composed her face into the appropriate expression—seriousness combined with efficiency and a touch of propitiatory humility seemed about right, but she wasn’t sure that she managed to bring it off. As she sat there, knees demurely together, her shoulder bag at her feet, she was unhappily aware that she probably looked more like an eager seventeen-year-old facing her first interview than a mature business woman, sole proprietor of Pryde’s Detective Agency.
She handed over Sir Ronald’s note of authority and said: “Sir Ronald was very distressed on your account. I mean it was awful for you that it should happen on your property when you’d been so kind in finding Mark a job he liked. His father hopes you won’t mind talking about it; it’s just that he wants to know what made his son kill himself.”
“And he sent you?” Miss Markland’s voice was a compound of disbelief, amusement and contempt. Cordelia didn’t resent rudeness. She felt Miss Markland had a point. She gave what she hoped was a credible explanation. It was probably true.
“Sir Ronald thinks that it must have been something to do with Mark’s life at university. He left college suddenly, as you may know, and his father was never told why. Sir Ronald thought that I might be more successful in talking to Mark’s friends than the more usual type of private detective. He didn’t feel that he could trouble the police; after all, this sort of enquiry isn’t really their kind of job.”
Miss Markland said grimly: “I should have thought it was precisely their job; that is, if Sir Ronald thinks there’s something odd about his son’s death …”
Cordelia broke in: “Oh no, I don’t think there’s any suggestion of that! He’s quite satisfied with the verdict. It’s just that he badly wants to know what made him do it.”
Miss Markland said with sudden fierceness: “He was a dropout. He dropped out of university, apparently he dropped out of his family obligations, finally he dropped out of life. Literally.”
Her sister-in-law gave a little bleat of protest. “Oh, Eleanor, is that quite fair? He worked really well here. I liked the boy. I don’t think—”
“I don’t deny that he earned his money. That doesn’t alter the fact that he was neither bred nor educated to be a jobbing gardener. He was, therefore, a dropout. I don’t know the reason and I have no interest in discovering it.”
“How did you come to employ him?” asked Cordelia.
It was Major Markland who answered. “He saw my advertisement in the
Cambridge Evening News
for a gardener and turned up here one evening on his bicycle. I suppose he cycled all the way from Cambridge. It must have been about five weeks ago, a Tuesday I think.”
Again Miss Markland broke in: “It was Tuesday, May 9th.”
The Major frowned at her as if irritated that he couldn’t fault the information. “Yes, well, Tuesday the 9th. He said that he had decided to leave university and take a job and that he’d seen my advertisement. He admitted that he didn’t know much about gardening but said that he was strong and was willing to learn. His inexperience didn’t worry me; we wanted him mostly for the lawns and for the vegetables. He never touched the flower garden; my wife and I see to that ourselves. Anyway, I quite liked the look of the boy and I thought I’d give him a chance.”
Miss Markland said: “You took him because he was the only applicant who was prepared to work for the miserable pittance you were offering.”
The Major, so far from showing offence at this frankness, smiled complacently. “I paid him what he was worth. If more employers were prepared to do that, the country wouldn’t be plagued with this inflation.” He spoke as one to whom economics was an open book.
“Didn’t you think it was odd, his turning up like that?” asked Cordelia.
“Of course I did, damned odd! I thought he had probably been sent down; drink, drugs, revolution, you know the
She handed over Sir Ronald’s note of authority and said: “Sir Ronald was very distressed on your account. I mean it was awful for you that it should happen on your property when you’d been so kind in finding Mark a job he liked. His father hopes you won’t mind talking about it; it’s just that he wants to know what made his son kill himself.”
“And he sent you?” Miss Markland’s voice was a compound of disbelief, amusement and contempt. Cordelia didn’t resent rudeness. She felt Miss Markland had a point. She gave what she hoped was a credible explanation. It was probably true.
“Sir Ronald thinks that it must have been something to do with Mark’s life at university. He left college suddenly, as you may know, and his father was never told why. Sir Ronald thought that I might be more successful in talking to Mark’s friends than the more usual type of private detective. He didn’t feel that he could trouble the police; after all, this sort of enquiry isn’t really their kind of job.”
Miss Markland said grimly: “I should have thought it was precisely their job; that is, if Sir Ronald thinks there’s something odd about his son’s death …”
Cordelia broke in: “Oh no, I don’t think there’s any suggestion of that! He’s quite satisfied with the verdict. It’s just that he badly wants to know what made him do it.”
Miss Markland said with sudden fierceness: “He was a dropout. He dropped out of university, apparently he dropped out of his family obligations, finally he dropped out of life. Literally.”
Her sister-in-law gave a little bleat of protest. “Oh, Eleanor, is that quite fair? He worked really well here. I liked the boy. I don’t think—”
“I don’t deny that he earned his money. That doesn’t alter the fact that he was neither bred nor educated to be a jobbing gardener. He was, therefore, a dropout. I don’t know the reason and I have no interest in discovering it.”
“How did you come to employ him?” asked Cordelia.
It was Major Markland who answered. “He saw my advertisement in the
Cambridge Evening News
for a gardener and turned up here one evening on his bicycle. I suppose he cycled all the way from Cambridge. It must have been about five weeks ago, a Tuesday I think.”
Again Miss Markland broke in: “It was Tuesday, May 9th.”
The Major frowned at her as if irritated that he couldn’t fault the information. “Yes, well, Tuesday the 9th. He said that he had decided to leave university and take a job and that he’d seen my advertisement. He admitted that he didn’t know much about gardening but said that he was strong and was willing to learn. His inexperience didn’t worry me; we wanted him mostly for the lawns and for the vegetables. He never touched the flower garden; my wife and I see to that ourselves. Anyway, I quite liked the look of the boy and I thought I’d give him a chance.”
Miss Markland said: “You took him because he was the only applicant who was prepared to work for the miserable pittance you were offering.”
The Major, so far from showing offence at this frankness, smiled complacently. “I paid him what he was worth. If more employers were prepared to do that, the country wouldn’t be plagued with this inflation.” He spoke as one to whom economics was an open book.
“Didn’t you think it was odd, his turning up like that?” asked Cordelia.
“Of course I did, damned odd! I thought he had probably been sent down; drink, drugs, revolution, you know the
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