The Sirens Sang of Murder ht-3 Read online

  With Cantrip, however, it was otherwise. He had watched its installation with keen interest and had succeeded in obtaining from the engineer in charge some elementary guidance as to its use. Permitted to run his fingers over its chaste ivory keyboard and to discover with what exquisite sensitivity it responded to his lightest touch — deleting here, inserting there, amending elsewhere — the poor boy fell victim to as fatal a fascination as that exerted by Isolde over Tristan or Lesbia over Catullus.

  He had spent the next three days in a delirium of telex-sending. The medium seemed to have a strangely liberating effect on his creative powers, enabling him to express his thoughts and feelings with a freedom and fluency which he had never before experienced. His messages, covering a wide range of topics and sometimes employing various ingenious noms de telex, were addressed not merely to his friends, acquaintances, and enemies in every corner of the world but often to total strangers whose telex number happened to become known to him. Could he have contented himself with mere composition, no harm would have come of it, but seldom if ever was he able to deny himself the ultimate rapture of pressing the key marked “Enter” to transmit the message to its destination.

  It could not continue. After a perplexed inquiry from the Lord Chancellor’s Office about a message purporting to be from 10 Downing Street, but readily traceable to 62 New Square, and consisting of the peremptory command “Give Cantrip Silk,” strict instructions were given to the temporary typist to permit none of the members of Chambers to have direct access to the telex machine: from these, despite all Cantrip’s blandishments and the regard in which she held him, Lilian had conscientiously refused to depart.

  On the morning following the day on which Cantrip left for the Channel Islands I found in Timothy’s letter box a communication of apparent urgency from the London Electricity Board, and knowing that he had made some arrangement with Henry for dealing with such matters, I turned aside on my way to the Public Record Office to deliver it at 62 New Square.

  Though Henry himself had not yet arrived, the Clerks’ Room was uncustomarily crowded. Interest appeared to centre on the telex machine, round which were gathered several members of Chambers, the senior partner in a leading firm of solicitors, three or four articled clerks in a state of high amusement, and a slender, fair-haired girl whom I took to be Lilian, the new temporary typist. The message which engaged their attention had evidently been transmitted in Jersey earlier that morning.

  TO THE SENIOR CLERK 62 NEW SQUARE ABSOLUTELY PRIVATE AND TREMENDOUSLY CONFIDENTIAL

  Dear Henry,

  As per your esteemed instructions I have started negotiating with your deserted wife re her claim for increased maintenance. She says with five children fifty pence a week is not enough. Have pointed out that as you never divorced your first wife in Singapore or the one in Buenos Aires she has no legal rights and is lucky to get anything, but she seems to know about the money in your Swiss bank account and how you got it, so you may want me to offer a bit more to keep her quiet. The children do look rather hungry. Awaiting your instructions

  Your sincere friend and well-wisher,

  Titus A. Newt

  The pseudonym deceived no one. The question whether it would be proper, as it would plainly be politic, to remove and destroy the message before it was seen by Henry was still under discussion when his arrival rendered it academic. Thinking the moment un-propitious to my errand, I joined Selena and Ragwort in seeking shelter from his rage in Basil Ptarmigan’s room — a room of such serene and elegant distinction, its walls lined with centuries of legal learning, that Henry would not venture, it was felt, to give rein there to his indignation.

  We found Basil in consultation with Julia, who had persuaded her instructing solicitors that for the purpose of the appeal from Mr. Justice Welladay’s recent decision it was essential to engage the services of leading Counsel: she and Basil were now deliberating the grounds of the appeal. The eminent Silk accepted our apologies for the interruption, courteously implying that company so agreeable and distinguished could never be considered intrusive. Selena explained why we were obliged to seek refuge.

  “As you know,” said Basil, “I have always had grave doubts of the wisdom of installing a telex machine. Technology is responsible for much that is wrong with the modern world — now we are going to have Henry in one of his difficult moods, and we all know how tiresome that is for everyone.”

  “I’m not sure,” said Julia, “that it’s the existence of telex machines that’s wrong with the modern world — I’m inclined to think it’s the existence of Cantrip. He’s sent me a telex as well, and its contents are rather disturbing. Perhaps the rest of you would care to read it while Basil and I finish drafting our notice of appeal.”

  TELEX M. CANTRIP TO J. LARWOOD TRANSMITTED GRAND HOTEL ST. HELIER 9:00 A.M. FRIDAY 27TH APRIL

  Yoo-hoo there, Larwood, me here. All right so far advicewise, but thought you ought to know about chap here called Edward Malvoisin casting vile aspidistras on fair name of J. Larwood. Don’t worry, I got him sorted out all right — jolly lucky I did, bet you’ll never guess who was listening.

  This Malvoisin chap is the Jersey lawyer for these characters I’m meant to be advising. Seemed like a pretty good egg to start off with — met me at the airport yesterday P.M., whizzed me off to the Grand Hotel, and began pouring booze down me like there was no tomorrow, so I took a pretty genial view of him.

  I suppose you know the Grand Hotel — all potted plants and wickerwork, with the waiters still getting over the excitement of Queen Victoria’s Jubilee. It’s the sort of place where you’d expect to find my Uncle Hereward, sitting on the veranda chatting with his ex-army cronies about the great days of Empire. That reminds me, I meant to tell you — the old boy’s been threatening to come up to London for a few days. If he turns up before I get back, don’t let him get into any trouble. He’s fairly harmless really if you know how to handle him.

  Where was I? Oh yes — me and the Malvoisin chap in the bar of the Grand Hotel. It was fairly early still, and we had it pretty much to ourselves. No one else around except a chap reading The Times in one corner and an old biddy all wrapped up in black shawls doing her knitting in another — probably got lost on the way to the guillotine.

  The way your name cropped up was because I was telling Malvoisin I was in 62 New Square and he said he knew a bird in 63, and I said I knew a bird in 63 as well and they both turned out to be you. So of course we wittered on about you for a bit and to start off with he seemed to have pretty sound views on the subject, viz that you were hot stuff on double tax treaties and fanciable with it.

  Only then he gave me a funny sort of look and said something like what a pity it was about you being the way you are. At first I thought what he was talking about was just your general sort of goopiness, and I pointed out that one didn’t mind it once one got used to it and anyway it wasn’t your fault. Then he gave me another funny look and said something about people in London being very broad-minded, and it turned out that what he thought was that you were like those ancient Greek birds who fancied other birds instead of chaps.

  I don’t know how he got the idea, I expect it’s because you’re always talking bits of Latin. Anyway, I told him he was talking codswallop and you were one of the keenest chap fanciers I knew. He wouldn’t believe it at first but I told him I was talking from firsthand experience, nothing hearsay about it. He still looked as if he didn’t a hundred percent believe me, so I told him all about what happened after you won that case about goldfish in front of the Special Commissioners. It’s not the sort of thing I’d usually go into a lot of detail about to a chap I’d only just met, but the way I see it is that if you find someone casting aspidistras at an old mate, you’ve jolly well got to spring to the defence — I mean, you’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you, if you came across some bird saying “Nice chap, old Cantrip, pity about his cootlike tendencies”?

  You might think it doesn’t matter a lot what someone s
ays about you in the bar of the Grand Hotel because of there being no one to listen, but that just shows how wrong you can be. I’d just finished putting Malvoisin straight when the chap who was reading The Times got up to go and I saw who it was. Bet you’ll never guess, not in a million years.

  All right, I’ll tell you, it was old Wellieboots, large as life, teeth and eyebrows included. Gave me a nasty shock seeing him there, all unexpected. Don’t know what he was doing there or how much he heard, but the point is that if he heard what Malvoisin said about you, he heard what I said as well. So it’s jolly lucky I was there, because you wouldn’t want old Wellieboots getting funny ideas about you, would you?

  Have just sent frightfully witty telex to Henry. Don’t let on it was me — bet he’s as miffed as maggots.

  Must dash off now and advise these trustee bods.

  Over and out — Cantrip

  There was some curiosity about what had happened after the case about goldfish, but Julia, though willing to explain in some detail the interesting questions of law raised by the case itself, declined to give particulars of its sequel. The first significant victory of her forensic career, the goldfish case had occurred at the time when she and Cantrip were on those terms conventionally described as closer than mere friendship. She had celebrated her triumph in his company, and with an exuberance more unrestrained than it might have been, she said, had she known that in future years it would be made the subject of a public proclamation to the senior judiciary.

  “Oh dear,” said Selena. “I hope that isn’t going to cause you any embarrassment.”

  “I suppose,” said Julia, “that when I next appear before Mr. Justice Welladay, the thought of his having quite such a detailed knowledge of what I had previously regarded as my private life may indeed be a trifle disconcerting. That, however, isn’t actually what I’m worried about. The thing that’s worrying me—”

  “How fortunate,” said Basil, “that the judge in question was Arthur Welladay. Other judges, perhaps, might be distracted by the idea of you engaged in youthful dalliance from the learning and gravity of your arguments, but since Arthur never in any case pays any attention to any argument addressed to him on behalf of the taxpayer, it will make no difference. I wonder what he’s doing in the Channel Islands. Making sure they exist, perhaps — on the last occasion that I appeared before him, he seemed to be accusing me of inventing them as part of a tax avoidance scheme. So I offered to put in evidence of their existence, and he became rather cross with me.”

  “Basil,” said Selena with gentle severity, “you really ought not to tease him, you know.”

  “My dear Selena, I’ve been teasing Arthur Welladay for twenty-five years, and it’s far too late to break myself of the habit. He was just the same at the Bar — wherever the Revenue position was most plainly indefensible, there was Arthur defending it. And he wouldn’t touch anything that looked like an artificial avoidance scheme — not even the innocent little discretionary settlements that the rest of us were earning our living from in those days. Poor Arthur, it’s really very sad — if it hadn’t been for that, he might have been quite a good lawyer. He is a member, as of course you know, of a distinguished legal family and has a by no means contemptible intellect, but I’m afraid this obsession with tax evasion has seriously impaired his judgment. He’s really hardly rational on the subject.”

  “To return,” said Julia, “to the matter of Cantrip’s telex, the thing that’s worrying me—”

  “Have you any idea,” said Ragwort, “why this Jersey advocate should suspect you of unorthodox tastes?”

  “Possibly,” said Julia, “because I have been to some trouble to persuade him to. Edward Malvoisin is apparently under the impression that every woman he meets is secretly yearning for him to make advances to her. If his advances are rejected, he regards this as merely confirming that the yearning is indeed secret. So far as I’m concerned he is mistaken — if I’d known him when he was twenty-five or so, I daresay I might have thought him quite good-looking, but he has the kind of looks which tend to become rather fleshy and florid by the late thirties. Not my sort of thing at all. On the other hand…”

  “Yes?” said Ragwort, raising an eyebrow.

  “On the other hand, Stingham and Grynne use his firm for most of their work in Jersey, and quite often instruct me in connection with the same matters, so I was reluctant to express myself with the degree of rudeness which would evidently be required to persuade him of his error. I thought the tactful thing would be to give the impression that my repugnance was general rather than particular.”

  “That was very sensible of you,” said Selena. “How thoughtless of Cantrip to spoil it.”

  “Isn’t it?” said Julia. “But that isn’t what I’m worrying about, either. The thing about Cantrip’s telex that I find really disturbing is the threatened arrival of his Uncle Hereward.”

  Colonel Hereward Cantrip had served his country with great distinction in the Second World War, having twice been awarded the DSO, and now lived in well-earned retirement on the South Coast. On those happily infrequent occasions, however, when the widowed sister who kept house for him decided for some reason of her own to dispatch him to London for a few days, he was considered by the rest of the family to become the responsibility of his nephew. Julia had once or twice at such times been prevailed on to assist in his entertainment, and would have been content to do so again. It was, she said, no more than one friend might reasonably ask of another. To undertake the task, alone and unaided and for some indefinite period, of keeping him out of trouble was quite another matter. Trouble, so far as Julia had been able to discover, was what Colonel Cantrip had spent a lifetime of more than seventy years getting into. To keep him out of it, she felt, would require a woman of sterner resolve than herself.

  “I don’t think,” said Ragwort, “that you should allow yourself to become unduly anxious. After all, there’s no sign of the old gentleman so far, and we know that Cantrip is appearing in West London County Court on Tuesday afternoon. So he can’t be away for more than four days.”

  Ragwort has a touching confidence that things will turn out as they ought.

  CHAPTER 3

  EXTRACT FROM THE GUIDE TO COMFORTABLE TAX PLANNING

  Jersey: The largest and most southerly of the Channel Islands. Lying off the Cherbourg Peninsula and geographically forming part of France, the Islands were included in the dominions of William of Normandy at the time of his invasion of England in 1066. His successors to the English crown, though compelled to relinquish their possessions in mainland France, retained suzerainty over the Islands in their capacity as Dukes of Normandy. In recognition of the Islands’ independent status, and of their vital strategic importance during periods of conflict with the Continent, they have always enjoyed immunity from all forms of United Kingdom taxation. In the Second World War they were the only British territory to suffer occupation by the Germans.

  Population: 80,000. Area: 5.5 miles by 9.5. Capital: St. Helier. Principal industries: Agriculture, tourism, and financial services. Access: By air 1 hour from London or Paris; by sea 1 hour from St. Malo, 8 hours from Southampton. Recommended season for meetings: April to September.

  Note 1: An unsuitable choice of tax haven for those who have been advised to avoid rich foods….

  (The Guide to Comfortable Tax Planning, which contains much invaluable advice on such questions as where to stay in Vaduz, eat in Gibraltar, or buy a novel in the British Virgin Islands, which flights to Luxembourg offer free champagne, what to see in Nassau, do in Vanuatu, wear in Panama, drink in the Netherlands Antilles, and on no account do in the Turks and Caicos, is unfortunately not available to the general public: it has been compiled by certain members of the Tax Bar for the benefit of no one but themselves, and the few copies in existence are subject to constant revision by means of notes circulated among the contributors. I have the kind permission of the editors, however, to quote those passages which may be of assistance to m
y readers in connection with my present narrative.)

  Having devoted the following Monday, almost without interruption, to my researches in the Public Record Office, I was by evening in much need of refreshment. It was a few minutes after half past five that I made my way to the Corkscrew, expecting it to be some time before I was joined by any of my friends. I found Julia, however, already there, though she claimed to be still working. She had thought that a glass of wine would prove an aid to the construction of a particularly opaque provision of the new Finance Bill. She could not permit herself, therefore, to engage in any immediate sociability. In the meantime, she suggested, it might amuse me to read the telex messages which she had received from Cantrip in the course of the weekend.

  TELEX M. CANTRIP GRAND HOTEL ST. HELIER TO J. LARWOOD 63 NEW SQUARE TRANSMITTED 6:30 P.M. FRIDAY 27TH APRIL

  Look here, Larwood, what I want to know is why everyone here thinks I’m so frightfully witty when I haven’t made any jokes. Is everyone loopy in this tax-planning business?

  The thing I’m meant to be advising on is a thing called the Daffodil Settlement — don’t ask me why it’s called that, it’s some sort of code name. If you think that’s peculiar, wait till you hear the rest of it.

  The trustee of the thing is a Jersey trust company which is owned by a Swiss outfit called the Edelweiss Bank. The bods actually running it are an Irishman called Patrick Ardmore, who’s the top man in the Jersey company, and a French bird called Gabrielle di Silvabianca. She’s in charge of the Edelweiss office in Monte Carlo now, but the thing was set up fifteen years ago when she was working at the Jersey office and she’s gone on looking after the investments.

  We all got together this morning in Edward Malvoisin’s office and it looked at first like being a pretty genial sort of gathering, with Clemmie and Malvoisin being frightfully chuffed about seeing the French bird and the French bird and the Irish chap being frightfully chuffed about meeting me and a general spirit of chuffedness all-round.