Barbara Cleverly by The Last Kashmiri Rose Page A

duty calls, sir
    Hardly like to ask but two minutes now will save us an interview at a later stage which would probably waste time for both of us
    ’
    ‘Carry on, Sandilands,’ said Prentice equably. ‘These are unusual circumstances and, if I understand the women’s concerns correctly, time is of the essence.’
    ‘Then I won’t apologise for asking you to go back to 1913, to the death of Alicia Simms-Warburton. The report mentions a piece of information which triggered her dash to the river and thence to her death
    ’
    ‘You mean the butterfly. The Camberwell Beauty.’ Prentice sighed. ‘I’ve always held myself in some way responsible for Alicia’s death. Indirectly, of course, but I am aware that if I hadn’t passed on the information she would never have been crossing the river that day. Though when the significance of the butterfly strikes you, you might begin to agree with me that I was used. Fate’s instrument. No more than that.’
    ‘The significance of the butterfly?’
    ‘Yes, the Camberwell Beauty. That’s quite odd. They’re very rare in India but almost unknown in England. No wonder she was excited! Don’t suppose you’ve ever seen one? It’s large with black, drooping wings. Sinister-looking object, if you ask me. The local Indians call it something like Harbinger of Kali — in other words, precursor of death.’
    He paused for a moment, assessing Joe’s response.
    ‘And the man who brought you the information? Was he known to you?’
    ‘I’d better explain. Everybody knew about Alicia’s passion for collecting. It was quite a joke, you might say, but everyone, English and Indian, indulged her. Brought her specimens, told her where they’d spotted something interesting, that sort of thing. I’m afraid she used to tip the Indians far too heavily. Simms-Warburton had to speak to her about it — she was spending half the housekeeping on creepy-crawlies, he used to complain. Well, one day an Indian came asking to speak to me. I took him for one of the gardeners (though I was to find later he was no such thing — chap just disappeared). He had no English and only spoke his village dialect. He came to me because he knew no one else would be able to make any sense of what he had to say. Could hardly make it out myself. And what he had to communicate was a request that I should tell the lady who collects butterflies that there had been a hatch of a very rare one in the willow trees along the river by the ferry on the far bank. I thought he was just another chap trying to get money out of Alicia and was on the point of sending him away. Then he launched into a vivid description of the creature and told me its name, Harbinger of Kali, and, I must say, I began to be intrigued. Looked the thing up in a book and checked he knew what he was talking about of course. I gave him a tip — a reasonable amount, he’d have done better with Alicia — and passed the information on. Straight away. Butterflies wait for no man or even memsahib. Never set eyes on the fellow again.’
    ‘Another tool of Fate?’ murmured Joe.
    ‘Very probably. We must continue this conversation another time. I think there is much more you want to know. Now, are you dancing, Sandilands? I’m sure Nancy would let you pilot her round the floor.’ And, with a bow to the returning Nancy, he turned and walked away.
    ‘Well,’ said Nancy, ‘what did you make of that?’
    ‘Formidable man,’ said Joe, reflectively. ‘I’ve met one or two but I think he tops my list. What can I guess? Faithful friend, implacable enemy, devious schemer — am I getting it right? I think he’d usually get his way’
    ‘That’s not bad,’ said Nancy. ‘Not bad at all. That’s very much Giles as I understand him. The only thing you leave out is that his men are devoted to him. Some touching and remarkable stories came back from France. Servants too. They’re very loyal and you never hear gossip spreading from the Prentice bungalow. The bearer who was killed in the fire they say never left