stop.
“What’s the matter?” asked Max.
“Nothing, thank God. I wanted to test the brakes before I put on speed. It could have been a deer, you know.” Tolbathy’s voice was almost pleading. “We should have looked for tracks in the snow.”
“Wouldn’t you have noticed them when you looked out back there to get your bearings?”
Tolbathy didn’t answer, just started the train again. Max decided it was time to come clean.
“Look, Tom, I’d better explain why I’m here. The thing is, I’m not exactly Jem Kelling’s nephew. I’m his niece Sarah’s husband. My name is Max Bittersohn and I’m a private investigator by profession. The reason I crashed your party tonight is that Jem’s so-called accident was an elaborately rigged attempt to murder or disable him. Whoever fixed the trap didn’t seem to care which, and the only explanation I can think of is that somebody didn’t want him on this train tonight.”
“But why? What could Jem’s not being here have to do with Wouter’s—getting killed?”
“Possibly a great deal. Offhand, I can think of two reasons why Jem might have to be kept away. For one, Jem has an unusual faculty for being able to recognize even casual acquaintances.”
“That’s right, he does. But we’re not casual acquaintances here. We’re all old friends.”
“Are we? What about the bartender, or the waitresses? What about me, if it comes to that? You accepted me at face value because I came with your friend Marcia Whet and was introduced as Jem Kelling’s nephew. In fact, she’d never met me before tonight, and didn’t even have her facts straight. I showed up in a taxi, told her Jem had sent me to bring her to the party, and she believed me because she wanted to. You see how easy it could be to crash a party?”
“But my wife and I greeted everyone personally.”
“Did you? There was a crush when we all piled off the bus at the same time and hurried to get on the train because it was cold outside. Inevitably, some of your guests received more attention than others. Mr. Wripp, for instance. You helped him up the steps and your wife made a big fuss over him, as people naturally do with someone so old. If somebody had squeezed past while you were getting Wripp settled, you’d have been too busy to stop and shake hands or whatever. If you didn’t recognize the person, you’d have assumed it was because he or she was in costume, if you thought about it at all.”
“I suppose such a thing could have happened,” Tolbathy admitted, “but I can’t recall that it did.”
“That’s my whole point. You wouldn’t have noticed. But Jem Kelling would. Furthermore, Jem would have been sure to spot his own ceremonial chain of office, or whatever the hell you call that codfish thing he lost at your meeting yesterday.”
“The Great Chain? Why do you bring that up?”
“Because that man who brought out the caviar was wearing it tonight.”
“What man? Oh, you mean the wine steward. Nonsense, Bittersohn. That was merely someone from the caterers. It’s quite customary, you know, for sommeliers to wear such chains.”
“Not such chains as that one. The codfish pendant had been removed and a silver corkscrew put in its place, but the chain itself was identical to the one Jem assumed when he took office. Take my word for it, Tom. It’s a superb and I should say almost unique piece of craftsmanship. Stolen jewelry happens to be one of my specialties, and I have an excellent eye for detail.”
“Oh, now I’ve placed you. You’re the man who got involved with young Sarah over that business of the Kelling rubies. I didn’t realize she’d married you.”
Tolbathy’s tone was now carefully polite. Even straddling his dead brother’s body to get at the controls, he couldn’t forget who he was and who Bittersohn was. Sarah complained that she got the same kind of treatment from Max’s mother.
“I’m afraid I don’t at all understand what you’re driving
“What’s the matter?” asked Max.
“Nothing, thank God. I wanted to test the brakes before I put on speed. It could have been a deer, you know.” Tolbathy’s voice was almost pleading. “We should have looked for tracks in the snow.”
“Wouldn’t you have noticed them when you looked out back there to get your bearings?”
Tolbathy didn’t answer, just started the train again. Max decided it was time to come clean.
“Look, Tom, I’d better explain why I’m here. The thing is, I’m not exactly Jem Kelling’s nephew. I’m his niece Sarah’s husband. My name is Max Bittersohn and I’m a private investigator by profession. The reason I crashed your party tonight is that Jem’s so-called accident was an elaborately rigged attempt to murder or disable him. Whoever fixed the trap didn’t seem to care which, and the only explanation I can think of is that somebody didn’t want him on this train tonight.”
“But why? What could Jem’s not being here have to do with Wouter’s—getting killed?”
“Possibly a great deal. Offhand, I can think of two reasons why Jem might have to be kept away. For one, Jem has an unusual faculty for being able to recognize even casual acquaintances.”
“That’s right, he does. But we’re not casual acquaintances here. We’re all old friends.”
“Are we? What about the bartender, or the waitresses? What about me, if it comes to that? You accepted me at face value because I came with your friend Marcia Whet and was introduced as Jem Kelling’s nephew. In fact, she’d never met me before tonight, and didn’t even have her facts straight. I showed up in a taxi, told her Jem had sent me to bring her to the party, and she believed me because she wanted to. You see how easy it could be to crash a party?”
“But my wife and I greeted everyone personally.”
“Did you? There was a crush when we all piled off the bus at the same time and hurried to get on the train because it was cold outside. Inevitably, some of your guests received more attention than others. Mr. Wripp, for instance. You helped him up the steps and your wife made a big fuss over him, as people naturally do with someone so old. If somebody had squeezed past while you were getting Wripp settled, you’d have been too busy to stop and shake hands or whatever. If you didn’t recognize the person, you’d have assumed it was because he or she was in costume, if you thought about it at all.”
“I suppose such a thing could have happened,” Tolbathy admitted, “but I can’t recall that it did.”
“That’s my whole point. You wouldn’t have noticed. But Jem Kelling would. Furthermore, Jem would have been sure to spot his own ceremonial chain of office, or whatever the hell you call that codfish thing he lost at your meeting yesterday.”
“The Great Chain? Why do you bring that up?”
“Because that man who brought out the caviar was wearing it tonight.”
“What man? Oh, you mean the wine steward. Nonsense, Bittersohn. That was merely someone from the caterers. It’s quite customary, you know, for sommeliers to wear such chains.”
“Not such chains as that one. The codfish pendant had been removed and a silver corkscrew put in its place, but the chain itself was identical to the one Jem assumed when he took office. Take my word for it, Tom. It’s a superb and I should say almost unique piece of craftsmanship. Stolen jewelry happens to be one of my specialties, and I have an excellent eye for detail.”
“Oh, now I’ve placed you. You’re the man who got involved with young Sarah over that business of the Kelling rubies. I didn’t realize she’d married you.”
Tolbathy’s tone was now carefully polite. Even straddling his dead brother’s body to get at the controls, he couldn’t forget who he was and who Bittersohn was. Sarah complained that she got the same kind of treatment from Max’s mother.
“I’m afraid I don’t at all understand what you’re driving
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