Sweet Poison by David Roberts Page B

Constable from my study and I will also ring Dr Best. Connie, take everyone into the drawing-room, would you, and get John to bring brandy. I am afraid this is a terrible shock, terrible. Colonel Philips is a friend of mine and a good man. We don’t want a local bobby making a mountain of this.’ Then, seeing Celia Larmore looking alarmed, he said, ‘I mean, the last thing the General would want is for his death to be some sort of scandal. We owe it to a great soldier that his death should be dignified. What’s the time?’
    ‘Five past eleven,’ said Edward, consulting his watch. ‘Look, Gerald, I really don’t think we should touch the body, even to put a cloth over . . .’ He could not quite say over ‘it’ when ‘it’ had so recently been a living man.
    The Duke looked thunderously at his brother. ‘Do as I say, Bates,’ was all he said, however.
    ‘Very good, your Grace,’ said the butler with the equanimity associated with that breed.
    He bustled out and Connie started shepherding everyone after him. As they walked slowly out of the room Hermione began to weep noisily and had to be comforted by Blanche, but she too was close to tears. It had all been so sudden. One minute the General had been alive and then he was dead. If one wasn’t safe seated at a duke’s dining-table in an English castle, where could one be safe? It was this realization which was, consciously or unconsciously, going through the minds of everyone present. Death had snuffed out a man’s life without warning and without meaning as easily as one might pinch the flame of a candle. It had taken the General less than a minute to die. It could not but put normal day-to-day anxieties in perspective.
    Larmore, still white with shock and holding his wife tightly by the arm, pushed his way through the door, keeping well clear of the dead man. ‘The Duke’s right,’ he almost shouted, ‘we must do all we can to keep this quiet.’
    Von Friedberg, who seemed stunned by the calamity, waved the cigar which he had been smoking before the General had collapsed as though he were a schoolboy requesting permission to leave the room. ‘Yes, it is not good for me to be here when the police come. My visit was a secret – how do you say? – informal. I cannot allow it to be known I was here, Duke.’
    ‘I understand, of course, Baron,’ said Connie, ‘but the Chief Constable is an old friend of ours and you can count on him to be discreet. There is no reason why the newspapers will have to know who was dining with the Duke when this terrible thing happened.’
    ‘The newspapers!’ exclaimed Friedberg. ‘My name must not appear in the newspapers. The Führer would not be pleased.’
    ‘If I may say so, Baron,’ Lord Weaver interjected, ‘it might be better if you stayed until the police come so that they can take a statement from you here rather than having to bother you at the embassy.’
    ‘A statement?’ said the German. ‘But I know nothing. Why do I have to give a statement? In my country there would be no statements.’
    ‘But we have a rule of law in this country,’ interjected Verity Browne unexpectedly, ‘and –’
    ‘Please, Baron,’ said the Duchess. ‘If you wish to leave I shall ask Bates to tell your chauffeur to bring round your car immediately.’
    ‘Thank you, Duchess. I apologize if I am – what do you say? – leaving you in the lurches but you and the Duke understand that, although I am here as a private person, I have –’
    ‘Say no more, Baron. We quite understand. Let me see you out. I hope next time we meet, it will be on a happier occasion.’
    ‘No doubt, no doubt,’ said the flurried diplomat, briskly shaking hands with his fellow guests. ‘That was a very pleasant dinner . . . except . . .’
    ‘Connie, you stay here. I will show the Baron to his car,’ said the Duke.
    ‘Well!’ said Haycraft when the German had disappeared. ‘Just the sort of ally one would wish for in an