Free Appleby and the Ospreys by Michael Innes Page A

that nothing of an irregular kind was to be seen?’
    ‘Just so, Sir John.’
    ‘And then they all went in to dinner?’
    ‘Just so.’
    ‘The whole lot are here still?’
    ‘They have all concurred in a suggestion from Mr Quickfall that they should remain, as planned, at least until this afternoon – collecting their thoughts, as it were, and making any statement that Mr Ringwood thinks it expedient to require from them. Yes, everybody is still at Clusters.’
    ‘Except Mr Broadwater, who has gone off fishing.’
    ‘Precisely so, Sir John. Mr Broadwater is very much a devotee of the rod.’
    ‘That is something I am aware of.’ Appleby thought briefly. ‘To go back for a moment,’ he then said. ‘You are quite certain that neither you yourself, nor the chauffeur, was aware of any disturbance whatever, either in or over the moat?’
    ‘There was nothing at all. Except, of course, the bats.’
    ‘The bats!’ Appleby was startled. ‘What bats?’
    ‘They come, I believe, from a deserted barn at the home farm. And also, perhaps, from a neglected little boat-house on the farther side of the moat. Frequently at dusk they are darting here and there. I don’t, myself, much care for the bats.’
    ‘Like the children in Mr Brackley’s choir.’
    ‘I beg your pardon, sir?’
    ‘No matter, Mr Bagot. And now I must join Mr Ringwood. I am most grateful for your help.’
     

9
    Ringwood, Appleby supposed would be in the Music Saloon, drawing what support he could from his assistants on their platform. But on his way – and at Clusters the route from any A to any B always seemed lengthy – Appleby was pounced on (for the effect was of just that) by a small elderly man of prosperous but otherwise nondescript appearance.
    ‘Sir John Appleby?’ this person said.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘My name is Purvis. You won’t have heard of me.’
    ‘Well, Mr Purvis, not, so to speak, at large. But as a weekend guest here, accompanied by Mrs Purvis, you have been mentioned to me by the butler.’
    ‘Bagot. Yes, of course. You have been speaking to him because you are investigating this shocking affair?’
    ‘I suppose I must be said to be doing that. But unofficially, as it were, and at the instance of Lady Osprey, who is good enough to think of me as a family friend. As for Bagot, he came at me rather as you are doing now, Mr Purvis. I have just left him, as a matter of fact. A communicative man. I wonder whether that description fits you too.’
    Mr Purvis, as was not surprising, seemed a little startled by this. But he replied at once.
    ‘I’d certainly like, Sir John, to communicate anything I have to communicate, relevant to this monstrous business. Did Bagot happen to mention me to you?’
    ‘Only very briefly. He said you had business connections with the dead man.’
    ‘True enough – although it might be a shade misleading. I am by profession an accountant. Purvis, Purvis and Purvis, Sir John.’
    ‘How do you do?’ It seemed to Appleby that, as an informal introduction had thus been performed, this reply was adequate for the moment.
    ‘Come into this little room.’ Mr Purvis made a gesture at a door behind him. ‘If any room can be called little in this overgrown warren of a building. I believe it’s called a writing-room. And as nobody ever writes anything worth speaking of at Clusters, it’s sure to be empty.’
    So they went into the writing-room. It certainly contained an enormous desk, equipped with every conceivable aid to correspondence.
    ‘A mass of brass and glass.’ Mr Purvis made his principal vowels as flat as could be. ‘As Lord Curzon said when they took him into his room at the Foreign Office. Looking at the desk, you know, he said just that. “Take away that mass of brass and glass.” Ha ha.’
    Appleby, although not much impressed by this decidedly ‘in’ note, smiled politely, and sat down.
    ‘You were, in fact, Lord Osprey’s accountant?’ he asked.
    ‘Precisely not. Osprey