The House Of The Bears by John Creasey Page B

Oh, confound it! Hardy is in Corbin.’
    ‘He telephoned to say that he would be here for lunch,’ said Drusilla.
     
    Hardy arrived at half past one, but he was not alone. With him was a big, blond man of middle-age, a handsome giant of a fellow, with wavy hair, a big bushy moustache, and the bluest of blue eyes; a man to like at sight.
    The Palfreys and McDonald were waiting in the lounge when they arrived. Hardy looked somewhat put out when he saw McDonald.
    ‘I knew you would not mind me bringing Colonel Cartwright along,’ he said to Palfrey. ‘He is our Chief Constable.’
    ‘Oh. Delighted,’ murmured Palfrey, shaking hands. ‘My wife – Mr. McDonald. The head waiter tells me that at your request they’ve laid a table in a separate room for us.’
    ‘I thought we could talk more freely in private,’ said Hardy, and glanced at McDonald.
    ‘Not my show,’ McDonald said, quickly.
    ‘I hope you’ll stay,’ said Palfrey.
    ‘No, thanks. I’ll be available afterwards, if you want me,’ said McDonald. He smiled and went off, and Palfrey tactfully did not insist. McDonald, undoubtedly, had quickly sensed that he was not wanted.
    Cartwright took command. He had, of course, been in close touch with the case from the moment it had broken, and Hardy had passed on everything that Palfrey had reported. Cartwright made it clear that he warmly appreciated Palfrey’s interest and his guidance. They felt fortunate, he said, that Palfrey had been called to Morne House. Did Palfrey believe that there was bad feeling there?
    ‘I mean among the members of the household.’
    ‘I wouldn’t say so,’ said Palfrey. ‘There is strain. No one has given me any hint that he or she thinks the murderer can be identified, if that’s what you mean.’
    ‘That is interesting,’ said Cartwright. ‘Most interesting. Have you drawn any further conclusions, Palfrey?’
    ‘No. I feel now as I did before. There is evil lurking in that house. One senses it. There’s danger, too, and a keen dislike of prowling strangers.’ He told Hardy and Cartwright of the attempt to toss him over the balcony.
    Hardy said, after a pause: ‘Could it have been McDonald?’
    ‘No. I heard footsteps on the gallery and also on the stairs at one and the same time. I also heard a door close. This morning, McDonald showed me the door – it’s in a corner of the gallery, covered by a tapestry. I would never have noticed it, although anyone could have found it by moving the tapestry aside. No, whoever attacked me, it wasn’t McDonald. It wasn’t necessarily a member of the family. And the place is so vast. I have seen a few of the servants, but there may be dozens I haven’t met. One could live at Morne House for a month and be unaware of others living under the same roof.’ He rolled a piece of bread between his fingers, and went on: ‘I doubt whether I am telling you anything new. Your man Whittle was right last night, Hardy, when he said that he would want an army to cover that place properly.’
    ‘Yet it must be covered,’ said Cartwright.
    Palfrey eyed him brightly. ‘Why? Because of the suspected attempt to murder Loretta Morne? Hardly justification, I fancy, for leaving men there indefinitely. Murder would be a different matter. Unless I am wrong about the law, you’ve no right to have men living there at the moment. Have you?’
    ‘None at all.’
    ‘And the man who softened that wood might have come in from the outside,’ Palfrey said. ‘Or it might have been the fellow Garth. Nothing known about Garth, I suppose?’
    ‘Nothing,’ said Cartwright.
    ‘Awkward situation,’ said Palfrey. ‘Switch over to Halsted, and what have you? Reasonable evidence, but evidence which might not hold in a court of law, that Rufus Morne visited the pool where Halsted’s body was found. I drew conclusions, but they need not be the right ones.’
    Cartwright said slowly: ‘I think you were right, Palfrey. Those bloodhounds would have left the