on were pretty rough, they knocked him about a bit, but I expect he gave as good as he got. After he got back to us he was changed, quiet, cooperative, worked well at school. He was very bright. A bit unnerving really, he was glad to be back at the institution.”
“Did he ever give you trouble after that?”
“Yes, he did. In two ways. He was very mild and amiable, some of the others would tease him, run him ragged for days. He’d let this go on longer than you’d think flesh and blood could stand then he’d turn on them and thrash hell out of them. He was big for his age and strong. Then he’d go back into his shell.”
“How often did this happen?”
“Oh, I suppose half a dozen times. He put one boy in hospital but he’d been unmercifully teased, persecuted really and had shown great restraint. It was impossible to discipline him for it. He was in the right.”
“What was the other way he gave trouble?”
“It was strange. Haines was very able in his studies and he excelled in a variety of sports — beautiful cricketer, natural talent. The sporting ability is very important with these lads, get them into teams, have them travel, meet people. Builds up their confidence.”
“But Haines wouldn’t be in it?”
“That’s so, he wouldn’t play in teams outside the orphanage grounds. In home matches of football and cricket he’d score goals and runs all over the place, but he wouldn’t play the away matches. Dropped him from the teams as discipline, all that, made no difference. He hated stepping outside the place, excursions were a nightmare to him, eventually we stopped taking him. He’d stay behind and read or train for some sport or other. Probably haven’t made it clear: he was a great reader, read everything and he retained it. They wanted him for a television children’s panel game, brains trust sort of thing, you know?”
“Yes, I think they’re ghastly.”
“Just so, but some children thrive on them in a way. Haines went white when it was put to him, he refused to consider it. He was violent.”
“How did the suggestion come up in the first place?”
“Haines had been entering competitions in newspapers, puzzles and general knowledge things. He was an omnivorous newspaper and magazine reader, devoured the things. Won prizes all the time.”
“What sort of prizes?”
“Book vouchers mostly, money too, small sums. It was banked for him. The newspaper people must have talked to the television people, same crowd I expect, and they approached us about him. Well, he reacted as I told you, he threw things, went into one of those rages that he used to display in fights. And he stopped entering competitions, never touched them again. He seemed to ease back on everything, he’d pass his subjects at school and do respectable things with the bat, but all the brilliance was gone. Sometimes it would flash out, so would the ungovernable temper, it was all still there but he kept it completely under control. He could probably have got a scholarship to go on studying but he had a horror of competing. He opted to go to work at fifteen or so, gardening I think it was?”
“That’s right.”
“He left us when he was sixteen, he was earning a wage, boarding with a respectable family, time to go.”
“Did you ever see him after he left, or hear from him?”
“Never.”
“What was your relationship with him like?”
“Quite good, as far as he’d let it be. I used to nag him a bit about not trying his best, but I gave that up. He was his own man from a very early age.”
“At some time he discovered who his mother was, or became convinced he knew. Could you pin-point a time when that might have happened?”
Cavendish looked across at his wife. “You remember Haines dear,” he said, “can you help with this?”
She took off her gold rimmed spectacles and polished them on the sleeve of her cardigan. “Yes,” she said quietly, “I believe I can.” She replaced the glasses precisely. “Haines was involved in the office incident, wasn’t he? About the same time as the television idea came up. He was in a state over that and his part in the affair was never clear.”