A Murder of Quality

'It was kind of you to come,' said Glaston; 'kind of Miss Brimley to send you. They're good people at the Voice; always were.' He said this as if 'good' were an absolute quality with which he was familiar.

'You'd better read the letters, Mr Glaston. The second one will shock you, I'm afraid, but I'm sure you'll agree that it would be wrong of me not to show it to you.' They were sitting in the lounge, the mammoth plants like sentinels beside them.

He handed Glaston the two letters, and the old man took them firmly and read them. He held them a good way from him to read, thrusting his strong head back, his eyes half closed, the crisp line of his mouth turned down at the corners. At last he said:

'You were with Miss Brimley in the war, were you?'

'I worked with John Landsbury, yes.'

'I see. That's why she came to you?'

'Yes.'

'Are you Chapel?'

'No.'

He was silent for a while, his hands folded on his lap, the letters before him on the table.

'Stanley was Chapel when they married. Then he went over. Did you know that?'

'Yes.'

'Where I come from in the North, we don't do that. Chapel was something we'd stood up for and won. Almost like the vote.'

'I know.'

His back was as straight as a soldier's. He looked stern rather than sad. Quite suddenly, his eyes turned towards Smiley, and he looked at him long and carefully.

'Are you a schoolmaster?' he asked, and it occurred to Smiley that in his day Samuel Glaston had been a very shrewd man of business.

'No… I'm more or less retired.'

'Married?'

'I was.'

Again the old man fell silent, and Smiley wished he had left him alone.

'She was a great one for chatter,' he said at last.

Smiley said nothing.

'Have you told the police?'

'Yes, but they knew already. That is, they knew that Stella thought her husband was going to murder her. She'd tried to tell Mr Cardew…'

'The Minister?'

'Yes. He thought she was overwrought and… deluded.'

'Do you think she wasn't?'

'I don't know. I just don't know. But from what I have heard of your daughter I don't believe she was unbalanced. Something roused her suspicions, something frightened her very much. I don't believe we can just disregard that. I don't believe it was a coincidence that she was frightened before she died. And therefore I don't believe that the beggar-woman murdered her.'

Samuel Glaston nodded slowly. It seemed to Smiley that the old man was trying to show interest, partly to be polite, and partly because if he did not it would be a confession that he had lost interest in life itself.

Then, after a long silence, he carefully folded up the letters and gave them back. Smiley waited for him to speak, but he said nothing.

After a few moments Smiley got up and walked quietly from the room.

Chapter 10—Little Women

Shane Hecht smiled, and drank some more sherry. 'You must be dreadfully important,' she said to Smiley, 'for D'Arcy to serve decent sherry. What are you, Almanach de Gotha?'

'I'm afraid not. D'Arcy and I were both dining at Terence Fielding's on Saturday night and D'Arcy asked me for sherry.'

'Terence is wicked, isn't he? Charles loathes him. I'm afraid they see Sparta in quite different ways… Poor Terence. It's his last Half, you know.'

'I know.'

'So sweet of you to come to the funeral yesterday. I hate funerals, don't you? Black is so insanitary. I always remember King George V's funeral. Lord Sawley was at Court in those days, and gave Charles two tickets. So kind. I always think it's spoilt us for ordinary funerals in a way. Although I'm never quite sure about funerals, are you? I have a suspicion that they are largely a lower-class recreation; cherry brandy and seed cake in the parlour. I think the tendency of people like ourselves is for a quiet funeral these days; no flowers, just a short obituary and a memorial service later.' Her small eyes were bright with pleasure. She finished her sherry and held out her empty glass to Smiley.

'Would you mind, dear. I hate sherry, but Felix is so mean.'

Smiley filled her glass from the decanter on the table.

'Dreadful about the murder, wasn't it? That beggar-woman must be mad. Stella Rode was such a nice person, I always thought… and so unusual. She did such clever things with the same dress… But she had such curious friends. All for Hans the woodcutter and Pedro the fisherman, if you know what I mean.'

'Was she popular at Carne?'

Shane Hecht laughed gently: 'No one is popular at Carne… but she wasn't easy to like… She would wear black crepe on Sundays… Forgive me, but do the lower classes always do that? The townspeople liked her, I believe. They adore anyone who betrays Carne. But then she was a Christian Scientist or something.'

'Baptist, I understand,' said Smiley unthinkingly.

She looked at him for a moment with unfeigned curiosity. 'How sweet,' she murmured. 'Tell me, what are you?'